The golden chime of one hundred percent replication still echoed across the round hall.
For three glorious seconds, the crew dared to exhale.
Zhao Wuji fell against an iron stone railing, laughing with breathless hysteria. Shen Yue sank to her knees, wiping tears of relief from her cheeks. Even Apothecary He allowed himself a ragged, shaking smile. He loosened the tourniquet on Meng Shan’s arm.
Then the Root End-post screen turned blinding, world-ending crimson.
BZZZZT. BZZZZT.
A harsh, grating klaxon sounded from the core of the machine, its sound pitch so high that it cracked the leftover sapphire glass in the chandeliers above.
The laughter in the chamber died instantly.
“What’s that?!” Elder Wu cried, clutching his hair with both hands. “We copied it! We reached one hundred percent! Why is the machine screaming?!”
