Nine Dragons Pulling the Carriage, the emperor's might is overwhelming.
Billions of creatures on Earth gazed up at this mythical sight, their despair replaced by unbelievable awe and the ecstasy of escaping death.
That figure, simply standing there, seemed to hold up the collapsing sky, becoming a pillar in everyone's hearts.
The figure in the Black Emperor Robe swept his gaze indifferently over the countless interstellar warships that filled the sky like flies, his eyes devoid of any emotional fluctuation.
His gaze held an indifference as if looking at dust and ants, and a hint of... offended, cold displeasure as if Emperor majesty had been desecrated.
He sensed the impending terrifying attack.
But he didn't make any big movements; he simply rested his right hand casually on the hilt of the sword at his waist.
The sword was simple and unadorned, and on its scabbard, there seemed to be fleeting images of the Sun, Moon, and Stars, Mountains, Rivers, and Rivers and Mountains.
The next moment.
"Rift Cleave."
A word so plain it was almost casual was uttered from beneath that blurred face.
Yet, like the first decree issued at the dawn of creation, it resonated clearly in the hearts of every living being on Earth.
"Clang--!"
A clear and melodious Sword Cry, seemingly capable of cleansing the soul and severing time and space, resounded throughout the universe!
There was no earth-shattering burst of power, no flashy and dazzling light and shadow effects, only a sword light that was condensed to the extreme, pure to the extreme, and fast to the extreme.
The sword light flowed from the scabbard with his simple movements of drawing and swinging the sword, and then disappeared into the void in an instant.
Where the sword flashed--
There was no sound, because the propagation of sound had lost its meaning.
There was no explosion because the material basis for an explosion had been erased.
All the Earthlings who looked up at the sky, and all the crew members on the "Predators" warship, saw a scene they would never forget and could never understand.
Starting from the trajectory of that sword light, the vast starry sky more than a million miles above the Earth was as if it were being gently torn apart by a pair of invisible giant hands!
"Sizzle--!"
A massive spatial rift, millions of miles long and stretching across the entire horizon, appeared out of thin air.
This rift is not static; its interior contains extremely violent Spatial Turbulence, Spacetime Fault, Dimensional Fragment, and the most Origin Void.
It's like a greedy, all-consuming black hole, or an insurmountable Wall of Sighs, silently floating there, firmly "protecting" the Earth behind it.
And at the very moment this spatial rift, spanning millions of miles, formed—
"Emission!"
This was the attack command roared out by Krus in his extreme fear and subsequent madness.
Buzz--!!!
The countless alien warships, their main and secondary guns fully charged, opened fire simultaneously.
Billions of terrifying attacks, enough to destroy the Earth, converged into a deadly rain of light, pouring down upon the blue planet below!
However--
All these terrifying attacks, capable of destroying stars, vanished the moment they entered the million-mile spatial rift, like mud oxen entering the sea, silently swallowed, broken down, and banished to the depths of unknown spatial turbulence.
No attack, no energy, could penetrate that seemingly Void rift that actually represented absolute "isolation" and "end," and touch even a wisp of Earth's atmosphere beyond it!
Earth remained unscathed despite the devastating bombardment. Not even a gust of wind stirred it.
At that moment, time seemed to stand still.
On Earth, billions of living beings stared blankly at the million-mile-long spatial rift overhead, a sight that seemed like a miracle, and at the alien fleet on the other side of the rift, which futilely spewed beams of destruction but could not harm Earth in the slightest.
The immense relief of surviving the ordeal, intertwined with the Supreme awe for the figure on the Nine Dragons Carriage, transformed into a deathly silence, followed by an eruption of overwhelming ecstasy and shouts!
"It's blocked! It's completely blocked!"
"It was Immortal who saved us!"
"One sword... one sword that cleaved a million-mile-long chasm, what kind of power is that?"
Meanwhile, outside Earth, inside the bridge of an alien flagship.
Krus slumped onto his Commander’s Throne, a symbol of Supreme power, as if all the bones in his body had been removed.
His four arms hung limply at his sides, and the cruelty, mockery, and surprise that had been in his compound eyes were now replaced by a deepest fear and bewilderment that came from the Origin of his soul.
He raised one arm tremblingly, pointing to the million-mile-long spatial rift stretching across the starry sky on the observation screen, and then to the blurry yet majestic figure on the Nine Dragons Carriage behind the rift.
His mouth opened and closed, but he couldn't utter any meaningful syllables, only the chattering of his teeth.
His brain, his prized Super Bio-Quantum Brain that had processed countless galaxy-level tactics, had now completely stopped functioning.
What was happening before his eyes had completely, utterly, and absolutely exceeded all his cognition, all his logic, and all his imagination!
He, Krus, is a high-ranking commander of the Predator Civilization.
Having traversed the universe for hundreds of years, conquering, destroying, and plundering countless low-level Civilization, witnessing all sorts of strange cosmic phenomena, and even having the privilege of coming into contact with the Civilization Level Nine Civilization Creation that had almost stepped into the threshold of godhood.
But!
No matter how powerful the spaceships, how bizarre the Dimensional Weapon, how terrifying the Galaxy Behemoth, or even the legendary Level Nine Civilization, they are all formidable adversaries.
It would never be possible to create Spacetime Fault that stretches for millions of miles, exists stably, and can devour all energy attacks, so casually and effortlessly, with just one person and one sword!
This is no longer within the realm of power; it is a wanton manipulation and redefinition of the concepts of space and even spacetime itself.
It's a myth!
It's just a legend!
It is a power that exists only in the most outrageous conjectures of theoretical physics, belonging to the "Creator"!
"No... impossible... this is impossible... even Level Nine Civilization couldn't do this... what... what kind of monster is this?"
Krus's second-in-command, Lawrence, was performing even worse than him at this moment.
He (or rather, the entire alien creature) was almost paralyzed on the ground, his carapace trembling with extreme fear.
All his tactical skills, all his data calculations, all his arrogance and cruelty were reduced to dust in the face of this absolute power disparity.
It's not just them.
All members of the "Predators" fleet, regardless of which warship they were on, were now in the same state—terrified.
Their minds were frozen, their bodies stiff, and they could only stare blankly through the porthole or the observation screen at the spatial rift that had devoured all their attacks, a rift that seemed to have existed since time immemorial, and the Gods and Devils- like figure behind the rift.