The space-folding fabric of the Jiuzhou Borderlands gave one final, desperate, convulsive heave.
From the four-hundred-mile tear in the stratosphere, the cold, hungry maw of the cosmic void opened to its maximum extent. A huge whirlpool of purple gravity shear began spiraling downward, intending to swallow the entire northern province into icy darkness before mortal hands could erect a shield. Sky air whistled upward in a pouring hurricane. It pulled tents, loose wagons, and topsoil straight toward the sky.
“It’s falling!” Commander Zhao roared over the screaming gale, shielding his eyes with his iron vambrace. He watched the purple vortex plunge toward the plain. “The entire void is dropping upon us! All regiments, brace for the end!”
Down at the central junction panel, Frank’s hands closed firmly around the three-foot solid bronze master power bar. On his right shoulder, the eight-inch Nascent Soul worker—radiant in tiny blue denim and a yellow spun-glass hard hat—raised its tiny two-inch ball-peen hammer and tapped the green execution end-post with a crisp clink.
Inside Frank’s dantian, the twin star system ignited in perfect ringing exact timing. The central Sol-class main-set star let loose a torrent of pure, pure hydrogen fusion star-fire. At the same time, the ultra-dense White Dwarf friend spun at sixty thousand turns a minute, acting as an unbending magnetic control valve that smoothed the chaotic stellar fire into a clean, rock-solid, sixty-cycle alternating current sine wave.
