Blade was not an expert in poisons. He hadn't noticed anything while drinking the champagne, but after the welcoming reception, the toxin began to take effect. Although the reaction occurred internally, the highly perceptive Blade sensed it immediately—this was clearly not a fast-acting lethal poison.

"Are you poisoned? I'll call the medics," said Lieutenant Colonel Li Xuan of the Ghost Operatives.

The medics possessed extremely potent healing capabilities, with remedies for external injuries, illnesses, and poisoning. Surely, any medic would have sufficient knowledge to detoxify Blade?

"No need," Blade raised a hand to stop him. "This poison is potent; perhaps another high-level Psionic would succumb within two hours of being afflicted. I've already tried; my psionic energy cannot force the toxins out."

"If the situation is that dire, you still don't need a medic?" the Ghost Operative Lieutenant Colonel asked, surprised.

"Dire? How so?" Blade shook his head. "Have you forgotten who I am? I am the Blade Emperor! King of the Zerg! The progenitor of poisons! How could the Zerg perish from toxins? To me, poison is no different from plain water. If my main body were here, then a medic would be necessary."

Yang Ying's main body remained human, and this poison would affect him, but since Katarina was always inseparable from Yang Ying, detoxification would be a trivial matter for them.

The Ghost Operative Lieutenant Colonel frowned. "I understand. What do you need us to do?"

Blade stated in an unquestionable tone, "I need you to search this temporary command post and find the individual who administered the poison. You are authorized to call Kevin for assistance. Search through the records of every officer and soldier in this entire camp if you must, but find him or them."

The fact that the poison was ineffective on him was one matter; administering poison to him was another. Regarding this poisoner, Blade's attitude was entirely resolute.

"Sir, by asking us to screen the entire temporary command post, you must have ruled out Colonel Ian. Is there a reason for that?" the Ghost Operative Lieutenant Colonel inquired.

Blade affirmed, "Ian's possibility is indeed slim. I recall his mental state when I took the goblet from him; it was perfectly normal, with no sense of harboring ill intent. Furthermore, the possibility that the assembled officers and soldiers at the reception administered the poison is also low."

"Why is that?" the Ghost Operative Lieutenant Colonel asked, puzzled.

"Because of their gazes," Blade said calmly. "The mental power of a high-level Psionic is exceptionally keen. Throughout the entire reception, I could sense their inner thoughts from the way the crowd looked at me. The eyes are the windows to the soul. While their inner thoughts varied greatly and were complex, none of them harbored killing intent toward me. There was some minor malice—I sensed a few individuals with feelings of resentment, disdain, jealousy, or other slight negative emotions—but nothing sufficient to plot poisoning."

As they walked and talked, they arrived at the center of the tent, where a round table held several pieces of high-tech equipment exclusive to Tran Corporation's inner circles.

Describing them as "inner circles" was merely a façade; they were situated slightly deeper than the supposed exterior areas. This equipment was only a generation or two ahead of Earth's technological standards. If discovered, it would merely lead others to believe Tran Corporation possessed formidable research capabilities.

The true inner technology resided in secret bases deep within the Asteroid Belt, where the level of technology surpassed Earth's by several generations, leading by over a century—and the gap continued to widen. For every year Earth developed, the secret base could advance ten years, as all necessary technical data was complete, requiring only step-by-step upgrades.

However, even the secret base's level was not the absolute highest. The ultimate core technology floated constantly on the Skydrifting Continent, never entering the material world.

The Behemoth-class Battlecruisers were manufactured only on the Skydrifting Continent—and not just one. As time progressed, Yang Ying was putting one Battlecruiser after another onto the production line. Sometimes, just as the first one began construction, the second one followed suit. Currently, aside from the first one commissioned six months prior, ten more Battlecruiser production lines were operational and deep into the manufacturing process.

In addition, the Zerg's Brood Mothers began incubation last month and were expected to hatch in seven months.

As for the Protoss, Carriers and Arbiters also recently entered production on the Skydrifting Continent. However, due to external environmental factors, resources for large capital ships still needed to be prioritized toward the Terran direction.

The Terrans possessed the largest and best-equipped research facilities on the Skydrifting Continent, allowing them to develop peacefully yet vigorously without any disturbance from the outside environment.

Although the technology on the Skydrifting Continent was advanced, Tran Corporation did not need to display such high-level technology externally. These "internal" products, only slightly superior to current known technology, were more than enough to deal with the existing technological forces in the solar system.

"Colonel Blade, are you suggesting the poisoner was not present to watch you drink?" the Ghost Operative Lieutenant Colonel sought confirmation, as typical poisoners rarely felt satisfied unless they witnessed their target consume the poisoned drink.

Blade nodded slightly. "I am certain of that. If he had been there, I should have sensed him through his gaze."

"No exceptions?" the Ghost Operative Lieutenant Colonel pressed.

Blade paused for a moment before replying, "There are only two possibilities for someone present to evade my perception: either the poisoner is a master-level Psionic, or the poisoner is an ordinary person who can perfectly control their mind, genuinely not wishing for the kill while committing the act. Such people are rarer than awakened individuals."

"To be cautious, I still suggest we investigate everyone who appeared at the scene," the Ghost Operative Lieutenant Colonel stated earnestly.

Blade was satisfied with his rigor and nodded. "If you have doubts, investigating those present is not out of the question. Intelligence work is your specialty; proceed with what you deem appropriate."

"Yes, sir," the Ghost Operative Lieutenant Colonel bowed in reply.

He then called over several Ghost Operative Captains and assigned them a series of investigative tasks.

"Inform me via communicator if you find anything. I am returning to the North Gate defense sector," Blade stood up, bid farewell to the Ghost Operatives in the tent, and walked out, heading north.

Walking and thinking, Blade considered why the poisoner chose this moment to target him. By the time he reached the defense sector, he had formed some ideas.

If he had succumbed to the poison and died, this temporary command post would likely fall into chaos, and mutual suspicion among personnel would envelop the camp, delaying the evacuation efforts.

Alternatively, his very presence might obstruct the ambitions of certain individuals. A high-level Psionic could achieve things ordinary people couldn't; perhaps some parties intending to carry out clandestine operations within Narcissus City held enmity toward him for this reason.

Regardless of the possibility, the fact that the poisoner was not detected by him at the reception proved they were no ordinary person. Blade was keen to see who was so interested in taking his life.

Two hours remained until the estimated time of the poison's full effect. At that time, the poisoner might inquire about his condition and potentially reveal some clues.

After he intercepted the Venomous Fangs in his fighter jet, the defense of the North Gate had been delegated to a Ghost Operative Lieutenant Colonel. Blade sent him back to the temporary command post upon his return.

At this moment, the seventh wave of transport ships entered the Central Park, indicating the Coalition Fleet had successfully stabilized their defense line and dealt with the fighters dispatched by the Emperor's Fleet towards Europa. The Coalition Fleet would not dispatch transport ships while fighters were still harassing the routes.

Blade reopened the iron gate and allowed a portion of the people through. Although the majority of women and children had already left in earlier transports, there were still many remaining; they had been squeezed to the back by the crowd and missed the preceding waves.

The priority order for women and children had now been revoked, allowing everyone to board. Yet, for the remaining women and children, the situation had worsened. Since those ahead could enter the park first, more and more people were surging forward. The weaker women and children were gradually pushed to the rear.

Suddenly, Blade heard a faint cry amidst the throng coming from the center of the crowd, seemingly accompanied by another voice crying out mournfully.

Blade listened intently for a few seconds, then shifted his footing abruptly, charging into the crowd. Like an eel, he threaded his way through the tightly packed people, pushing inward toward the source of the sound.

He reached the center of the crowd where the voices originated and saw a small boy covered in dust lying on the ground, bleeding from his head and covered in abrasions on his arms. People were packed so tightly that bending down was difficult, making it hard to pull him up, and no one was attempting to. Occasionally, people stepped on the boy. By the time Blade arrived, he saw a middle-aged man nearby lose his balance and step directly onto the boy's hand.

A woman, who appeared to be the boy's mother, was crying out in distress about ten steps away, saying she had lost her son and couldn't see where he lay, so she was simply circling aimlessly nearby, finding nothing.

Blade rushed to the boy's side, carefully lifted him, and then pushed back through the crowd to the woman, asking, "Is this your child?"

"Yes! Yes! Thank you! Thank you!" The boy, instantly overjoyed, embraced her tightly, snatching him from Blade's arms.

"Follow me," Blade grabbed the boy's mother's arm and pushed through the crowd, quickly returning inside the North Gate.

Blade called for a medic and a Marine, ordering them to escort the mother and child to the Central Lawn to board their transport. The boy's mother departed amidst profuse thanks.

"This cannot continue," Blade observed the throng outside, contemplating the potential for stampedes within. He turned to a Marine Captain. "Take four squads and clear a path through the crowd to allow the women and children in the rear to move forward."