"Lord, Jennifer's betrayal is very detrimental to you."
A series of subtitles appeared before Evans' eyes. He knew that the Lord was using sophons to project words onto his retina.
Subtitles: "We don't think so. Earth's technology has been locked down. No matter how hard we try, we can't pose a threat."
The Pacific Ocean rose and fell silently under the cover of night, the sound of waves lapping against the ship's hull standing out in the stillness. Evans patiently explained to his Savior.
"Lord, your thoughts are exposed while humanity's are not. You don't have complex strategies, nor do you engage in deception or disguise, and now humanity knows of your existence."
The subtitles were silent for a long time: "What's the use of that? It's better to fear the silent universe than to worry about these things."
"Exactly. I'll put those who have been exposed to Jennifer's sociological ideas on the list. Deception has power; there are many examples of the weak defeating the strong."
Subtitles: "I... need time to understand."
"Lord, you need our help."
"No, I'm afraid of you."
The *Judgment Day* continued its voyage, but Evans received no more messages. The Lord's communication was cut off. Colonel Stanton took a deep drag, exhaling smoke that sent sparks flying upwards, scorching his fingers. Professor Michael, sitting beside him, felt uneasy.
Operation Guardian was in place. After rejecting ball lightning and infrasound weapons, Michael's nanoblades became the best option. He stretched thin threads, about a tenth of the thickness of a hair, along both sides of the canal, slicing them in two as the ship passed. Fast, accurate, and efficient—most importantly, without destroying the data on the *Judgment Day*.
Now, watching the ship enter the canal, Michael felt dizzy. A strong sense of guilt gripped his heart. His invention was being used as a weapon for the first time, and those unsuspecting sailors had been so casually abandoned.
Michael convinced himself that sacrifice was necessary. In a battle against an enemy far superior to Earth's civilization, obtaining accurate information was paramount. Earth was like a baby, blindfolded and fighting Tyson; at least the blindfold needed to be removed.
He stared as the ship approached its target location, his temples throbbing, the surging blood making him feel deafening.
But *Judgment Day* stopped. Colonel Stanton's cigar fell from his hand, and Michael blinked, wondering if he was hallucinating.
Between the ship and the deployed blades, a floating figure appeared, clad in a silver-red battle robe, his crimson cloak billowing. He braced one hand against the bow, the other pressed into the air, forcibly stopping the ship.
Michael understood the situation in the next second: someone had separated the *Judgment Day* from the blades.
A person, with their hands, had held down the nanoblades and the giant ship? Michael suddenly felt that the suicides of those physicists were utterly inexplicable; they should have seen this before they committed suicide.
He heard the colonel beside him exclaim, "What the—!"
Mesa exerted force with his left hand, pushing the *Judgment Day* backward, away from the blades. With his enhanced eyesight, the nanowires became clearly visible; his exquisite control and strength allowed him to hold the threads in his palm.
Through his X-ray vision, Mesa saw the crew stop the engines. He withdrew his hand, silently hovering above the bow.
He hadn't initially planned to appear so soon. He intended to secretly observe Lucas's journey to the Dark Forest before revealing himself, considering it a crucial juncture in his journey.
However, after listening to the UN's Guardian Project, witnessing the crew spend their ordinary day, and hearing their hopes for the future amidst their laughter, he was deeply moved.
Mesa, of course, didn't care about the fate of the Adventists; these surrender-seeking traitors were all delusional, hoping the aliens would quickly wipe out humanity—the kind of people even a heartless tyrant would consider too misguided.
Those innocent sailors and crew members, however, didn't deserve such a fate.
The thought of being cut in half at the waist in the next second even helped him recall the description in the book: "The man stood straight for a few seconds before collapsing, his body splitting in two upon contact with the deck. The upper half of the man was still crawling in a pool of blood, but he could only crawl with two and a half arms, because his arms had also been severed in half."
So he stopped the ship, perhaps like a joke a friend had told him in his previous life, where servants chased away beggars because the master was kind-hearted and couldn't bear to see beggars—he couldn't bear to witness this tragedy, Mesa thought to himself with a self-deprecating smile.
Hearing their cries, he couldn't bear to see them die.
Through the sampan, Mesa saw Evans in the cabin, his expression grave, rushing toward a computer.
When he noticed the *Judgment Day* ship inexplicably stopping and then starting to reverse, Evans was startled. Such an abnormality must mean that the United Nations had intervened, and he instinctively wanted to destroy the computer storing the master data with one click.
The sunlight shone down, and he felt a warmth on his skin. He hadn't stepped out of the cabin during the day in a long time.
Sunlight? Evans snapped out of his daze and looked up. The deck above had been violently ripped open, almost splitting the ship in two. A silver-red figure stood in the air, the dazzling sunlight turning the man's black hair a golden-red. The light was so intense it hurt Evans's eyes.
"Lord…" Evans murmured. This was his past fantasy: the Lord descending to Earth in a blaze of light, bringing thunder and lightning to destroy the evil on the surface.
But Mesa had come to destroy him.
In the blink of an eye, Evans found himself on the canal bank. He saw two men staring dumbfounded behind him. One of them was Professor Michael, whom he had seen in the files and who had been warned by the Lord. Colonel Stanton swallowed hard, forcing himself to remain calm: "Hello, sir, we are from the United Nations…"
Mesa watched the colonel tremble as he tried to shake hands—so nervous that he extended both hands.
He grasped Colonel Stanton's right hand, smiled slightly at Michael, and then vanished with a loud bang.
"Superman!" Colonel Stanton almost jumped up. "Did you see that? He shook my hand!"
Michael was still trying to recall his physics knowledge to understand these phenomena. He sadly realized that perhaps physics really was dead.
"Isn't Superman supposed to be in his red and blue uniform?" he said to Stanton.
"I saw the 'S' symbol on his chest. It's definitely him! He stepped out of the comics! And," Colonel Stanton glanced at Michael with disdain, "Superman has many uniforms, not to mention many versions of Clark."
Michael thought of the Superman alien setting and suddenly felt it was particularly fitting. After all, the Trisolarans had appeared, so the emergence of a super-alien wasn't unacceptable, was it?
At least now he didn't have to witness his invention being used to kill his own kind.
"I almost forgot." Colonel Stanton signaled the soldiers to hold Evans down and tie him up.
Evans seemed to be deep in thought, showing no reaction to anything.
"Your Majesty! Your power is like divine might!" The robotic dog emerged from behind the cape, singing praises.
"Humanity is awestruck by your majestic presence! They tremble before Emperor Witrum, proclaiming your invincibility."
Mesa knew this AI enjoyed seeing others fear and submit. He coughed, "I'm simply extending goodwill to them. After all, we might be the only viscounts in this universe; we need to appease them first."
"Your will, Your Majesty!" Münster bowed, mimicking human ministers.
"I've detected the Sophon's trail. It hasn't moved yet; the Trisolarans are probably discussing countermeasures."
Mesa chose his battlefield, standing in the Pacific Ocean. Now it was up to the Trisolarans to see if they would allow the Sophon to proceed.