Colonial Suit

The seventh battlefield.

Naturally, it was the last one generated, the 'celestial body' completely filled with cosmic storms and space debris.

To be precise, it couldn't even be considered a celestial body. It was merely a space restrained by virtual reality technology. It was a pure 'blank slate' created solely for harsh or even harsher environments. Fighting there meant that the first consideration wasn't killing the enemy, but how to survive.

Clearly, the envoy's decision was a punishment for the arrogance of Blood瞳 and Brut earlier. And they were not allowed to resist.

Some might ask, the Clay Clan had done the same thing before, why weren't they punished?

Isn't that a simple matter? It's because the Clay Clan is an old cosmic noble, with people in high places. Compared to humans, the Clay Clan's foundation is obviously much stronger. At the very least, even the envoys of the Second World wouldn't dare express blatant hostility.

However, although he made the ruling, it really didn't mean much to Blood瞳 and Brut.

Both had indifferent personalities and were highly aggressive Star-level newcomers. They didn't possess the maturity and prudence (cowardice) of veteran Star-levels. They still maintained vigorous energy and aggressiveness. The newly acquired power surged within them. Let alone a mere spatial battlefield, they probably wouldn't hesitate to enter anti-space combat.

Because this stage was precisely the most exciting 'danger period' for cosmic warriors.

As everyone knows, each level of advancement for cosmic warriors is a world-shaking evolution, but this evolution isn't without its drawbacks. New power makes cosmic warriors more impulsive and dangerous. It's like a child who gets a new toy, always excited for a while. Only after becoming familiar with it for a period of time will they gradually return to normal.

Blood瞳 and Brut were precisely in this stage. So they didn't care about the battlefield. The only thing they needed to worry about was not being harmed at their origin.

You should know that the reason Star-levels are so difficult to deal with is because they are very difficult to kill. The solidification of the cognitive world makes them a self-contained system. They can replicate powerful clones at any time to perform tasks, so whether or not to use the main body is no longer important. At the same time, according to the degree of the Star-level's cognitive world, the clones will carry more power. Becoming more and more powerful.

Blood瞳 and Brut had just been promoted to Star-level, and their cognitive worlds were not yet mature, so they could not separate out sufficiently powerful clones. Therefore, they both descended with their main bodies this time. In this case, in addition to normal injuries, they also had to be careful of some super-powerful mental, psionic, and mystical attacks, so as not to damage the origin of their cognitive world and cause irreparable trauma.

And this is also the reason for their ferocity. Only dead enemies are the best enemies. If they are not fierce enough, wouldn't they be courting death?

"Do you have any objections?"

The Second World envoy's voice echoed from above.

The two only exchanged a glance before disappearing from the spot.

At this point, any words were powerless. Only strength was the fundamental way to solve everything. What if the environment was harsh? As long as they could survive on the battlefield, could the Second World envoy stop them? Humanity's current situation was to seek a way out among many established civilizations. They had seen too much of this kind of thing.

And the many warriors they brought also silently walked to the side, waiting for the battle results.

The ceremony continued again, followed by sacrifices from some civilizations. But at this time, only some small civilizations were left. The things sacrificed were mostly low-level resources, potions. Exotic beasts, slaves, etc., were far from meeting the needs of the Second World. Therefore, after a series of sacrifices, only two or three civilizations were recognized. Most civilizations were rejected.

This was also to protect them. Otherwise, in the highly competitive environment of the Second World. What would happen even if they entered? Wouldn't they be eaten in minutes?

The dividends of the higher world are not something that every civilization is qualified to enjoy.

Finally, after the ceremony had been going on for another three days, the 'ring array' of fleets in the void thinned out. Some had returned home, while others remained to watch the subsequent battles.

Most of the civilizations that could still stay here were qualified candidates who met the standards. They all held hope and anticipation. Waiting for the final stage.

The Selection War!!

The successful will ascend the ladder of the Second World, while the losers will also receive compensation from the Second World.

Basically, at this point, there are no true losers, because even the slightest bit of technology that leaks from the Second World's fingers is enough to transform their civilization. But the essence of life is greed, isn't it? Who would choose the worse result if they could get a better one?

In the garden of the human yacht, the Speaker stood up and walked to the transparent protective shield at the edge.

From his angle, he could clearly see the scene of the seven planetary battlefields. Including the movements of the warriors within.

"It's about to begin."

The Speaker raised a finger and suddenly conjured a plump roast duck, stuffing it into his mouth and chewing. "I wonder how many candidates the Second World intends to eliminate this time?"

"With the Great Extinction approaching, they won't waste resources," Councilor Sal Jones said from behind. "I estimate they might eliminate 70%."

"70%..." The Speaker chewed, revealing a smile that was not a smile. "Look, this is the truth of the rules. What fairness, what help, are all high-sounding excuses. In the eyes of these higher civilizations, we are just ants."

"And the surviving 30% are probably all guys who have connections in the Second World."

The Speaker smiled, casually throwing the remaining roast duck aside, and then conjured a large bucket of beer and drank heartily. The fragrant beer dripped down his mouth, and he suddenly threw the bucket away. Laughing loudly.

"Good! Then let me see who will have the last laugh. Sal Jones, let's make a bet. I bet the remaining will not be 30%, but 10%."

"Want to play a game?"

"No, Speaker," Sal Jones replied. With a hint of a sly smile on his face. "I forgot to mention that my previous assessment was only a data analysis and did not take our participation into account. So I won't make this bet with you. In fact, according to my personal thoughts, 10% is too much. I think 5% is more ideal."

"Who told us to draw a great hand?"

The Speaker and Sal Jones looked at each other, and then laughed in unison.

At this moment, Blood瞳 and Brut had already entered the seventh battlefield. Endless cosmic storms and space debris raged around them, seemingly about to swallow them in the next instant. This intensity of storm was quite dangerous, even Star-levels had to be careful. So Brut raised his shield at the first moment, while Blood瞳...

Remained unchanged.

"Huh?" Brut was a little surprised. "Aren't you going to prepare?"

"No need," Blood瞳 replied. While turning his gaze to the distance. "I like here... Also, I'm afraid we don't have much time to familiarize ourselves with the battlefield."

"Oh?" Brut was stunned. Following Blood瞳's gaze, his face turned ashen.

"Damn it! There are so many people, and they all have us as targets! What exactly do the bastards in the Second World want to do!!" (To be continued. If you like this work, you are welcome to vote for recommendations and monthly tickets. Your support is my greatest motivation..)