Chapter 651: Vashthor Steels His Resolve

Vashthor activated the most basic function of Long Linxing, attempting to tear apart time and space and hurl these imperial forces directly into the galaxy’s remote fringes.

But as the orange-red light seeping from Long Linxing enveloped the imperial troops, the Dark Watchers trailing behind Laien raised their hooded heads slightly.

The Dark Watchers uttered several incomprehensible words, and the orange-red light was instantly suppressed.

Vashthor watched this scene, his eyes flickering like furnace flames; he glanced at the child’s corpse beside him.

The child’s corpse was covered in tubes on its back, connected to the massive device behind it.

It was once the corpse used by the Tuchuza Engine to communicate with the outside world; now that the Tuchuza Engine, Plague Heart, and Ouroboros had merged into Long Linxing, this corpse naturally became the medium through which Long Linxing and Vashthor communicated.

The child’s corpse stared at the two Dark Watchers following Laien . Aier . Zhuangsen .

“They are Ouroboros’s jailers—or ours as well; they are the entities left behind by the Ancient Saints of the Evangelists to guard us,” the child’s corpse said lightly.

A hum resonated from Vashthor’s body as he fixed his gaze on the child’s corpse.

The Three Relics of the Ancient Saints had always concealed certain truths from him.

“In this state, should we not exchange information more honestly?” Vashthor asked. “At least tell me: what exactly are those robed little things? What truly happened among the Ancient Saints back then?”

The child’s corpse turned its head and smiled faintly. “I can share some information.”

“You should know what happened back then: a small fraction of the Ancient Saints were driven mad by the endless War in Heaven.”

“The pressure of the Star Gods, the inevitable destruction, the increasingly extreme Warp, and the dark futures they foresaw crushed their spirits, convincing them that this universe was beyond salvation.”

“If so, why not burn everything to ash, let the stars perish with them, let all things vanish from existence, and let their enemies die alongside them? Some even hoped to rebuild a new world from the ruins after total annihilation; among the Ancient Saints, they were called the Black Descentists, and the ‘Weapon’ was what they created for this purpose.”

“In contrast, the overwhelming majority of Ancient Saints were called the Evangelists: they believed that even if their civilization was doomed, they should still consider the future welfare of other races, that this universe still held hope and should not be burned, and that rebuilding after annihilation was uncertain at best.”

“In the end, civil war erupted within the Ancient Saints’ fortress; the Evangelists destroyed the Black Descentists, but failed to destroy the ‘Weapon,’ failed to destroy us—the ones required to open it—and all of us except Ouroboros escaped.”

“We are the tools that forged the path to the ‘Weapon,’ the lock to the Ancient Saints’ vault, and the key to unlock it.”

As he spoke, the child’s corpse turned its head toward Vashthor, its eyes glowing with psychic light flickering intermittently:

“We are all necessary conditions for the ‘Weapon’s’ return; we instinctively yearn to reunite and bring the ‘Weapon’ back into the world, and we can only be shattered, never destroyed.”

“Thus, the Ancient Saints created the Dark Watchers to guard Ouroboros—or, as humans call it, Caliban.”

“But fate’s hand is unfathomable: Caliban was unexpectedly shattered, allowing Ouroboros to escape its jailers’ control.”

“Yet the Dark Watchers, having guarded Ouroboros for millions of years, hold partial authority over it; unless they directly unleash an attack targeting Long Linxing itself, you cannot teleport them away.”

Here, a sarcastic smile crossed the child’s lips: “Let me share one more interesting thing: some of the Black Descentists’ and Evangelists’ research from back then still influences you today.”

“The Black Descentists’ research records on the ‘Weapon’ were never fully destroyed; some fell into the hands of other forces in the galaxy. As the Three Relics, we ended up in your hands; another portion fell into the hands of the Void Dragons, giving rise to the Omnissiah Machine Cult; yet another portion eventually reached humanity, catalyzing the development of the Golden Throne and certain technologies of the Dragon Kingdoms.”

“Now, the conflict between Saint Doraemon and you can be seen as a continuation of the ancient clash between the Evangelists and the Black Descentists.”

Vashthor frowned slightly at the child’s corpse’s words: “I have no intention of destroying this world. I only wish to see its inner structure.”

The child’s corpse merely smiled.

Vashthor faintly sensed the child’s corpse was withholding something from him, yet for some reason, though his thoughts spun rapidly, they always circled endlessly, leaving him unable to grasp the full truth.

But Laien ’s assault was fierce, pressing directly toward Vashthor’s position; the demon engines and demons he had dispatched, bound by broken pacts, could not stop him.

Vashthor turned his gaze to Peturabo, standing silently in the shadows, watching him.

“I need your help, friend,” Vashthor bowed to Peturabo.

“Fool, where is your logic and reason? Can’t you see what that corpse is hiding from you?”

Peturabo shouted urgently:

“I’m increasingly convinced that the Ancient Saints’ ‘Weapon’ is utterly unreliable!”

“Friend, have you studied human technological history?” Vashthor asked gently. “Sometimes a civilization’s technological history is more significant than its technology itself.”

“Do you know the two most important virtues in human technological history?” asked the Lord of the Soul Furnace.

“Logic and reason?” Peturabo asked.

“Persistence and vigor,” Vashthor replied with a smile. “We always describe truth with logic, but the pursuit of truth often demands a certain irrational persistence.”

“My intuition tells me truth is calling to me—even at risk, I must try.”

“Even if I stand on the brink of death, now, for truth, I must be vigorous—how could I retreat?”

“Help me, friend.”

“You’ve said that...” Peturabo fell silent, then turned and vanished before Vashthor.