"I've got you." A voice suddenly crashed into his ears.

"Who?!" Scott Harris, using his momentum, rolled to the side and dropped to one knee, his gaze sweeping quickly around.

They had landed in the front yard. Other than the two Mason, tumbling and crawling beside him, there was no one else.

"What do you mean, who! What was that explosion just now? I think something even hit me!" Mason had practically thrown himself into the corner of the courtyard wall, his back pressed against the bricks, clutching little Mason tightly as he shrank into the shadows.

"Someone just spoke to me," Scott Harris also darted to the wall.

"Me? I've been yelling the whole time!" Mason glanced around suspiciously, replying offhand.

Scott Harris frowned. "Not you."

That voice had been muddled in the chaos, but it sounded like a young man—someone he'd never heard before, yet strangely familiar.

Before he could think further, the whooshing of wind swept overhead again.

"Oh my god—" Mason stared up, dumbfounded.

Three massive silver grappling cables came whipping down from above. As they sliced through the air, they made a faint crackling sound that made one's hair stand on end.

But in the next instant, Mason realized the hair-raising sensation wasn't just from fear or panic—it was static electricity.

They watched as the cables crashed to the ground, shaking the entire planetary fragment so violently that they could barely stay upright, nearly rolling around like marbles on a plate.

The cables rolled precisely along the edge of the fragment, winding underneath the base.

The sharp tips of the metal cables hooked onto rocks and cliffs, the impact so shrill it hurt the ears.

The entire planetary fragment was now firmly netted by the three cables.

Mason was slammed into the wall several times by the relentless shaking, and amid the banging, he shouted, bruised and battered, "What the hell is this thing!!!"

The noise was so overwhelming that he had to roar for Scott Harris to hear him.

"Is that terrorist named Young finally fed up with your rioting?!"

"Shut up!" Scott Harris said.

No sooner had he spoken than a massive silver object slowly emerged from the starry sky. It was made up of several unevenly sized flat discs joined together, and at first glance, it looked like a cluster of steel spiders.

Those three cables were hanging down from the "iron spider."

The moment it appeared, Scott Harris's expression changed. "Space prison?"

Mason: "What!!!! Why would a space prison attack us?!"

This thing, even larger than the entire black snow pine forest, was none other than the space prison used to exile dangerous individuals—the very place where Eric Bennett-Young was supposed to be.

Everyone on the planet knew about the space prison and what it meant, but probably no one had ever looked up at it from this angle, in these circumstances.

Who the hell would have thought that a demon concentration camp would one day float right above their heads?!

But Scott Harris knew this behemoth all too well—

Those three cables didn't look thick, but they were unbelievably strong. After all, the discs that made up the space prison were connected by this very material, stretched across the vastness of space for centuries, with a wear rate of less than 17%.

For something like this, holding up a planetary fragment was child's play.

Moreover, the hooks at the ends of the cables were hollow, with intricate internal structures that could, the instant they latched onto a target, generate a powerful energy field.

Bzzzz—

A bone-shaking sound came from beneath the planetary fragment. A massive repulsive energy field had formed, and with unstoppable force, it worked with the cables to push the fragment upward.

In that instant, Scott Harris and the others inside felt utterly miserable.

Under the tremendous shock, the courtyard walls—abandoned for fifty years—finally collapsed into heaps. The flying dust neither dispersed nor fell, but instead surged upward. The ruins of the wall rattled and trembled nonstop.

"I feel awful! Like someone grabbed me by the hair and yanked me into the sky!!" Mason shouted, "Can we still get away!!"

"I'm afraid not—" Scott Harris said, but he had no intention of sitting still and waiting for death.

He dodged a cloud of dust, coughing with a frown, and hurriedly scanned the chaos.

Right! There was still the section assigned to Eric Bennett!

"This way!" Scott Harris shouted to Mason, vaulting over the collapsed wall and dashing toward the edge.

It was all so frantic that he could barely tell how many times he pushed the two Mason, or how many times someone else pulled him. He didn't even see who was pulling him—he just leapt and ran, vaulting over the gap and landing on another patch of ground.

"Let me borrow your rocket launcher—" a deep voice sounded in his ear.

But before the other person could finish, Scott Harris had already reflexively raised his R-72. "Shut up!"

It was only after he cursed that he realized the one asking to borrow the rocket launcher was Eric Bennett-Young.

But in that moment, his hands had moved faster than his brain, and as soon as he realized, the barrel was already sweeping in that direction.

The latest model R-72 rocket launcher had an astonishing blast effect, with a material separation function, and the most expensive version could fire ten rounds in a row.

Boom boom boom—