Chapter 418: Bro Squad, Assemble!

Chapter 418: Bro Squad, Assemble!

Three figures hovered in space, ten thousand miles away from the Center Moon. They were Brock, Gan Salin, and Nauja. These three bros, who had once bonded on the outer planet of Field Nebula, were preparing to assault an outpost of the Hand of God.

“Girl Bro,” Brock said. “What do you see?”

“A thousand people. Most are D-Grades—only a handful are C-Grades, with the strongest among them at the late C-Grade.”

Nauja was an archer. Her vision was incredibly sharp—even from ten thousand miles away, she could distinguish the cultivators wandering through the outpost and even inspect the auras left behind by their powerhouses.

“You can make them out,” Salin noted, “but can you make out with them?”

His comment was ignored. “I am ready,” Brock said. “Are you ready?”

“I was born ready.”

“Do I have a moment to pee?”

“Let’s go!”

Their restrained auras suddenly erupted. Two late D-Grades and a middle C-Grade may not have been much in Jack and Brock’s recent escapades, but they were almost apex existences in the Milky Way galaxy. The moment their auras appeared, the outpost below went on full alert.

“To what do we owe this pleasure?” came a sonorous voice. Space warped as a long-haired man stepped into the void, his aura firmly but politely resisting theirs. He was not the late C-Grade cultivator Nauja had mentioned, but a middle C-Grade one. “The Hand of God welcomes guests!” he exclaimed with a smile that didn’t reach his ears. “Could the three fellow cultivators please announce their names?”

“How about I announce your mother?” came Salin’s reply. The man’s smile froze—then, his eyes darkened.

“Who are you?” he demanded, dropping all pretense.

“We are the bros,” Brock replied, stepping forward, “and we are here for war.”

His aura shone golden. A book appeared in his hand, illuminating the void for a hundred miles, while the golden phantom of a brorilla manifested around his body, cladding him in the spirit of brohood. Then, without any more words, Brock charged forth.

“Hmph! The bros? What idiot name is that? If you think the Hand of God can be bullied, you are sorely mistaken!”

Facing Brock’s charge, the long-haired man’s aura didn’t weaken in the slightest. They were both middle C-Grades. Neither had reason to fear the other—or so the man thought. A slim sword appeared in his hands, thrusting forward and penetrating space to reach Brock’s golden book.

For a moment, the world came to a standstill. Their auras were similar in intensity. The raw power each commanded was around the same level. Yet, their Daos and experiences were incredibly far apart. Brock didn’t even pause. Raising his book, he shattered the other man’s sword light, charging right through.

The man paled. He withdrew his energy and conjured a hasty defense, but how could that compare to Brock’s attack? A golden cannonball smashed into his chest. His sword bent and flew out of his hand while his body folded and shot backward at tremendous speed. Blood shot out like red flowers.

“What!?”

This wasn’t the only enemy present. Many people were watching from Center Moon, and seeing one of their strongest protectors destroyed after a single blow, they couldn’t believe their eyes. “Quick, summon reinforcements!” a man shouted.

“The bros are here! The bros are here!” a woman cried out, not recognizing the name but hoping someone else would. In the next moment, however, space beside her parted to reveal an aloof young man whose face radiated insanity.

“You can also call us the three brosquetters,” he said calmly even as his palm pierced through her chest to grab her heart. “Whoops. Guess I should have let you live to tell the tale. Don’t worry though, I’ve got many more catchphrases to use—I’ve been coming up with them for a month!”

Seeing Gan Salin appear in their midst like an angel of death, the cultivators stirred into panic. It wasn’t that he alone could kill them all—it was just that, since these people dared attack, they must have confidence in their victory. In this situation, the surprised and ambushed Hand of God had already lost half the battle!

“Get into formation!” a steady voice echoed over Center Moon. Another C-Grade appeared in the void, and she was even stronger than the last one at the late C-Grade! Moreover, even amongst people of her level, she was considered an elite. She was also bald and wearing monk robes.

Salin’s eyes widened. “Shol!” he shouted, even though this person clearly had nothing to do with Shol. “Is that you? You became a woman!?”

Brock withdrew his powers. He was panting but nowhere close to his limits—as for the two enemies, they had already disappeared, washed away by the powerful flow of brohood. “Good warm-up,” he said. He stretched out a hand—the woman’s steel staff appeared in his palm, but after a deep glance, he discarded it and shook his head.

His Staff of Stone had been destroyed by Baron Longform in the hidden realm. He was looking for a replacement, but unfortunately, this steel weapon was far from meeting his standards.

He then looked down. The Center Moon was already flattened, with the Hand of God outpost completely eradicated. Not a single enemy cultivator remained alive. This place had been thoroughly recaptured.

Only one eyesore remained—the massive flag pole stabbed deep into the earth. Brock wouldn’t let that stand. A massive golden hand appeared, grabbing the pole and ripping it out of the ground. He then threw the pole into the nebula and tore off the Hand of God flag, turning it into a dozen pieces of cloth which he set in orbit around Center Moon.

In war, the flag of an army was their insignia, the heart of their soldiers and the cornerpiece of their morale. To attack one’s flag was a grave insult. What Brock had done, ripping the flag apart and scattering its pieces around the conquered outpost, was equal to spitting in the face of the Hand of God.

But they were already at war. Why would he care about the enemies’ hatred?

Brock then looked towards his two bros, one of whom was wounded but both were beaming. “I am proud of you,” he said. “We restored justice. We took revenge.”

“Couldn’t have done it without you, big bro,” Salin replied with a toothy smile, and Brock’s usually stern face morphed into a bright smile as well.

“We are all bros,” he said. “After so many years...it is nice to see we have all grown.”

“Damn right!” Nauja shouted, still excited. “Hey, Jack! What are you doing? Come here to celebrate!”

Space warped beside them. A bare-chested man appeared, his every muscle perfectly defined as if sculpted from marble. Jack had never been too handsome a guy, but after cultivating for so long, his current appearance would be enough to have most women swooning.

In contrast to the three bros’ victory, however, his face was dark. “I looked through the entire Center Moon and all three planets,” he said, “but I did not find Shol. Not a trace.”

“That sucks,” Salin said. “I hope he’s okay.”

“Me too.”

A moment of silence went by. “So,” Brock said, “what do we do now, big bro?”

“What can we do?” Jack replied. “We try to decipher the hint he left behind and hope it really points somewhere. If that fails, we’ll have to bear the risk and go after more Hand of God cultivators for information. I can only pray that the worst hasn’t occurred.”

There was a reason he was dark-faced. If Shol was missing, there was a chance he had been captured by the Hand of God elsewhere and forced to reveal the frequency of Earth’s teleporter. Jack didn’t believe that Shol would break even under the cruelest of tortures, but if they had a way to read his mind...

If they reached Earth before him...

“We’re going,” he said. “The longer we stay, the higher the chances of reinforcements arriving.”

Just as he said that, he frowned. Then, his face paled. “I can sense fluctuations from the teleporter,” he said quickly. “Someone’s coming. Hurry!”

He waved his hand, instantly taking all three of them to the teleporter. It was already shining—someone would arrive any second. “Nauja!” he shouted, but she was already on it. She poured her energy into the teleporter, forcing it to activate faster than usual. Purple light enveloped them.

“Take us anywhere!” Jack shouted.

Two streams of energy collided. One outgoing, one incoming. For a moment, it felt like the teleporter was about to break. Then, Jack used his Space Dao to twist the two streams around each other, forcefully activating the teleporter at the cost of its structural integrity. They were sucked into space with an explosion—and, almost at the same time, two new people appeared next to the now-destroyed teleporter.

One was a hate-filled leonine—Artus Emberheart—and the other was the late B-Grade tasked with purging the Milky Way galaxy—Eva Solvig.

“Damn it all!” Artus shouted after looking around. “They escaped!” He clenched a small sack hanging by his side, causing whatever was inside it to release a small scream.

Eva did not respond immediately. Her gaze landed on the ruined flag, the flattened outpost, the corpses of her soldiers lying around. Hatred was born inside her heart. “It doesn’t matter if they escaped,” she responded icily. “We know they’re here. In our territory. Jack Rust... Let’s see how long you can keep running.”