One Hollow Technique: Purple, and Every Alarm on the Space Station Went Haywire

The little finger and index finger of his left hand came together.

A dazzling red light abruptly lit up at his fingertips.

It was a force diametrically opposed to the "Blue" from earlier.

The red light carried a frenzied repulsion that rejected everything.

The air in the corridor was sucked dry in an instant, the pressure plummeting.

Xingbao gaped, feeling as though all the air had been squeezed from her lungs, her chest painfully tight.

Welt gripped the handle of his cane so hard that his knuckles turned deathly white.

Red and blue light converged at Su Chen's fingertips.

The two extreme energies collided, producing an astonishing recoil.

Su Chen's current body, that of a seven-year-old little girl, was far too light.

His little leather shoes slipped on the metal floor, sending him half a step backward.

He hurriedly braced his core, curling his toes hard against the soles of his shoes.

Only then did he barely regain his balance.

He had nearly landed flat on his back in front of all these big shots.

Su Chen pursed his lips in irritation.

Gritting his teeth, he forcibly pressed the repelling red and attracting blue together.

The violent energy formed an unstable sphere in front of his little hand.

In less than half a second, red and blue fused completely.

Blinding purple light illuminated the entire corridor.

It was so dazzling that even the red glow of the emergency lights was swallowed whole.

Everyone in the corridor briefly lost their sight at that instant.

Purple was all they could see.

Su Chen stared at the enormous Antimatter Legion Commander outside the window and softly uttered the technique's name.

"Hollow Technique: Purple."

The purple sphere of energy erupted instantly.

Rather than flying out like an ordinary shell, it transformed directly into a terrifying beam over a hundred meters in diameter.

With enough force to tear dimensions apart, it blasted straight toward the floor-to-ceiling holographic window.

March 7th squeezed her eyes shut in terror, crouching down with her hands over her head.

She had even braced herself for the glass to explode and the vacuum of space to rush in.

Biting her lip hard, she waited for the weightless sensation of being swept into space.

But nothing happened.

Su Chen diverted a sliver of his mental power to precisely control the energy's reach.

The purple beam was like a phantom that did not belong to this dimension.

It passed through the thick layer of specialized bulletproof glass without any resistance.

Not a single crack appeared on the glass.

Only a faint heat shimmer rippled across it as the beam passed through.

The purple light shot into Outer Space.

The Antimatter Legion Commander, a creature comparable to a Doomsday Beast, was roaring as it charged toward the space station.

It moved at tremendous speed, trailing an unstoppable rush of air pressure.

Then it collided with the purple beam.

There was no deafening explosion, no spray of flesh and blood.

Only an "erasure" that made the scalp crawl.

The instant the purple light touched the Antimatter Legion Commander, its dark-gold exoskeleton, supposedly capable of withstanding a planet-destroying main cannon, became snow falling into boiling water.

It vaporized without so much as a bubble.

The monster's gaping, bloodstained maw was still frozen in a roar.

Fear had not even had time to register in its compound eyes.

Its vocal cords, its head, its massive body gushing antimatter energy.

All were utterly pulverized by imaginary mass within a tenth of a second.

It never even managed a dying scream.

The enormous monster simply vanished into thin air.

Only a faint purple trail remained in space to prove it had ever existed.

But it was not over yet.

The purple beam continued unabated, spreading outward in a fan.

The Antimatter Legion Warships that had just emerged from the wormhole, along with those preparing to turn and flee.

All met that utterly unreasonable power head-on.

Their black metal hulls warped instantly.

The barrels of their main cannons twisted together like braided dough.

Before the Antibaryons aboard could even understand what was happening, they disintegrated along with their entire warships into the universe's most fundamental particles.

A third of the enormous fleet became rubbish swept away by an invisible, gigantic broom.

Not a scrap remained.

The beam finally slammed into the dark-purple wormhole, ten kilometers across.

The violent energy along the wormhole's edges tried to swallow this invading force.

Two energies powerful enough to tear space apart collided within the abyss.

A sudden flash of brilliant light burst through space.

It resembled the precursor to a supernova explosion.

Then the enormous wormhole began to collapse violently.

Space was forcibly stitched shut.

The dark-purple vortex twisted a few times, letting out a soundless lament.

Finally, it shrank into a tiny black dot.

With a "pop," it vanished completely.

Outside the space station, deathly black silence returned.

Everything was spotless, as though scrubbed with the most efficient cleaning agent.

Inside the space station, however, all hell broke loose.

The instant the purple light vanished, the consoles lining both sides of the corridor let out piercing shrieks.

The powerful energy aftershocks triggered a localized electromagnetic storm.

Sparks sprayed wildly from gaps in the panels.

Their metal casings grew scorching hot.

Bang! Bang, bang!

A series of sharp cracks rang out.

Several high-precision detectors on the corridor ceiling exploded outright, overloaded by the readings that had flooded in all at once.

Shattered glass and plastic casing scattered across the floor.

Thick black smoke billowed from the ventilation ducts, carrying the acrid stench of burning rubber.

The blaring air-raid alarms became roosters with their throats clamped shut.

Their cries caught in their throats.

After a few piercing bursts of electrical static, every red light went out at once.

Every instrument throughout the outer section had completely seized up.

Welt's cane clattered to the floor.

It rolled twice across the metal surface.

He did not pick it up.

The Former Herrscher of Reason braced both hands on his knees, gasping for breath.

Sweat had soaked the entire back of his shirt.

What had he just witnessed?

An imaginary mass operating outside the known laws of physics had forcibly erased space and matter.

The Pseudo Black Hole Welt took such pride in was little more than a child's mud pie before this power.

This was not merely an overwhelming difference in combat strength.

It was an assault from a higher dimension.

Xingbao's baseball bat had long since ended up somewhere she could not remember.

She stood rooted to the spot, staring blankly at the empty universe outside the window.

Her jaw hung wide open, and she was utterly oblivious to the drool nearly spilling out.

She raised a hand and rubbed her eyes hard, until their rims turned red.

There really was not a speck left outside.

March 7th was still crouching on the floor.

After a while, when she heard no shattering glass, she cautiously opened one eye.

She looked at the intact glass and the impossibly clean expanse of space beyond it.

She plopped down on her backside, her legs as limp as noodles, without even the strength to stand.

Himeko leaned against the metal wall, the Mechanical Saw in her hand still spinning idly, but her hand was trembling slightly.

Across Su Chen's retinas, blue pop-ups cascaded like a waterfall.

[Shock Points +3,000!]

[Shock Points +2,500!]

[Shock Points +2,800!]

[Shock Points +1,900!]

The Astral Express Crew and Arlan, who lay collapsed on the floor, had contributed the bulk of these.

The densely packed numbers made his eyes swim.

Then a special notification edged in gold popped up.

[Detected a logical breakdown in Genius Society member Herta. Shock Points +5,000!]

Su Chen licked his lips, the tip of his tongue a little dry.

He had made an absolute killing this time.

He lowered his left hand and slipped both little hands back into his oversized uniform pockets.

He turned around and looked up.

The corridor was deathly silent.

Only a few damaged pipes in the distance hissed as they vented gas.

Welt, Himeko, Xingbao, March 7th, and even Arlan, covered in blood.

Every gaze was fixed firmly on Su Chen.

The power to destroy stars.

An antimatter fleet and a massive wormhole, erased in a single strike.

A feat sufficient to reshuffle the powers of the entire universe.

And it had come from a seven-year-old little girl who barely reached an adult's waist and still spoke in a childish voice.

The Imaginary Divine Court.

That name now weighed like a mountain on everyone's hearts.

It pressed down so hard they could barely breathe.

The Seventh Seat could destroy an entire fleet with a casual flick of a finger.

Then what about that Female Lord from earlier, the Fourth Seat?

What about the top three seats, who had never shown themselves, or even their leader?

Welt's lips moved.

A dry, rasping sound scraped from his throat.

He wanted to ask something, but realized he had no idea where to begin.

Amid that unbearably oppressive atmosphere.

A sudden, grating mechanical noise came from the far end of the corridor.

Gears whirred madly, and the sharp creaking of springs wound to their limit sounded especially jarring in the quiet corridor.

Clack, clack, clack!

Heavy footsteps rapidly approached.

A Herta Puppet in a purple-and-white dress burst through the smoke at the other end of the corridor like a lunatic.

The rushing air had torn her skirt, and her hat had flown off to who knew where.

She paid no attention to the consoles still smoking around her.

Nor did she spare a glance for the Astral Express Crew's startled looks.

She stumbled toward Little Satoru Gojo, a feverish red light flickering deep in her mechanical eyes.

When she was still two meters from Su Chen, the puppet lunged straight at him.

Both metal mechanical arms thrust recklessly forward, her hands reaching for the little girl's shoulders.