Yang Ying and Number Ten strode into the air-raid shelter, passing through a short corridor, and arrived in a room about forty meters square.

This chamber was utterly bare, devoid of any fixtures. The silver-white walls were smooth as mirrors, forged from a composite material capable of resisting fire, electricity, and radiation, while also isolating them from harmful cosmic particle rays.

There were no windows on the walls or the ceiling, and only a single door served as the entrance and exit. Fifty or sixty large overhead lights bathed the entire room in brightness akin to midday, and several ventilation shafts were distributed around the ceiling, their apertures too small for human passage.

Entering the small, spacious, and brightly lit room, Yang Ying leaned his motorcycle to one side and stopped the vehicle.

The next instant, Number Ten burst through the doorway.

Despite having just covered several kilometers at high speed, his face remained uncolored and his breathing even, showing no signs of fatigue. He strode ten meters ahead of Yang Ying, glanced around the room, curled his index finger with a cold smile, and shook it, his expression utterly dismissive.

“Is this the battlefield you’ve chosen? Where are the ambushes? The traps? Is this just one bare room? This is truly disappointing.”

“You won’t be disappointed for long.” Yang Ying dismounted his motorcycle and, with a Zzzt, activated his lightsaber, pointing the tip directly at Number Ten.

As his voice faded, the room’s main door emitted a low hum and slowly sealed shut.

Number Ten glanced back, saw the thick door locked firmly in place, then turned back to Yang Ying, regarding him with the look one reserves for a madman, and spoke with undisguised contempt: “You are quite right, Colonel Blade. In fact, I am no longer disappointed. I am astonished that you would lock yourself in this room with me. Are you perhaps seeking a duel? With the capabilities of a Lower-Tier Psionic like yourself?”

“We’ll soon find out.” Yang Ying chose to respond to Number Ten’s look and tone through action.

Since acquiring the Blade Emperor chassis, Yang Ying had never fought at full capacity in this transformed state. He desperately wanted to gauge exactly what level of power this body, built using tri-species technology, could achieve when unleashed completely.

Although he had sparred several times with Protoss warriors in the Blade form, cautious practice could not compare to the output generated during an all-out engagement.

Number Ten was a swordsmanship master whose Psionic intensity exceeded forty thousand; Yang Ying’s own intensity was more than four times greater, and the sheer volume of battles they had both experienced was not even on the same scale. The gap in experience was vast.

This opponent was precisely the kind needed to justify unleashing his full strength without reservation!

Blade Emperor, do not fail me!

Yang Ying took a deep breath, and suddenly, his hair began to move without wind, an invisible wave of energy radiating outward from his center.

“What’s he doing?” A flicker of doubt crossed Number Ten’s mind. He quickly confirmed once more that there were no hidden threats in the room, then decided against waiting any longer, shouting loudly at Yang Ying: “Since you overestimate yourself, I will oblige you. Take this!”

With that, Number Ten prepared to charge forward, subdue Yang Ying, and return to base. But he stopped after taking just one step, staring blankly with wide eyes. What was happening before him surpassed his expectations; the incomprehensible and unknown phenomenon rendered him momentarily paralyzed.

At this moment, Yang Ying’s skin began to undulate like waves. Several plates of pure black exoskeleton broke through the skin, spreading across his entire body within seconds, bone armor even covering the cheeks of his face. Two bone wings, resembling desiccated talons, extended from his back.

Number Ten watched the entire transformation, a cold sweat instantly breaking out across his body. He shouted, “Monster! Are you alien, or an artificial creation?”

“How rude. I am Blade—” Yang Ying replied calmly. Though his Psionic intensity hadn’t increased upon transformation, his stamina had multiplied, and the aggressive factor of the Zerg coursed through his veins, making his blood boil with excitement.

Yang Ying leveled his sword at Number Ten. “Come on, fight me. Don’t listen to your boss, Ulysses. Use your full power—fight with the intent to kill!”

“Arrogant!” Number Ten felt that Colonel Blade hadn’t significantly improved even after turning into a monster. He felt annoyance at his own momentary hesitation. He swung his sword into a combat stance and stated coldly, “Never mind what you are. I will capture you and present you to Number One. Take this!” His figure flashed, and he rushed straight toward Yang Ying!

Yang Ying found that transforming into the Blade Emperor truly made a difference. Previously, to clearly observe Number Ten’s movements, he needed to focus Psionic energy into his eyes to enhance his vision; an ordinary human eye couldn't track the motions of an Upper-Tier Psionic. Even with Lower-Tier Psionic vision, tracking an Upper-Tier combatant was extremely difficult. Before, Number Ten’s movements had seemed like a sequence of fast-forwarded frames.

But now, even without Psionic enhancement, he could see Number Ten’s movements with perfect clarity using only his naked eye. With Psionic enhancement applied, Number Ten’s actions even appeared as slow motion!

Incredible dynamic vision.

In Yang Ying’s sight, the sword strike—an action that previously looked indistinguishable from instantaneous teleportation—was now merely rapid movement, traceable between two points in space.

Yang Ying kicked off powerfully with both legs, the potent musculature providing immense energy, propelling him backward to meet Number Ten’s charge at no less speed!

“What! He achieved Sokuchi without using Psionics, relying only on physical strength?” This thought flashed through Number Ten’s mind in a split second. He immediately brought his sword horizontally before him and charged directly into Yang Ying’s path.

Zzzz! Boom!

Two immense sounds erupted almost simultaneously as Yang Ying and Number Ten collided. A visible shockwave surged outward from where their twin blades met, throwing both combatants backward.

Yang Ying retreated a full five meters, while Number Ten only staggered back two.

Number Ten halted his backward momentum but did not immediately press the attack. He flexed his slightly numb right hand, astonished that Yang Ying’s speed had reached the level of an Upper-Tier Psionic, and that it was generated purely by physical mechanics, without a shred of Psionic augmentation!

It must be the body. His physique is several times stronger than mine, effectively nullifying the gap in our Psionic power, Number Ten thought, shaken.

Yang Ying also flexed his numb right hand, and the feeling of confidence within him solidified.

The physical attributes of the Blade Emperor are truly formidable. While my original body required far longer to mold Psionically, it pales in comparison to this transformed state. Is this the Zerg physique? It can contend with an Upper-Tier Psionic even without active Psionics. If I could add my own Psionic energy to that strike, I likely wouldn't have yielded ground. Yang Ying joyfully felt boundless energy flooding his new frame. His bone wings flared, and with a flash, he lunged toward Number Ten!

This time, he utilized the Sokuchi technique enhanced by Psionics; his speed was even greater than before, bringing him almost instantaneously before Number Ten to unleash a downward slash.

Number Ten roared, raising his lightsaber to guard against Yang Ying’s strike above his head. “Take this kick!” Being the more experienced fighter, he projected a kick toward Yang Ying’s abdomen almost the moment their blades met.

Yang Ying grunted in pain, sent flying backward. As he flipped in the air, preparing to land, Number Ten was instantly beside him, slashing toward his neck.

Yang Ying stomped the empty air, creating ripples, and used that reactionary force to twist away mid-air, evading the decapitating blow. He then directed a blast of focused sight toward Number Ten’s face. Number Ten raised his left hand to block it. Using the force of that momentary impact, the two separated in mid-air, each flipping over and pushing off the opposing wall to charge back toward one another.

“Take my full might!”

As they closed the distance, Yang Ying swung his sword from bottom to top, aiming to cleave Number Ten in half.

Although his physical strength is immense, his Psionic intensity is still that of a novice. If raw power guaranteed victory, elephants would have long ago dominated the land!

“Watch closely!” Number Ten suddenly roared, executing a triple jump, changing direction twice in mid-air to appear to Yang Ying’s left, and slashing down, intending to cleave him at the waist.

“Damn, his reaction speed is faster than mine!” Yang Ying instantly retracted his lightsaber to parry Number Ten’s strike and pivoted backward, retreating.

Number Ten pressed relentlessly, an inescapable shadow. He thought that since Blade’s physical strength was so tremendous, his stamina must also be superior; he had to defeat the opponent in one swift assault, or risk disaster in a prolonged fight.

As Yang Ying landed, he immediately activated his illusion technique, instantly multiplying from one into three figures, surrounding Number Ten. Three swords stabbed toward Number Ten’s head, chest, and abdomen from three different angles.

Number Ten couldn't distinguish the real one in time. He thrust his left hand downward, creating a ripple of energy that repelled his body sideways as he landed.

Using his hand to execute a double jump—that’s actually somewhat interesting. The three Yang Yings continued their assault.

“Don’t think a few phantoms can win against me!” Number Ten swept his left hand horizontally, unleashing dozens of wind blades from his palm, forming a barrage that flew toward the three Yang Yings.

The three Yang Yings moved in unison, projecting a wall of wind that blocked the blades, then simultaneously thrusting their weapons toward Number Ten’s vital points.

Number Ten sneered, ignoring the two swords that missed their mark, and blocked only the one aimed at his heart.

The two blades locked!

Number Ten’s cold smile instantly turned into a booming laugh. He twisted his wrist, deflecting Yang Ying’s blade, then brought his left index and middle fingers together. A stream of energy as sharp as a sword gleam instantly materialized at his fingertips. He then used his finger as a sword and drove it fiercely into Yang Ying’s chest!

The other two Yang Yings, although they struck Number Ten, caused no damage; they were clearly illusions.

“A novice is always a novice. You might have projected a wind wall with three figures attacking simultaneously, but only you registered a Psionic fluctuation. The other two were clearly phantoms. Did you think I was an idiot?”

Number Ten coldly laughed, rubbed his blood-stained finger against Yang Ying’s chest cavity, and then violently ripped it free.