Chapter 354 — The Satellite Spirit's New Function
Blade of Dawn · Page 1 of 4
After Amber left, Gao Yang sat quietly, mulling over the information he had heard from the second Eternal Slate.
He could sense that the second Eternal Slate had brought him more than just a poem that seemed to carry some deeper meaning, and a view that looked like monitoring data from a space installation. It had also wrought a subtle change in his spiritual world—a change rather similar to what he had felt after coming into contact with those mysterious crystals left behind by Gao Yang Cecil.
Perhaps this repeated handling of "relics" was reinforcing some channel of information linkage. He felt his connection to that monitoring satellite out in space had grown a little tighter—and it did not seem to be an illusion...
After somewhat settling his turbulent spiritual power, Gao Yang gathered his concentration and began to call for the satellite signal.
A view materialized out of thin air in his mind and unfurled—the familiar monitoring image from a vantage point in space, still overlaid with the hazy patches of color that resembled a thermal imaging map (a map of mana intensity distribution), and at the top of the view, the monitoring report on the giant planet's activity over the recent period.
Gao Yang ignored the monitoring reports he had already seen and focused his efforts on trying to adjust that overhead view.
Slowly, he felt the perspective loosen a little...
In the distant reaches of space, in the boundless dark, on an orbit concealed by an optical masking system, the surface of an exceedingly ancient orbital facility was glimmering faintly.
It was shaped like an inverted flat-topped pyramid. Its gray-white, metallic-looking shell bore enormous black symbols, and between the overlapping, tiered plates of that inverted pyramid, a faint milky-white current of light was slowly wandering—evidence that this device from remote antiquity still retained enough energy to operate, though the current flickered on and off; its energy core was plainly in a rather sorry state.
And in one instant, at the end of that inverted pyramid which pointed toward the ground, a slight change suddenly occurred.
On that small flat face, a set of exceedingly complex optical sensors formed a precise observation array. In that particular instant, the array jerked once—and then jerked again.
One optical sensor after another was straining to adjust its angle, and the mounting base of the observation array trembled with the effort; had sound been able to travel here, it would surely have been clacking and creaking. This went on for several seconds, and then some mechanism that had been jammed fast seemed to be released all at once. The sensors sprang to life, the various lens elements shuddering almost madly this way and that, until two seconds later they had completed their recalibration, and all fell still.
During those two seconds, Gao Yang's world spun.
It turned out that abruptly splitting a single viewpoint into a dozen and then sending them sweeping wildly across a span of over a thousand kilometers had consequences of a truly terrifying order—the mental contamination it caused was enough to floor even a satellite spirit that had cultivated for a million years...
Only when everything finally settled did Gao Yang steady himself against the table and get back on his feet, thanking his lucky stars that he had sent Amber away; otherwise his performance of keeling over flat on the ground would certainly have earned him more than half a year of mockery from that half-elf—and worse, she might have run straight off to tell Hedy and Rebecca, "Your Xuanmai Sect has had a stroke!"
She was absolutely capable of it. Even knowing full well that Gao Yang would smack her into the wall for it, she delighted in it no less.
Once steady on his feet, Gao Yang began to slowly adjust the image in his mind, and a smile gradually spread across his face.