He goaded them into training their muzzles on the empty space. David stretched his body mid-air, executing the same move he’d used near the base when first arriving—a phantom presence designed to trick the riflemen into believing he was still concealed behind the alloy blocks, when in fact, there was nothing but air there.

Taking advantage of the momentary confusion, David pushed off the ground and shot across the top of the crowd like a drawn bowstring, landing swiftly in the opposite corner of the room.

However, this trick only worked on ordinary men; it couldn't fool the eyes of an Awakened. Yang Ying was immune to such deception. Seeing David land, he immediately barked a command: “Turn, eight o’clock, fire!”

“Wait!” Seeing the preparedness of the room, David’s mind raced. With a calm tone carried through telepathy, he persuaded Yang Ying, “Mr. Yang Ying, I believe there has been a misunderstanding. Could we perhaps pause the attack so I can clarify? I guarantee, in the name of the Psionic Monastery, that I mean you no harm. Otherwise, had I charged into your ranks just now, I could have started a slaughter immediately.”

Telepathy transmitted thoughts with incredible speed; a passage that long took less than half a second, not even allowing the riflemen to complete their turn.

David sought to defuse the situation not out of genuine goodwill, but because he needed to maintain the facade of a Psionic adept.

The Psionic Monastery had an ironclad rule against indiscriminate killing. Those who violated it faced expulsion of their cultivation, or even execution.

Given the universal hostility directed at him in this base, he couldn't possibly kill everyone to silence them. He had no desire to return to the Monastery only to have some random Master stop him and ask, “Why are you radiating such killing intent? Have you slain too many? Come explain yourself to the Elder Council.”

Thus, David needed to stabilize Yang Ying first, planning to strike later when better prepared. Yet, he was unaware that Yang Ying knew far more than he imagined, nor did he gauge the firmness of Yang Ying’s resolve against him.

“In that case, perhaps you should put down the lightsaber first, and then we can talk?” Yang Ying countered, also using telepathy. It didn't matter if David complied; it was just a casual attempt to hoodwink him.

“Don’t try to lie to me; it won’t work. I am a High-Tier Psionic Adept, and I can sense your dishonesty to some extent. The moment I set down this lightsaber, you’ll order a barrage to mow me down.” David’s tone soured. He couldn't comprehend why Yang Ying was so cautiously defensive and attacking him without reservation. What made matters worse was his inability to simply unleash his full killing power!

Yang Ying had read several memoirs by Psionic Masters and understood the Monastery’s rules intimately. He recognized David’s hesitation, that feeling of being restrained, and he had factored this limitation into his planning.

In this world where psychic power was real, a mere lie or pretense from a lower-tier Psionic Adept meant nothing to a Master-level powerhouse. As long as David hadn't reached the Master rank, his Psionic identity was both a shield and a shackle, preventing him from fighting Yang Ying and the Tran Mercenaries without restraint.

And Yang Ying wouldn't kill him. Despite setting so many traps and ambushes that appeared designed to ensure David's demise, Yang Ying actually dared not. Killing David would provoke an investigation from the Monastery, triggering a chain reaction that would escalate events beyond his control.

The traps and ambushes were set primarily to use this opportunity, while David was restricted from killing, as a live combat drill—a test of how much resistance infantry could mount against a Psionic Adept.

If this test weren’t conducted now, when the final confrontation came, and Yang Ying exposed the power of the Protoss, while David knew his affiliation with the Ape Cult had been uncovered, the issue of whether or not to kill would cease to be a consideration.

By now, the riflemen had fully turned, aiming their weapons at David and opening fire. David immediately switched to mobile warfare, his movements like a wild yet erratic gale, impossible to predict.

Several flamethrower troops formed a line, unleashing twin dragons of fire to block the path ahead. David simply swept his lightsaber, and the flames parted as if cut through silk cloth, revealing a clear passage.

For a regular person, even holding off a Lower-Tier Psionic Adept was nearly impossible, let alone David, who was High-Tier!

Although the riflemen’s systems incorporated supplementary aiming to predict enemy movement, a Lower-Tier Psionic Adept could perceive the direction of the attack before it launched. When these two factors met, the superior accuracy of precognition immediately trumped prediction!

A strong gust brushed his face as David surged through the defense line formed by the flamethrowers and riflemen, arriving directly before Yang Ying, who was surrounded by his men.

David took a stride forward and thrust his left hand out toward Yang Ying’s throat, intending to seize the leader. But just an inch from his target, he heard a zzzzl sound as a silver pillar of light materialized before his hand, mere millimeters from slicing off his entire palm.

“Silver Blade?!”

David exclaimed in shock, snatching his hand back as if it had touched hot oil, simultaneously bringing his right hand, wielding the blue lightsaber, up to meet the threat.

The two blades clashed.

David immediately pressed forward, unleashing a surge of psionic energy to crush Yang Ying, driving him back as if the silver lightsaber were some kind of ravenous beast.

Yang Ying’s psychic power was far weaker than David’s. He felt an immense force press against him, lifting his feet off the ground and slamming him backward through five or six riflemen before he finally hit the wall.

Fortunately, his physical conditioning far surpassed that of an ordinary man, so the impact caused him no serious harm.

“I didn't expect you to possess a silver blade. I clearly underestimated you,” David’s voice echoed in Yang Ying’s mind as he maneuvered through the rain of bullets.

“Does your lightsaber dare not meet mine?” Yang Ying provoked him.

“You—hahaha!” David’s telepathic transmission suddenly filled with mocking laughter. “How ridiculous, truly ridiculous! You possess the Silver Blade but are ignorant of its true nature. What a waste! Understand this: even Master-level experts at the Monastery might not possess one. Giving it to you is sheer extravagance! I presume when you studied under Pang Qian, he only gave you a beginner’s swordsmanship manual? Though it contained basic knowledge of light swords, it was incomplete, only mentioning the phrase, ‘Gold Blade, Violet Scythe’ at the very end. It’s no wonder you are so ill-informed.”

While sending his transmission, David deftly engaged the riflemen. Though he avoided killing them, he used his lightsaber to sever the Gauss rifles and tore the fuel lines of the flamethrowers, rapidly diminishing the effective fighting force.

Using that deceptive visual trick, David moved through the crowd at leisure. Even when passing directly in front of the infantry, they seemed incapable of registering his presence.

Soon, over half the infantry personnel were disarmed, making them less and less of a threat to David.

“It seems the infantry cannot handle you,” Yang Ying said, gripping the silver blade. Though he didn't know the silver blade’s exact properties, David’s refusal to clash his blue blade against it surely meant something. “Let’s drop the pretense. I’m bringing out the real power.”

David paused in surprise, then watched as several infantrymen in the center of the action vanished into thin air. In their place stood twenty-four muscular aliens clad in golden armor, their arms extending lightsabers, accompanied by massive balls of red and blue fire, two to each ball—and within those flames, faint humanoid shapes could be discerned!