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

The Devourer slid out of the hyperspace tunnel exit.

There was no roar. There was no exhaust flame. The engine's resonant frequency dropped to the lowest threshold of cruise mode, and the entire dark gold behemoth silently cut into regular space.

The starry sky is cold.

The star density at the edge of the wasteland universe is extremely low, with sparse points of light scattered across the endless black curtain. It takes dozens of light-years to gather a single, half-dead red dwarf star. The vacuum outside the car window appears as a pure, unblemished black.

Su Yuan stood in front of the control panel.

The silver-black metal sphere embedded in his left eye socket did not reflect light. The backlight of the emergency light was completely absorbed by the sphere's surface. However, the AM resonant cell inside the sphere continued to operate, emitting a very low-frequency electromagnetic hum.

hum.

hum.

hum.

Regular. Stable. Once per second.

The star map on the main screen is changing.

It's not a change in flight paths. It's the star map itself that's changing.

A silver-black light appeared. At the very edge of the wasteland universe.

two.

Seven.

Twenty-three.

One hundred and nine.

The rate at which the lights lit up accelerated. From sporadic flickers, they began to spread in large patches. Starting from the outer star regions of the wasteland universe, they expanded inwards. Each newly lit spot represented a physical hardware device responding to an AM pulse and entering a standby state of "awaiting instructions from the host computer."

Xiao Huo stared at the main screen.

He remained slumped in front of the control panel, his back against the base, his legs stretched out on the floor, the joystick gripped in his left hand, his knuckles white.

But his eyes were moving.

His pupils followed the silver-black waves on the screen.

The number of light spots increased from hundreds to thousands. From thousands to tens of thousands. They spread from the edge of the wasteland universe to the mid-level star system, and then to the core. Communication relay stations. Gravity beacons. Navigation buoys for interstellar routes. Control nodes of planetary defense networks. Master control terminals of military bases.

The underlying hardware of every device obediently surrendered supreme control in the face of the AM pulses emitted by Su Yuan's silver-black mechanical eyeball.

It was not an intrusion.

It's a return.

The hardware recognized the manufacturer's test signal and automatically suspended all running applications, awaiting factory testing.

Xiao Huo's Adam's apple bobbed. He wanted to speak. He opened his mouth, then closed it again.

Wang Hu stood at the rear of the carriage. His robotic arm hung limply at his side. The hydraulic joints were no longer triggering overload alarms. His optical prosthetic eye was fixed on the exponentially expanding silver-black area on the main screen.

The star map of the entire wasteland universe is being illuminated by a hand-rubbed mechanical eyeball.

The carriage was very quiet.

It's so quiet that you can hear the faint electrical hum of the main screen cooling fan spinning.

Su Yuan's right vertical pupil swept across the star map without lingering. His left hand picked up the chip from the top of the ammunition cabinet and gathered it back into his palm. Warm light flickered between his dark gold fingers.

He didn't speak.

The edge of the wasteland universe.

Command room of the "Steel Teeth" warlord fleet flagship "Slaughterhouse".

The holographic projection went out.

The interface based on higher-dimensional laws was destroyed.

The interface for the encryption protocol in the interplanetary communication band has been shut down.

The most advanced and expensive high-dimensional display terminals in the command center, which the warlord leader had purchased with the mineral resources of three star systems, were all black.

In its place was the row of old-fashioned backup terminals below the command console, which everyone had almost forgotten existed.

Green background with white lettering.

The cursor blinks regularly in the upper left corner of the screen.

The same line of text was displayed on every screen:

"Hardware self-test complete. Awaiting instructions from host computer."

The communications officer's forehead was covered in sweat. Not heat; the command center's temperature control system was still functioning normally. It was cold sweat. It started at his hairline, trickled down his temples to his chin, and dripped onto the keyboard.

He was typing on the keyboard.

They were banging away like madmen.

The frequency with which fingers slammed on the keys was so fast that the naked eye couldn't keep up. The sound of fingernails hitting the keycaps was so dense that it formed a continuous chorus.

Useless.

After each command is entered, the same feedback will pop up on the screen:

"Insufficient permissions. Current access level: Restricted visitor. Please contact the host computer for authorization."

The communications officer stopped.

Ten fingers hovered above the keyboard. The fingertips trembled. Sweat dripped from the fingertips, landing on the spacebar and being absorbed by the textured surface of the keycap.

He turned to look at the fleet commander standing in the center of the command platform.

The commander's face alternated between pale and flushed. He gripped the edge of the tactical console with both hands, his knuckles protruding. The cigarette that had been in his mouth had fallen out and rolled onto the metal floor at his feet, still emitting a wisp of smoke.

"Report...Sir." The communications officer's throat was parched. "All advanced encryption protocols...have failed. The law key...is unresponsive. The warship's underlying physical hardware is..."

He swallowed.

"Our operation permissions have been denied."

The commander didn't look at him.

The commander is looking out the window.

Through the armored observation windows of the command room, the flagships of two other warlord fleets could be seen to port: the "Bonebreaker" and the "Nighthound." The two flagships together had a combined tonnage of over eight million tons, and their main guns were powerful enough to melt through the planet's crust.

They are currently suspended in the starry sky.

Not moving at all.

The engine exhaust flames went out. The attitude control nozzles went out. The law-defense shields on the hull surface went out. Only the emergency lights inside the cabins cast a dim glow through the portholes.

Three fleets.

Thousands of warships.

They all turned into giant iron coffins suspended in the vacuum.

The commander's pipe burned down to its last bit at his feet. Ashes scattered across the metal floor, dispersed a few centimeters by the faint airflow of the circulating ventilation system.

No one bent down to pick it up.

The seven officers in the command center were all frozen at their posts. Some were supporting themselves with their hands on the table, some were slumped in their chairs, and some were standing with their knees slightly bent, as if they might kneel down at any moment.

There was a twelve-second silence.

Then a dull metallic cracking sound came from the armor plate on top of the command room.

Everyone looked up at the same time.

The armor plate is a three-layer composite structure. The outer layer is an ultra-hard alloy. The middle layer is reinforced with fiber. The inner layer is a cushioning pad. The total thickness is 1.8 meters. The design standard is to withstand the direct impact of a small meteorite.

At this moment, a dent appeared in the center of the armor plate.

The depression is widening.

The metal is bending. The reinforcing fibers are breaking. Visible cracks are spreading outwards from the dented center.

The communications officer's chair tipped over. He instinctively stepped back, his back slamming into the equipment cabinet behind him. The latch on the cabinet door was knocked open, and several spare chips fell out, clattering and rolling onto the floor.

The armor plate was torn open.

From the outside in, the three-layered structure was torn apart like paper by an immense force. Metal fragments tumbled to both sides. Sparks of residual blue-white energy flickered at the broken ends of the law fibers.

A humanoid figure descended from the torn hole.

When his foot landed, the floor of the command room dented three centimeters. This wasn't a physical deformation caused by his weight. It was a conceptual-level compression of the material structure by the overwhelming pressure of the laws surrounding him.

High-Dimensional Arbitration Tribunal Supervisor.

His appearance was human, but the proportions were off. His limbs were too long, his torso too narrow, and his head too large. His skin was grayish-blue, with translucent, law-like patterns floating on its surface, the sheen of which matched the emblem of the Arbitration Court.

Ninth level.

The level of laws surrounding him is ninth rank.

Golden. Thick. The energy density of the law was so high that it could directly decompose water molecules in the air into hydrogen and oxygen. The humidity in the command room plummeted from 42 percent to 3 percent within two seconds of his landing.

The commander's knees buckled.

He didn't kneel voluntarily. The pressure of the law acted directly on his bones. The articular cartilage between his femur and tibia was subjected to stress exceeding its limit under the pressure of the ninth-order law. His knees automatically bent.

puff.

As he knelt, a mouthful of blood welled up in his throat and spurted onto the edge of the tactical table. Bright red. Warm. The blood dripped down the angle of the table, onto the back of his own hand.

He wasn't the only one.

The communications officer knelt. The navigator knelt. The fire control officer's chair was overturned by the pressure, and he fell sideways to the floor, the sound of his ribs cracking clearly audible. The two adjutants held on for three seconds, but in the fourth second, blood gushed from their mouths and noses as their knees slammed into the metal floor.

Seven people.

They all fell down.

The supervising officer surveyed the kneeling officers from his elevated position. His grey-blue face was expressionless. Law-like patterns flowed slowly along his cheekbones, their light soft yet possessing absolute oppressive power.

He spoke.

"waste."

The sound wasn't loud, but every word resonated with the ninth-order law of resonance. When the sound waves reached the officers' cochleas, the hair cells in the inner ear died off in large numbers under the shearing force of the resonance. The communications officer went completely deaf in his left ear. Blood gushed from his ear canal.

"A bunch of low-level insects in the physical dimension, unable to even control their own equipment."

The supervising officer raised his right hand.

A gray-blue palm opened. Each of the five fingertips held a miniature law core. The cores shone with a grayish-white luster, remarkably similar to the underlying code signature of the Scavenger Protocol.

"High-Dimensional Reboot Protocol".

His tone was flat.

"I will use conceptual-level code to flush out the physical test patterns of all underlying devices."

The five Law Cores lit up simultaneously. Grayish-white light poured down from their fingertips, converging into a thick beam that slashed straight at the rack housing the flagship's central communication motherboard.

"Then."

His gaze pierced through the armored walls and through the vacuum, looking in the direction where the Devourer had disappeared.

"I'm going to follow this link and find the parasite that dares to impersonate the host system."

The moment the beam of light touched the cabinet casing, the metal surface was covered with grayish-white conceptual codes. The codes spread rapidly like living things, penetrating from the casing into the internal circuitry, and from the circuitry into the solder joints of the motherboard.

The server rack started humming.

On the green-background, white-text-illustrated backup terminal screen, the words "Waiting for host computer instructions" began to flash. The flashing frequency increased. Grayish-white conceptual code was attempting to overwrite the physical test mode's code from the ground up.

The corners of the supervising officer's mouth turned up slightly.

"A human being who pretends to be the creator by using scrap metal."

His tone was condescending and contemptuous.

"Do they think they can turn the world upside down just because they've gained control of the hardware?"

The intensity of the law beam increased. The grayish-white light illuminated the entire command room. The officers kneeling on the ground were convulsed by the aftershocks of the law, and blood flowed even more violently from their mouths and noses.

"The laws are the absolute will of this universe. Physics is nothing more than the mud beneath the feet of the laws."

Wasteland shelter.

The staff officer braced his hands on the table, his fingertips turning purple from the pressure.

The main screen simultaneously transmitted the image from the flagship command center. The gray-blue figure of the supervising officer occupied the center of the image. The luster of the ninth-order law overloaded the camera's sensor, causing large areas of white to overflow at the edges of the image.

The commander was still kneeling on the floor.

He moved both hands from his knees to his face. He covered his eyes with his ten fingers.

He didn't want to watch anymore.

"Ninth rank." The strategist's voice was very soft. His lips barely moved. "A standard Arbitration Tribunal oversight sequence. The purity of their laws is higher than any we've seen on the Dark Web."

It paused for a moment.

"Su Yuan's AM pulse is at the physical level. It can only control the underlying firmware of the physical hardware."

The staff officer closed his eyes.

"But conceptual code can directly rewrite the firmware's logical structure, erasing the physical test mode from the bottom layer."

The commander removed his fingers from his face.

He didn't open his eyes.

Speak like a human.

The staff officer's lips moved twice.

"Even at the most fundamental level of physics, there still needs to be a carrier. The carrier is the chip. The chip is matter. Matter in this universe is ultimately governed by laws."

His voice grew softer and softer.

"The ninth-order rule can directly rewrite the definition of matter. It can turn silicon into non-silicon. It can turn a conductor into an insulator."

The staff officer opened his eyes. His pupils reflected the gray-white beam of law on the main screen.

"No matter how old the code for the physics test mode is, it still has to run on a physical carrier. If the carrier is changed, the code is dead."

The commander's eyes were still closed.

But his hands fell down from in front of his face.

It hit my knee.

A muffled thud.

"In other words," his voice was hoarse, "that person's physical takeover... won't last long."

The staff officer did not answer.

Silence is the answer.

Inside the Desolate Wasteland train carriage.

Su Yuan's silver-black mechanical left eye rotated.

The amplitude was extremely small, less than two degrees.

An AM resonant slot detected a set of unusual electromagnetic signals. The source of the signals was in the direction of the flagship formation at the edge of the wasteland universe. The spectral characteristics were clutter interference generated when higher-dimensional energy attempted to be forcibly converted into physical electrical signals.

Something is moving his hardware.

Su Yuan's right vertical pupil did not fluctuate.

He lowered his head.

His left hand moved off the chip and landed on the physical keyboard of the navigation console.

The keyboard is old-fashioned. It has mechanical switches. Each key makes a crisp click when pressed. This keyboard is the only original input device that the Devourer retained after it was upgraded to the Starfield Predator; it was too old, so it was skipped during the system evolution.

Su Yuan's dark gold finger bone landed on the keycap.

He didn't use laws. He didn't use concepts. He didn't use any higher-dimensional methods.

He typed out a set of Morse code.

Short. Long. Short and short. Long and long. Short.

The most basic. The most primitive. The encoding method of the telegraph era.

The instruction contains only one sentence:

"Physically disconnect the power supply to the peripheral module."

The last character was typed with the finger bones.

Press Enter.

An electromagnetic pulse was emitted from the concave surface of the silver-black mechanical eyeball. AM modulation. 1090 kHz. It passed through the dark gold outer wall of the Devourer. It passed through the vacuum of ordinary space. It spread towards the flagship formation at the speed of light.

Su Yuan lifted his left hand off the keyboard.

The five dark gold finger bones returned to the chip.

He never looked up at the main screen.

Command center of the flagship "Slaughterhouse".

The grayish-white beams of light were frantically penetrating the central communication motherboard.

Sixty percent of the solder joints on the motherboard surface were covered by conceptual coding. On the green screen with white text, the words "Waiting for host computer instructions" had changed from flashing to violently shaking. The underlying code of the physics test mode was being rewritten line by line by gray-white coding.

The supervisor's smile widened even further.

"Three seconds," he said. "After three seconds, these junks will obey again—"

Click.

The sound wasn't loud.

It came from deep inside the server rack.

A crisp sound. The sound of metal colliding with metal. With that short, sharp vibration characteristic of a spring rebounding.

Physical relay.

There is a relay on the physical power supply line from the motherboard to the higher-dimensional law module.

Old-fashioned. Purely mechanical structure. Two metal contacts are connected by a spring and disconnected by an electromagnet. There are no rules or codes. There are no conceptual attributes. It's just two copper plates and a spring.

The relay popped open.

The two copper contacts separated.

The physical circuit is disconnected.

The power supply current flowing from the motherboard to the high-dimensional law module is reduced to zero.

The grayish-white beam of law that was devouring the motherboard lost its energy support from its material carrier the instant the power was cut off. Without current, there is no electromagnetic field. Without an electromagnetic field, the law encoding loses its anchor point attached to the physical medium.

A grayish-white light peeled off the solder joint.

It peeled off from the line.

It peeled off from the motherboard surface.

The entire beam of ninth-order law, powerful enough to obliterate a star, dissipated after a relay bounced for 0.3 seconds.

There was no explosion. There was no shockwave. There were no dramatic visual effects.

It's gone.

Like a table lamp that has been unplugged.

The grayish-white light disappeared from the command room. The green screen with white text stabilized. The words "Waiting for instructions from the host computer" stopped flickering and appeared quietly in the upper left corner.

A wisp of smoke rose from the server rack's ventilation vents. It was from an electric arc burning the insulation layer when the power line was disconnected. The smoke was very faint, rising only a few centimeters before dissipating.

The seven officers in the command room all stared wide-eyed.

The fire control officer, lying on the ground, tilted his head, his bloodshot eyes fixed on the server rack emitting blue smoke. Two of his ribs were broken. His breathing produced a creaking, grinding sound from his chest. But his attention was entirely focused on that wisp of smoke.

The communications officer knelt on the ground. Blood was still flowing from his left ear. His mouth was open. His lower lip was trembling.

"law……"

He swallowed a mouthful of blood.

"Is there a power outage?"

The adjutant beside him was still kneeling on the floor, his hands bracing against the side of the table. Two streaks of blood hung from his nostrils, branching off at his lips and trickling down to his chin.

He turned and glanced at the communications officer.

I glanced at the smoking server rack one last time.

The sound was so soft it was almost inaudible.

"The laws... have really gone out."

The supervising officer's smile froze.

His right hand remained in the open-fingers position. The five cores of law still hovered at his fingertips. But the cores' luster had changed from grayish-white to a dull gray. There was no carrier. There was no electricity. The conceptual encoding had lost its operating environment.

It's like a genius hacker who has written a world-destroying program sitting in front of a computer whose power cord has been unplugged.

The program is still running.

The code is still there.

But the computer stopped working.

The patterns of law on his grey-blue face flickered twice. It wasn't a normal flow of energy. It was a brief, intermittent disturbance.

I was tricked by the hardware of the base.

A ninth-order high-dimensional arbitration tribunal supervisor was tricked by a bouncing relay.

Two pieces of copper. A spring. A "click".

They eliminated his ninth-order law attack.

The supervising officer's facial muscles began to change.

It's not anger.

It is humiliation.

From the day he was born into the higher-dimensional arbitration court, he was taught an absolute truth: laws are above all else. Concepts govern matter. Higher dimensions crush lower dimensions. This is the fundamental order of the universe.

Now a relay tells him: Your rules are software running on me. If I don't supply power, you're just a bunch of useless code.

His teeth were clenched. Beneath his grayish-blue skin, the outline of his masseter muscles bulged from his cheekbone all the way to the angle of his jaw.

"it is good."

He uttered a single word.

His voice changed. It went from flat to deep. From deep to hoarse.

"Fine. Since your crappy hardware won't listen to me."

He withdrew his right hand. The five Law Cores flew from his fingertips back to his palm, merging into a fist-sized grayish-white sphere.

"Then I won't use your hardware."

He opened his arms.

The domain of laws has been expanded.

It wasn't released through the warship's system. It was released directly from his body. The energy of the Ninth-Order Law seeped from every pore of his body, forming a conceptual domain with a radius of fifteen meters in the command room.

"The Law of Erasure of Life".

The air temperature within the area dropped below absolute zero within 0.5 seconds. This wasn't physical cooling; rather, the concept of "temperature" was directly rewritten by the laws governing it. The thermal motion of air molecules didn't stop; rather, the property of "thermal motion" was removed from the definition of molecules.

The seven officers kneeling on the ground spoke at the same time.

It wasn't a scream. It was a hoarse gasp, forced out by the spasm of the trachea under extreme conditions. Frosty white necrotic patches began to appear on their skin. It wasn't frostbite. It was the conceptual cessation of cell membrane fluidity.

The fire control officer remained prone on the floor. However, the half of his face pressed against the metal floor had turned gray. A white film had formed on the surface of his eyeballs. His mouth was still open, but the air he exhaled was no longer water vapor; it was microscopic debris from cell decomposition.

The adjutant's hands were still braced on the table. But his fingers slid off the surface. His nails made no sound as they scraped against the metal. This was because the keratin structure of his nails had been stripped of its "hardness" attribute by the "law of erasure." His nails had become a thin film. This film then detached under its own weight.

The supervising officer stood in the center of the field.

His gray-blue face was indifferent.

"Your brains are still useful," he said. "I will use the laws to directly connect to your biological neural circuits to control the engine. No physical hardware is needed."

His right hand reached out towards the communications officer. Grayish-white threads of law drifted from his fingertips, wriggling towards the communications officer's temple.

"As for that ant that impersonates the Creator with scrap metal."

The supervising officer's gaze pierced through the torn armor plating, through the flagship's structure, through the vacuum, and looked in the direction where the Devourer had disappeared.

"Once I take over the fleet, I will personally clean it up from this universe."

The thread of law touched the communications officer's temple.

The communications officer's body arched violently. His mouth gaped open. His eyes rolled back. A muffled howl escaped from deep within his throat. The threads of law were burning through his skull, attempting to connect directly to his motor cortex.

"The power of higher dimensions cannot be resisted by the underlying hardware."

The supervising officer's voice echoed in the command room.

"Never."

Wasteland shelter.

The staff officer's hand slid off the table.

It hung down at her side.

The scene on the main screen was crystal clear. The supervising officer's domain of law was expanding. Seven officers teetered on the brink of death. The communications officer's temple was pierced by threads of law.

The commander's hands loosened from his knees. His arms hung limply. His shoulders slumped. He went from kneeling to slumped in a sitting position.

He had his eyes closed.

"Su Yuan's physical takeover—" the staff officer managed to squeeze out the last few words, "has reached this point."

No one responded.

Apart from the humming of the equipment, there was nothing inside the bunker.

Devourer of the Wilderness

Su Yuan's mechanical left eye moved again.

The deflection angle is slightly larger than before, around three degrees. New spectral components have been mixed into the anomalous signal received by the AM resonator. This is characteristic radiation produced when high-dimensional energy directly acts on biological tissue.

Someone is killing people.

Su Yuan's right vertical pupil remained calm.

His left hand was removed from the chip again.

It landed on the keyboard.

Use your finger bones to tap the keycaps.

Short. Long. Short. Long. Short and short. Short. Long and short.

Morse code.

"Safety Mode: Physically remove abnormal physical obstacles."

Press Enter.

An AM pulse was emitted from the mechanical left eye. 1090 kHz. It pierced through the Devourer. It passed through the vacuum. It traveled at the speed of light.

Su Yuan lifted his fingertips off the keyboard.

The dark gold armor leaf touched the chip's outer shell.

He still didn't look up.

Command center of the flagship "Slaughterhouse".

The supervising officer's domain of law had already covered the entire command room.

Three of the seven officers were already unconscious. The communications officer, after the Law Thread pierced his temple, began to experience uncontrollable spasms. His hands scratched wildly at the floor. His fingernails—thin, brittle nails—left damp scratches on the metal floor.

The supervising officer's attention was entirely focused on establishing the connection between the laws.

Therefore, he did not notice the inconspicuous metal boxes on the four walls of the command room.

The boxes weren't large, each about half a meter square. They were embedded in grooves in the inner wall of the armor. The outer surface was painted with dark red anti-rust paint. Due to years of neglect, the paint had peeled off, revealing the gray alloy substrate underneath at the corners.

There is a nameplate on the front of the box.

The lettering on the nameplate was mostly covered by oil and dust, with only a few badly worn characters barely discernible.

"Mk-IV Automatic Close-In Weapon System (Physical Ballistic Version)"

Below the nameplate is a line of even smaller text:

"Purely mechanically driven, no electronic components, manual/remote dual-mode triggering"

This system was installed when the flagship was first built.

Back then, the wasteland universe lacked high-dimensional laws and technology. Warships relied on thick armor and dense physical barrages for defense. The Mk-IV close-in weapon system was a product of that era. It was purely mechanical: spring-loaded, gear-driven, and propelled by gunpowder.

Later, higher-dimensional laws became widespread. Law-based shields replaced physical armor. Conceptual weapons replaced kinetic ammunition. The Mk-IV machine gun was deemed "obsolete" and added to the retirement list.

However, 97% of the retirement list was implemented.

The remaining three percent was not carried out because the engineers in charge of dismantling were lazy. They unplugged the casing's wiring terminals, wrote "removed" in the maintenance log, and actually left the machine gun in its original mounting position.

Thirty-seven Mk-IV machine guns.

Scattered throughout the interior walls of the flagship's various cabins.

There are four units in the command center.

They are distributed in the four opposite corners.

When the AM pulse arrives, the underlying firmware of the four machine guns simultaneously responds to the "host computer command".

No electronic components are needed to interpret the commands because the Mk-IV's triggering system is dual-mode. The remote triggering mode uses the most basic AM (amplitude modulation) radio signal, which perfectly matches the frequency emitted by Su Yuan's mechanical eyeball.

A 1090 kHz AM pulse activated the electromagnet trigger inside the machine gun.

The electromagnet engages, releasing the locking spring's latch.

The spring extends, pushing the first-stage driven gear of the gear set.

The gears rotated, driving the ratchet mechanism of the feed chain.

The first depleted uranium armor-piercing projectile slid from the magazine into the gun barrel.

The firing pin retracts into position under the drive of the final stage cam of the gear set.

Click.

All four machine guns simultaneously completed their firing preparations.

All of this happened in 0.4 seconds.

The supervising officer was unaware.

His domain of laws covered the entire command room. However, the detection mechanism of the domain of laws was designed to detect conceptual-level energy fluctuations.

The potential energy of a spring is not a concept. The rotation of a gear is not a law. The chemical energy of gunpowder is not high-dimensional information.

The entire operation of the four Mk-IV machine guns, from beginning to end, occurred at the purely physical level, below the threshold of the law's detection.

The law field detected only four clumps of low-temperature metal.

No threat. No marker. No priority.

All four gun barrels turned towards the center of the command room simultaneously.

The supervising officer was still speaking.

"The lowest level of insects can never comprehend higher dimensions—"

With a buzzing sound.

Rotating.

The four machine guns' gear sets were running at full speed. The ammunition supply chain circulated rapidly under the action of the ratchet. The firing pin repeatedly struck the primer at a frequency of sixty times per second.

Four directions.

Depleted uranium armor-piercing projectiles were ejected from the muzzle.

Four thousand shots per second. A total of sixteen thousand shots from all four gates.

It is not a law-based munition. It is not a conceptual weapon. It is a purely physical armor-piercing projectile with a tungsten core encased in a depleted uranium shell. It is 20 millimeters in diameter. Its initial velocity is 1,700 meters per second. All its kinetic energy comes from the expansion of the propellant gases.

There is no rule signature.

There are no conceptual labels.

There is no high-dimensional information payload.

It's a piece of metal flying towards its target at extremely high speed.

The war supervisor's law field is perfect.

It can withstand conceptual attacks. It can negate law-based weapons. It can rewrite the trajectory of high-dimensional energy projectiles. It can completely disintegrate any attack method carrying law-based information at the point of contact.

However, its defense logic does not include a threat category for "pure kinetic iron blocks".

Because within the cognitive framework of higher-dimensional existence, physical kinetic energy poses no threat. The kinetic energy of a bullet is roughly equivalent to a grain of sand hitting the sun in the face of the ninth-order law.

The force field did not activate a defensive response.

The first armor-piercing shell hit the supervising officer's left shoulder.

The tungsten core, encased in a depleted uranium shell, struck his gray-blue skin at a speed of 1,700 meters per second.

The skin developed a depression approximately four centimeters in diameter at the point of contact. The subcutaneous tissue at the bottom of the depression was compressed under the impact. The stress wave generated by the compression propagated outwards along the tissue fibers.

The tungsten core of the armor-piercing projectile penetrated the skin, the subcutaneous fat layer, the muscle fiber bundles of the deltoid muscle, and the cancellous bone of the humeral head. Upon exiting from the rear, the projectile carried a large amount of bone fragments and muscle tissue debris.

The diameter of the wound at the exit is three times that at the entrance.

This is the first shot.

The second to the sixtieth shots all arrived within 0.004 seconds.