"I know of a hidden stronghold used by the royal family," Black Bolt said in a low voice, his gaze calm as he gestured toward the east. "We can head there first."
"No need." Shen He raised a hand, his expression serene but firm. "Though we've joined Attilan's civil unrest on behalf of our alliance, we are still outsiders. It would be inappropriate to act from the shadows. Instead, we will head straight into the heart of the city, confront the rebellion directly, and establish our stance in full view. That is the clearest way to deter the insurgents."
Shen He always believed in simplifying the complex. Complicated maneuvers only made things worse.
Among the Inhumans, the true powerhouses were rare—Black Bolt was practically the only one with overwhelming might. Declaring the alliance's support openly would be enough to send a clear message.
Black Bolt remained silent for a few seconds before finally nodding.
There was something resolute in Shen He's words—something he'd been lacking. It was the decisiveness of a true king.
Lockjaw, the massive teleporting hound, activated his powers, transporting Shen He, Black Bolt, and the four allied women—Joan of Arc, Violet, Qi Mu Nanzi, and the silent Skye—to Attilan, the city of Inhumans hidden on the moon.
Despite being located in the vacuum of space, Attilan thrived under a sophisticated containment field that replicated sunlight, filtered air, and artificial weather. Coupled with advanced lunar gravity stabilizers, it remained one of the most advanced bastions of Inhuman civilization.
The city wasn't particularly expansive.
From Shen He's perspective, it was only about the size of a small Chinese county from his past life.
Its population numbered in the tens of thousands.
At that moment, the group stood atop the eaves of the Grand Celestial Hall—the highest structure in the city. Naturally, their sudden appearance didn't go unnoticed.
The crowd had only just gathered for the inauguration of the "new" king, Maximus, and now they found the former king—Black Bolt—standing before them in plain view.
"Jarvis, disengage armor," Shen He ordered calmly.
His Chaldea-issued exosuit clicked and hissed as it unfolded and retracted, revealing him beneath. Shen He stepped forward, taking his place beside Black Bolt.
"Inhumans of Attilan!" Shen He's voice, amplified by Qi Mu Nanzi's psionic projection, rolled across the city like thunder. "We are envoys from Chaldea! Perhaps Black Bolt did not have time to inform you, but Chaldea is your ally on Earth. He has long sought a peaceful return for your people. And now, in honor of our covenant, we've come to aid in quelling this rebellion!"
The declaration was short, but it carried weight—it identified their origin, stated their intent, and emphasized Black Bolt's efforts on their behalf.
For a moment, the crowd was silent.
Then chaos erupted.
"We want freedom!"
One voice shouted, and a group charged the platform.
"Protect the King!"
Others rallied, clashing with insurgents.
Most simply panicked, scattering in all directions.
The square devolved into a maelstrom of confusion.
Shen He blinked in mild surprise.
"I didn't expect you to have so many loyalists," he murmured, half to himself.
He had assumed the rebels would swarm in unison—easy targets for Qi Mu Nanzi's wide-range suppression. But this kind of disorganized melee was far trickier to handle.
Black Bolt didn't respond, though something flickered in his eyes.
Seeing those who still stood for him… it reignited a long-lost flame within.
"To end this rebellion."
He whispered.
His voice—lethal even in a whisper—released a shockwave that whipped the wind into a howl.
For many in Attilan, it was the first time they had heard their king speak.
And that whisper alone confirmed everything Shen He had declared.
"Let's begin." Shen He turned to the team. "It's not a large crowd. We'll subdue the rebels first, then move on Maximus in the palace before things escalate."
Three figures blurred past him—Joan of Arc, Skye, and the girl in red.
Shen He reached out, catching Violet by the collar as she leapt with her scythe.
"You stay here."
"…"
Violet stared up at him, wide-eyed and confused.
"Unless an enemy comes right to you—don't attack. Got it?"
Shen He rubbed her head lightly. She had too much firepower. If she joined recklessly, the battlefield would become a bloodbath.
"…Okay," Violet whispered, nodding obediently.
To her, Shen He's words were absolute.
With that, he withdrew a compact collapsible staff from his pack and leapt into the fray. Though his early days were more as a strategist, the grueling trials of Chaldea's moon-based dungeons had honed him into a competent frontline fighter.
With Shen He and Jeanne joining the battle, momentum shifted instantly.
The rebels' diverse abilities were troublesome, but few could stand against the combined might of trained warriors.
Shen He spun his staff, knocking enemies aside with precise strikes—clean, calculated, and effective.
Jeanne moved with divine grace, her iron-gauntleted palms striking with unerring precision. Each touch sent opponents flying, as if she danced between chaos and stillness. There was power in her calm—a detached mercy that hurt but did not kill.
In contrast, the sounds from Skye's direction were… less delicate.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
Her strikes rang out with blunt impact. The long blade in her hand reversed in grip, striking only with the dull edge. Each blow landed at the base of the skull—dropping foes into unconscious convulsions without ending lives.
It was her way of following Shen He's command—disable, not destroy.
Suddenly, a phantom-like figure darted toward Shen He's unguarded flank. Too fast to intercept.
But Jeanne moved faster.
With a smooth pivot, she hurled a rebel she'd just neutralized—slamming them into the attacker mid-lunge. Both bodies tumbled across the field.
Their eyes met for an instant, but neither said a word.
This wasn't their first coordinated effort.
The dungeons had made such silent teamwork second nature.
Above it all, Qi Mu Nanzi floated like a wraith—her eyes closed in quiet focus, hands outstretched to scan the battlefield below.
She saw everything.
Then—her eyes opened.
One palm rose.
"Ahhhhh!"
Dozens—hundreds—of rebels screamed as they were yanked upward, helpless against the mental force that tore them from the battlefield.
Struggling against invisible binds, they were flung across the city and slammed down into the cleared courtyard before the palace gates.
Qi Mu Nanzi's power—though only level 16—allowed her to isolate and extract individual combatants from a moving crowd, despite the exertion it required.
Her intervention was the final note of the battle.
Because when she acted… it meant it was over.