Chapter 172: The Recurring Mysterious Masked Man

Facing the group who had lost their souls to Sentiment, Fischer advanced through the church, slowly drawing his mechanical greatsword from its sheath.

“The Knights’ Oath forbids us to draw steel against believers,” he said, voice calm, “but those corrupted by Sentiment are no longer faithful.

Now, let me deliver you to the Presence of the Omnifabric Soul—by the edge of my blade.”

Moments later, screams echoed through the silent night within the Great Pendulum Cathedral.

Fischer’s neutrality was never indifference—it was absolute obedience to Rules and Central Authority directives.

Thus, anything that defied those rules, or threatened the Central Authority, became his enemy.

As he had once said:

Tools do not need minds of their own.

When the final echoes of agony and the wet crunch of metal through flesh faded into silence, only the steady, hollow chime of the great mechanical clock remained.

Then—

A silver-haired, blue-eyed masked figure stepped into the cathedral, a scene of blood and corpses now his domain.

He glanced at the wreckage, letting out a soft, dismissive tch.

“That’s why I hate you machines—always running on code, no soul, no compassion.

You purge heretics like wiping a hard drive. No guilt. No hesitation.”

Fischer’s mechanical greatsword leveled at the intruder, its blade pointing directly at the masked man, who radiated an aura of corruption.

“Who are you?”

The masked figure—Tian Dao—smiled.

“A visitor here to take what’s yours… the Central Authority Permission from your chest.”

“Is that so?”

In an instant, the cathedral roared with the deafening screech of overloading steam engines.

Fischer vanished from sight—leaving behind a golden afterimage—reappearing three paces before Tian Dao in a blur of motion.

His greatsword screamed through the air, slicing the space above the masked man’s head with a force that split the Kong itself.

Yet Tian Dao did not dodge.

He did not strike back.

Not even a flicker of surprise crossed his eyes.

He simply tilted his head—just slightly.

In Fischer’s widened, half-organic, half-machine eye, the blade’s trajectory… changed.

As if unseen forces had rewritten physics mid-swing.

The sword passed inches from Tian Dao’s mask, slicing through air, before crashing into the ground with a thunderous boom.

Shattered masonry and geysering steam erupted outward.

A deep, ten-meter-long gash tore across the floor, extending past Tian Dao’s feet and into the wall behind—cracking it into a spiderweb of fractures.

Dust swirled. Ceiling tiles rained down.

Fischer lunged to retrieve his sword—only to feel a sudden, crushing weight on the hilt.

He looked down.

Tian Dao stood calmly, one foot planted firmly atop the blade, pinning it to the floor.

Fischer’s ocular interface flooded with data—hundreds of streams of real-time diagnostics, attempting to activate the sword’s vibration resonance to break the pressure.

Nothing worked.

The machine was frozen.

Then, Tian Dao spoke—calm, almost amused.

“Steam joint reaction time: 0.3 seconds.

Hidden gun barrel on left shoulder: 0.7 seconds to charge.

Backup steam reservoir on your lower back: 300 standard atmospheres of pressure.”

He paused, as if savoring the silence.

“If I’m not mistaken… you were about to kick my side with your right leg, fire from your shoulder cannon to suppress me, then activate the reserve steam tank—maximizing your mech’s power output for a final, full-force strike, correct?”

Fischer’s pupils contracted violently.

Precognition-type Stellar Source… or did he study me beforehand?

The question flashed through his mind—alongside a flood of internal calculations.

In that same 0.1-second window, he had already mapped the optimal sequence.

Without hesitation, Fischer released the sword.

Steam jets flared from his wrist port—propelling him forward in a violent recoil.

He launched a fist straight at Tian Dao’s chest.

But the blow struck only empty air—just a phantom.

Fischer snapped his head up.

There, hanging upside down thirty meters above, suspended from the cathedral’s vaulted ceiling, was Tian Dao.

His mask’s eyes—deep, cold blue—gazed down, half-smile, half-sneer.

“Always so calm. Always prepared. Always surviving.

Don’t you ever get tired?”

Fischer said nothing.

Instead, he asked again—voice colder than steel:

“Who are you?

There’s no record of you in the Steam Capital archives—or the entire New Federation’s Stellar Envoy Archives.”

Tian Dao tilted his head, a slow, knowing smirk spreading.

“Didn’t you already suspect?

Otherwise… why did you quietly send an encrypted signal to Central Authority just now?”

He spread his hands.

A shimmering, translucent Quantum Cube formed in his palm—its six faces spinning rapidly, devouring stray quantum signals from the air like a black hole.

“With this,” he said, “no data from you can escape.

Not even a whisper.”

Then—

He removed his mask.

Beneath it—was the face that had haunted the Warrant Posters of the Hidden Star Society for years.

Though aged, matured, the silver hair and piercing blue eyes remained unmistakable.

The same face that had once stood at the edge of chaos, and now returned.

“Tian Dao Siming,” Fischer whispered, each syllable a blade of dread.

No sooner had the name left his lips than Tian Dao descended—light as a feather, landing without stirring a single dust mote.

He looked at Fischer, his expression one of weary disdain.

“After all this time… you machines still can’t let go.”

He let out a dry chuckle.

“Honestly, if it were some beautiful, cold-hearted cat-girl chasing me… I’d almost be flattered.”

“But no—it’s always you. Cold metal. No heart. No soul.

It’s… disturbing.”

Then—

A sharp, crisp snap of fingers.

In an instant, Fischer’s entire mech convulsed.

His right arm violently reversed, hydraulics screaming.

His left leg’s gears spun backward.

The chest-mounted steam engine let out a dissonant, grinding roar.

As if an invisible hand were rewiring his very body from within.

Vector Control.

Fischer understood instantly.

No hesitation.

He activated the built-in Stellar Energy jammer embedded in his mech—trying to disrupt the foreign signal.

But then—

A cold, steady hand landed on his shoulder.

“Stop struggling,” Tian Dao said softly.

“From the moment I stepped into this cathedral… the outcome was already written.”

Fischer tried to twist, to strike back with an elbow—

But his body… would not obey.

He was completely under control.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end