Chapter 65: Insight into Failure

"Let us postpone discussions of the future; our immediate priority is to deploy troops to secure the lower nest," Qin Mo stated. 

Gray nodded in acknowledgment and promptly departed to relay Qin Mo's orders. 

Meanwhile, Klein continued in his role as an advisor, tasked with offering counsel on Qin Mo's forthcoming decisions. 

"Given your understanding of the nobility, do you believe they all adhere to the faith of that so-called Lord of Wisdom?" Qin Mo inquired unexpectedly. 

Reflecting on the matter, Klein sifted through his memories from childhood. After a vigorous mental deliberation, he responded, "In my opinion, beliefs vary widely. I have heard of a group of nobles who believe that indulgence alone can rejuvenate them; astonishingly, I later learned that this notion indeed yielded some results." 

"The heresies are as diverse as they come; were it not for the fact that the Tyron system comprises only three planets, the heretical forces we observe would surely be more formidable." 

Klein felt increasingly despondent as he spoke. He had once fantasized about venturing into business once the war subsided, recognizing his lack of aptitude for warfare as akin to his ineptitude in trade, yet he yearned for exploration. 

However, upon reflecting on the current circumstances, such aspirations seemed utterly implausible. Even if Qin Mo were to lead them to victory once more, the worlds of Tyron would be left in ruins, leaving only slums and wreckage in their wake. 

"This star system is nothing short of a cesspool, akin to most regions of the Empire," Qin Mo lamented suddenly. 

Klein remained silent, his expression growing more forlorn. 

"Yet we must continue to struggle," Qin Mo said, placing a reassuring hand on Klein's shoulder. "Go and attend to your duties; I have much to accomplish." 

"Understood," Klein replied, standing and departing. 

Qin Mo turned to the instruments beside him and began his research. He was acutely aware of the numerous projects awaiting his attention, including the various weapons for the warships and even the metals required for their construction. 

For someone of his stature, these tasks posed no significant challenge. He need not collect the metals himself; instead, he intended to create a universal alloy, one that would encompass the merits and characteristics of various metals. 

This inspiration struck him while shaping the hull of an orbital dock, wherein he discovered the ability to alter metallic materials at the atomic level—a veritable alchemical prowess, albeit contingent upon the availability of metals, as creating matter from nothing was currently beyond his reach. 

Once the universal alloy was developed, he would need to devise a device for synthesizing it, capable of integration with logistical machinery or operated manually. 

While machines were certainly more efficient than humans, the overpopulation in the nest city necessitated a means for people to earn a living. 

The research extended beyond warship weaponry and metals; Gray and his team would also require enhancements and upgrades for the Imperial Power Armor. 

Of course, there were also weapons of extermination-level significance to consider. 

Who could predict what absurdities the rebels might unleash next? Should such occurrences arise, targeted technological advancements would be essential, akin to the "pesticide" developed for the Tyron gene thieves. 

Though Qin Mo reveled in his research, he couldn't shake the feeling of being overwhelmed. However, he did not intend to cultivate a cadre of researchers. On the contrary, he had long since resolved: aside from himself and the untouchables, no one within the Tyron system would be permitted to innovate or create. 

--- 

In the meantime, within the estate that once belonged to the governor in the upper nest, the Venomous Stinger lounged in the governor's chair, resting his legs upon the back of the governor's kneeling slave girl. With one hand grasping a cup fashioned from gold and the other holding a wine bottle, he indulged in the exquisite wines from the governor's cellar. 

This lavish enjoyment brought him great comfort, and even as he absorbed grim tidings, he refrained from expressing anger. 

"The ritual proved ineffective; not a single soul returned alive," a servant declared, kneeling on the ground. "I apologize, my esteemed lord; it must have been my failure. Surely, the ritual I prepared did not please the Lord of Wisdom." 

"No, this is not your fault; it is mine," the Venomous Stinger replied. 

The servant was taken aback, puzzled by the sudden show of accountability from his master, who typically deflected blame onto others for various missteps. 

The Venomous Stinger offered no further explanation, pouring the wine from his cup onto the floor before violently kicking the slave girl to the ground. 

She fell amidst the spilled wine, hastily regaining her composure, her eyes reflecting deep confusion and bewilderment as she struggled to comprehend the reason for the sudden assault. 

Yet the Venomous Stinger himself could not articulate the rationale; he simply acted on impulse, wishing to deliver a jolt of surprise. 

"From this point forward, no one is permitted to speak; otherwise, I shall extract your vocal cords," he warned with a chilling smile before settling cross-legged in the governor's throne, closing his eyes. 

He began to peer into the depths of insight. This ability was not a gift from the Lord of Wisdom but rather an innate talent, one that had only intensified following his conversion to the faith. 

"What do you perceive?" the servant asked. 

The Venomous Stinger abruptly opened his eyes and reached out a hand, but as it neared the servant's throat, he retracted it, suddenly recalling that his servant's vocal cords had long been severed. 

He contemplated eliminating the servant for disrupting his focus but ultimately refrained, considering other factors. 

He closed his eyes once more, continuing his insight, while explaining, "I seek to uncover the origins of the teleportation technology and its underlying principles, as well as why our rituals have yielded no results." 

The servant nodded, patiently awaiting the outcome. 

When the Venomous Stinger opened his eyes again, they shimmered with a blue luminescence. 

Instead of witnessing the opulent governor's estate before him, he beheld a fortress in the lower nest. 

He remained still, anticipating that, based on past experiences, he would soon discern the fortress's internal state and how the enemy's teleportation technology had been developed, thus unraveling the enigma of this strange science. 

A minute passed. 

Two minutes. 

Half an hour elapsed, yet the Venomous Stinger remained fixated on the fortress, which became increasingly obscured and shadowy. 

Moments later, a vast expanse of void emerged from the fortress. 

It was a pure void—neither colored nor transparent, the Venomous Stinger found himself unable to describe its form. 

As time wore on, the area enveloped by this void expanded, and he realized his insight ability was nearing its limits. He could only force himself to persist. 

However, despite gazing intently, all he perceived was the encroaching emptiness. 

"What did you see?" the servant asked, trembling. 

"I… I see nothing…" The Venomous Stinger felt something slip from the corner of his eye to his lips. He extended his tongue to taste it, and a metallic tang flooded his mouth. 

Blood. 

To others, it appeared as though tears streamed from the corners of the Venomous Stinger's eyes. 

"Stop, cease at once!" The servant rushed forward, pinning the Venomous Stinger to the ground, striking his face until the luminous glow faded from his eyes. 

Once the Venomous Stinger regained his composure, the servant inquired, "Has your insight ability gone awry?" 

There had been similar instances before; once, the Venomous Stinger sought to discern the identity of an enemy commander to find an opportunity to shatter his opponent psychologically, only to glimpse a warship—a clear sign of loss of control. 

"No, it has not malfunctioned this time; I simply cannot see," the Venomous Stinger murmured. 

"Not being able to see is of little consequence; at least we comprehend the enemy's tactics," the servant comforted him with a gentle pat on the shoulder. 

The Venomous Stinger nodded, his voice laced with ferocity as he proclaimed, "I shall make the enemy pay dearly; I will burn those who developed the teleportation technology in honor of the Lord of Wisdom!"