Chapter 6: The Rebel Psion
After Gray led another soldier out for reconnaissance, the remaining members either continued to observe Qin Mo demonstrating his crafting magic or searched the battlefield for any useful items.
It soon became apparent that their earlier search had been too general, as many valuable items had been overlooked. For instance, the powered armor worn by Bull's guards had been shredded, appearing no different from rags at first glance, which explained why it had been missed previously.
"Commander Bull has disappeared, but I found the only intact piece of powered armor," two soldiers approached Qin Mo, each carrying half a suit of armor and placing it on the ground.
"Should we search for Bull?" someone inquired.
"There is no need," Qin Mo replied, his gaze fixed on the powered armor as he slowly shook his head, giving a light pat to the chainsaw sword at his waist. "His chainsaw sword is in my possession; he has likely become just another piece of torn biological matter on the battlefield. Even the Emperor would not know his fate."
With that, Qin Mo concentrated on examining the powered armor.
The moment he laid eyes on it, the principles and design of the armor manifested in his mind. This powered armor was one of the few export products from the Talon system, aside from the populace and psionic suppression collars.
Crafted by artisan families from the Nesting World, this suit, named the Richard-1, was prohibitively expensive but likely the least effective powered armor used by mortals across the human empire.
"Can you replicate this?"
When a soldier asked, all eyes turned expectantly to Qin Mo, hoping for an affirmative response.
Though the Richard family's powered armor was far from impressive, it remained a form of armor nonetheless.
Qin Mo remained silent, still fixated on the armor.
To him, the structure and the time-honored secrets of the Richard family's craftsmanship appeared as simplistic as a child's toy; not only could he replicate it, but he could also improve upon it.
Yet, more than the armor itself, Qin Mo was preoccupied with the gruesome wounds it bore.
The suit had not been pierced by bullets or lasers but rather by claws; its chest, reinforced with twenty-millimeter thick alloy plating designed to protect the heart, had been utterly shredded.
This indicated that a particularly pure-blooded Gene Thief had participated in the previous melee.
In the Gene Thief lineage, individuals with purer bloodlines were more formidable; not only could they shred powered armor, but they could also rend apart the Terminator armor worn by elite space warriors without difficulty.
"We must exercise caution," Qin Mo advised the soldiers, looking up from the armor. "If you encounter an unarmed enemy crawling on the ground, activate your gravity shields immediately and alert me."
"Yes," the soldiers replied in unison, though they struggled to comprehend why Qin Mo's thoughts seemed to leap from the armor to the threat of the enemy.
"I can replicate this powered armor, but these ruins are beyond salvage. We will need to locate more metal materials in the future," Qin Mo added.
It wasn't just the powered armor that captured his imagination.
In Qin Mo's vision, he would utilize his scientific prowess to arm the entire squad to the teeth, sparing no expense.
Given that the planetary defense forces' soldiers were only marginally stronger than civilians, and that they likely wouldn't encounter more soldiers in the foreseeable future, it was imperative to enhance the combat capabilities of this small group through weaponry and equipment.
"We've found our allies!" Gray exclaimed as he sprinted back to Qin Mo.
"Let's move out," Qin Mo replied, strapping on the gravity shield and turning away from the position.
---
Meanwhile, one kilometer north of the 44th Regiment's position, local planetary defense soldiers were engaged in fierce combat with the rebels.
The soldiers were holed up in a ten-story metal building, with most assigned to defend the front and back entrances, while the rest took positions at the windows on each floor, firing at the advancing rebels.
Officers, analyzing the intelligence provided by scouts, concluded that the enemy numbered at least twenty thousand—twenty times their own forces.
Had it not been for the sudden and inexplicable retreat of the majority of the rebels earlier, the number of attackers besieging the building would have easily tripled or quadrupled.
The rebel soldiers appeared grotesque, a mix of humans and monstrous beings, yet they were not foolish; their infantry tightly surrounded their tanks, advancing under a hail of gunfire.
For every ten meters they gained, the tanks would pause, rotate their turrets, and fire upon the building's windows.
Sometimes, the shells would ricochet off the metal walls, while on fortunate occasions, they would directly penetrate a window.
As they advanced to within seventy meters of the building's main entrance, the tanks ceased firing at the windows and instead turned their turrets toward the entrance, unleashing their shells.
The first-floor lobby contained numerous ballistic shelters; even if a shell struck, it would hardly harm those sheltered behind it, yet it would effectively prevent them from peeking out to retaliate.
"Attack! Attack!" a commander with a large purple head emerged from the hatch, bellowing orders to the surrounding soldiers.
Watching his men charge from the vicinity of the tanks toward the entrance, the commander reentered the vehicle to operate the tank's cannon himself, targeting the entrance.
He witnessed soldiers rush onto the first floor, only to be mowed down by the lumbering guns that suddenly rose from behind their barricades.
The commander smiled and fired, the shell crashing into the first floor and exploding, obliterating anyone who dared to rise from cover to fight back.
"For the Evolution Sect!" the commander roared in delight.
Yet, just as he prepared to wipe out the first floor entirely, a woman's voice echoed in his mind.
"Psionic warriors and five others have unexpectedly joined the fray; your forces stationed at the back door failed to intercept them, and they have breached the building."
This was a warning from the bishop of the Evolution Sect.
The commander had previously agreed with the bishop that while he could personally pilot the tank into battle, he must retreat immediately upon receiving psionic communication.
"I will withdraw at once," he said, patting the driver on the shoulder. "Back it up, brother."
The tank transitioned from a slow advance to a cautious retreat.
The commander kept his eyes trained on the first floor through the observation port, ready to fire at a moment's notice.
Soon, he saw six figures sprint from behind the barricades; the leader, wielding a chainsaw sword in one hand and a staff in the other, was unmistakably a psionic.
"Die!" the commander shouted decisively, firing the cannon.
As Qin Mo ran, he raised his staff, temporarily warping the physical laws governing the shell.
Thus, the fired shell suddenly halted, reversing its course and flying back into the barrel, where it detonated.
The commander inside the tank remained unharmed, shielded by a psionic barrier.
As the crew was blown apart, the commander and the ammunition rack were all that survived.
"There's a psionic!" Qin Mo continued his sprint, scanning for any visible enemies as he searched for the rebel psionics.
While searching for the rebel psionics, Qin Mo approached the tank and activated the gravity shield, instantly compressing it into a flat sheet of metal.