Chapter 137: The Hero's Anthem, Typical of a Shonen Anime

Reality World, Station 13.

Though Tian Dao had not yet drawn his blade, his tone remained as calm as if he were chatting with an old friend—far removed from the presence of a lethal foe.

Yet it was precisely this effortless composure, this quiet grace in every motion, that now gripped the hearts of the Dimensional Audience like invisible hands.

They finally felt the true power of Shuimo, the Fifth Squad’s captain.

And after hearing his meticulous breakdown of Stellar Envoy potential, the Dimensional Audience finally understood the chasm between Chen Kong and the others—and the sheer, staggering magnitude of Tian Dao from Season 1.

“If Shuimo’s analysis is accurate… then Tian Dao must be a monster who maxes out every single attribute at every stage.”

Seeing that comment, others quickly chimed in.

Because based on Tian Dao’s performance in Season 1, there was no way he could have risen above a legion of monstrous Stellar Prodigies—becoming the ultimate monster among them—unless he’d fully unlocked every facet of his being.

Sure, the Dimensional Audience had known Tian Dao was strong—the pinnacle of the stars.

But they’d never grasped just how strong.

Some even believed his dominance stemmed largely from his mastery of Stellar Source · Vector Control. Without it, they thought, he’d still be powerful—but nowhere near the terrifying level he’d reached in Season 1.

But now, Shuimo’s words shattered that illusion.

According to him, even if Tian Dao had switched to a different Stellar Source, he would’ve still crushed every rival of his era. He would’ve remained the undeniable apex of the stars.

Tian Dao’s strength wasn’t due to his tool.

It was because of him.

And with that realization, someone suddenly remembered a line from Season 1—Chen Xing, casually telling Chen Kong just after Tian Dao first obtained his Stellar Source:

> “It’s never the Stellar Source that’s strong. It’s Tian Dao himself.”

Back then, the Dimensional Audience had dismissed it as hyperbole—exaggeration born of awe.

Now? It wasn’t exaggeration at all.

Even though Tian Dao hadn’t truly appeared in Season 2, the moment had become the center of the screen.

“Holy crap… Lao Tian was this insane?”

“Man, if Lao Tian were here, none of this would be happening.”

“Just started Season 2—what’s up with Lao Tian?”

“Dude, go back and watch Season 1 first. Then you’ll understand why everyone’s obsessed. If he were here, Shuimo wouldn’t be talking like this.”

“Day 367 of missing Lao Tian.”

Watching Liu Ma and Chen Kong, crushed under Captain-Level Pressure, barely able to move, the Dimensional Audience suddenly missed the carefree, chaotic presence of the one who’d once been their greatest nuisance in safety—and their only anchor in danger.

In times of peace, he was the biggest threat.

But in crisis? He was the last hope.

The scene was a dead end.

Chen Kong and Liu Ma, paralyzed under Shuimo’s oppressive aura, couldn’t even raise a hand.

The Dimensional Audience felt the crushing weight of inevitability.

“Another classic shonen anime trope—the hero’s inevitable, painful failure before rising again?”

Just as some sighed, resigned to the impending agony of the plot, the soundtrack shifted.

Without warning, the soft piano gave way to a sudden, electrifying crescendo—like ice cracking under pressure.

A battle cry.

Chen Kong’s turn.

“I admit… I did burn through too much of my future.”

His voice, ragged with breath, cut through the silence—yet clear, unwavering.

“But… only a future where I can see tomorrow… is worth having.”

“If I can’t even glimpse tomorrow… what’s the point of all this potential?”

At that moment, the screen zoomed in on Chen Kong’s right hand.

A single, shimmering candy—deep, ocean-blue like the sky above Tian Dao’s realm—glistened in his palm.

The Dimensional Screen erupted.

“It’s Dream Candy · Blue!”

“The iconic Season 1 item!”

“Come on, Stellar Energy potential—show me your limits!”

In anticipation, Chen Kong swallowed the candy.

The soft click of his throat echoed.

And in an instant—his Stellar Energy exploded.

Visible, violent, unstoppable.

Like a beast breaking free from chains, his power surged upward, shattering the oppressive weight of Tian Dao’s presence.

For the first time, Chen Kong was free.

But Tian Dao? He didn’t flinch.

A single, subtle raise of his brow. A flicker in the depths of his black-rimmed glasses.

He watched, calm, as the merged pressure of Vector Control and his own aura was pushed back—not by skill, not by strategy, but by sheer, raw force.

After a pause, he spoke.

“I’ll grant you—there’s a grain of truth in what you said.”

His white squad uniform fluttered in a wind that wasn’t there.

“But… what does it matter to me?”

He placed a hand on his sword hilt.

The ink-like aura of Shuimo began to creep across the hem of his coat—slow, inevitable, like rising tide.

“My mission is simple: bring this knight back to the Association… intact.”

Chen Kong lifted his hand.

A sleek, black gun—fused with advanced tech and pulsing with energy—materialized in his grip.

A weapon forged for war.

Facing the barrel pointed at him, glowing with gathering Stellar Energy, Tian Dao’s expression faded.

The warmth vanished.

In its place—cold, absolute stillness.

“If you insist on challenging me… then I’ll have to put you to sleep right here.”

No warning.

No hesitation.

The gunshot ripped through the air.

The custom Void Pattern Bullet, screaming through the space, flashed toward Tian Dao like a meteor.

Clang!

Tian Dao drew Shattering Star.

The blade met the bullet in a clash of light and sound.

In slow motion, the Dimensional Audience saw it—Tian Dao’s ink-black aura, swirling along the blade, dissolved instantly under the Void Pattern’s force, consumed and transformed into pure Stellar Energy.

But that was all the bullet achieved.

Before Chen Kong could fire again, Tian Dao swung.

A blade of ink-black energy, shaped by Vector Control, roared through the air—aimed straight at Chen Kong’s face.

At the last possible second, Chen Kong twisted sideways, rolling clear.

The blade passed past his ear—leaving behind a mirror-smooth cut in the wall.

A few strands of black hair drifted down, bounced once on the dusty floor, and settled.

But even as he rolled, Chen Kong fired again.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Three Void Pattern Bullets, fired in a perfect triangle, tore through the dim underground space—illuminated by the eerie blue flash of their trails.

Yet the response was effortless.

Three streaks of ink-black energy—like drawn sword slashes—cut through the air.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

The bullets were shattered, their impact vaporizing into glowing specks of Stellar Energy, scattered into the air like dust.

Tian Dao stood, sword in hand.

The ink still spread across his coat.

On the other side, Chen Kong knelt—gun trembling in his grip, sweat dripping from his brow, falling in small splashes onto the floor.

The screen was silent.

No one breathed.

Because even though the tension was unbearable, they saw it—a flicker of hope.

And in the world of anime?

When the hero’s theme begins…

…he cannot lose.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end