Collapse of the Heavenly Palace

“Hahaha! Well fought! Damned exhilarating, hahaha!” Inside the frontline headquarters in Tiandu City, General Duvata’s booming laughter echoed through the airtight room. He was not the only one; although the officers around him did not laugh as unrestrainedly as he did, their faces all showed expressions of immense relief. This textbook counterattack was truly a vindication! Not only had they successfully held Tiandu against the Southern Legion's offensive, but they had also broken through the enemy's entire eastern front in one fell swoop, wiping out over forty thousand hostile troops! Although there was still some distance to final victory in the broader war, everyone could already see the dawn breaking on the horizon. It was not just the officers of the State of Brahma who were delighted; the contingent of officers from the Alliance, including Vannus, also breathed a sigh of relief. The command structure of the Brahma Army had largely been built with the assistance of staff officers dispatched by the Alliance Army Headquarters, including the strategic deployment for this counteroffensive. Without a doubt, they were also heroes of this war, even if their work was primarily behind the scenes. However, their adversaries were, after all, their Wilante compatriots. The feelings in their hearts were somewhat complicated. They did not doubt what they were doing, yet expecting them to laugh aloud at the suffering of their compatriots was asking a bit too much. Understanding that these survivors needed to vent their joy of making it through the ordeal, Vannus looked at Duvata and said, “This battle is essentially over. We'll head back to rest first.” Only then did Duvata realize there were still several Wilantes in the command room. He quickly checked his laughter and said politely, “Please, gentlemen, go and rest! You've already provided us with more than enough help. Leave the rest to us!” He was quite courteous toward officers from the Alliance. He had just gotten a bit carried away in his excitement and forgotten that there were several big-nosed fellows standing right beside him. Vannus nodded without saying much. After exchanging a couple of pleasantries, he left with the volunteer officers at his side. With their departure, a jovial atmosphere once again filled the headquarters. Not long after Vannus had gone, a freshly printed issue of the *Survivor Daily* was delivered. It was the Tiandu edition of the *Survivor Daily*. On the front page stood a man drenched in blood. In his right hand, he held a rifle with a fixed bayonet; in his left, he held a drooping, lifeless head. This man was none other than the commander of Brahma's 70th Myriad, Myriarch Pikli! His brilliant smile formed a stark contrast with the drooping nose of the severed head. Looking at the front-page headline, the burly, broad-shouldered general burst into hearty laughter once more. “Hahahaha! This Pikli's got guts! I used to hear him drone on about mundane family matters and thought he was a coward. Looks like I misjudged him!” Pikli was not the only one with guts; the entire 70th Myriad had stolen the spotlight. Its ten milliads had dispersed across the battlefield, coordinating seamlessly. Relying on nothing but their own two legs, they had completely annihilated two of the Legion's myriads, capturing more than three thousand prisoners to boot! This was not just Pikli's credit; it belonged to their entire army group. The staff officer standing nearby said with a smile, “You certainly did misjudge him. A wolf with pups is far more ruthless than one without.” “Hiss... that makes sense.” Duvata's eyes lit up, and he stroked his chin thoughtfully. Once this war was over, he would have to help the lifelong bachelors in his army find wives. First, it would be doing them a favor; second, it would give him leverage over them. Maybe recruit some female soldiers who could dance? While he was pondering this, a messenger called out a report and jogged in through the door. “Reporting, General! Word from General Headquarters: the Heavenly Palace will crash within twenty-four hours! Commander Absaik requests that you detach a logistics unit to assist in evacuating residents near the Heavenly Palace!” Hearing this, everyone in the frontline command post was stunned, especially Duvata. “The Heavenly Palace... crashing?” Staring dumbfounded at the messenger at the door, Duvata looked utterly baffled and asked at a complete loss, “What's going on? What on earth happened?” The messenger looked troubled. “Reporting, General! Commander Absaik didn't say specifically...” A long silence fell over the frontline headquarters. The adjutant standing beside Duvata parted his lips, breaking the silence in disbelief. “That Heavenly Palace has been floating there for two centuries. How could it fall?” An officer standing across the command table nodded, half-doubting, “Could it be a mistake...?” “Absaik has no reason to joke about something like this, nor does it benefit him in the slightest,” the staff officer said, furrowing his brows in thought. His eyes flickered slightly, and he lowered his voice. “Though if the Heavenly Palace really collapses... we might be able to make an issue out of it.” That was all he said. Having made his point, he held his tongue. After all, he was merely a staff officer; all he could do was offer suggestions. There was only one person here who made the real decisions. Duvata narrowed his eyes, an inscrutable expression on his face. In the end, however, he said nothing more, merely waving his broad palm. “Wabu, take the logistics unit over there personally. No matter what, save the people first.” The adjutant beside him straightened his posture and snapped a salute. “Yes, sir!” *** With General Duvata's orders issued, trucks, ox carts, and a chaotic assortment of vehicles swiftly converged on the perimeter of the Heavenly Palace. Soldiers riding along jumped down from the trucks, knocking on doors from house to house. “Open up, quick!” Hearing the frantic knocking, an old man who had stayed up all night and only just lain down scrambled out of bed in a panic. He hurried to the door and pulled back the wooden latch. Seeing the soldier at his doorstep, he looked completely bewildered, asking with a trembling voice, “Did the Wilantes attack their way back?” The soldier spoke rapidly, “The Heavenly Palace is about to fall! Hurry up, pack your bags, and come with us once you're done!” “What?!” The old man's face instantly drained of color, his eyes bulging as he stammered, “T-the heavens are falling?!” “The Heavenly Palace!” Not wanting to waste breath on him, the soldier gave a perfunctory bark and hurried off to pound on the next door. The old man stood rooted at the entrance, his mind buzzing, frozen for a long while. It was not that the sky was falling, but that the Heavenly Palace was falling... It took him a good while to process the words, but then his stunned expression twisted into one of helpless dismay. Wasn't that basically the same thing?! There were plenty of people who reacted just like the old man. Hearing that the Heavenly Palace was about to collapse, their faces turned ashen in an instant, as if the sky itself were caving in—looking even more despairing than when the Heavenly King had first entered the city. Carrying bundles and baggage onto the vehicles, several old men sat together, sighing and lamenting: “How could the Heavenly Palace, standing so perfectly well, just collapse out of nowhere...?” “No matter how much havoc the Heavenly King wreaked when he arrived, he never brought down the Heavenly Palace... Yet Absaik hasn't sat on the throne for more than a few days, and he's already bringing down such an enormous palace.” “What an absolute ruinous wastrel!” “Actually, you can't blame him entirely. His destiny simply isn't grand enough to anchor the imperial throne. This is a warning from Heaven. Sigh... let's hope he reflects on his conduct.” Besides the superstitious elders, some young people holding their luggage were also sighing, yawning and grumbling among themselves: “I don't even live in the Heavenly Palace... What does this have to do with me?” “Exactly...” The soldier driving paid them no mind. After all, he was one of Duvata's men; these unruly folk were complaining about Absaik, not his boss. Though to be honest, the soldiers also felt it was strange. If the Heavenly Palace was going to collapse, wouldn't it be enough just to move the things inside it? Why bother with the people living outside? In truth, the soldiers could hardly be blamed for thinking that way. Although the Heavenly Palace hovered right beside them, very few had ever actually set foot on it. The vast majority only knew such a thing existed, without any concrete concept of what it really was. The floor area of the Heavenly Palace spanned a good hundred thousand square meters, and the weight of the structures piled upon it ran into tens of thousands of tons. When a colossal mass like that slammed down from over ten meters up, its impact would be no joke—it could very well trigger a minor earthquake right in the heart of Tiandu. Naturally, it was not just the survivors living near the Heavenly Palace who needed to be evacuated. There were also cultural relics and treasures stored within, as well as Commissioner Kabaha and his family, who were under house arrest in its depths. Fortunately, dawn had already broken. Even if most people had pulled an all-nighter, they were awake by now. The evacuation proceeded relatively smoothly without causing major panic. After dealing with the matters at hand, Absaik rushed to the scene in person, just in time to run into the researcher named Yang Kai coming down from the research ship. Quickening his pace, Absaik did not even bother greeting him, demanding anxiously, “What on earth happened?! Didn't you say it could last another ten or twenty years? How did it suddenly become twenty-four hours?!” Facing Absaik's questioning, Yang Kai's expression turned somewhat awkward. He had indeed said that, but nobody could have foreseen that plans would be overtaken by circumstances. “Well... theoretically, that was true. Based on our measurements of the helium-3 levels in the storage tanks, the remaining energy would indeed have had no problem keeping the anti-gravity device running for another decade or two.” “Then why—” “However, we later discovered that the pressurization pipe of the storage tank was damaged, causing the density of helium-3 to fall below the intake threshold of the reactor's fuel pump.” Absaik listened in total bewilderment, completely lost. It took him a long while to grasp that there was a problem with the fuel, so he asked anxiously, “Then... can't we replenish it with more fuel?” “Impossible,” Yang Kai said, shaking his head. “You people made far too many structural modifications to this starship. The fact that it ran until now is already a miracle. Repairing it would be no less difficult than building a new one from scratch.” Hearing this, Absaik nearly coughed up a mouthful of blood. “Why didn't you tell me sooner?!” Yang Kai looked at him speechlessly. “If I could foresee the future, I certainly would have told you in advance. Besides, rather than asking me, you'd be better off asking the previous chieflings why they piled such a massive heap of useless decorations onto a cargo starship.” Absaik's face flushed a deep purplish red, but he could not utter a word in rebuttal. Seeing Absaik at a loss for words, Yang Kai felt a twinge of sympathy. He sighed and patted his shoulder. “...Don't take it too hard. It's just an anti-gravity device. Worst case, build another one when conditions allow in the future.” Absaik sighed, casting a reluctant, lingering glance back toward the palace. “...The issue isn't the anti-gravity device. The issue is that this thing is called the Heavenly Palace.” Yang Kai grunted noncommittally. “So?” Looking at the indifferent researcher, Absaik shook his head. “...You wouldn't understand.” Yang Kai shrugged. He truly did not understand. Not that he was interested in understanding anyway... *** In fact, Yang Kai's estimated timeframe turned out to be overly optimistic. The floating palace did not even last twenty-four hours; as dusk fell, it collapsed in a tottering ruin. The first to give way were the marble steps over ten meters high. In the face of that terrifying tonnage, the tiers of steps crumbled and shattered like blocks of tofu. The entire Heavenly Palace slammed down heavily into the exact center of Tiandu City like an impossibly huge rubber stamp. As it kicked up rolling clouds of dust and debris, the entire plaza was compressed downward by the height of a grown man. The houses around the palace disintegrated amidst the earth-shaking tremor. The howling blast of air swept dislodged bricks and tiles two streets away, leaving more than half the city choked in dust and soot. Billowing plumes of dust rolled outward, slamming into the city walls before shooting skyward, forming a pillar of smoke that connected earth and sky. The scene was truly spectacular. Some players had even run all the way back from the front line just to witness the grandeur of the Heavenly Palace's crash. Compared to this earth-shaking tremor, the commotion when Boulder City's inner city collapsed was not even worth mentioning. “Holy crap... This feels even crazier than last night.” Watching the pillar of smoke connecting heaven and earth, Elaina, sitting atop a Chimera armored vehicle, could not help but marvel. Elven King Fugui could not help nodding in agreement. “...This expansion pack was well worth it.” Just this cutscene alone felt like it was worth the price of admission. Of course, they had not bought tickets when they hopped on board anyway. As they watched, several propeller aircraft from the Goblin Corps emerged from the smoke, banking in a turn toward the airfield in the northern suburbs. Without even looking up, Elaina knew that the guy sitting inside was definitely Brother Mosquito. Sitting on the armored vehicle, he could practically hear that guy's mischievous cackle, eager to watch the world burn. Still, watching the spectacle was one thing. Hopefully that guy would not do anything to hurt the locals' feelings... *** For an entire day, the emotions of Tiandu's residents had been on a roller coaster ride. They had spent an uneasy night in sleepless anxiety, finally welcoming the dawn of victory. Yet just as everything seemed to be drawing to a close, fate played another cruel joke on them, slamming the sanctuary in their hearts brutally to the ground. Although the symbolic significance of that floating palace could not compare to the City of a Thousand Pillars, it remained one of the spiritual totems in the hearts of Brahma's survivors. A common consensus existed in the minds of the vast majority of Brahma Province's survivors: Whoever sat upon the throne of that Heavenly Palace was the emperor of Brahma Province! If the thousand pillars of the City of a Thousand Pillars housed the souls of Brahma Province's survivors, then that palace hovering above tens of thousands was the physical manifestation of their spirit. Without exaggeration, it had even become a symbol of political legitimacy. Had this happened at any other time, Absaik might not have taken it to heart. After all, his position as Commander was not based on legitimacy to begin with, but on the gun barrels in his hands. Yet this ill omen happened to occur precisely at the moment the Defense of Tiandu was won. This undoubtedly cast a dark shadow over the hard-fought victory... However, not everyone was wringing their hands in lament. While some looked at the ruins and wiped away tears, others clapped their hands in celebration at the collapse of this decay. For example, Commissioner Kabaha, who had just been evacuated from the Heavenly Palace. Ignoring the attempts of the internal security personnel to hold him back, he stubbornly remained at the perimeter line, his eyes wide open as he watched it all the way to the end, then began clapping heartily. “Hahaha! Good that it collapsed, very good! This great mountain riding on the heads of the Brahma people has finally fallen!” The survivors of Tiandu had spent two centuries building this palace, yet its sole purpose was merely to display the majesty of imperial power. Those ten-meter-high marble steps leading to heaven were like an uncrossable red line. Beneath them was only dust; above them reigned imperial power. This castle in the air should never have existed in the first place. Those shedding tears over it had never truly possessed it for a single second, so how could they speak of losing it? Instead, its collapse shattered their final shackles—this should have been a moment of great rejoicing! Only when this unquestionable authority collapsed could a golden age of flourishing ideas and diversity truly arrive! Perhaps he was being overly idealistic, but he felt Absaik had no need to be so pessimistic. Their legitimacy did not need to be sought from old authority; it could come from the heartfelt support of the survivors of Brahma Province. Unless that fellow still clung to the fantasy of becoming the emperor of Brahma. Yet Kabaha was not worried about such an outcome. Because if that man truly harbored such ambitions, he would inevitably be disappointed in the end. The survivors of Brahma had already stood up! No one could make them kneel again. Watching Commissioner Kabaha beaming with joy, the internal security personnel beside him exchanged glances. While everyone else was wiping away tears, this old man was clapping—it was far too conspicuous. It was like playing a trumpet at a funeral. No matter how right an action was, in an inappropriate setting, it would always appear out of place. Noticing his superior's subtle glance, an internal security officer finally braced himself and stepped forward, whispering into the old man's ear, “Mr. Kabaha, please come with us to a safe location... This war isn't over yet. There's no telling when Wilante planes might fly over.” Worried the old man might refuse, he immediately added, “The teachers and students of Tiandu still need you.” Kabaha had initially intended to give Absaik's lackeys the cold shoulder, but that last sentence struck a soft spot in his heart, and he followed them away without another word. It was not just the teachers and students of Tiandu who needed him; the other states of Brahma did as well. His vision for the future was not limited to a Tiandu University, but an entire bottom-up education system. From now on, the children of Brahma Province would not only have bright classrooms and spacious desks, but also a brand-new world where they could write and paint with complete freedom. Whether their pursuit was climbing academic heights, realizing self-worth, or merely seeking practical power and wealth, they could make choices based on their own lives rather than living like rats cornered against a wall. Just like the children of Dawn City. This was not only his lifelong wish, but also that of Mr. Rat. He might not have much time left, but he would dedicate every remaining moment of his life to accomplishing this... *** While Tiandu City was stirred into a frenzy over the collapse of the Heavenly Palace, the routed 30th Myriad of the Southern Legion, after twenty-four hours of non-stop forced marching, had finally escaped the encirclement and pursuit of the coalition forces, retreating to the west of Akale County. Over a month ago, they had dealt a heavy blow here to the Alliance's Death Corps and three Brahma myriads. Back then, the overwhelming rain of artillery shells had practically leveled entire mountain ranges, and the enemy's blood had dyed the surging river red. Yet circumstances were different now. Of the brothers who had marched east with murderous intent back then, only some three thousand had managed to retreat. The shattered units were still fleeing in disarray along the way, and most of those who had made it back were wounded. Sitting in the command vehicle, Ryan's face was grim, his eyes gazing numbly out the window as if waiting for something. Just then, his adjutant pulled open the vehicle door from outside and rushed inside. His boots were caked with mud and water, as were his trousers and jacket, but there was no time to care about that now. Out of breath, he barely had time to swallow before urgently reporting, “We have news of the 307th Milliad. They're resting in a patch of woods... Dammit, those guys are like startled birds, they nearly fired on us.” Looking at the silent Ryan, he took a deep breath and continued in an earnest tone, “...General, the soldiers are exhausted. If we keep going like this, the rest will fall behind. Let's rest for a bit before moving on.” Ryan pondered for a full half-minute before uttering a simple “Mm.” Yet upon hearing that “Mm,” his adjutant breathed an immense sigh of relief. Leaving a word of thanks, he hurriedly backed out of the command vehicle. Two auxiliary myriads accompanied by thirty thousand Glorious Army soldiers were rushing in their direction, alongside reinforcements flying in from the Evernight Port Airbase. Now that they had retreated to a safe location, there was no need to rush as frantically as before. What they feared most now was falling into chaos among themselves before the enemy even attacked. As the door closed, silence returned to the command vehicle. The officers held their breath carefully, even breathing with extreme caution. “I'm going out for a smoke.” Unable to bear the atmosphere inside the vehicle, Ryan stood up from his seat, pushed open the door, and stepped out. Seeing the general disembark, everyone finally breathed a sigh of relief, loosening the tension wound tight around their chests. *** Once outside, Ryan lit a cigarette and began pacing to clear his mind. Although he had not slept a wink last night, he was not tired at all—in fact, he could not sleep even if he tried. The moment he closed his eyes, boiling flames would surge in his mind, followed immediately by faces both strange and familiar. He did not want to attribute the defeat in that battle to his own mistakes, because he had not lost to a visible opponent, but to a lack of intelligence—or rather, to a card he had never seen before. If he had known those slugs from the swamp had a way to make airships fall right out of the sky, he never would have adopted an overwhelming suppression tactic, launching a combined armored spearhead by land and air. But that was all hindsight. Even if it was not considered a blunder, his crushing defeat was an unalterable reality. Looking at the soldiers leaning against trees with drooping heads, an inexplicable fury suddenly flared up in his chest. The expressions on these men looked as if they were saying he had already lost. That was something he would never admit, something he could never acknowledge under any circumstance. He could not lose. Even less could he accept defeat! He had to win! Taking a deep drag of the final portion, he threw the cigarette butt violently to the ground, crushed it underfoot, and roared at the dispirited soldiers and officers: “Lift your heads up!” Hearing the hysterical roar, lowered heads were raised one by one. Those faces were etched with exhaustion, along with the pessimism Ryan hated most. Wilantes were not supposed to be like this! They should press forward heroically, without batting an eye even if hell lay straight ahead! “...Look at yourselves! You look like a flock of defeated roosters! I am truly ashamed of you!” “Think of your parents, and your friends and family! When you parted, did you promise them sighs and defeat? Absolutely not!” He clenched his fists, staring at the soldiers standing up, veins bulging on his forehead. “Don't forget why you came here! Remember it! Your glory, your medals, and your dignity!” “Your children will live in a land bathed in sunlight! They will erect statues in your honor and thank you for your bravery! Do you intend to stand before them looking like this? Raise your heads! Tell me! Wilantes have no cowards!” The deafening roar echoed across the edge of the forest. Even those who had closed their eyes, wishing not to hear, were forced to stand up. Looking at their agitated commander, a young man of seventeen or eighteen lowered his head and could not help muttering, “But we...” “We haven't lost!” Before the young man could finish, Ryan seized him by the collar, glaring into his eyes with a piercing gaze. That gaze was like a dagger, piercing the iris and stabbing straight into the soul. Ryan stared at him until fear surfaced in his pupils, which then gradually turned into resolve amid hurried breaths. Only then did Ryan release his collar with satisfaction, tossing the lad aside. Surveying the comrades around him who were regaining their spirit, Ryan raised his clenched fist to his chin, as if gripping the rope tightened around his neck. “We haven't lost!” “Ultimate victory will surely belong to us!” A single battle proved nothing. Crippled formations could be replenished, and even if wiped out, they could be rebuilt. Surviving decurions would become centurions, and a steady stream of fresh recruits would arrive from the rear to reinforce the front. The Wilantes had ample manpower both in their homeland and their colonies. Even setting aside the natives and clones, they had millions, even tens of millions of warriors! Just forty thousand brothers... Sooner or later, he would settle this debt of blood!