https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-90-A-Secret-Too-Dangerous-to-Hear/13687929/
https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-92-If-the-Future-Cannot-Be-Changed-Then-Seeing-It-Is-Meaningless-8-000-Word-Epic-Chapter-/13687931/
Chapter 91: Vector Control · All-Phenomena Repulsion [5800-Word Epic Chapter]
“Miracle Stone · Kong? What the hell is Lao Tian even talking about? Is this some sudden new lore the production team just added?”
“Don’t know. I don’t recall seeing this before.”
“What do you mean ‘not seen before’? Didn’t the Central Council envoy just say Doctor has the key he’s been searching for all along? I’m guessing this ‘Miracle Stone · Kong’ is exactly that key.”
“Wait… could this ‘Miracle Stone · Kong’ actually be connected to the main character, Lao Kong? After all, his name literally contains ‘Kong,’ and his first Stellar Core is called Void Pattern. This feels way too coincidental to be random.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right. I definitely think this thing is tied to Lao Kong. And I’m convinced the entire next arc will revolve around these so-called Miracle Stones.”
Though it was the first time the phrase Miracle Stone · Kong had been spoken, the Dimensional Audience—seasoned veterans of countless anime—immediately grasped why the production team had chosen this pivotal moment, in the final stretch of Season 1, to reveal it through Tian Dao’s mouth.
No need to guess. This was clearly a setup for Season 2: The Stars · Faint Light.
Even more so, the so-called “Miracle Stone” might very well become the central thread running through the entire Stellar Prodigy series.
And they were spot-on.
Just like every anime protagonist has a defined destiny, Chen Kong—the official lead of Stellar Prodigy—also had his own mission.
That mission? To collect the twelve Miracle Stones scattered across this world.
And the reason Chen Kong could do this? It all came down to his First Stellar Core: Void Pattern—or more precisely, the Miracle Stone · Kong embedded within him.
Only the Miracle Stone · Kong could harmonize with the other Miracle Stones, neutralizing their mutual repulsion.
To Tian Dao, the Miracle Stones were akin to the Infinity Gems in Marvel or the Dragon Balls in Dragon Ball.
And Chen Kong? He was the living Infinity Gauntlet—specifically designed to contain and carry them.
Of course, Tian Dao himself didn’t know the full truth about the twelve Miracle Stones.
He didn’t even know their individual effects.
All he had were fragments—deduced from a passing line Yun Meng once said to Benjamin in the original story.
So why reveal this now?
Two reasons.
First, to replace Yun Meng as the most authoritative voice unveiling lore—subtly boosting his own presence in the series.
Second, to reduce the number of allies Benjamin had.
After all, in the original story, the injured, weakened Yun Meng had relied on this very tactic to get Benjamin to eliminate the remaining Stellar Envoys of the Consortium.
And just as Tian Dao predicted—
as soon as he uttered the words “Miracle Stone”, Benjamin struck.
Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!
Four blinding flashes of explosion erupted in the dim underground drainage chamber.
Four freshly charred corpses now lay before Tian Dao—among them, the very Stellar Envoy who had reacted the fastest… but too late to escape.
Their eyes remained wide open, frozen in death.
Tian Dao exhaled with mock sorrow.
Then, with a light tap of his foot, he leapt onto a nearby elevated platform, surveying Benjamin from above—like a god standing on a moral high ground.
“Honestly,” he sighed, “I was hoping at least one of them would answer my question about justice and evil.”
“But you didn’t even give them a chance. You just… killed them.”
“Gotta say, you machines really have no humanity. If I’m not mistaken, you must’ve had your emotional core removed long ago. Otherwise, how could you be so cold?”
His face wore a playful smirk—but his eyes were icy.
Benjamin’s reply was chillingly calm.
“In the path toward miracles, some must inevitably become sacrifices. There’s nothing strange about that.”
His face remained expressionless. Only the faint, cold glow of his nanometal coating flickered in the dark.
As a next-gen nanomachine, he had long since discarded “emotions” as unnecessary baggage.
Tian Dao’s smile faded.
“Treat lives so lightly… I see.”
He didn’t finish the sentence.
Instead, his body vanished—a ripple of distortion.
The puddle beneath him exploded into a perfect, circular splash—a shockwave from his explosive push-off.
In the blink of an eye, Tian Dao reappeared beside Benjamin.
A screeching leg sweep, crackling with violent Kong energy, aimed straight for the machine’s head.
“You all deserve to die.”
Benjamin’s eyes flared with green data storms.
In a fraction of a second, he raised his right arm—a perfect, nanotech-precise block.
BOOM!
Tian Dao’s leg struck.
Instantly, the nanometal skin on Benjamin’s arm shattered into hundreds of micro-particles.
Then—they detonated.
An orange-red fireball erupted between them, expanding rapidly.
The shockwave tore both fighters apart, sending them flying.
Tian Dao twisted mid-air with effortless grace, landing with a controlled slide—his stance firm.
Throughout the motion, his vector field twisted the fire and debris around him—completely sealing off the blast.
No damage. No burn.
Benjamin, mid-flight, suddenly ruptured his back skin—revealing several miniature thrusters.
These ignited pre-calculated nanometal charges, stopping his retreat with a controlled explosion.
But neither paused.
They charged at each other again—in silence, in speed.
Their movements were so fast, they left only ghostly afterimages in the anime frame.
Benjamin’s combat style was the epitome of Perfection—every nanometal fragment moved with machine-like precision, guided by hyper-intelligent computation.
One moment, it formed a blade.
The next, it shattered into explosive shards.
At times, he’d fire a metal spike from his elbow—a surprise strike.
Yet, despite being flesh and blood, Tian Dao didn’t flinch.
He fought with all-or-nothing intensity, trading life for life.
And Benjamin? He was helpless.
Every attack stopped at exactly 9 millimeters from Tian Dao’s body—unable to breach.
Not a scratch.
Not even a burn.
Though only a few exchanges, the battle was visually spectacular—every sound effect, frame detail, and lighting choice pushed to the absolute limit.
The Dimensional Audience was mesmerized, finally understanding Benjamin’s true fighting style.
A nanomachine built from exotic, high-grade nanometal, Benjamin was far stronger than any average Second-Rank Stellar Envoy.
His body wasn’t just durable—it maximized the power of his Stellar Source: Metal Explosion.
At any moment, he could split off a portion of his nanometal and detonate it—with devastating force.
And because nanometal produces far greater explosive yields than conventional metals—same volume, same mass—its power was multiplied tenfold.
This, combined with his superior strength, defense, and attack power, made him incredibly formidable.
And when layered with his ultra-high computational speed and real-time information processing, it made him a formidable opponent—even against someone like Tian Dao.
Despite Tian Dao’s clear superiority in raw power and resilience, he was still being outmaneuvered.
CRACK!
Benjamin’s fist slammed into Tian Dao’s chest.
An explosion erupted, engulfing Tian Dao completely.
The shockwave rippled through the entire underground drainage chamber.
The ceiling cracked under the strain—concrete splitting like glass.
Debris rained down into the water below, spraying up into dazzling plumes.
Yet Tian Dao—though blown back—spun mid-air, landed smoothly, and stood firm.
Benjamin’s sensors locked onto something odd.
Despite being directly hit by multiple metal explosions, Tian Dao’s clothes were perfectly intact—not a single burn mark.
He stared.
Then analyzed.
And found the truth.
Just 9 millimeters outside Tian Dao’s body—a faint, shimmering vector field pulsed like a ripple.
It was All-Phenomena Repulsion.
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[Vector Control · All-Phenomena Repulsion]
Effect: Upon activation, establishes a vector filtration barrier around the user—categorizing incoming forces into harmful and harmless. All dangerous matter is reflected, while essential elements—gravity, pressure, light, oxygen, heat, sound waves—pass through unimpeded.
At first glance, this ability resembled Cang Zhi Liu Yi, the barrier Tian Dao had used in Deep Blue Metropolis.
Both could block all attacks without injury.
But the difference? Profound.
Cang Zhi Liu Yi was a static, directional shield—costing massive Stellar Energy to maintain, regardless of attack strength.
All-Phenomena Repulsion, however, was dynamic and optimized.
It used mathematical calculations to minimize energy expenditure while maximizing defense efficiency.
In short—All-Phenomena Repulsion was the evolved form of Cang Zhi Liu Yi.
But to activate it, Tian Dao needed more than just power.
He needed:
- The Future Sight ability from his Star-Eclipse Eye
- The capacity to observe Stellar Energy fluctuations
- And most crucially—Overclocking Computation, an Intelligent Mechanism Class exclusive ability.
Only this hyper-speed calculation could determine when to reflect, and how much energy to spend—in real time.
That’s why Tian Dao had spent 500,000 Popularity Points to obtain the Portable Quantum Core.
Without it, he’d be forced to rely on Cang Zhi Liu Yi.
And Benjamin? He’d only need to drain Tian Dao’s energy—his Stellar Energy reserve was his biggest advantage.
No machine would miss that.
“Using Overclocking Computation via auxiliary equipment… to achieve such an efficient vector defense.”
“Admittedly… you’ve given me quite the challenge.”
“Based on my calculations,” Benjamin said, staring at Tian Dao standing in the water, “if we continue like this… I will be the first to exhaust my Stellar Energy.”
Tian Dao didn’t smirk.
He simply said, “But you’ve already seen its weakness, haven’t you?”
Benjamin nodded.
Yes.
The flaw was vision.
Tian Dao’s Star-Eclipse Eye wasn’t yet complete.
It lacked full-spectrum coverage.
That meant: if you attacked from his blind spot, the vector field wouldn’t react in time.
And that was the one and only weakness of All-Phenomena Repulsion.
“Remarkable. Truly astonishing. Even as a First-Rank Stellar Envoy, you’ve already reached this level.”
“Even the Central Council’s Grandmaster—widely regarded as the strongest Stellar Envoy of our age—couldn’t achieve this at your rank.”
“Whether it’s your compatibility with Vector Control… or your innate talent… I don’t know.”
“But it doesn’t matter.”
“Because you… will die here today.”
With that, Benjamin’s body shifted.
His nanometal form compressed, contracting with a grinding, metallic shriek.
His height shrank—from 1.8 meters to just 1.5.
His silver-gray skin rippled with dark red veins, like molten lava beneath the surface.
His chest core roared, emitting blinding red light and intense heat—vaporizing water instantly into thick steam.
This was Overlimit—his Intelligent Mechanism Class ability.
Tian Dao, unimpressed, gave a low chuckle.
“Compressing your body to boost power and energy transfer efficiency.”
“Sacrificing nanometal to reduce weight… while also using it as fuel for the core.”
“Exploiting your own body as both armor and ammunition.”
“Honestly… you machines may lack humanity… but when it comes to efficiency, you always find the optimal solution.”
He paused.
Then smiled.
“But… you machines trust only data.”
“You always choose the rational, logical path.”
“And yet… how can you ever catch the flicker of a miracle?”
“Because miracles… don’t fall upon cold machines.”
As he spoke, Tian Dao pulled out a special syringe—containing pale blue liquid.
Without hesitation, he jabbed it into his neck.
The fluid surged through his veins.
His star-blue Star-Eclipse Eye flared—its star-path patterns growing denser, more complex.
Benjamin’s sensors registered the anomaly.
“Sacrificing lifespan… and permanent blindness… just to push your body to Overlimit for a short time?”
“Humans… you always make choices we can’t understand.”
“You know the right path… yet you still choose to sacrifice yourself for others.”
“Such a decision… is stupid.”
He spoke calmly, adjusting to his new, compressed form.
Meanwhile, Tian Dao began adapting to his forced Awakening of the Star-Eclipse Eye.
In this brief pause, he smiled.
“Stupid? Maybe not.”
“Because you machines… who live by cold numbers… will never understand the one thing that sets us apart.”
He dropped the syringe.
Looked up.
At Benjamin—now fully stabilized, glowing red with power.
And laughed.
“Believing that miracles can happen… is, in itself, a miracle.”
“Is that so?”
Benjamin moved instantly, appearing behind Tian Dao—in his blind spot.
His fist flew forward, voice calm.
“Then show me… will your miracle really come to you?”
No need to turn.
Tian Dao already knew.
He spun—a whip-like leg kick.
The impact of his leg and Benjamin’s fist froze every falling drop of water in the air—then shattered them into glittering mist.
The battle resumed—all-in, no mercy.
Their footprints cracked the concrete, the chamber collapsing beneath them.
Walls exploded outward, water geysering up like fountains.
The water level rose rapidly.
But neither cared.
They flickered, collided, blurred.
Each clash froze the world—drops suspended in mid-air, forming strange, geometric patterns.
Benjamin’s core screamed with overload.
His nanometal skin cracked.
Tian Dao? His eyes bled.
Red veins spread across his star-blue irises.
Blood tears streamed down his face.
Both were pushing beyond limits.
And yet—neither slowed.
Because the real battle wasn’t about strength.
It was about who would break first.
And each believed—with absolute certainty—that it would be the other.
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PS: Today’s update is complete.
Apologies for the delay.
(End of Chapter)
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