The moment the purple flames fell, only one thought remained in Ye Mo's mind: I'm doomed.
The light was more blinding than the sun, and the temperature was so high it could crack the air. He couldn't even blink; his skin was already taut from the heat, his eardrums were ringing, and his heartbeat felt like it was being gripped by a giant hand and pushed hard into his throat. He knew that if this blow landed, he would become a pile of charred remains in the rubble.
But in that one second—or rather, a fraction of a second—his consciousness suddenly reached its limit.
It wasn't fear, nor the will to survive, but a strange kind of "clarity." It was like suddenly understanding the most challenging question in the last minute of an exam, and an absurd thought flashed through his mind, "If only time could slow down."
The thought had barely crossed his mind when the system didn't react or sound a notification, but he felt as if he had been stuffed into a thick layer of jelly.
The world fell silent.
The flying pebbles hovered in mid-air like pinned bullets; the burning flames solidified into thin, orange-red flakes, motionless; Ronan's hammer swing was slowed down, his muscles bulging, and purple flames creeping out inch by inch from the gaps in his armor, like lava flowing in slow motion. Even the ripples in the air were clearly visible, spreading out in circles like ripples on the bottom of water.
Ye Mo blinked, confirming that it wasn't a hallucination.
"Damn... it's really slow?" he muttered under his breath, his voice sounding particularly deep, as if it came from the bottom of a well.
He looked down at his hands; they could still move. He lifted his leg and took a step forward, feeling like he was swimming in deep water, each step accompanied by resistance, but he could definitely move. His head was throbbing, his temples were throbbing, and black spots began to appear at the edges of his vision, like the static on an old television with a bad signal.
"It won't last much longer." He knew this in his mind, and quickly surveyed the battlefield.
Ronan's warhammer hadn't fully struck yet; the energy ball was still gathering, less than a second away from exploding. The crack on his left shoulder was more pronounced than before, and a piece of the armor edge was curled up, as if Gamora had pried it loose with her previous strike. His right rear was a blind spot; Ronan's view was blocked by his helmet, and he couldn't see behind him at all.
There was a collapsed crater seven meters away, created by the previous explosion; the edges were still relatively sturdy. If you rushed through it, you could at least avoid a head-on impact.
The problem is—in his current state, no matter how fast he moves, he'll crawl like a tortoise. And even if he dodges, the others will still be in the same spot, and once time recovers, that impact will still send them flying.
No, I can't just think of myself.
He gritted his teeth, his mind racing. The aftereffects of his mental exhaustion were still there, but the fragments of " Telepathy " were still usable. He focused his attention and quickly composed a message in his mind. "Remain still. I will land in three seconds. Immediately regroup." The message was short and emotionless, just a tactical command. He inserted the message into his ability channel, setting it to "automatically send upon time recovery," before daring to let go.
Done.
Next step, run.
He exerted force with both legs, leaning forward as if sprinting through a muddy swamp. Each step was incredibly heavy, his feet creaking on the gravel, as if the entire universe was filled only with the sound of his footsteps. The seven-meter distance, which usually takes two seconds, took him almost five seconds.
With only two steps left to the pit, he caught a glimpse out of the corner of his eye that Ronan's Hammerhead had been pressed down to its lowest point, the purple flames shrinking into a ball, about to explode.
"Faster!" he roared inwardly.
Finally, he leaped forward, plunging towards the edge of the pit. His body traced an arc in the air, and time moved slowly, so he could clearly see his tumbling trajectory, how the rubble hovered above his head, and how the flames spread out behind him like a curtain.
The instant he landed and tumbled into the pit, a sudden, throbbing pain exploded in his head.
"Buzz--!"
Time has come back.
boom!!!
The purple flames crashed down where he had just stood, the explosion shaking the entire rubble belt. The shockwave swept across, flames soared into the sky, and an area several meters in diameter was completely ravaged. Rocks melted, the ground collapsed, and even the air was distorted by the heat. Where the group of people had stood, only a large crater emitting blue smoke remained.
Ye Mo curled up in the corner of the pit, his back against the charred rock wall. His ears were ringing, and his mouth tasted of rust. He spat out a mouthful of saliva, which was mixed with blood. His chest felt suffocating, as if he had been hit several times with a hammer, but at least his bones weren't broken.
He looked up, but the air was thick with smoke and dust, obscuring everything. Ronan stood rooted to the spot, his warhammer still embedded in the ground, its purple flames still burning. His eyes, hidden beneath his helmet, were fixed on the large crater, as if trying to confirm whether he had actually been hit.
"Missed it?" Ronan's voice was low and hoarse, filled with incredulous anger. "You dodged it?"
Ye Mo remained silent and dared not move. He knew that Ronan was definitely looking for him now, and if he showed his face, the next blow would pin him to the spot.
He quietly touched his temple; it was still throbbing, like a needle pricking it. The dark spots at the edge of his vision hadn't faded, indicating that the attack had taken a toll. But at least—he had survived.
Moreover, his move just now wasn't a simple dodge. He genuinely slowed down time.
Although it only lasted a few seconds, and although it felt like running ten kilometers, it was a real ability. He had tried various combinations before— Self-Healing, Wall Phasing, lightning, ice walls—but he had never encountered anything like manipulating time. He didn't know which fragment had been activated this time, but it just inexplicably appeared.
"System, are you hiding some amazing trick from me?" he muttered to himself, not expecting a response.
He knew now was not the time for analysis. Ronan was still standing there, his fighting spirit undiminished, and in fact, he was even more agitated because his attack had missed. He had to find a way to survive, and also give the others a chance to catch their breath.
He cautiously peeked out, peering through the smoke and dust.
Ronan had already begun to stride, his warhammer dragging on the ground, leaving a trail of Mars. He walked slowly, but each step carried a sense of pressure, as if he were hunting. Ye Mo quickly shrank back, leaning against the rock wall, his heart pounding.
"Did that message go through?" he wondered to himself.
If the warning was sent, others should have already received it. Even if they don't know who sent it, they should at least realize that the crisis has eased, giving them a chance to adjust their positions, check their weapons, and reorganize their defenses. If the warning wasn't sent... then we can only rely on their instincts.
He dared not gamble.
He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. Now that he was hiding here, Ronan wouldn't be able to find him for a while, which was his opportunity. He needed to use this time to recover some strength, at least to allow his Regeneration abilities to heal more. He closed his eyes and activated the Self-Healing fragments of the third layer of the Gene Spiral Tower. A familiar warming sensation came from within his body, like a small engine running. The gash in his hand began to close, and the dull pain in his ribs lessened slightly.
But his energy was still depleted, and his mental strength was almost gone. He dared not use Time Manipulation again; who knew if doing it again would cause him to suffer a stroke?
Outside, Ronan's footsteps grew closer.
"You can't hide." The voice came from the smoke and dust, cold as ice. "I can smell you, human."
Ye Mo opened his eyes and clenched his fists.
He knew he couldn't hide any longer. Hiding would only force him out little by little, ultimately leading to his demise in the open. He had to act, to create new variables.
He quietly pulled something out of his pocket—a black chip left over from when he and Rocket Raccoon modified the bomb. It was originally intended as a temporary capacitor, but they hadn't installed it. Now it lay quietly in his palm, its surface slightly warm, as if it still held a trace of residual current.
"Make use of waste," he said softly.
He stared at the chip, his mind racing. The thing itself was useless, but it could conduct electricity and interfere with signals. If he could throw it at a crucial moment and hit Ronan's energy node, it might cause a momentary disruption.
Of course, the prerequisite is that he has to show his face first.
He took a deep breath, slowly stood up, and leaned against the edge of the pit. Outside, Ronan was less than ten meters away, his warhammer raised, purple flames slowly rotating on its Hammerhead.
"Come out," Ronan said. "I don't want to dig you out."
Ye Mo didn't answer. He held the chip between his fingertips, calculating the angle and force. He knew this throw had to be accurate, otherwise there wouldn't even be a chance to interfere.
He held his breath and pulled his arms back.
Just as he was about to throw out the chip, a very faint metallic clanging sound came from afar—like someone gently touching the barrel of a gun.
Ye Mo's lips curled into a smile.
"Looks like the message was received."