The night sky was utterly torn apart by that enormous fireball, the orange-red flames exploding across the retina like spilled ink. The temperature in the air instantly soared, burning the cheeks, and even the breath smelled burnt. Ye Mo didn't retreat an inch; his feet were rooted to the ground, his shoes even sinking into the mud. He quickly made a complex geometric gesture in front of his chest, the energy belonging to the " Gene Spiral Tower " in his mind surging wildly, rushing up his spine to the top of his head.
"Come out!"
With a low growl, a pale blue light curtain appeared out of thin air. This light curtain was not a solid wall, but a semi-transparent barrier made up of countless hexagonal honeycomb grids, with a diameter of five meters, like a giant soap bubble, completely enveloping Ye Mo, Emma Frost, and T'Challa inside.
The shockwave from the explosion arrived just as the shield was forming.
It felt like a fully loaded heavy truck crashing into him at supersonic speed, leaving no time for inertia to react. Ye Mo felt as if his arms had been struck hard by an iron hammer, his bones making a teeth-grinding creaking sound. His knees instinctively bent, trying to absorb the force, but the ground beneath his feet was soft grass, offering no grip. He slid back half a meter, his boots carving two deep furrows in the mud.
The once calm blue light on the shield's surface instantly turned crimson, like blood boiling in a vein. Countless cracks flashed across the light screen, appearing only to heal rapidly the next second, emitting a crackling sound of electricity. T'Challa's Vibranium Suit clung tightly to the inside of the shield, the sound of metal scraping clearly audible—the suit's minute deformation under high pressure. Emma Frost clung tightly to Ye Mo's lower back, her body stiff, her Diamond Form instincts churning beneath her skin, wanting to harden and share the pressure, but Ye Mo stopped her with a single glance. At this moment, any additional energy fluctuation could cause the already crumbling shield to collapse.
"Don't let go." T'Challa's voice came from behind, deep and powerful, like a muffled thunderclap from his chest, " Black Panther is with you."
A hand rested on Ye Mo's trembling hand. It was Emma Frost's hand. Although there was a shield between them, a faint sense of spiritual comfort traveled through her fingertips. Ye Mo gritted his teeth, the muscles in his cheeks tensed like stone, sweat trickling down his forehead, dripping onto the soil and instantly evaporating into white vapor. His consciousness began to blur, his ears filled with a deafening roar, and the world turned into a chaotic red. But he dared not close his eyes, he could only adjust his breathing, gathering the strength scattered throughout his body back into a single point, desperately resisting the overwhelming force.
Time seemed to freeze at that moment. Every second stretched into an eternity, and waves of pain washed over the nerve endings.
It's unclear how much time passed—perhaps a minute, perhaps ten. The last violent shockwave dissipated, and the surrounding air finally stopped distorting. The bloodshot in Ye Mo's eyes slowly faded, and he slowly withdrew his hands, his movements as stiff as a rusty machine. The Force Field Shield shrank rapidly like receding tides, eventually turning into specks of light that dissipated in the night wind.
Ye Mo's legs buckled, and he knelt on one knee, panting heavily. With each breath, it felt as if blades were scraping his lungs. His black hooded sweatshirt was soaked through, clinging tightly to his back, icy cold.
T'Challa immediately stepped forward, a strong arm supporting his shoulder. The movement was gentle, as if afraid of breaking any bones that might have been damaged when he withstood the shockwave. "Can you walk?" T'Challa asked, his voice less cold than usual, and more concerned.
Emma Frost joined them, glancing around to make sure no new explosive devices or debris were approaching. Looking at Ye Mo, disheveled yet still clutching the chip tightly, a flicker of heartache crossed her eyes, but mostly admiration. "You did it," she said softly, her voice firm, no longer showing her previous weakness.
Ye Mo wiped the mud and sweat from his face and forced himself to stand up. His legs were still trembling, and every movement felt like torture. He looked down at his chest; the data chip was intact, only the casing was a little hot.
"Looks like we're not dead yet." Ye Mo forced a smile, but his facial muscles were too tense, making the smile look somewhat distorted. "Let's go. Although it's safe here, Klaue's men could catch up at any time. We can't stay here any longer."
These words were like a bucket of cold water, extinguishing the faint sense of relief that had just risen in the hearts of the three. They quickly adjusted their posture, stood back to back, and formed a temporary defensive formation. In the distance, the mountains on the border of Wakanda stood silently in the night, with only the flames of the base ruins still burning stubbornly, illuminating half the sky red.
Ye Mo took a deep breath, sensing the delicate balance between the depletion and recovery of energy within his body. He knew this was just the beginning. The real trouble was yet to come.