The "Survival on the Train" game has bugs, it's really laggy!

Chapter 135 Star Destroyer Sniper Bullet

Three lines of blood.

Wang Hu's mechanical eye only had time to capture three lines of blood in that 0.01 second.

From three completely different directions, with terrifying trajectories exceeding 99 percent of the speed of light, they accurately struck Su Yuan's forehead, left temple, and back of the head.

Star-destroying sniper missile.

Each warhead carries the annihilation law powerful enough to pierce a medium-sized planet. Wherever the projectile passes, the void itself is burned with three charred scars that can never heal.

Wang Hu's legs went weak.

It's not the fear of being hit.

It was a despair that left no time to even react.

Little Fire's golden pupils suddenly contracted to their limit, his lips opened, but the word he was about to utter was still stuck in his throat.

That's too late.

Three bullets simultaneously pierced Su Yuan's skull.

There was no explosion.

There was no bloodshed or carnage.

There is no image of a living person's head being hit by three space destroyers simultaneously.

Because the bullet struck an invisible wall the instant it passed within half a meter of the Di Tu·Shi Huang Hao's door.

The only territory.

The interior of the train is the absolute domain of the owner, and no external laws can apply within the carriage.

The annihilation laws carried by the three warheads were forcibly reset to zero the moment they crossed that threshold.

All high-dimensional attributes, conceptual armaments, causal penetration, and dimensional locking—all reduced to zero.

What remains are just three lumps of material residue that have lost all their extraordinary properties.

These remnants were redefined under the absolute laws of the unique territory.

"Clatter".

Three pale, small, red plastic flowers floated down lightly at Su Yuan's feet.

The petals are quite delicate, with a cheap industrial aesthetic.

Su Yuan glanced down at it.

"Who threw it?"

He bent down, picked up a flower, and twirled it between his fingers.

"It looks great, thank you."

The carriage was so quiet you could hear the money-guarding spirit's teeth chattering. Wang Hu lay sprawled on the floor, his mechanical arm's joints frantically popping up overload warnings; his mind had completely shut down.

Little Fire stared blankly for a full five seconds with its mouth agape, then suddenly turned its head to look at the void outside.

There.

At three sniper coordinates that are almost impossible to detect with the naked eye, three stealth sniper platforms are reloading ammunition at top speed.

But the next second, they stopped.

It does not mean to stop loading.

Even the entire Void Black Market's defense mastermind was stunned.

Its central processing unit completed the data backtracking and analysis of the previous scene within 0.3 seconds.

There is only one conclusion.

Conventional physical attacks are ineffective.

Law-level attacks - ineffective.

Standing on that train, this target is absolutely invincible.

The defense mastermind did not hesitate at all.

It didn't even issue a second round of attack commands.

Because in its underlying logic, "ineffective attacks" are equivalent to "wasting resources," it will never waste a single joule of energy on methods that have already been proven ineffective.

It opted for a more straightforward solution.

The lights throughout the entire void black market flickered for a single second.

The Emperor's Path Devourer beneath Su Yuan's feet suddenly sank.

It wasn't an attack.

Gravity has disappeared.

The entire sector where the train was located—a space within a three-kilometer radius—was cut off from the gravitational network of the Void Black Market.

At the same time, six visible spatial cracks tore open simultaneously from the train in six directions: up, down, left, and right, like six knives cutting into the center of a cake at the same time.

Dimensional segmentation.

Do not attack the train itself.

Instead, they dug up the space beneath the train and threw it directly into the void turbulence.

In the turbulent void, there is no direction, no time, and no coordinates to anchor yourself in. Once you enter, you can never get out.

This method is illogical, but extremely effective.

Your train is an absolute territory? Fine, I'm not going in. I'll tear down the floor beneath your feet and throw you and your whole body into the space junkyard.

Little Fire's face turned deathly pale: "Master! The space is shattering!"

The six cracks closed toward the center at an alarming speed.

Three seconds later, this space will be completely cut off.

Su Yuan stood at the car door, the wind blowing in from six directions, making his clothes flutter.

His right eye lit up.

Pure white.

Without any warning, without any preparatory movement.

He only glanced at the spatial cracks that were closing in on the center.

Then those cracks disappeared.

It wasn't fixed.

It is not being offset.

The act of "cutting" itself has been erased.

It was as if the defense mastermind had never issued this command. The spatial rift, like a videotape being played in reverse, rapidly contracted from the middle to both ends, and the fractured space instantly healed like a zipper, sealing perfectly without leaving a single crack.

Deep within the Void Black Market.

In the central core server room of the defense mainframe, thousands of high-density computing chips overloaded and burned out at the same moment.

Sparks and coolant gushed out from the gaps in the processor array.

One-third of the system core was rendered unusable on the spot.

Its operational logic encountered an intractable paradox—it clearly executed the "cut" instruction, and all data records showed that the instruction had been completed, but the actual feedback showed that the instruction never existed.

It was executed, but not actually executed.

It existed, but it no longer exists.

The remaining cores of the mainframe were running frantically, trying to fill the logical gaps with redundant computing power, but each calculation only deepened the paradox.

Like a snake biting its own tail, the harder it bites, the deeper it bites.

Su Yuan withdrew his gaze.

The white in her right eye gradually faded, returning to its usual, faint halo state.

He stretched his neck.

"Are there any other options?"

He wasn't speaking to the void.

He was asking the mastermind.

His response was a deathly silence that lasted for three seconds throughout the entire black market.

Three seconds later.

The "soldier" character brand on Su Yuan's right palm, which had been trembling wildly, suddenly fell silent.

Completely still.

Then, small, blood-red characters emerged stroke by stroke from the surface of the brand.

very slow.

So slow that each stroke seemed to be written in his palm with a calligraphy brush.

Su Yuan looked down at the characters that were taking shape.

[Second stage.]

Harmony brings wealth.

There are smaller print at the end.

[Gain ultimate control of the virtual black market within one hour through "legitimate transactions."]

Killing any living being is strictly prohibited during this period.

The use of force to seize any assets is strictly prohibited.

[Violators—]

The last two characters are not blood red.

It is pure white.

It was exactly the same as the white in Su Yuanyou's eyes.

[Erase.]

Su Yuan stared at the few lines of text on his palm for about four seconds.

His expression was quite interesting.

It wasn't anger, tension, or despair.

It's that subtle, irritating feeling of being suddenly forced into a bizarre side quest while playing a game.

"No killing, no robbing."

He turned his hand over, back of his hand up, palm down, as if he thought the few lines of text were dirty to his hand.

"You want me to be a civilized person?"

Little Fire peeked half its head out from deep inside the carriage and asked cautiously, "Master... what does it say up there?"

"The King of Hell in the High Dimensions made me do business."

"what?"

"One hour is all it takes to legally gain control of this dump. No hitting or stealing allowed; anyone who violates this rule will be eliminated."

Xiao Huo's expression changed repeatedly, finally settling into a very complex one.

That expression roughly translates to: "Making you behave like a civilized person is worse than killing you, isn't it?"

The money-guarding spirit's eyes lit up.

It leaped out of the treasure chest, its short legs carrying it to Su Yuan, its chubby face beaming with eagerness: "My patron! I know everything about legal transactions! That's what I've done for the first half of my life!"

Su Yuan glanced at it: "What did you do all that time, spending the first half of your life squatting in a treasure chest?"

The money-guarding spirit got stuck.

But at that moment...

The public broadcast channels of the entire virtual black market blared once again.

This time it's not a synthesized voice.

It was a real, trembling human voice.

"Attention everyone!"

"S+ level threat target locked by higher-dimensional laws! Incapable of causing damage for one hour! Repeat, incapable of causing damage!"

Su Yuan raised an eyebrow.

These people are very well-informed.

Although the mainframe burned a third of its power, the remaining two-thirds clearly captured the fluctuation of the high-dimensional rules just now and completed the analysis at the fastest speed.

The other party has been put in shackles.

You must not kill.

You can't steal it.

This information spread throughout the entire Void Black Market in less than ten seconds.

Then, the reaction came.

"Boom—Boom—Boom—"

In the void surrounding the train, countless points of light began to illuminate.

It's not a naval gun.

It's not a missile.

It's a robot.

Thousands upon thousands, tens of thousands, even hundreds of thousands of automated killing weapons poured out of the arms depots on the outskirts of the black market.

They have no signs of life.

Pure metal and circuits.

Mechanical spiders, self-destructing balls, chainsaw dogs, swarms of magnetic storm bees... all kinds of unmanned killing machines of various models and sizes filled the entire void around the Emperor's Path Devourer.

30,000 units.

A total of 30,000 units.

Xiao Huo's face turned completely green.

"Master... these things are not living beings... the rules cannot restrain them..."

Wang Hu scrambled to his feet, his mechanical eyes frantically scanning the torrent of metal outside, his voice trembling: "Boss, there are ten times more of these than the Centipede Train!"

Thirty thousand killing weapons—no nonsense involved.

The chainsaw hounds at the front launched the charge, hundreds of metal hounds dragging high-speed spinning alloy chainsaws, rushing towards the train like a steel tsunami.

The swarm of magnetic storm bees followed closely behind, with tens of thousands of fist-sized metal spheres forming an impenetrable encirclement in the void.

The suicide bombers wait on the outermost edge. Once the first two waves have weakened the target's defenses, they will swarm in and use suicidal explosions to reduce everything to dust.

A textbook example of a three-wave saturation attack.

Xiao Huo and Wang Hu looked at Su Yuan at the same time, their eyes conveying a clear message—to fire or not to fire?

But then they both remembered that rule.

Killing is forbidden.

While robots are not living beings, those who operate them are. Furthermore, these robots are "legal property" on the black market; wouldn't destroying them constitute "robbery by force"? Who knows how that higher-dimensional rule would determine that?

If a violation is determined, Su Yuan will be immediately removed from the list.

Nobody dared to gamble.

Su Yuan stood at the car door, watching the massive torrent of steel rushing towards him.

The wind blew in from the direction of the mechanical legion's charge, making him squint.

Then he laughed.

The laughter was extremely grating, carrying a kind of exhilarating excitement that sent chills down your spine.

"No looting? Must it be legal?"

He turned around.

"OK."

Su Yuan punched the center console in the cockpit.

It's not about destruction.

The moment his fist slammed into the table, dark gold patterns spread from his knuckles along his arm to his shoulder, and then flowed down his shoulder into the entire control panel.

The one that unites all things operates at full power.

He found a passageway in the train's central system.

When the Emperor's Path Devourer landed in the Black Market sector, the dark golden vines under the vehicle instinctively burrowed into the underlying structure of the Black Market. At the time, it was just to secure the anchor point, and no one paid much attention to it.

But now, Su Yuan wants to use these vines for something else.

The drill bit at the front of the vehicle, made of twisted metal vines, began to rotate slowly.

Not in collision mode.

It is injection mode.

Dark golden divine energy flowed along the spiral pattern of the drill bit, at an almost gentle frequency, into the central life support system network beneath the Void Black Market.

Like water seeping into a sponge.

Silently.

The underlying structure of the Void Black Market is a metal space station with a diameter of over thirty kilometers. The life support for millions of people—air circulation, gravity simulation, and temperature control—all depend on the central life support system located underground.

Control of the life support system is held by the defense mastermind.

But at this moment, one-third of the core of the defense mastermind has already burned.

The remaining two-thirds are working at full capacity to try to fix the logical paradox.

Its firewall is currently operating at only 67% of its usual capacity.

Su Yuan's lips twitched slightly.

Sixty-seven percent is enough.

The dark golden energy flowed silently through the pipes for about twelve seconds.

Twelve seconds later.

Almost simultaneously, the ventilation ducts of the entire Void Black Market spewed out a burst of extremely fine, almost invisible golden powder.

spore.

Dark golden fungal spores.

A miniature version of the Golden Plague.

They are not aggressive and will not harm any living beings.

They only do one thing.

parasitic.

It parasitizes all electronic devices exposed to the air.

Brain-computer interface.

Neural interface terminal.

Implantable communication chip.

Augmented reality retinal projector.

In places like the virtual black market, 99% of the residents have at least one electronic implant. These implants serve as their interface for interacting with the black market's information network and are the core tools for their transactions, communication, and navigation.

This is also their biggest weakness.

The golden spores covered millions of devices across the city in less than three seconds.

then.

Every single person in the entire void black market—whether you're a desperate outlaw with nothing but your underwear or a black market tycoon with ten interstellar freighters—has a file pop up on your retinal projection screen simultaneously.

Unable to close.

Unable to minimize.

It cannot be removed by any means.

The font size is so large that it takes up the entire field of vision; you can see the words even with your eyes closed, right on the inside of your eyelids.

Voluntary Transaction Confirmation.

The content is very concise.

"I voluntarily pledge all my assets, the right to use my body and the share of my soul to Mr. Su Yuan for the price of one (1) Void Coin in exchange for a breath of air that has not been infected by the plague."

There is only one option below.

Yes/Confirm

There is no "no".

There is no "cancel" option.

There was no "I'll think about it some more" response.

The entire black market descended into unprecedented chaos in those three seconds.

"What the hell is this?!"

"I can't see the road! I can't turn it off!!"

"Who...who is controlling my interface?!"

Millions of people simultaneously erupted in rage, panic, and curses.

But then, the rage turned into suffocation.

Because the air is changing.

Those dark golden spores that had already infiltrated the life support system began to alter the composition of the air at an extremely slow but irreversible rate.

It's not poison gas.

It's not suffocation.

I'm just... not feeling well.

You can breathe, but every breath carries a damp, sticky, nauseating feeling, like you've inhaled a mouthful of spores.

Not fatal.

But it's extremely, extremely, extremely uncomfortable.

You will find yourself wanting a breath of clean air.

Clean, uncontaminated, normal air.

The way to get this air is written in that unstoppable confirmation on your retina.

"Just click 'Confirm'."

Su Yuan's voice came through the hijacked city-wide broadcasting system, his tone as amiable as an uncle haggling over prices at a market.

"One Void Coin? You guys aren't even willing to spend one Void Coin?"

"We're just friends."

"It's not a big deal."

The first person to press confirm was a one-armed female pirate who was drinking in a bar.

She wasn't forced into it.

She genuinely didn't care.

One Void Coin for a breath of clean air—it's a good deal. As for all that talk about collateralizing all assets, using a body, or sharing a soul—who believes that nonsense? Aren't contracts on the Void Black Market just worthless pieces of paper?

She pressed it.

The air instantly felt fresh.

That sticky, nauseating feeling vanished, replaced by a refreshing, floral-scented, crisp air.

Comfortable.

That felt so fucking good.

The female pirate couldn't help but take a deep breath, a look of intoxication appearing on her face.

Her drinking buddy next to her saw it.

Then the second person pressed it.

The third one. The tenth one. The hundredth one.

Human beings' herd mentality and instinctive pursuit of "comfort" are amplified infinitely in enclosed spaces.

When you see the people around you taking comfortable deep breaths after pressing the button, while you're still inhaling the sticky spore smell, your rational mind will tell you to wait, but your body has already made the decision for you.

Within ten seconds, the first batch of 100,000 people completed the confirmation.

Thirty seconds, half a million.

One and a half million in one minute.

The numbers were jumping wildly on the holographic panel in front of Su Yuan.

The money-keeper stared at the numbers, his eyes nearly popping out of their sockets.

"My sir... this isn't a transaction, this is..."

"A legitimate transaction," Su Yuan corrected it.

"Both parties act voluntarily, exchange goods at equal value, and exchange money for goods on the spot, without deceiving the young or old."

He paused.

"I'm selling air. The most expensive air in the entire universe."

The money-guarding spirit opened its mouth, as if to say something, but then felt that it really made sense.

It scratched its head, lost in deep reflection on business ethics.

The numbers on the panel are still rising.

Two million. Three million.

But at this moment, the 30,000 killing weapons outside had already rushed to within 100 meters of the Emperor's Path Devourer.

The chainsaw dog's alloy fangs gleamed coldly in the void, the swarm of magnetic storm bees emitted a dense buzzing sound, and the detonation indicator lights of the suicide bombs had all turned red.

One hundred meters.

Fifty meters.

Thirty meters.

ten meters.

five meters.

one meter.

The chainsaw dog in the front row opened its mouth wide, its alloy chainsaw spinning at high speed as it lunged straight at the train's exterior.

Then it stopped.

All the killing weapons stopped less than a meter away from the Emperor's Path Devourer.

It wasn't an attack.

It wasn't blocked.

There's a power outage.

The energy supply for all 30,000 killing weapons comes from the central energy network of the black market.

Thirty seconds earlier, Su Yuan had "legally" taken over the management authority of the central energy network through the dark golden vines that had infiltrated the life support system.

What kind of "legal" law is this?

Very simple.

When the number of confirmed cases exceeds one million, according to the Void Black Market's own law—Article 7, Paragraph 3 of the Supply Station Public Affairs Resolution Law—any proposal involving changes in the management rights of public facilities can take effect as long as it receives the support of more than 30% of the resident population.

One million people clicked "confirm".

The Void Black Market has a permanent population of 2.8 million.

Thirty-five percent.

It exceeded that.

Therefore, Su Yuan is now the "legitimate manager" of the Void Black Market Central Energy Network.

The first thing he did was cut off the energy supply to the military equipment system.

Then they renamed the energy frequency band.

The channel was changed from "Public Armaments Power Supply Channel" to "Mr. Su Yuan's Private Power Station".

The indicator lights on 30,000 killing weapons went out simultaneously. After losing their power, their metal casings turned into cold, scrap metal lumps. Some tumbled in mid-air, while others collided together, making clanging noises.

The scene was extremely comical.

Thirty thousand killing machines, enough to annihilate an entire interstellar fleet, now floated haphazardly around the train like thirty thousand powerless sweeping robots.

Xiao Huo watched this scene, his lips twitching for a long time.

"Master, is what you're doing... legal?"

"Of course it's legal." Su Yuan put his feet up on the center console, put his hands behind his head, and looked as relaxed as if he were watching TV in his own living room.

"Elected by popular vote, voted in a referendum, and the transfer of ownership was legal. I am a law-abiding citizen."

Xiao Huo remained silent for two seconds.

"Something just feels off."

"Your feeling is wrong."

The number of confirmed cases on the panel is still climbing.

Three and a half million.

and many more.

Three and a half million?

The black market only has a permanent population of 2.8 million.

Su Yuan glanced at the data details, and his lips twitched slightly.

The extra 700,000 belonged to travelers and pirates who were temporarily stopping at the black market.

They didn't need to confirm—they had their own spaceships and their own oxygen supply systems; the air quality in the black market was none of their concern.

But they pressed it anyway.

the reason is simple.

Conformity.

When you see everyone around you pressing the button and looking extremely comfortable afterward, the "if others have it, I must have it too" mentality can drive you to make irrational decisions.

Especially when that "confirm" button takes up your entire field of vision and you can't close it no matter what you do.

It will stay there unless you press it.

Always.

There.

very annoying.

It's gone once you press it.

So go ahead and press it.

Su Yuan stared at the final number, which stood at 3.62 million, and remained silent for two seconds.

"Human nature."

He uttered a single word.

Then I turned my attention back to the countdown.

Seventeen minutes remain.

The number of people has been confirmed, the energy network has been acquired, and the life support system is in hand. But all of this combined does not constitute "supreme control."

The ultimate control of the Void Black Market is held by one person.

Su Yuan had seen this name in the one-eyed man's memories long ago.

Osho.

Ninth-tier Interstellar Governor.

A full representative from a higher-dimensional commercial civilization, the actual owner and final arbiter of the void black market "supply station".

All the defense systems, armaments, and energy networks are merely his tools.

The property certificate on the black market only bears his name.

Even if you win over the whole city, it won't matter if you don't win him over.

Su Yuangang thought of this.

Directly in front of the Emperor's Path Devourer, the void tore open.

It's not the kind of tearing that occurs during spatial jumps.

It is an extremely elegant separation, like drawing back a silk curtain, full of ritual.

A person emerged from the crack.

No.

not human.

It was a being nearly three meters tall, radiating a soft, pale blue light, and dressed in an extremely elaborate interstellar council-style robe...

Its face is humanoid, but too perfect. The proportions of its features are precise to the mathematical level of the golden ratio, and every angle exudes a meticulously calculated "approachability" that prevents one from feeling any negative emotions.

But that very sense of approachability is the biggest source of discomfort.

Because it's too fake.

It's so fake it's unsettling.

Its right hand held a staff.

The staff is made entirely of liquid metal, with a dense flow of data constantly moving across its surface. A fist-sized blue sphere of light floats at its top, within which countless legal statutes scroll at the speed of light.

The Cosmic Commercial Convention Staff.

The symbol of authority of a ninth-order interstellar governor.

The person who wields this staff possesses absolute power to adjudicate all business disputes across seventeen dimensions. Its judgments do not rely on violence, but rather act directly on the "law of causality"—if it declares you bankrupt, the law of causality will automatically modify reality, ensuring that you never owned any property.

Osho stood in the void, looking down at the Emperor's Path Devourer.

It did not look at Su Yuan.

Throughout the entire process, it deliberately avoided looking into Su Yuan's eyes.

Because it did its homework.

In the minutes before it arrived, it had retrieved all of Su Yuan's combat records from the remaining database of the defensive mainframe.

It knew that Su Yuan's right eye could "erase" concepts.

It knew that Su Yuan's left eye contained the law of devouring.

So it doesn't look.

It only talks.

"Mr. Su Yuan."

Osho's voice was as gentle as a glass of milk with three spoonfuls of sugar, but every word carried an unquestionable authority.

"According to Article 1072 of the Void Commerce Convention, the so-called 'transaction' you just carried out with the permanent residents of this supply station has been deemed an invalid contract due to the involvement of psychological coercion, information asymmetry, and the illegality of the subject matter of the transaction."

It raised its staff.

The blue orb hummed.

"At the same time, pursuant to the supplementary clause of Article 3600 of the Convention, as the legal owner of this supply station, I have the right to initiate a declaration of 'absolute property rights'—"

At the tip of the staff, the blue orb of light began to expand violently.

A visible causal fluctuation emanated from the sphere of light, covering the entire black market space.

Under the influence of this fluctuation, the confirmed number of "3.62 million" on Su Yuan's panel began to drop rapidly.

Three million. Two million. One million.

Osho is using the law of causality to fundamentally deny the legitimacy of all transactions involving the Soviet Union.

It does not mean the contract is nullified.

It's about making these contracts "never existed".

Even more terrifying is that the second layer of the causal fluctuation is now directly affecting Su Yuan himself.

It aims to define "the bankruptcy of the Soviet Union" as an established fact.

To dismiss the Soviet Union from an economic perspective.

He was transformed from an "owner" into "someone who has never owned anything".

This method does not involve any violence.

A purely legal battle.

Conceptual warfare.

The battle of cause and effect.

The numbers on the panel are still dropping.

Five hundred thousand. One hundred thousand. Ten thousand.

The little fire stamped its feet in frustration: "Master! Our assets are going to zero!"

The money-guarding spirit burst into tears: "It's all over, all over, all my money is gone—"

Su Yuan sat in the driver's seat, watching the numbers on the dashboard rapidly approaching zero.

He didn't move.

He was reading Osho.

Osho still didn't look at him.

Its gaze remained fixed on the blue orb at the top of the staff, its lips moving slightly as it continuously recited the covenant. With each recitation, the fluctuations of the law of cause and effect intensified.

It is very smart.

They avoided eye contact, denying Su Yuan the opportunity to use the concept of "nothingness".

Without the use of violence, Su Yuan's "sole territory" is useless.

It's about crushing everyone with the rules.

Killing people with the law.

The number on the panel jumped to zero.

Assets reduced to zero.

All contracts are negated by the law of causality.

A faint smile finally appeared on Osho's perfect face.

"Mr. Su Yuan, I suggest you—"

Its sound stopped.

Because Su Yuan stood up.

Su Yuan stood up from the driver's seat and walked to the car door.

His left eye was dark gold.

The right eye is pure white.

Osho's instincts told him to immediately look away. He wouldn't look. Absolutely not.

But Su Yuan did not use his eyes.

He extended his left hand.

In the palm of his left hand, a dark golden sphere of light was coalescing. It was a remnant of imperial authority—a small part of the 3,700 years of ruling authority that he had digested and absorbed after the crown merged into his chest cavity.

What does the emperor's authority represent?

It represents the highest right to interpret "order".

Within the territory of Terra, whatever the Emperor decrees is law.

Terra is gone.

But the authority remains.

Su Yuan held the dark golden orb in his hand and then looked at his right hand.

On the palm of his right hand, the character "兵" (soldier) lay quietly.

At the edge of the brand, the concept of pure white "nothingness" follows closely.

Left hand, order.

Right hand, nothingness.

Su Yuan put his two hands together.

In that instant, Osho felt an absurd fluctuation that nearly caused his ninth-order processing core to collapse.

Two completely contradictory concepts were forcibly combined.

"Order" means that everything has rules.

"Nothingness" means that all rules do not exist.

When both are controlled by the same person at the same time.

An extremely simple deduction has emerged.

—I am the rule. And your rule does not exist.

Between Su Yuan's clasped hands, a ball of light, half dark gold and half pure white, took shape.

It is very small.

It's only the size of a marble.

But the staff of the Cosmic Commercial Convention in Osho's hand began to tremble violently the moment the marble took shape.

A crack appeared on the surface of the blue orb at the top of the staff, which was operating at full power.

Osho finally panicked.

The first real expression appeared on its perfect face.

fear.

"Impossible—you—you low-dimensional life form—how could you possibly control both order and nothingness at the same time—these two concepts are mutually exclusive—"

Su Yuan opened his mouth.

He threw the marble in.

Bite it up.

chew.

Swallow.

He ate very casually, like he was cracking open a peanut.

But the staff in Osho's hand exploded the moment Su Yuan swallowed the marble.

The blue orb shattered into countless fragments of data streams.

The liquid metal staff solidified, cracked, and disintegrated.

The cosmic business agreement, which covered seventeen dimensions, was negated, swallowed up, and digested line by line as Su Yuan chewed on it.

It's not about destroying.

Yes, I ate it.

Even the law of cause and effect itself was chewed up and swallowed with saliva.

Osho was stunned.

The fragments of the staff slipped from its hand and drifted away into the void.

It lost all its weapons.

A ninth-rank governor who is unarmed.

next second.

Dark golden tentacles shot out from under the Emperor's Path Devourer, like ravenous pythons, and tightly coiled around Oshu's limbs.

The tentacles were so powerful that Osho's nearly three-meter-tall body was forcibly folded, and his knees slammed into the train's exterior.

Su Yuan stepped out of the car.

He reached out and grabbed Osho's right hand.

On the index finger of that hand, there was a blue ring.

Property rights ring.

The final ownership certificate for the Void Black Market "Supply Station".

Su Yuan took out a piece of paper from his storage space.

An asset transfer agreement.

The format is very standard, the terms are very formal, and there is even a space for a handprint in the lower right corner.

Written by Shoucailing.

Although this guy is ridiculously timid, his contract-writing skills are truly top-notch.

Su Yuan grasped Osho's trembling index finger and dipped it into the blue fluid that had overflowed from the corner of its mouth due to fear.

It was pressed onto the agreement.

The handprint is clear and the fingerprints are complete.

Su Yuan released Osho's hand, looked down at the handprint, and nodded in satisfaction.

Then he bent down and brought his face close to Osho's already distorted and perfect face.

Dark gold blood stained the corner of his mouth.

"Now, this black market is my legal property."

Su Yuan smiled.

His smile was very genuine.

Do you have a problem with that?

Osho's lips were trembling.

Its precisely calculated blue eyes were now filled with a more primal emotion that transcended fear.

But it didn't speak.

It dared not speak.

Su Yuanzhi stood up, folded the agreement neatly, and stuffed it into his pocket.

He looked up at the countdown.

There are 4 minutes and 52 seconds left.

More than enough.

Just as he turned around to get back into the car.

The "soldier" character brand on the palm of his right hand burst forth with a dazzling white light.

Su Yuan stopped and looked down at his palm.

The white glow surged violently on the branded surface for about three seconds, then gradually faded away.

The brand is still there.

It did not disappear.

The word "clearance" did not appear.

But the shape has changed.

Under Su Yuan's gaze, that lowest, most insignificant pawn on the chessboard began to slowly deform.

The bottom is elongated.

Mid-section expansion.

The top forms a sharply defined outline of battlements.

The soldiers were transformed into chariots.

Chariot.

In chess, it is the only powerful piece that can move in a straight line over a large area.

Su Yuan stared at the miniature castle in his palm for two seconds.

"Upgraded?"

He didn't have time to think much about it.

Because Osho, standing beneath his feet, suddenly smiled.

The laughter surged from deep within his throat, manic, out of control, like the mad laughter of a gambler after losing all his chips.

Su Yuan frowned and looked down at it.

Osho's body was expanding.

The elaborate interstellar council robe burst open as it expanded, revealing rapidly mutating pale blue skin beneath. The muscle tissue beneath the skin was frantically reorganizing, its volume doubling every second.

"You think you've won?"

Osho's voice became hoarse, distorted, and mixed with the noise of metal rubbing together.

"Supply depots have never been a market—"

Its body has swelled to ten meters tall.

Twenty meters.

Fifty meters.

The tentacles were snapped off.

Osho's body was like a balloon that was expanding out of control. Dense mechanical patterns appeared on his blue skin. His limbs disappeared and his torso merged into the metal floor beneath his feet.

No.

It wasn't integrated in.

It was originally part of this black market.

Osho is not the "owner" of the Void Black Market.

Osho is the Void Black Market.

It is the core consciousness of this steel space station that stretches for thousands of kilometers.

This black market was never a building.

"—It's alive!"

Osho's last syllable fell.

The entire void black market, that steel complex stretching for thousands of kilometers, at this moment...

It emitted a heartbeat that shattered the stars.

"Thump—"