Torrential rain poured down like a silver river, shrouding Korhal's noble district in a dense curtain of water.
Raindrops struck the gilded streets, splashing into countless crystal-like droplets, veiling the entire area in a flowing, dreamlike mist.
The district's iconic flora drooped helplessly under the deluge, artificial lights smearing into vague halos through the rain-soaked air.
Nova Terra's slender figure stood silently at the ventilation window of the suite's bathroom. Rainwater slid down the curves of her nano-combat suit, forming a shimmering, ever-moving membrane on its surface.
Pure psionic energy flowed along the armor's patterns, refracting each droplet into a radiant halo.
Her figure began to exhibit subtle optical "distortions," her silhouette warping and shimmering like air over scorching asphalt, until she fully blended into the rainy night's background.
"Psionic sync at 98.7%. Good," Stone's voice crackled through the encrypted neural link.
His figure also began to blur. The quantum camouflage on his combat suit perfectly mimicked the surrounding spectral characteristics.
The other two operatives followed in suit. The four formed a psionic network that wove a delicate interference field into the air.
Even the Terran Palace's most advanced phase-scan arrays would now register them as nothing more than electromagnetic noise caused by the rain.
They became like four invisible phantoms, leaping lightly across the intricate rooftops of the noble district. The adhesion modules in their boots allowed them to traverse the slick surfaces as if walking on dry ground.
On Nova's retinal projection, the 3D model of the palace complex updated in real time—
Dozens of patrol heat signatures marked in red, over ten dynamic surveillance outposts flashing yellow warnings.
"Sector A3 is relatively secure."
Her directive passed instantly via the neural link.
Her nano-gloved fingers traced an invisible path through the rain, bringing up a detailed architectural cross-section. A hidden maintenance tunnel lit up in highlight.
Meanwhile, in the hotel's first-floor lobby—
Baze Malbus grinned viciously.
His massive palm pressed against the hotel's main entrance. Empowered by his augmented physique and exosuit, he exerted force that made the alloy doorframe groan under the strain.
BOOM—!!
With a screech of warping metal, the heavy door was torn from its hinges like a sheet of paper.
The door slammed into the ground, sending debris flying.
WEEEOO—! WEEEOO—!
The hotel's security alarms blared instantly. The shrill sirens and flashing red warning lights ripped open a "wound" in the rainy night.
The plasma cannon on Baze's shoulder began to charge. Azure energy coiled and spun within the barrel, emitting a chilling hum.
"Listen up, you bastards!"
His booming voice echoed through the street as he hefted his modified rotary machine gun single-handedly. "Today, you get to witness the aesthetic of Imperial firepower!"
Over a dozen stormtroopers followed Baze. Their black power armor glistened in the rain, each plate specially polished so that raindrops instantly bounced off, forming a halo of mist.
Reinforced muscle bundles flexed rhythmically under the hydraulic systems, producing a deep, synchronized hum.
These augmented warriors stood over two meters tall on average. Smart warheads in the missile pods on their shoulders had already shifted into standby mode.
In their hands, heavy Gauss and hard-light weapons, each shot capable of piercing a siege tank's front armor.
As they marched in formation, the rainwater on the street rippled in perfectly synchronized waves.
One stormtrooper's visor flashed with data streams. His tactical HUD marked all weak points in the buildings ahead in red. In their vision, the world was a killing map composed of fatal nodes.
At the forefront of this steel tide, five black-robed figures stood in stark contrast.
Chirrut Îmwe walked at the center. His simple-looking robe was actually woven from specialized materials, its surface flowing with nearly invisible psionic runes.
Raindrops diverted automatically half a meter from his body, as if hitting an unseen dome.
His footsteps were featherlight; not even a ripple appeared on the water. This was no ordinary use of the Force—it was the product of perfect fusion between midi-chlorian matter and pure psionic energy, forming a "reality distortion field."
Four Jedi Knights fanned out in a diamond formation behind him, their robes swaying in the rain.
The youngest apprentice held an unlit lightsaber, its Kyber crystal pulsing in rhythm with his breath.
Chirrut suddenly halted, his blind eyes "gazing" toward a shadow on the right side of the street. He smiled knowingly.
"They're here."
As the alarms echoed throughout the noble district—
More and more Terran marines burst from behind barricades, their CMC-400 power armor servos shrieking in the rain.
Their Gauss rifles simultaneously rose, barrels trained on Chirrut and his companions at the front.
"Open fire! Kill on sight!"
TATATATATA!!
With the squad leader's shout, waves of hypersonic flechettes tore through the downpour.
These depleted uranium spike rounds ripped straight channels through the air. Raindrops shattered into white mist under the shockwaves.
But Chirrut merely raised his right hand gently.
Time seemed to freeze—
All the flechettes halted three meters in front of him, spinning violently yet unable to advance. Even the rain began to crystallize into frozen droplets.
Dingdang!
With a subtle turn of the Jedi Master's palm, the spike rounds dropped to the ground like chess pieces flicked aside by an invisible hand, clinking softly on the wet pavement.
"Lay down your weapons."
Chirrut's voice wasn't loud, yet it pierced through the storm and alarms, resonating directly in the skulls of each marine. "Your hearts are already weary. You need not bleed for lies anymore."
His words carried a dual force.
Pure psionic energy softened their resistance like warm water, while the midi-chlorian Force subtly sliced through the brainwashing protocols Mengsk had implanted.
"Ugh!"
One marine staggered backward, his trembling fingers unable to pull the trigger.
The memories of massacres witnessed before their conditioning surfaced and began to crumble.
"I... I participated in brutal, bloody crackdowns…"
The soldier ripped off his helmet, revealing a scarred, exhausted face. "Those civilians… they held white flags…"
Chirrut stepped forward, his robe sweeping over puddles without absorbing a drop.
He raised his hand, touching his finger to the marine's forehead. Golden psionic warmth surged into the man's mind.
"It wasn't your fault."
Just those few words broke the marine down into sobs.
One by one, the other soldiers lowered their rifles. Their CMC suits disengaged combat mode.
Some collapsed to their knees in the rain, others clutched their heads in anguish. Most simply looked around in a daze, like sleepers waking from a long nightmare.
The youngest Jedi apprentice stepped beside Chirrut. "Master, their psychic wounds are deeper than we anticipated."
"Because the worst thing about tyranny…" Chirrut's blind eyes reflected the palace silhouette in the distance, "...is convincing ordinary people they're guilty."
He turned toward the disarmed soldiers. "Pick up your weapons—but this time, fight for your true home."
BOOM—! BOOM—!!
As if answering his words, deafening explosions erupted from the direction of the palace.
Baze's voice came through the comms: "Front gate's cleared! Show time, you black-robed kids!"
While Chirrut and his group neutralized the Terran marines, Baze had already led a dozen stormtroopers in a feint toward the palace's main gate.
Chirrut smiled and gripped his lightsaber hilt.
VMMM~!
All four Jedi ignited their lightsabers, bright blue plasma blades piercing through the rain.
It wasn't a signal for attack, but a beacon—to light the path for those who had lost their way.
At the palace gate—
"HAHAHAHA!!"
Baze Malbus's laughter cut through the gunfire like a saw. As his thick fingers squeezed the trigger, his rotary cannon spun into a blur.
With a fire rate nearing ten thousand rounds per minute, the muzzle belched half-meter tongues of flame. The armor-piercing barrage shredded the palace gate and automated turrets into flying debris.
Scalding shell casings rained onto the water-logged pavement, sizzling and steaming up thick white mist.
"Now that's art!"
Baze's roar drowned out even the weapon's howl. His shoulder-mounted plasma cannon fully charged, hurling an azure energy orb at the fortification's power node.
BOOM—!
The explosion vaporized rainwater within fifty meters. The palace's gilded gate twisted under the heat like melting wax.
Stormtroopers surged forward, their heavy weapons roaring. Thermite and metallic hydrogen missiles shot from their shoulders like falling meteors, blooming into multicolored, "spring-like" blossoms of destruction.
"Come on, maggots!"
Baze kicked through the deformed alloy gate with a screech that made teeth ache.
His massive frame blocked the entrance as the rotary gun continued to spit flames. "Get a taste of Imperial hospitality!"
Inside, palace alarms blared, red emergency lights tinting the halls blood-red.
Royal Guards poured in from every corridor. Their CMC-660 power armor glowed ominously, weapons primed to critical.
But they faced more than brute firepower—
Four Jedi moved like shadows across the battlefield.
Their lightsabers carved elegant arcs through the storm, energy blades piercing directly into each suit's power core.
Disabled, the armor locked down, trapping stunned Terran soldiers in dead metal coffins.
Most astounding was the young apprentice.
When a rocket screamed toward his face, he simply lifted his left hand. The rocket froze mid-air, its booster flame still burning, its body locked in a motionless field.
He waved his hand, and the deadly projectile fell harmlessly at his feet.
Click~!
With a crisp snap, the warhead disassembled itself. High-energy explosives spilled out like sand—harmless chemical powder.
"Remember," the apprentice's voice cut through the gunfire, "true power lies not in destruction, but in control."
"Tch."
Baze clicked his tongue, half mockery, half admiration, casually tossing aside his spent ammo belt.
"Well said, kid!"
Reloading a new ammo drum, he added, "But sometimes, this works even better!"
The rotary gun roared again, pinning another wave of guards at the hallway corner.
The Jedi seized the opening, their blades dancing graceful paths through the dark, each strike efficiently disabling enemy weapons.
Though it looked like a brute-force assault, it was actually a masterfully choreographed tactical performance.
Baze's steel storm was the pounding war drum; the Jedi's lightsabers, the conductor's baton.
The palace defenses crumbled under the storm. Chirrut's psionic pulse swept through like an invisible tide.
Surveillance systems blinked, then went dark. The once-impenetrable defense net collapsed instantly.
Terran soldiers panicked. The comms were filled with broken shouting. They couldn't even tell if this was a strike team—or a full invasion.
Fear spread in the darkness.
Baze Malbus and his stormtroopers maintained the pressure at the front. The overlapping roars of machine gun and plasma cannon composed a symphony of destruction, tearing outer fortifications apart.
Two Jedi skirted the battlefield edges. Their lightsabers sliced through the rain, precisely disabling turret power nodes while shielding Baze's squad.
Every step was carefully calculated—to keep the enemy fixated on the frontal assault.
Meanwhile, Chirrut had slipped away from the main fight, his robe snapping in the storm as if the rain feared to touch him.
With two other Jedi, he raced through the palace's underground maintenance corridors.
The passage was damp and cold. Beads of condensation on the walls trembled subtly under the pulse of psionic energy.
Their target was clear—Mengsk's escape pod.
Hidden in the palace's deepest vault, it was the tyrant's last resort. By seizing or destroying it, they could ensure Mengsk had no chance to gamble with Korhal's fate ever again.
At the same time, Nova Terra and Stone's team scaled the palace's vertical structure.
With nanosuits' optical camouflage and psionic enhancements, they vanished into the rain, and the chaos Chirrut caused rendered Mengsk's hidden sentries all but blind.
Nova's fingers brushed over carved reliefs on the palace's outer wall. Her psionic senses rippled outward like waves, probing for any traps.
Stone followed closely, his disruptor humming silently—ensuring their presence wouldn't be exposed at the final hour.
At the very top of the palace—
Mengsk's private domain was within reach.
Beyond the one-way crystal window, the Terran Dominion's ruler might still be watching his crumbling city below—unaware that the hunter had already arrived behind him.
(End of Chapter)
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