The observation post's application was ultimately denied. Once the higher-ups learned that the person had been confirmed as Feng Jun, all probing had to cease—he could be called a national treasure and must not be offended.
At the same time, however, the higher-ups said they hoped the post would record every phenomenon that occurred, because "this may be precious material of major historical significance."
The order had just been delivered when a flash of light burst in the distance, instantly becoming a vast mass of white radiance. It was so dazzling, so intense, that it seemed as though the sun itself had descended upon the earth. The entire world was left in a boundless expanse of white.
"My eyes!" someone cried out. That person had merely looked directly in that direction.
"Good thing I didn't look through a telescope," someone else said with a sharp intake of breath. This observation post had been built to extremely professional, high-end standards. Much of its equipment came with operating instructions and precautions, and the personnel had received professional training.
Precisely because of that, everyone made the correct choice in the face of an unpredictable danger and perfectly avoided the risk—otherwise, anyone observing through a telescope would at least have lost their eyes.
Then another alarm sounded. "Damn it, the high-definition camera lens coating is damaged. How powerful was that lightning?"
"Switch lens types," someone ordered. The words had barely left their mouth when another burst of white radiance exploded, bathing the entire observation post in a ghastly pallor.
"We're done for, it's hard even to operate anything. Shrink the viewing window, now," another person instructed. "Good thing we have ceramic curtains... This observation post really is well designed. It's so practical."
As soon as the words fell, a peal of thunder rolled past,