Chapter 67: Stellar Energy Art · Azure Flowing Robe — The Birth of a Domain

‘Tian Dao… are you really sure about this?’

Outside the Gravity Chamber at Yujin Base, Kalolin watched intently as Tian Dao stepped forward, preparing to enter alone. Her voice carried the weight of concern, her expression stern.

For someone not of the Enhancement or Transformation archetype, entering the Gravity Chamber too early was anything but beneficial—it could actually suppress growth. At twelve, one’s body was still developing. Subjecting it to extreme physical stress before it was fully formed? That was reckless. At least, that’s what Kalolin believed.

Yet Tian Dao had made his choice. And deep down, he had his reasons—reasons tied not only to his current defensive capabilities, but also to the foundation of his future domain.

Even after Kalolin’s repeated warnings, Tian Dao smiled calmly, dismissing her concern with a gentle shake of his head. “I’m fine,” he said. “Thank you, but I’ll go in alone.”

Reluctantly, Kalolin relented. She let him enter, staying outside to monitor him from afar.

And as Tian Dao stepped into the chamber for the first time, the viewers in the Dimensional Audience quickly understood his purpose.

Others entered the Gravity Chamber to strengthen their bodies.

Tian Dao entered to train his Vector Control.

Immediately after stepping inside, a translucent vector field flickered into existence around his body. At first, it was crude—merely counteracting the chamber’s gravity through opposing forces. But as days passed, as he adapted to the pressure and refined his connection to his Stellar Source, his control evolved.

Within a few days, he achieved precision—splitting the 1.5x gravity, diverting 0.5x away, leaving only the standard 1x on his body.

Then, after a few more days… he achieved complete nullification.

The gravity no longer pressed down on him. Instead, it flowed around him like water, skimming his form before being redirected to the chamber floor—completely neutralized.

This was the culmination of his vision.

From then on, Tian Dao steadily increased the chamber’s gravity—pushing it all the way to Fivefold Gravity. And even under that crushing load, he moved with ease, untouched.

This was the new defensive Stellar Energy Art he had forged:

Stellar Energy Art · Azure Flowing Robe

Upon activation, it generates a directional vector field within 9 millimeters of the user’s body, deflecting all incoming attacks and redirecting them elsewhere.

As the screen displayed the explanation and showed Tian Dao’s entire training process, the Dimensional Audience finally grasped why he could wield power on par with—or even surpass—typical Enhancement and Transformation types, despite not being one.

- Ranged combat? He had Hei Cang—devastating, fast-charging, and brutally precise.

- Close-quarters? Azure Flowing Robe granted fixed damage reduction and immunity to low-damage attacks.

- Mental resilience? His Star-Eclipse Eye pierced illusions and resisted mental manipulation.

Tian Dao wasn’t just strong—he was a perfectly balanced multi-dimensional warrior.

Five-star full potential.

No weaknesses.

Unbeatable at the Second-Rank level.

A true peak among stars.

> ‘No way… you can not only reduce damage fixed, but completely ignore attacks below a certain threshold? Holy—this Vector Control is artistic!’

> ‘Now I get why Claude went full mech mode and still couldn’t break your defense—your force was just being funneled into the sand!’

> ‘Fixed mitigation + low-damage immunity + partial counter + immunity to most elemental attacks… is this even Vector Control anymore?’

> ‘Tian Dao: Don’t touch my blue bar unless you’re ready to see my red bar. Dream on.’

> ‘Run! Gua, there’s a Gua!!!’

Amidst the audience’s chaotic banter, the screen snapped back to Reality.

Boom!

Tian Dao shifted into high gear—his speed surging to two or three times normal.

Even with infrared tracking, Claude couldn’t keep up. His mech’s clumsy movements made evasion impossible. After a single wild punch, he spent the rest of the fight being pummeled.

Lights flashed red inside the cockpit. Alarms screamed.

Crack!

Tian Dao’s foot slammed into the right joint of the mech’s arm—shattering it. The limb tore free, exposing frayed wires and ruptured hydraulic tubes. Now, like severed veins, they spurted electric sparks and gushed bright blue coolant.

Worse—because of the neural sync, Claude felt every jolt of pain, even though his body was untouched. He screamed—a raw, agonized cry.

But Tian Dao didn’t stop.

He lunged to the last remaining left arm, grabbed it with both hands, and ripped it clean off.

Then, with a swing like a baseball bat, he swung the two-ton wreck into the mech’s chest.

KABOOM!

The impact sent Claude—mech and all—flying into shallow water. The explosion ripped a crater-like splash nearly ten meters wide across the surface.

Inside the cockpit, alarms blared even louder:

> [WARNING: 40% structural damage]

> [WARNING: Critical systems offline]

> [WARNING: Reactor overload. Estimated shutdown in 60 seconds]

The shrieking alarms. The unbearable neural feedback.

Claude—already frail—could take no more. He choked, then spat blood.

Not just blood. Pieces of internal organs.

His body curled in the cockpit, broken and drowning in crimson.

And yet—this entire fight had lasted less than fifteen seconds.

Add the ten seconds it took to kill Rongshan earlier, and Tian Dao had eliminated two enemies and crippled a third in just twenty seconds.

Then, as Claude barely regained strength—struggling to activate the hidden reserve power in his mech’s back—another alarm shrieked.

> [WARNING: HIGH STELLAR ENERGY VALUE DETECTED. ESCAPE IMMEDIATELY. ESCAPE IMMEDIATELY.]

Claude’s head snapped up. Through the viewport, he saw it—the hand raised in the distance.

And on Tian Dao’s fingertip, a familiar black light pulsed.

Hei Cang.

The signature attack.

The one that would end him.

Just as Tian Dao was about to finish him—

A shadow broke from the darkness behind him.

A black figure emerged—Lina, from nowhere, now standing in Tian Dao’s shadow, ready to strike from the rear.

But Tian Dao—back turned—spoke before she could move.

“…You’ve finally come out, haven’t you?”

Lina froze. Her heart stuttered.

Then, in the corner of her eye, she saw it—the slow, deliberate motion of Tian Dao’s left hand, rising behind him.

And in his palm—a second Hei Cang, already charged.

“Did I ever say I could only use one Hei Cang at a time?”

Boom!

Two shots.

One for the sea.

One for the shadow.

The first struck Claude’s core. The mech exploded in a dazzling, fiery bloom beneath the waves.

The second pierced Lina’s chest—a gaping, charred hole the size of a dinner bowl.

She dropped to her knees on the glowing shore, stunned, broken, defeated.

“Why…” she whispered.

She had always played the musician, the Stellar Envoy of melody and illusion.

She’d used that identity to kill stronger foes—once even a Second-Rank Envoy—by feigning weakness in close combat.

But Tian Dao… knew.

And worse—he’d prepared.

She didn’t understand.

How could he have seen through her?

Tian Dao tilted his head, smiling faintly.

“Why? Maybe because I’m… different. Your little shadow? It’s as obvious to me as a spotlight.”

Lina’s gaze flicked to his eyes—those strange, star-tracked sapphire irises.

And suddenly, everything clicked.

He’d seen through her Pseudo Note attack—crafted from Shadow and the Stellar Artifact · Human Bone Harp.

He’d known her true source all along.

The truth settled like ice.

Thud.

Lina collapsed. Blood poured from her chest, staining the sand into a crimson silk.

Beside her—Rongshan’s headless corpse, soaked in blood.

Claude’s mech burning like a torch on the sea.

And her broken form.

A triptych of death.

A symphony of sorrow.

And the artist?

The silver-haired boy, standing there, smiling gently—innocent, harmless, perfect.

Thirty seconds.

From the first clash to three fallen.

Half the time Bodean had given.

Yet in that time, three out of four Dark Stellar Envoys were dead.

And Yi Yi · Wiser—watching it all—felt his own blood run cold.

The man who enjoyed others’ suffering…

Now felt it.

Task?

To hell with the task.

In a flash, he turned and ran.

But he hadn’t taken two steps—his werewolf legs still uncoiled from the drugs—when a soft, mocking laugh echoed beside him.

“Where are you going?”

Wiser froze. Slowly, his neck creaked.

Tian Dao stood beside him.

And his right hand—so gently—rested on Wiser’s shoulder.

No killing intent.

Just a smile.

A kind, perfect smile.

But Wiser knew.

He knew what that smile meant.

This boy wasn’t human.

He was a monster wearing a human face.

To emphasize the horror, the camera showed it:

Tian Dao’s shadow—under the sun—stretched, twisted, morphed.

It became a towering, faceless silhouette—its mouth split wide, grinning in silence.

And in its shadow, Wiser trembled—small, fragile, helpless.

PS: Family, the next chapter is wrapping up the Deep Blue arc—so it’s taking longer than usual. I won’t make it by 10 PM. Might be 11. So I’m sending this one out early.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end