Suddenly, at the very center of the dimensional space, the Sacred Stele appeared out of thin air.
Its pitch-black shell radiated brilliant light and spun faster and faster.
With each rotation, the black shell seemed to be wiped clean—the thick, ink-like blackness gradually fading.
Inside the dimensional space, the chaos that had been escalating abruptly came to a halt.
Streams of energy were forcibly drawn away by the Sacred Stele.
Countless eyes watched in terror as the Sacred Stele, seemingly the center of the universe itself, drained them.
Layer by layer, the Sacred Stele peeled away, and the black shell that fell off dissolved into the universe.
“This is bad—we don’t have enough energy!” Hardy’s eyes turned bloodshot as he tried to isolate the most powerful robber.
If the Adjudicator lost power, they were all done for! The sacrifices the Awakened had made would be completely in vain.
However, Hardy’s resistance was like a mayfly trying to shake a great tree—utterly useless.
He didn’t even know in what form or through which channel the energy was being drained.
On the control panel, the once-abundant resources dropped to the warning line again. Just as they were about to hit rock bottom, they finally stopped.
The situation was similar on other ships.
The spacecraft that had once glowed like city neon lights went dark one after another.
Some ships lost power, causing their life support systems to fail—the creatures inside met their final end.
For the ten-thousandth time, Brietz counted himself lucky to have been picked up by the Adjudicator. Otherwise, with that toy-like ship of his, there was no way he would have survived such an attack.
When two-thirds of the ships’ energy in the dimensional space had been drained, the Sacred Stele finally revealed its true form.
It was hard to describe in words—more perfect than any crystal, filled with all kinds of complex structures inside. But the information compressed within each layer of structure was as vast as a sea of stars.
The Aola people didn’t even dare to attempt an analysis. They were certain that even analyzing a single square meter of compressed information would unleash a torrent of data enough to destroy the Aola headquarters ship.
“Absolutely, positively a creation of a Level 8 or above civilization—most likely Level 10!”
The true Sacred Stele was simply too, too beautiful. It was the product of wisdom from a civilization that had climbed to the very top—a work of art that only the finest craftsmanship could produce.
The Aola people regretted it immensely. They had still arrived too late.
If only they had come to the singularity before even becoming a Level 1 civilization—would they have been able to meet the creator of the Sacred Stele?
The universe collapse process continued.
Everyone could already feel the terror brought by the Void.
The Sacred Stele moved again.
Like peeling an onion, it peeled open a certain region of the dimensional space layer by layer, arranging them neatly on a platform.
Lin Xiaohe’s pupils contracted—that platform was made from the black shell that had fallen off the Sacred Stele.
They hadn’t truly dissolved into the universe—instead, they had transformed into a wondrous platform.
“I—I—hisss—this is impossible! No technology could reach this level! It’s a creator—it must be a god!”
The scientists aboard the Adjudicator went mad. Their theoretical frameworks, their worldview, their understanding of the universe—all collapsed completely upon witnessing this scene.
Some scientists couldn’t handle the shock and chose to end their own lives.
Lin Xiaohe understood how they felt. Because she, too, was deeply shaken.
What was placed on the platform wasn’t physical matter—it was laws themselves.
The law of time, the law of space, gravity, electromagnetic force, strong nuclear force, weak nuclear force, dark matter…
They were all peeled out one by one—like transparent, soft balls—freely manipulated by the Sacred Stele.
Despair and feelings of helplessness spread like venom, infecting every conscious being.
If even the immensely powerful Sacred Stele couldn’t escape the apocalypse, then who among those present could?
The Sacred Stele didn’t understand others’ despair, nor did it need to.
Like a pre-programmed sequence, the Sacred Stele reassembled the four fundamental forces and all the laws.
The light on its body grew dimmer and dimmer. With each successful reassembly, its intricate internal structures shattered like water droplets in sunlight, vanishing into the universe.
Everyone knew what was coming next.
When the countdown of the Sacred Stele—which had always existed in their consciousness—disappeared, the magnificent Sacred Stele within the dimensional space also burst with a pop, transforming into countless rainbow bubbles that drifted toward higher dimensions.
The star region it had carved open was filled with the reassembled rules.
The star region seemed to be squeezed together by an invisible hand, forming a pillar of light—radiant and dazzling. No one could see what was at the end of the light pillar.
Chang Qing reacted fastest.
Its silver warship shot into the light pillar like a streak of flowing light.
When the silhouette of the silver warship completely vanished, Chu Huaizhi and Nüwa snapped to attention and immediately followed.
Next were Jörmungandr and the Aola people.
“An escape route—it’s an escape route!”
“Quick! Get in!”
“Coordinates locked, maximum power thrust.”
Every civilization—whether carbon-based, silicon-based, or energy-based—erupted with the most primal survival instinct at this moment. Dense swarms of ship engines roared to life, transforming into billions of streaks of light, all rushing to squeeze through that door.
The Adjudicator moved neither fast nor slow, consistently maintaining its position in the third tier.
There was no helping it—the Adjudicator’s energy was nearly depleted, and Hardy didn’t dare activate the maximum-power thrusters.
Once inside the light pillar, everyone discovered that this wasn’t purely a world of light.
Unidentified black lines pierced through the light pillar, like a blooming structural flower blossoming within the light corridor.
It inspired an inexplicable sense of unease and panic.
The ships默契地—with remarkable unspoken coordination—avoided these structural flowers, terrified of touching even a tiny bit.
Beyond that, the interior of the light pillar was also filled with many independently rotating structures of varying sizes.
Lin Xiaohe couldn’t understand what these structures were, so she could only silently memorize them—perhaps they would be useful someday.
Behind them, the dimensional space was turning into Void inch by inch.
Every civilization ran like their feet were on fire—deploying every secret technology, every life-saving trump card they had.
Inside the light pillar, time flowed very slowly.
Everyone could feel the light pillar shrinking, yet the interior of the corridor was like a quagmire—the ships encountered unprecedented resistance.
The Adjudicator overtook one ship after another at a snail’s pace.
Hardy was both delighted and surprised.
He rubbed his bald head and asked the Sixth Star Ring Military Region Commander and the chief scientists in astonishment.
“Are we about to make a comeback? Do these outer-realm civilizations actually know how to show courtesy to their host?”
“Heh, keep dreaming,” the Sixth Star Ring Military Region Commander said grumpily.
Although no one understood what was causing this situation, it was a good thing.
If there were limited spots to escape the light pillar, then every ship they overtook increased their chances of survival, didn’t it?
Many civilizations had thought of this too.
To keep those behind from catching up, they laid down traps along the way.
This behavior spread like a virus—one after another.
Ships that had clearly fallen behind even aimed their cannons directly at the ships ahead of them. No matter who it was—everyone die!
This wasn’t out of jealousy or despair—it was the rational survival instinct of starry sky civilizations.
The singularity contained too much information—enough to elevate a civilization by several levels.
If they themselves couldn’t escape, they absolutely could not let other starry sky civilizations escape either. Because during this time, those other civilizations could have learned a great deal about their own civilization through information exchange.
Once those others escaped, their own civilization could very well face a sudden attack.
“Damn it!” Hardy cursed angrily.
The Adjudicator had been hit!
