An hour later, Song Chen arrived at the defense line of spatial node 374, now 2.2 light-years from the Tianshu Main Defense Line.
From there, he gazed toward the Celestial Pivot Defense Line. The immense defensive line stretched across seven light-years, suspended around the outskirts of the Heivei Nebula, enclosing the entire nebula-its ionized dust, newborn stars, and Asteroid Belt-within a visible grid of energy.
Countless fortresses, fleets, and patrolling warships moved slowly through the band of light, like blood flowing through an infinitely long vein.
Light streamed toward him from the main defense line, but after crossing 2.2 light-years, it had faded to a faint trace of silver-blue.
Song Chen stared in that direction for a long time.
On the scale of the universe, 2.2 light-years was so close it was almost negligible.
Before the spatial lockdown had been activated, the Shadow Bee would have needed only a single jump, taking twenty-odd seconds. He would have arrived beside the main defense line before he could even shift his position against the seat back.
If he wanted, he could even have dispensed with the Shadow Bee and used Void Traverse to jump along weak points in space, one stretch at a time.
It would have taken time and effort, but at least it was a way through.
Now, things were different.
Heavenly Pivot's spatial lockdown already extended this far. He could feel its constant, ever-present force, as though the entire starfield had been submerged in an invisible, viscous liquid.
Space was no longer light or transparent. It had become heavy and sluggish.
Ordinary jump engines could not even establish coordinates in this environment. Every spatial fissure had been pinned shut, and every route that could once have been torn open had vanished.
The only exceptions were the encrypted military jump