Rebel Psychic

"With those words, I can rest easy." Qin Mo nodded with great satisfaction, then prepared to lead Grey and the others to other positions.

"Please wait." A soldier suddenly stepped forward and called out to Qin Mo.

Qin Mo slowly turned his head. "What is it?"

"Our holding this position matters, right?" the soldier asked.

As soon as the words fell, everyone present turned to look at Qin Mo, all waiting for his answer.

This was a question most wanted to ask but dared not, now voiced by a reckless newcomer.

After all, the offensive plan had completely fallen apart. The soldiers still holding their positions weren't doing so out of bravery or loyalty—there was simply no other path left.

"Of course it matters." Qin Mo nodded. "Because if you hold the line here a little longer, I'll have more time to check on other positions. Then I'll gather all the surviving soldiers, and together we'll clear out the rebels in the Lower Hive and walk out of here victorious."

The plan seemed feasible at first glance, but Qin Mo's later words were far too optimistic. No one present truly believed they'd all make it out of the Lower Hive alive.

Still, it was like the reason they remained on the line—no other road existed. This was their only lifeline.

"How did we end up in this mess..."

"Emperor, please tell me."

"Who the hell drafted that offensive plan? Did we get dragged into some conspiracy among the nobles of the Upper Hive and the Spire District?"

Some soldiers began to complain.

The officers saw the situation turning sour and immediately prepared to draw their weapons to execute a few, but just as they reached for their guns, Qin Mo stopped them.

Qin Mo coldly watched the soldiers wail and lament. He knew carbon-based lifeforms had a limit to their psychological endurance. These men were nearly at the breaking point, and forceful suppression would only backfire.

They weren't refusing to hold the line—they were just venting about how the offensive plan should never have been carried out, cursing the stupidity of certain people in the Hive City. They were simply letting off steam.

Once the soldiers had complained enough and gradually quieted down, Qin Mo said, "Done crying? Then get back to the fortress and defend. Even if our chance of fighting our way out of the Lower Hive and then beating the Governor to a pulp is less than one in a thousand, we still have to try."

Hearing this, the soldiers wearily rose and headed into the fortress.

Everyone looked utterly hopeless, but they truly didn't want to just wait to die. The hope of surviving and settling scores became their source of strength.

The officers shot Qin Mo a grateful glance before also walking toward the fortress.

Qin Mo, meanwhile, led Grey and the others toward the next target position.

Late at night.

Fifty kilometers due west of the 47th Regiment's fortress.

In a cluster of abandoned buildings, a group of people huddled inside a relatively intact single-story house to rest.

Qin Mo wasn't resting; he was using a flame to recharge batteries. Grey wasn't resting either; he had deployed a drone to search for nearby positions.

"You sure the military map says there's a position here?"

"What else would it mean?"

"I'm not scanning anything."

Grey looked baffled. He had used the drone's life-sign scanning function many times, each time in a different spot, but he still couldn't find the position marked on the map.

And the Lower Hive was pitch-black day and night. Relying on the drone's camera to find it would take who knows how long.

"Can't scan it?" Qin Mo paused his work, looked up at Grey. "Then switch to thermal imaging."

"How do I switch it?"

"Switch it with your mouth. I specifically designed a voice receiver for the Power Armor so even people like you can operate it without a hitch."

"Fine, fine, I get it. Thermal imaging mode."

After circling the area once with the drone in thermal imaging mode, Grey finally located the position.

This area had been a gathering spot for Lower Hive gangs and thugs before the war, and the position sat right at the center of that zone.

"No wonder four regiments are stationed here." Through Grey's view, he could see plenty of people still active on the position. They weren't engaging rebels but were busy building fortifications.

"Let's move." Qin Mo stood up and walked toward the position.

"Aren't you going to call them?" Grey asked.

Qin Mo didn't answer, just kept walking. Grey glanced at the resting comrades, then at the Sentinel Drone on watch. Confirming they'd be safe, he followed Qin Mo.

After all, that position wasn't under attack. It was just a matter of going over for a meeting, watching Qin Mo perform his creation magic, and then doing whatever needed to be done.

In Grey's imagination, this would be the easiest mission yet.

The position was located in a plaza surrounded by tall buildings. Before the war, this had been a black market where Lower Hive gangs traded smuggled goods, but now it was occupied solely by Planetary Defense Force soldiers stationed there.

Everyone silently reinforced the position until two streaks of fire appeared in the dark sky above. They looked up.

Bam! Bam!

Qin Mo and Grey landed simultaneously.

When they saw it was just two people in Power Armor, the soldiers on the position stopped gawking and went back to their own tasks.

There were even civilians on the position.

These civilians couldn't fight, but they were helping the Planetary Defense Force build fortifications or haul heavy weapons.

Among these heavy weapons, only a handful were Stubbers; most were energy weapons.

"Look..." Grey tugged at Qin Mo's arm, gesturing for him to look to the left.

Two soldiers—one holding a bowl, the other carrying water—were tending to a civilian who had lost both legs.

Orderly and methodical—that was the impression Qin Mo and Grey had of this position.

"So many people, so many weapons... Looks like your plan is definitely going to work!" Grey said excitedly.

"Yeah," Qin Mo nodded.

His indifference caught Grey off guard. "What's wrong with you?"

Qin Mo didn't answer. He didn't even know what was wrong with himself—just an unexplained sense of unease.

A physical discomfort.

Like someone with a cleanliness obsession stepping into a public pit latrine.

Qin Mo couldn't put his finger on the reason—just an inexplicable nausea, a revulsion.

"I want to build a napalm bomb with a massive coverage area," Qin Mo said through gritted teeth. "Blow this cesspit to hell."

Hearing this outburst of baseless hatred, Grey suddenly thought of Psychic Power going out of control. "Are you having a Psychic..."

"I'm not a Psychic!" Qin Mo snapped back angrily.

"Fine, whatever. I think it's fine, actually." Grey took a step forward, walking slowly ahead.

Straight ahead, a Female Officer was jogging toward them. She stopped, scanned Qin Mo and Grey with delighted surprise, and spoke with barely contained excitement: "You two—are you the Marshal's guard?"

"No, we're just ordinary soldiers, not the Marshal's guard," Grey admitted.

"I thought the Marshal's guard had arrived. I thought we were all saved..." The Female Officer's face fell with obvious disappointment. "Are you here seeking shelter? Either way, we're short on hands. You're welcome to join us."

Grey turned to look at Qin Mo, waiting for him to explain.

But Qin Mo gave no response. He hung his head, his Power Armor trembling.

"What's wrong?" Grey hurried over to support Qin Mo.

Qin Mo slowly lifted his head, and Grey saw that his faceplate had already turned red-hot. Soon, holes of various sizes burned through the surface, and searing flames spewed out from them.

Grey was horrified, instantly realizing that Qin Mo was using his ability. He was about to unleash flames—just like in every previous battle where he burned enemies to ash—and incinerate everyone here too.

"This place... has fallen..." When Qin Mo opened his mouth to speak, flames gushed out from between his lips. "She... she is... she's a rebel Psychic!"