Chapter 93: Launch Missiles

In the sky, the altar’s lines grew ever more complete; countless people looked up, their expressions shifting from astonishment and unease to helplessness, then to dread and collapse as they realized the planes continuously fleeing the sky.

Suddenly, alarms blared across the entire capital of Britain; major TV channels all flashed the same image—Defense Chief of Staff Tony Carter, his face grim: “All residents within the city, proceed immediately to nearby underground air raid shelters. To halt the further development of this celestial anomaly, the military will launch missiles into the Wembley Giant Hole in ten minutes!”

Every citizen’s mobile phone simultaneously received a text message, instructing them to seek nearby air raid shelters and providing a map of all shelters in the capital.

Naturally, Zhou Juzhang and the other three officials near the Wembley Giant Hole also received the message, and Zhou Juzhang received a call from the Xia Nation.

“Withdraw immediately. The British Prince has fled in secret; control now rests with Defense Chief of Staff Tony Carter. The British military has issued us a final notice: they will launch missiles into the hole in ten minutes. If they cannot stop the celestial anomaly, they may resort to nuclear weapons!”

Zhou Juzhang hung up with a cold expression and shouted to the expert team: “Evacuate immediately!”

Wei Chang’an, just crawling out of the hole, looked frantic: “But Yang Yi is still inside!”

“Can’t the organization negotiate with Britain?” Chen Yushu’s face also showed rare anxiety.

Zhang Ningning nervously twisted her hands.

Zhou Juzhang paced back and forth in place: “What do you mean no negotiation? The state has already issued a solemn warning to Britain: if they launch missiles into the hole disregarding Yang Yi’s safety, we will treat it as an act of provocation and impose state-level punishment! But Britain is on the brink of national collapse—they no longer care about our threats!”

Chen Yushu gritted his teeth: “Are we just going to let them launch missiles into it?! Yang Yi is S-class, but… that’s a nuclear bomb!”

Wei Chang’an, enraged: “And Yang Yi went down there to save them!”

Li Jiaoshou wiped sweat from his brow: “Analysis is complete. According to the data, the spatial rift inside the hole has already closed. You all descended to the bottom and found no trace of her—she’s likely now in another dimension…”

Hearing this, Zhou Juzhang’s face lit up with joy; Wei Chang’an and Chen Yushu leapt out of the hole in surprise; Zhang Ningning burst into tears of relief.

Zhou Juzhang immediately led everyone into a car and sped toward the airport, where Xia Nation’s supersonic jet still waited.

Along the way, the chaos in Britain’s capital filled their view—they finally realized Britain was finished.

In the city, some stood frozen, staring at the sky with despair;

others knelt on the ground, praying to some god;

some simply screamed, offering submission to a demonic god they didn’t even know existed; [39] He stared blankly at the live TV screen—the surveillance footage near Wembley showed Britain launching three missiles in succession at the giant hole; the moment the first explosion occurred, the screen turned black.

countless people on the brink of despair descended into final madness—arson, explosions, looting, rape, murder… crimes erupted everywhere; roads were choked with overturned vehicles and debris. Without Wei Chang’an, Chen Yushu, and Zhang Ningning using their abilities to clear a path, they would have been utterly stranded.

A woman was dragged to a wall by a man, who frantically tore at her clothes—when suddenly, a stone spike erupted from the ground, piercing his thigh. The man screamed in agony, clutching his leg. The woman, stunned, fled quickly.

Zhang Ningning’s face was bleak as she slowly withdrew her hand.

Wei Chang’an and Chen Yushu said nothing, their expressions complex—if such scenes occurred in Xia Nation…

They dared not think further.

A whistle pierced the sky; they leaned out the window and saw three tiny black dots speeding rapidly back toward the direction they had come from.

Suddenly, the earth trembled; the entire city shook as if struck by an earthquake. Several poorly constructed buildings swayed and collapsed. Then three massive explosions echoed from the Wembley direction, leaving everyone’s ears ringing.

Looters and vandals on the streets, dazed by the shock, bled from nose and ears, staggering toward underground shelters.

Britain had launched three missiles in succession!

Zhou Juzhang and the others raced toward the airport at top speed—so far, only missiles had been fired. If Britain, in desperation, launched nuclear weapons, they would never escape.

The lines in the sky seemed unaffected by the missiles; they continued to glow slowly, and the altar’s lines were nearly fully connected…

Who could they now pray to? Who could save this city, these innocent people?

Countless people remembered Yang Yi, who had entered the Wembley Giant Hole—was she dead? Had she escaped the cultists only to die at the hands of the nation she tried to save?

Could she survive the missiles?

Wasn’t she the legendary superweapon comparable to a nuclear bomb? Wasn’t she hailed as a god among mortals?

If one could now measure the most-thought-of names across all humanity, the two characters at the very top would be—Yang Yi.

%%

“Crack—” The cup in Christopher’s hand fell to the floor, shattering into pieces.

He stared blankly at the live TV screen—the surveillance footage near Wembley showed Britain launching three missiles in succession at the giant hole; the moment the first explosion occurred, the screen turned black.

His hands trembled as he picked up the remote, wanting to switch channels, to see the aftermath, to find any news of her…

But the normally weightless remote now felt like a thousand pounds—he couldn’t lift it. His body suddenly grew heavy, his limbs weak; he collapsed onto the sofa.

The explosion seemed to have deafened him too; his mind buzzed incessantly, like the final cries of autumn cicadas, screaming with their last breath—yet he heard nothing, remembered nothing.

“…I’m already your prey, can’t you see…?” A girl’s voice whispered softly beside him amid the fog of numbness.

He jolted awake, fumbling for his phone, fingers shaking, dialing wrong numbers repeatedly, backspacing, correcting—finally, he pressed the number etched into his soul.

With the hope of a pilgrim, with the pure, desperate longing of a little boy, he prayed for divine mercy, awaiting fate’s verdict:

“Dial—dial—dial—…”

“Dial—dial—…”

“Dial—…”

…