Chapter 63: The Deadly Sword in the Iron Grave

Seizing the brief gap, Zhang Jun lunged to the console, the tactical dagger "Puff—" snapping into the emergency activation slot, then he twisted it sharply.

The shrill alarm instantly filled the hall, red lights flashed wildly, and the floor beneath them began to quake violently—the roar of the compressor starting up.

"Compression program activated," the synthetic voice broadcasted, "Please evacuate immediately, countdown thirty seconds."

S01 seemed to sense danger, turning to retreat.

Zhang Jun flicked an electromagnetic pulse grenade backward, striking its back.

S01's movement froze, electric sparks crackled over its body, clearly short‑circuiting.

The incoming cyborgs were also bewildered by the sudden situation, their motions lagging.

"Lin Xue! Move!" Zhang Jun roared.

At the upper passage entrance, Lin Xue's figure appeared, icy‑blue light swirling around her. She spread her arms, a torrent of ice‑spirit power erupted, forming countless ice spikes.

The ice spikes did not target the cyborgs; instead they pierced precisely into the main cables and metal nodes spread throughout the hall.

"Zzz—!"

The cables burst, blue‑white arcs raced along the ice crystals, instantly weaving a death‑electric net covering the entire hall.

Except for the short‑circuited S01, all the rushing cyborgs were instantly devoured by high‑voltage current, collapsing in black smoke and sparks.

"Retreat!" Clone Wang Jun's voice crackled over the communicator, "Fifteen seconds left on the compressor! This place is about to become an iron pancake!"

Lin Xue leapt down from the height, ice pathways forming beneath her feet, landing steadily beside Zhang Jun: "Go!"

The two turned and rushed toward the nearest emergency exit.

Behind them, the terrifying crush of the metal walls grew nearer.

At that moment, S01 forcibly recovered from the EMP effect, its mechanical arm reshaping instantly, the barrel gathering violet energy.

Target: Lin Xue's back!

"Careful!" Zhang Jun acted without thinking, shoving Lin Xue aside forcefully.

The scorching energy projectile skimmed his left shoulder, flesh instantly carbonized by the heat, the excruciating pain blackening his vision.

"Zhang Jun!" Lin Xue cried in shock, trying to stop.

"Run! Don't look back!" he roared, pushing her forward, "Ten seconds left!"

The two staggered and barreled out through the safety door.

Clone Wang Jun was already waiting outside, his mechanical palm slamming heavily onto the emergency lockdown button.

The massive metal door began to close slowly.

Through the narrowing gap, Zhang Jun saw S01 charging at an unbelievable speed, its violet sensors locked onto him.

"We can't close the door in time!" Clone Wang Jun's voice carried an unprecedented urgency.

Only one thought remained in Zhang Jun's mind.

He spun around abruptly, thrusting Lin Xue and Clone Wang Jun out the doorway with force: "You go first!"

In the final second before the metal doors sealed completely, he slipped back inside.

"Zhang Jun—!" Lin Xue's desperate shout was completely cut off by the heavy metal.

Inside the waste processing center, the compressor roared deafeningly, the metal walls on all sides pressing toward the center with titanic force.

S01 halted three meters in front of Zhang Jun, its metal head tilted slightly.

"Command analysis: retreat behavior, illogical," the synthetic voice announced.

Zhang Jun braced the Heavenly Man Sword, its tip carving deep gouges into the trembling ground; he grinned, blood foam spilling from his teeth: "One‑on‑one, make it fair. Let's see who the hell ends up as scrap metal."

The violet sensor on S01's head flickered: "Survival probability calculation: zero."

"I don't trust probabilities," Zhang Jun lifted his head, the searing pain in his left shoulder nearly toppling him, "I trust hard fate."

Before the words left his mouth, he surged forward again, the Heavenly Man Sword drawing its final edge.

In the ever‑shrinking space, the metal walls moaned under the unbearable load.

The sword light clashed wildly with the alloy arm blade, sparks scattering everywhere.

This place was about to become a metal tomb.

Each inch the metal wall advanced, death inched closer.

Zhang Jun's left shoulder was a mess of blood and flesh; his tactical suit bore a bowl‑sized hole burned by the energy blast, skin flayed and smoking. The agonizing pain pierced his core, yet he grinned—this feeling was just like the three‑day, three‑night burial in the Kunlun Mountain avalanche five years ago, a similar taste.

"What kind of junk are you?" he spat blood‑soaked saliva, "You're worse than that old Zhao Family dryer that never gets clean!"

The violet sensor on S01 flickered, the mechanical voice flatly stating: "Analysis complete, Primordial Bloodline holder combat mode recorded. Tendency: next strike will use a horizontal slash."

"Predict your mother!" Zhang Jun's movement suddenly shifted, the Heavenly Man Sword thrust not to slash but to pierce, its tip skimming S01's metal neck, sparking a spray of dazzling flares.

The compressor's roar hammered his eardrums like waves; the surrounding walls had been pressed down to only a few dozen meters wide. Zhang Jun's back pressed against the cold, shifting metal wall, sweat soaking his spine. The words the old man had muttered through his pipe the day Wang Jun taught him swordsmanship suddenly drilled into his mind.

"A sword isn't about speed or slowness; you must find that point."

S01's mechanical arm reshaped instantly into a high‑speed rotating saw blade, its razor‑sharp whine tearing the air as it descended. Zhang Jun darted sideways to dodge, but his right leg tightened in pain—another unnoticed mechanical claw clamped his calf, metal fingertips nearly embedding into bone.

"Damn!" he clenched his jaw, then swung his sword back, cleaving hard at S01's wrist joint.

"Snap!"

The metallic cracking rang through the cramped space. Half of S01's mechanical claw clanged onto the floor, spitting a few drops of violet oil. Yet it showed no reaction; the other intact arm had already reshaped, its barrel aimed at Zhang Jun, violet light condensing rapidly.

"Primordial Bloodline, terminate."

Zhang Jun scrambled clumsily to the side, the energy blast grazing his previous spot and slamming into the wall, blasting a charred gaping hole. Scalding metal shards drove deep into his back; he let out a muffled groan, unable to focus on anything else.

The compressor's countdown was probably down to fifteen seconds.

Outside, the heavy metal door was being pounded, echoing "dong dong."

Lin Xue's knuckles were already worn raw, blood mixing with ice crystals streaming down.

"Zhang Jun!"

The ice‑spirit power raged within her, yet it couldn't break through this damned iron wall.

"Useless," Ke Long Wang Jun grabbed her, his mechanical palm cold and hard, "This is a nuclear‑level blast‑proof door; it can't be opened from the outside."

Lin Xue's movement halted abruptly, she lifted her head, and a terrifying light rolled in her ice‑blue pupils. "Then we'll go in from the inside!"

She inhaled deeply, almost freezing the air in her lungs, and slammed her palm onto the metal door.

"He has my ice‑crystal mark on him."

Ke Long Wang Jun's mechanical eye flashed: "When?"

"Last week, while he was asleep." Lin Xue closed her eyes, the veins at her temples tightening like cords, her whole body like a drawn bow, "I can feel him."

Ice crystals spread along her arm at a visibly rapid pace, crazily branching, and quickly covered the entire metal door, tracing intricate, cold geometric patterns. Inside, the compressor's roar and faint metallic clangs intertwined, growing ever more urgent.

Ke Long Wang Jun spun around abruptly, took several strides to an inconspicuous control panel on the nearby wall, and his mechanical fingers moved so fast they left after‑images: "Hack into the main system, disrupt the compression program! No more than thirty seconds!"

"Enough." Lin Xue's voice was frozen to the point of crumbling, "I only need a crack."