The second plunged through the breach into the planet's interior and directly blew apart its writhing core.
The third vaporized the clusters of cysts hatching across the planet's surface, along with the continental plates for thousands of kilometers around them.
After the three pillars of light vanished, the living planet's orbit had veered completely off course. Its surface was covered in dense cracks, dark-purple lava seeping out through them, and the entire planet looked like an egg that had been smashed open, on the verge of falling apart.
But it was still charging forward.
It charged less than fifty thousand kilometers.
Then another opening split the void.
It was not the same slender fissure as before—it tore the sky straight in half. The tear was conservatively estimated to be more than a thousand kilometers long, its edges burning with silver-white flames of light that illuminated the entire sky above the Luofu Xianzhou.
What fell from that rift was swords.
Silver swords of light.
Not one or two. Not hundreds or thousands.
There were countless swords of light, blotting out the sky, stretching beyond sight, converging in the void into a river of stars.
The rain of light-swords poured down in a deluge, each one driving with perfect precision into the cracks that had already split open across the living planet's surface. The purple veins along the edges tried to writhe and heal, but there were so many swords of light that the very concept of "healing" became a joke—a single sword pinned down, and a crack was forced ten meters wider; ten thousand swords pinned down, and the planet's surface was turned into a colossal silver-white nail board.
The entire surface structure of the planet collapsed completely.
Dark-purple lava erupted from countless fissures, and the concentration of Memetic material around