Chapter Thirteen: New Advances in Crystal Research

The alarm in the underground laboratory of the Temporal Management Bureau suddenly shifted into a prolonged, piercing hum. The sharp sound waves cut through every inch of air within the sealed space like invisible blades. The waves echoed back and forth between the metal walls, creating an irritating overlay of sound that seemed ready to tear the entire laboratory apart. Lin Yu instinctively tensed every muscle and pressed himself against the radiation-proof glass. The cool touch transmitted through his fingertips, and his pads brushed against fine cracks on the glass surface. These cracks spread like a spiderweb, as if they were fissures in fate itself, tightening his chest. He could clearly feel the unevenness on the glass; each crack silently recounted the fierce energy impacts that had once ravaged this place.

Chen Mo stood rigidly beside the control console, his pupils trembling violently under the eerie blue light. Streams of data poured from his mechanical cybernetic eye like a raging waterfall, the warning indicators on the lens flashing red, as if foretelling an impending catastrophe. His body trembled slightly, and the data streams emitted faint blue glows that flickered like restless phantoms in the air.

The chief researcher’s white lab coat was still speckled with stardust brought back from the amethyst mine. The remnants of an ancient supernova cascaded down from his trembling fingertips as he held tweezers like a lifeline. Inside the suspension chamber, the temporal crystal resonated with seven energy fields. Its surface swirled with nebula patterns resembling an inverted galaxy, transforming into countless drifting star rays. Each ray refracted echoes of different times and spaces—breathtakingly beautiful yet perilously dangerous, as though a demon's meticulously woven trap. The star rays on the crystal’s surface flickered unpredictably, sometimes clustering, sometimes dispersing, as if conducting a mysterious ritual.

“When the energy fields arrange into a Fibonacci spiral, the temporal shockwave attenuation reaches 67%!” Chen Mo’s roar, interspersed with the data collection sounds from his mechanical eye, echoed throughout the laboratory, his voice trembling with uncontrollable excitement and tension.

His voice sharpened with emotion, resonating in every corner of the lab. In the holographic projection, particles that had once annihilated each other suddenly transformed into orderly star trails, pulled by invisible gravity into a graceful rotation—a masterpiece of cosmic imagery. The faint light produced by the rotating particles intertwined in the hologram, forming dazzling patterns, as if the secrets of the universe were being gradually unveiled.

But Su Yao suddenly gripped the edge of the console, her knuckles whitening from the strain. Her protective gloves scraped harshly against the metal surface, sounding like a warning from fate itself: “The stability window has only 12 minutes left! Energy is about to feedback exponentially!” Her holographic terminal frantically flashed error codes, the red warnings blinking incessantly. The emergency lights in the lab began flashing alternately, casting jagged, blood-red shadows on the walls. The atmosphere was suffocatingly tense, as if the apocalypse might strike at any moment.

Sweat beaded densely on Su Yao’s forehead, sliding down with her rapid breaths, dripping onto the console.

Lin Yu’s thumb unconsciously rubbed over the charred bullet hole on his combat uniform. The smoky scent of the mine battlefield still lingered at his nostrils—the acrid smell of laser burns, the greasy stench of enemy mechanical limbs’ hydraulic oil, and that moment—the electromagnetic pulse grenade spreading abnormally under the crystal’s influence, forming an eerie purple ripple. That image was etched indelibly in his mind.

His thoughts involuntarily returned to that brutal battle, every detail vivid. Suddenly, he recalled the abnormal spectral data sent back by the detector. His eyes brightened instantly, as if glimpsing a sliver of dawn in the darkness: “We need some kind of medium… like a temporal adhesive!”

In the silence, Chen Mo abruptly spun around, his silver hair falling as his cybernetic eye flickered wildly. Tiny sparks erupted at the data interface, as if sparks of intelligence were igniting: “Dark matter condensate! The deep space probe that vanished three years ago transmitted spectral traces of it!”

His voice carried a mixture of excitement and anticipation, as if he had caught sight of the key to unlocking the crystal’s secrets, unaware that even greater dangers lurked ahead. As he spoke, the data stream from his mechanical eye grew denser, rapidly analyzing various information.

Yet, the excitement shattered like a bubble. The holographic screen of the interstellar resource repository exploded in a blinding red light. Warning text spun and enlarged in three-dimensional form, like a merciless decree of fate: The dark matter condensate exists only in the supernova debris field of Alpha Centauri in Sagittarius, where temporal turbulence could tear starships into quantum dust. Everyone’s faces instantly paled. Hope seemed to perish in that moment, replaced by despair and helplessness. The conference room fell into silence, broken only by heavy breathing.

“But the mysterious organization’s progress is accelerating.”

Su Yao activated the starfield monitoring system. At a certain coordinate, energy readings were surging at a rate of 15% per hour. A faint hum of temporal distortion echoed in the background, sounding like time itself was wailing in agony.

“Based on Lin Yu’s findings at the mine, they have likely already breached stability technology.”

Her voice trembled faintly. The starfield map in the hologram was slowly being corroded by a creeping black substance, as if darkness were devouring the light, sending chills down the spine. Anxiety and worry flickered in Su Yao’s eyes as she refreshed the monitoring screen repeatedly, searching desperately for a glimmer of hope.

Three light-years away, an abandoned space station exuded a cold and sinister aura, like a haunted mansion. The air inside seemed frozen, filled with the stench of decay and death.

The serpent-mask leader’s neck bore flickering crystal patterns, energy-formed designs rising and falling with his breath, as though alive, or like demonic tentacles writhing. With each inhalation, the crystal patterns pulsed once, emitting a ghostly blue glow.

Atop the scepter in his hand rested a purple crystal the size of a fist, its surface etched with neural-like networks, radiating a mysterious and dangerous light, as if containing the power to annihilate everything.

“These rats from the Management Bureau aren’t without skill,” his hoarse voice grated like sandpaper on metal, full of disdain and murderous intent. Suddenly, the ventilation ducts groaned with the sound of metal twisting, as if even the station itself feared the coming storm. “Initiate the Abyss Protocol. Upgrade the defense system to quantum entanglement state. And, by the way, prepare a little ‘surprise’ for our old friends.”

His fingers brushed across the crystal’s surface, silently activating a hidden door, revealing densely packed energy cores inside—a chilling scene, as if a vast conspiracy was brewing.

As the leader spoke, the station’s lights flickered abruptly, casting an even eerier atmosphere.

On the holographic star map in the battle command room, red dots had connected into ominous totems, resembling a cursed rune drawn by demons. The holographic image of Director Chen Yuanshan flickered violently. The golden gear medal on his chest developed the first crack, the intricate internal mechanism crumbling, as if foreshadowing a crisis for the Temporal Management Bureau, and signaling a turning point for the entire universe’s fate.

“The Orion Arm has detected traces of a giant accelerator under construction. If they manage to collect all seven crystals…”

His words cut off abruptly. Everyone understood the dreadful outcome. The temporal barrier would shatter like glass, and countless parallel universes would plunge into the abyss of chaos. The alarm grew sharp and piercing. The red totems on the star map twisted and writhed as if alive, sending shivers down spines—a trumpet heralding the end of days. In the command room, all eyes locked onto the holographic star map, faces etched with terror and worry.

“I request to lead the team to Alpha Centauri in Sagittarius.”

Before Lin Yu finished speaking, his tactical wristwatch vibrated suddenly. An encrypted anonymous message arrived, containing an attachment showing a familiar figure adjusting a crystal array under cold white lighting inside a mechanical chamber.

The person wore a quantum protective suit specially made by the Bureau. Half of a memory chip bearing the Bureau’s insignia lay scattered on the console.

At the moment the figure turned their face, Lin Yu’s breath nearly caught in his throat. It was unmistakably the visage of a high-ranking official from the Temporal Management Bureau. A knowing cold smile curled on their lips, as if mocking their efforts and simultaneously scheming a greater conspiracy. This revelation sent a chill through Lin Yu, as if the web of dark intrigue was closing in around him.

His heartbeat quickened. He stared intently at the screen, seeking more clues hidden in the details.