Donghai City, wartime General Headquarters.
On a massive screen, footage from the Satellite and Frontline Drones played in sync.
From Su Ye crushing Baroque in his grip, to twisting the Demon Kings into knots, to pounding them to death one punch at a time.
Every frame was crystal clear.
The command room was so quiet a dropped pin could have been heard.
Every officer, strategist, and technician stared at the screen, breathing heavily, eyes red.
Then Su Ye's final punch tore through the Twin Demons, and Spacefire consumed what remained of them.
Click.
A soft sound broke the silence.
White-haired Old Zhao slowly sank back into his chair.
He took off his reading glasses, wiped the corners of his eyes with a trembling hand, drew a deep breath, and spoke into the communicator.
"Connect to the Global Communications Network."
"Broadcast what we just saw... unencrypted, on every frequency."
"Let the people of Dong Huang see it."
"Let humanity across the world see it."
"We, Dong Huang, we, Blue Star..."
"Have someone who can protect us!"
Three minutes later.
Across Dong Huang, every television, computer, and phone still working, every radio channel and public display—
All switched to the same footage.
Between the blue sea and sky, a black-clad young man stood in midair. Waves churned beneath his feet, and behind him stood the battered yet unbowed Martial Artists of the Human Race.
Before him, two once-arrogant Demon Kings were twisted into knots, then smashed to pieces punch by punch.
There was no stirring music, no impassioned commentary.
Only the dull thuds of fists striking flesh, the sharp cracks of breaking bones, and the howl of the sea wind.
Yet those raw, violent, even somewhat brutal images—
Plunged all of Dong Huang into a brief, stunned silence.
Then—
A roar of