In the center of a giant crater that would make road maintenance crews weep.
Hazy purple light slowly brightened amidst the dust and mist. Between the starkly defined interplay of light and shadow, Lu Xing materialized, completely unscathed.
With a forehand grip, he held the massive lance inverted, plunging it violently into the ground.
With a reverse grip, the chilling longsword was held rigidly horizontal before him.
The lance and blade, pressed together, formed a cross symbolizing the Holy Spirit and eternal rest.
The instant the attack arrived.
Lu Xing, without a hair's breadth to spare, had brought out the [Radiant Star], forming an impenetrable defense before him alongside [Frost's Lament]:
[Hold Shield]
This powerful defensive skill could only block a single blow.
But that was enough.
The only thing that could truly threaten Lu Xing was the shell from the main battle tank—and [Hold Shield] was primarily meant to deal with precisely that shell.
Impact and flames.
All effects from the explosion were neutralized by [Hold Shield] the moment they reached Lu Xing.
As for the sniper fire from afar.
Lu Xing simply ignored it—specialized bullets had considerable lethality against Honkai Beasts, but for the [Radiant Star], a creation of civilization renowned for its sturdiness and sharpness, they were a negligible presence.
The Knight Lance, merely held upright before him, was enough to effortlessly deflect bullets aimed at his chest, much like a tower shield in the hands of heavy infantry.
And the rockets fired by the Apaches...
The explosions did indeed create some rather unsightly pits on the parts of Lu Xing's body not covered by armor, but these were minor issues, mere scratches, and were already repaired by Honkai energy by the time the smoke cleared.
Next—
"Woom!"
The cold air was rent with a mournful cry.
The Honkai energy condensed on the edges of the lance and the straight sword was already so dense that crystalline motes scattered into the air with every swing of the weapons.
The purple light transformed into an almost ring-shaped crescent.
The energy of the [Shield Bash] was split in two, and in less than the blink of an eye, it had already struck towards both sides of the sky—
"Zzzt!"
Two slashes, four pieces. Tongues of fire filled the sky.
Severed limbs scattered, dust flew.
"Boom!!"
The last embers scattered across the night sky; the bothersome flies were gone.
But the enemy was not yet completely eliminated—
"Hiss!"
A fierce wind gathered at the tip of the lance.
Lu Xing's eyes grew increasingly bright, narrow, eerie purple flames igniting within his eye sockets, like myriad slender serpents intertwining.
"Bang!"
The instant they coalesced into a blaze.
"Bang—"
Radiant Star shot from his grasp!
Towards the far end of the street, where the dim lights faded into an unseen distance!
"Clink."
A silver starlight erupted at the other end.
"Boom!!!"
"Click."
A flint scraped against bright metal, striking a spark.
Silver, lion head, sapphire—a Dupont, a luxury item among lighters.
The tip of the clearly not-so-white cigarette, a dull grayish-red, was steadily consuming its length.
"Commander!"
"Oh, oh... I know."
His right hand, with its thick knuckles, covered in wrinkles on one side and calluses on the other, gently reached towards the loader beside him.
"Want one?"
The old commander, clearly past service age, was puffing away inside the tank where smoking was strictly forbidden.
The young man who had just tried to dissuade him.
The cigarette offered by the commander cut off what he was about to say—whether in the army or the city, cigarettes, even crudely homemade ones, were an absolute luxury.
However.
The atmosphere in the army clearly hadn't hardened the young man enough yet.
He was choked up by the commander's words, not because of the cigarette's rarity—his family wasn't short of money, and the young man didn't smoke—but because of the other's blatant act of "bribery."
This was the army.
The army that protected citizens and their hometowns, fighting Honkai Beasts on the front lines!
Such a unit...
"Pak."
The old commander retracted the cigarette with a hint of regret.
His rough palm clapped forcefully on the young man's shoulder, and the act of "massaging" his shoulder twice almost made the young man cry out in pain.
Youth was good.
But a young man about to die was not.
A young man about to die without even having had a single puff... that was even worse.
The old commander didn't speak. Just as he was "slandering" the young man with his own logic, a new shell had already been loaded into the breech—the loader only needed to manually stuff the behemoth, weighing over fifty kilograms, in when the autoloader malfunctioned.
"Experimental shell."
The old commander glanced at the shells, two of which had already been fired.
The gun's accuracy was quite good, and the ammunition's power was very reliable.
It was just a pity that such a weapon rarely had a chance to be used on human battlefields. Penetrating enemy ground armor didn't require such exaggerated firepower, and during the exceedingly long barrel cooldown time, one's own side would become a defenseless target.
But.
It was perfect for dealing with "those things."
His eyes, undimmed by age, peered into the commander's sight. The first shot had been a near miss, but the second one fired just now...
The old commander was very certain the shell had solidly hit the target.
The quantity of this type of ammunition was very small.
His former superior had entrusted them to him, hoping they would be truly effective—these shells could blast through even the frontal armor of a Chariot-class beast with a single hit.
But it was a pity.
The old commander was to be disappointed this time.
The figure gradually emerging from the smoke, displayed in the commander's sight...
Was completely unscathed.
By the time he saw the other party pull the long lance from the ground, the old commander had already snapped the commander's sight shut with a "kachak."
"Kid."
The old commander thumped the young man.
The force, far greater than a "pat," made the young man somewhat displeased.
"...I won't file a report."
"No."
The old commander negated the young man's meaning, but his motion to offer the cigarette halted in the gasoline-scented tank interior.
He understood.
The young man wouldn't take this cigarette.
"This is truly..."
Tucking the "rolling paper," from which some tobacco had spilled, back into his inner pocket, the old commander gently adjusted his collar.
This was a collar his old lady had specially modified for him when she was still alive—distinctive and neat, and the fine material was so breathable it never got sweaty.
Absolutely the first choice for a tanker.
Fourteen centimeters below the collar, medals of various sizes, polished to a metallic sheen, were the amulets the old commander meticulously pinned on before every departure.
"...such a pity."
"Boom!!!"
Burning tanks, falling helicopters.
And lives that had been so vibrant just minutes ago.
Lu Xing walked among the wreckage of civilization. Besides himself, there wasn't a single living thing left here—the "City Refugee Area," two kilometers from the city center, now a battlefield, had completely lost its former vitality... even if that vitality had once been deathly still.
The complement of an Army Reinforced Armor Battalion.
Under Lu Xing's blade, it had been utterly annihilated in less than ten minutes.