The nearly ten-thousand-square-meter armed base was built in a square layout, constructed from extraordinarily reinforced concrete and steel.
Even if bombarded by tanks, it would take dozens—if not hundreds—of direct hits to collapse the base.
Yet—
At this very moment—
A mysterious presence, radiating dazzling divine light and exuding overwhelming majesty, descended like a comet from the heavens—destroying the seemingly indestructible, fully armed Indiran forces and clearing out the Red-Cloth Army that had seemed poised to seize victory.
The most terrifying sight was the colossal, radiant palm that flattened the top of the base!
The remaining fanatical Indiran soldiers stared blankly, chills running through their bodies, their minds utterly blank.
"No way—this can't be real!"
“Our base has been reinforced multiple times. The roof contains dozens of steel beams, and the concrete is at least half a meter thick. I could understand if it were punctured or collapsed, but to be folded, peeled back, and finally expose the clear, cloudless sky above—”
“Could it be a Sinoveran immortal?”
“Could the ancient legends of Sinovera really be true?”
Simply put, it was as if the top of a square box had been peeled open.
But it was so outrageous that most Indiran soldiers froze in place like statues.
Some tried to shoot or throw grenades, but the drifting, illusory winds snuffed out all life... Some attempted to flee, but the swirling, cutting winds swept through the entire area... Others screamed in terror, on the verge of collapse, yet none of this moved Andrew Han's cold expression in the slightest.
Bang.
Andrew Han lifted his foot, his right palm rotating in mid-air: “Three-Thousand Flowing Winds—my palm stirs the waves.”
Shhh! Shhh! Shhh!
Countless streams of wind briefly hung in the air, then erupted into a world-shaking hurricane, piercing the entire armed base... Cries, shouts, and pleas for mercy rose and fell, but these armed Indiran men were powerless against the Three-Thousand Flowing Winds Mystic-Communion Art.
After all, it was a Mystic-Communion Art!
Even when diffused, it possessed the killing power to treat thousands of troops as nothing. In just three seconds, an indescribable silence fell over the base, inside and out.
Only Andrew Han remained.
Wrapped in radiance, he stood alone.
No one could truly see his awe-inspiring form, nor understand what had just occurred—except for a little girl nestled in her young mother's arms, biting her dirty finger, her face shining with joyful hope.
“Are you an immortal?”
The child's voice shattered the silence. The young mother trembled in fright, hurriedly hugging her daughter, not daring to look up at the figure who seemed like a radiant deity.
The more you know, the more you fear.
But the little girl was different. Xiaoxiao waved her tiny hand: “Are you an immortal? Did you come to save us?”
“I’m not an immortal. I’m Sinoveran.” Andrew Han turned slightly, glancing at the little girl named Xiaoxiao.
He would later escort these people to the Sinoveran Consulate.
Then, he would set out—even if he had to dig three feet into the ground, he would find the Nether Ghost Domain, rescue the scientists as quickly as possible, and only after the mission ended would the Sinoveran authorities suppress Indira.
......
Indira, Sinoveran Consulate.
“Chief, chief!”
Someone, pale-faced, pointed at the screen—clear as day, it showed Lute Rutan in the midst of a menacing speech, openly inciting his subordinates to hatred against Sinoverans.
The staff gathered around.
Everyone felt a deep sense of anxiety.
"Damn!"
The middle-aged man with gold-rimmed glasses adjusted his frames. As the leader, his face flushed with anger, his heart filled with uncontrollable rage: “How dare Lute Rutan do this? Sinovera will never forgive him!”
The others remained silent.
For all their anger, it was pointless. That was a heavily fortified armed base; even well-equipped soldiers couldn't breach the defenses. And it was too late—calling for help from Sinovera's South Sea Fleet wouldn't make it in time.
"Man..."
“After all, we're in a foreign country. We can't just send in troops whenever we want. All we can do is watch, powerless—what else is left for us?” Someone gripped their hair, shaking their head in anguish.
The middle-aged man with gold-rimmed glasses sighed.
At that moment, his gaze grew increasingly hopeless... but in the next instant, everything changed. The screen flickered, as if a cataclysmic tsunami had erupted—ground shaking, the camera crashed to the floor, and the livestream was abruptly cut off.
What happened?
What’s going on?
Everyone present was bewildered. The livestream made it seem as if there had been a massive earthquake.
Strangely, the Sinoveran Consulate was only a few dozen kilometers from the armed base—if there had been an earthquake, they should have felt it too.
About half an hour later—
The middle-aged man with gold-rimmed glasses watched as one Sinoveran after another poured in, eyes streaming with tears of joy, as if they'd finally found their way home. He was stunned, and after careful questioning, his eyes widened in disbelief.
“An immortal?”
He was filled with doubt and wonder.
The little girl nodded her head: “He said he’s Sinoveran, but Xiaoxiao thinks he’s an immortal.”
Could it be—
A Sinoveran martial practitioner... The middle-aged man vaguely recalled rumors of unbelievable martial power. Suddenly, everything became clear, all doubts vanished—but the shock in his heart surged like waves, crashing against the deepest part of his mind.
......
Americonia.
A handful of young people snacked on trail mix, eyes glued to the livestream.
The screen was crystal clear, and for a while, hundreds of Americonian teens tuned in, watching with rapt attention.
They thought it was just a movie.
But their acting was absolutely seamless.
"Oh!"
"Look at that Sinoveran woman—her performance is incredible. I feel a pang of sadness just watching. What kind of movie is this, why is it being promoted like this?" exclaimed a viewer from Americonia.
Immediately, someone else gasped, "I just looked up Indira—it's a real rebel army. This must be real, and it's being livestreamed across the Pacific."
What?
The Americonian youths were stunned.
Their expressions varied: some fell silent, some frowned and shook their heads in dismay, some started snacking with curiosity—every kind of reaction under the sun.
Boom!
The livestream shook violently, as if struck by a natural disaster—an earthquake out of nowhere. The camera toppled to the ground, the screen flashed hundreds of times at high frequency, as if illuminated by fireworks, then static and chaos—until the signal was lost.
"Huh?"
"What was that?" One Americonian youth rewound the livestream, staring at the final frame. What should've been a shadowed concrete surface was suddenly swept by a surge of sunlight, racing forward like a tidal wave.
The image froze.
He swallowed hard, a wild thought flashing through his mind: "Did the roof of that concrete-and-steel base just get ripped open?"
...
In fact, Lute Rutan's livestream was causing a real stir.
Fortunately, Andrew Han arrived just in time. In an instant, he wiped out everyone in and around the base, casually shattering the camera, burying the incident before it could make bigger waves.
South of Indira's capital, two hundred li away.
Here, the climate is tropical. Even in October, the sun beats down relentlessly. And these past two days, Indira has grown abnormally hot, as if the air itself ripples with heat.
"Hmm."
"According to the intel, two kilometers ahead lies the Nether Ghost Domain." Andrew Han looked ahead with a strange expression.
Two kilometers ahead.
A dazzling golden temple stood there.
Even from two kilometers away, the temple was clearly visible. At its gate stood a Buddha statue—its golden face radiating compassion, hands pressed together in prayer.
The temple entrance bustled with people—perhaps war had made it even busier. Many sought refuge around the temple: some with their entire families, some squatting nearby smoking.
"Interesting."
"This temple must be the Nether Ghost Domain... but where are they hiding?" Andrew Han brushed the dust off his immaculate Green Mountain Robe and strode confidently toward the radiant temple.