Force is an exceedingly versatile form of mental energy. Beyond the most basic applications like moving, sticking, scooping, or amplifying, it can sustain the use of supernatural powers such as fire, electricity, or illusion. It can even be directed inward, fortifying the body and allowing for finer control.

Psionicists who cultivate their mental energy to the higher tiers can breathe through their pores, control the contraction of any muscle in their body, and even regulate metabolism, heart rate, blood flow, intestinal peristalsis, and other incredible internal organ movements.

Even if poisoned, they can use their mental power to force the toxins out.

However, the poison Blade had ingested this time was no ordinary substance; it had been artificially designed and rearranged at the molecular level—a super-toxin capable of killing a high-tier Psionicist, rendering their mental power useless for expulsion. Furthermore, it was colorless and odorless, causing no sensation before it took effect. If it weren't for Emperor Blade’s insectoid bloodline granting him immunity to a hundred poisons, he would have surely succumbed?

Anyone capable of acquiring such a poison must possess an extraordinary background. Blade had prepared for contingencies, but he hadn't expected to hear Caesar’s name mentioned again, this time from the lips of a Ghost Agent Major.

“Did Alva’s brother say exactly who sent him?” Blade inquired.

“It was Royd, the commander of the Caesar Mercenary Group,” the Ghost Agent Major replied.

Blade nodded, then asked, “Why would Royd try to poison me? Moreover, I hadn't displayed the strength of a high-tier Psionicist before today, so how could he have prepared such a potent poison in advance?”

Blade had been curious about this since the beginning. Alva’s brother had clearly prepared this poison before landing in Narcissus City, yet at that time, he shouldn't have even known Blade’s true capabilities.

The Ghost Agent Major replied with deference, “Regarding your first question, he claimed it was revenge for Alva; as for Royd’s true motives, he claimed ignorance. After analysis, we believe he was telling the truth.”

He paused, then continued, “As for the answer to your second question, we extracted that information from the man as well. The poison he used can target both Psionic Apprentices and Quasi-Masters; the difference is only in the dosage. Originally, he did underestimate your strength, but due to his caution, he carried a dose far exceeding what was necessary when he arrived at Narcissus City. When the news of your feat in defeating the high-tier ape-men reached him, he increased the dosage in the wine.”

“I see,” Blade understood, and instructed, “Be careful when dealing with this individual. The Caesar family holds considerable influence among high-ranking officials in both the government and the military. He might have support hidden within this very camp.”

This assassin had managed to obtain a completely legal new identity through official channels and infiltrate the military to carry out the assassination. Clearly, numerous officials across the dozen or so government and military departments involved had been bribed by the Caesar family, who either greased the wheels or deliberately turned a blind eye to the operation.

The Ghost Agent Major assured him firmly, “Rest assured, Commander, everything is under our control.”

“Good.” Blade shut off the communicator. He continued his work as if nothing had happened, unconcerned with how the Ghost Agents would handle the assassin. Such matters were beneath his notice.

Although he didn’t know Royd’s exact thoughts, the motives for murder were limited to a few possibilities.

The Tran Mercenary Group and the Caesar Mercenary Group were enemies. Blade was a senior figure in the Tran Group, and his combat talent was praised by several Psionic Masters, indicating boundless future prospects.

By secretly eliminating Blade during this wartime mission, they could both extinguish a potential threat in its infancy and avoid raising suspicion.

After all, a peace accord had been signed between the factions, and currently, they were allies!

At that moment, aboard the flagship Yang Ying I, Yang Ying, who was meditating in his room, suddenly opened his eyes and murmured to himself, “A fine sense of timing, but even now, he can’t forget internal strife. Truly worthy of the Caesar lineage; they still carry the spirit of their ancestors!”

Time passed slowly amidst the waiting. On the third day, with withdrawal procedures entering their forty-fifth hour, the joint fleet remained on high alert.

Neither the Gangdi Fleet nor any major contingent of the Ancient Legion had appeared, though minor skirmishes persisted, serving as constant reminders that the Jupiter orbit was far from safe.

Most of Narcissus City’s populace had been transferred to the space cities, and the area around the Central Park was noticeably quieter.

However, the mysterious disappearance of a lieutenant from the temporary command post cast a shadow of unease over some officers and soldiers. The Military Police had scoured every tent in the camp, finding nothing, so the loss was officially logged as a casualty of war.

The assassin did have support within the temporary command camp: a Major-level officer. This officer was acutely aware that the assassin’s disappearance was linked to the Tran Mercenary Group and immediately steered the investigation toward their encampment. However, the Ghost Agents had been meticulous; after extracting all intelligence from the assassin, they erased all traces of him using methods unknown to others.

At the North Gate, Blade opened a path for the final batch of civilians to enter the park. These people had not slept soundly for nearly two nights, deep fatigue etched on their faces. Their eyelids drooped, threatening to close at any moment, and their steps faltered as if they might collapse at any second.

The Marines behind Blade had rotated several times, allowing them to rest without showing any signs of weariness. They remained standing tall, gazing straight ahead, watching the crowd with unwavering vigilance to prevent any incidents.

This evacuation had been relatively smooth. With only three hours left before the final deadline, all work was essentially complete. Once this last group boarded their transport, the city’s withdrawal would officially conclude.

Seeing the crowd move further away, Blade led his contingent back to the temporary command post.

The seventy-two transport ships assigned to retrieve them were already waiting on the great lawn, ready for immediate boarding.

Elsewhere, the last wave of civilians was boarding their vessels.

As the evacuation neared its end, few personnel remained at the temporary command post, and the military tents had already been packed away. From the air, the entire city appeared desolate.

Colonel Ian remained at the temporary command post. He approached Blade upon his return for a brief chat before bidding farewell.

Blade led his team onto their own transport ships. After the military transports carrying the civilians lifted off, they too ascended, flying out toward outer space.

Simultaneously, deep within an unknown glacial mountain range on Europa, in an extremely deep cavern—

Yang Ying’s clone deactivated its cloaking field and materialized in the innermost chamber of the cavern.

Though there was no light, Yang Ying could perceive everything within the chamber—another benefit of his psionic abilities.

The cavern interior was reasonably spacious; this specific chamber measured about a hundred square meters, with a floor and walls as smooth as mirrors, slightly inclined. Above them loomed nearly a thousand meters of solid ice, appearing utterly black.

Yang Ying smiled, raised his right hand, and a ball of flame gradually ignited in his palm. He tossed the flame onto the floor and then pushed it forward like a bulldozer. The fire swept across the ground, melting the surface layer of frozen ice.

Yang Ying contained the melted water within a defined area, and it quickly refroze.

The ground, after refreezing, was even smoother than before.

Yang Ying waved his hand, summoning a medical pod and placing it in the center of the chamber. He then retrieved an antenna-like metal rod, thrust it into the floor, and flipped a switch. A purple barrier emanated from the antenna, enveloping the entire chamber.

Yang Ying stepped forward, opened the pod hatch, and settled inside.

He took a slow, deep breath.

The air on Europa was abnormally cold and oxygen-deficient. As Yang Ying inhaled it, he felt a cool sensation spreading through his chest.

Gently exhaling the air, a flicker of sentiment crossed Yang Ying’s mind. He spoke to the empty space:

“The Military is me, and I am the Military!”

These eight words echoed in the cavern, sounding as if Yang Ying had drawn out the tones, but the sound did not travel far—not even past the entrance—before vanishing without a trace.

The vast expanse of ice, stretching for thousands of miles, paid no heed to the small sound, remaining as eternal and unmoving as ever.

After speaking, Yang Ying closed the pod door, and the medical pod automatically activated. His soul returned to the flagship in space.

Inside the medical pod, the clone’s body lay still, awaiting the arrival of some future opportunity.

On Yang Ying I, in Yang Ying’s quarters, Yang Ying lay down and opened his eyes. He immediately saw Katerina by the bedside.

Coincidentally, she had just leaned her face close to his, their faces separated by only about ten centimeters. Seeing Yang Ying suddenly open his eyes, she recoiled immediately, covering her face with her hand, and asked softly, “Commander, is the task completed?”

Yang Ying smiled faintly and replied, “I have hidden the clone safely. The batteries for the medical pod and the shielding antenna can last for ten years. I hope that body will be usable before that term expires.”

“Can Earth launch a counterattack toward Jupiter within ten years?” Katerina immediately pressed.

Her hand remained covering her face; she felt heat rising in her cheeks, as if Yang Ying were mocking her, yet she dared not remove her hand and look for fear of worse ridicule. She could only ask question after question, trying to divert Yang Ying’s attention.

“Ten years is too long. Although the Ancient Legion holds the initiative now, humanity has only lost frontline bases, not the frontline fleet. Furthermore, with such a vast population base, recruiting replacements for frontline losses can be completed in as little as half a year once new personnel are trained. As long as the Ceres Base hasn't fallen by then, it will be time for Earth’s counterattack.”

Yang Ying noticed her embarrassment and, before she could pose another question, gently took her hands and pulled them away. They shared a brief moment of intimacy, though being on the battlefield, Yang Ying did not press the matter too far.

Soon, a call came from the bridge, requesting Yang Ying’s presence.