At that very moment, aboard the Fuxi, Yu Lian felt a faint stab of pain in his mind.
He furrowed his brow and instinctively turned toward the distant porthole. His gaze quickly passed through it and reached into the far-off stars, toward the Spiral Cross Nebula.
But the tiny, almost imperceptible ripple in his mind was soon soothed by his own mental defenses.
After reaching the Saint stage, he had built those defenses on the principles of the Silver Dragon's Breath. With his meridian network operating at full mastery, he could protect his soul and memories around the clock, from every direction.
So the brief stab of pain vanished almost at once, as though it had been nothing more than a fleeting illusion.
Even so, it was enough to put Yu Lian on alert. As a psychic, he knew he could never afford to ignore even the slightest change in perception. That was basic knowledge in the supernatural world.
But the ripple in his mind had risen and fallen so quickly that it was like a tiny pebble dropped into the vast ocean of his consciousness, then swallowed without a trace.
In peacetime, he would have spent some time meditating to figure out what had gone wrong. But the assault on the Snake's Nest had reached its most critical stage. This was no time to let his attention wander.
Just ten minutes earlier, the Fuxi had received word from the Alliance that, according to their calculations, the Snake's Nest's shields had weakened to a critical point. If all went well, the powerful firepower of the Praising-class arsenal ships would destroy them completely in short order.
The Alliance's message was clear: whatever attack plan the people of Earth had, now was the time to prepare.
"Sir, the Alliance's Qingqiu just sent