"How about the Temple of Mind Power? Have they replied to Pru?" the oldest of the elders asked, his voice like dry parchment.

Gaius's facial muscles twitched violently. All the elders present knew Gaius well; for him, whose demeanor was usually as deep as the Marianas Trench, to let any reaction show on his face meant the question was profoundly unsettling.

Gaius responded coldly, "Forget the Temple of Mind Power. I sent Tim there to probe them previously. The Peak Master who received him, Tu Xin, immediately questioned the authenticity of the Santos Secret Research Institute. Tim knew the truth and tried to cover it up, but Tu Xin exposed him on the spot and threw him out of Mand Island. Now, the entire Temple of Mind Power knows the Caesar family is conducting human experimentation. The fact that they haven't stormed our gates already shows they're giving us considerable face."

"Who is Tim? If he was that foolish, why send him?" an elder inquired with sharp curiosity.

"Foolish? He is the top expert of the Asder Sect, a near-Master level combatant. You don't mean to tell me you don't even know the Asder Sect? That's one of the ancient sects our Caesar family has been funding for over a century. Besides the Asder Sect, no other sect has produced a single near-Master expert." Though Gaius was utterly exasperated internally, his expression remained placid as he explained Tim's status, only a flicker of contempt shining deep within his eyes.

This was how great families operated: filled with individuals who possessed little actual capability and held little interest in family affairs, yet occupied high positions, frequently interjecting to assert their presence.

"Of course, I know the Asder Sect," the elder immediately retorted loudly, his strained expression vehemently signaling his protest against Gaius's slight.

Gaius swept his gaze across the assembly. "Any other questions? If not, the meeting is adjourned."

After the session broke, Gaius remained alone in the vast conference hall, chin resting on his hands, deep in thought about who could possibly wish annihilation upon the entire Caesar family. Logically, any force harboring such intense hatred should have long since been eradicated by the family.

Could it be that a new, exceptionally powerful faction had risen among the emerging powers?

As he pondered, his thoughts drifted to the Trann Corporation and the Trann Mercenary Group. He recalled the first time the Trann Mercenary Group caught his attention was when his most beloved grandson, Istha, reported it—mentioning that the Trann Corporation was following the same trajectory as the Caesar Conglomerate and needed to be cut down.

At the time, he deemed a company and mercenary group established for less than half a year as negligible. He allowed Istha to play around with them, never imagining this 'play' would cost the family two Laurel Fleets.

Due to the fall of the Twin King Defense Line, the front was dangerously stretched. Losing two Laurel Fleets had already left the Caesar Mercenary Corps critically undermanned, causing them to barely make it to a contracted war mission they had accepted.

If such a lapse occurred, they would lose credibility before the military.

Therefore, the Caesar Mercenary Corps at that moment could not spare excess manpower to deal with a strengthening enemy, which is why they opted for a truce to buy time, intending to settle the grievance later with thunderous force.

Naturally, following the Caesar family's standard operating procedure, during the period of truce, if favorable opportunities arose, they would not hesitate to clip the enemy's wings and weaken their strength.

Suddenly, Gaius remembered the warning Royd had sent him: the assassination attempt against Blade, a master from the Trann Mercenary Group, had failed, likely exposing the Caesar Mercenary Corps' involvement and necessitating preparations for fierce retaliation.

Coupled with the shocking news received from the front lines shortly before—that the Trann Mercenary Group had demonstrated unexpectedly potent operational effectiveness on the battlefield, instantly neutralizing two main fleets of the Semi-Ancient Legions and enabling the disadvantaged rearguard unit to achieve victory against superior numbers, nearly annihilating those two semi-fleets—this signaled something deeper.

This level of success could not be achieved by tactics alone; it required far more advanced technology. Everything that transpired on that small battlefield demonstrated that the Trann Mercenary Group, and the Trann Corporation behind them, possessed formidable technological prowess.

"Could they launch such a violent retaliatory strike against a powerful family that holds significant weight in the human world, merely because of an assassination attempt on one of their high-ranking personnel? Poor Istha, my grandson, couldn't even survive the enemy's first wave of attack. Blade, if I recall correctly, was just a free Awakened with the strength of an Upper-tier Psion." Gaius pondered repeatedly but could not reconcile the facts.

It was summer in the Northern Hemisphere of Earth, and the temperature across the Atlantic was generally rising. Variations in this temperature increase sparked widespread atmospheric convection, leading to the formation of numerous violent storms.

At this very moment, a torrential downpour descended upon Fort Julian Calendar. Gusts of wind whipped up tons of seawater, creating churning waves that crashed relentlessly against the shore, intermingling with the large, bean-sized raindrops falling from the sky.

Suddenly, a bolt of lightning illuminated the heavens, splitting into countless jagged branches that seemed like an irregular net capturing the dark clouds above.

Although visibility was extremely low, the soldiers manning the sentinel posts across Fort Julian Calendar—their eyes wide, their spotlights slicing through the gloom—inspected the shoreline and the sea shield, guarding against any enemy infiltration capitalizing on the storm.

Simultaneously, dozens of radar, sonar, and infrared detection systems kept every inch of the fortress under surveillance. Whether beneath the waves or in the sky, not even a bird could fly past without being detected by Fort Julian Calendar’s reconnaissance.

Of course, due to the electrical and thermal chaos induced by the storm, the effectiveness of these instruments was somewhat diminished, making human reconnaissance a critical component at this juncture.

At this time, a figure gradually emerged from beneath the sea surface, stepping onto the shore. To call it a figure might be inaccurate; no true form existed. It was merely the chaotic rain striking an empty space in such a way that it appeared to strike something, causing the water threads to flow down in shapes vaguely resembling a human silhouette.

A searchlight swung over. The invisible form shifted its stance, instantly reappearing ten meters away, letting the white beam flash past. Then, the steps of the form flickered rapidly, traversing the open ground along the shore, slipping past several electrified wire fences, finally arriving at the base of the fortress cluster's high walls.

Suddenly, the form began to change. It was as if an armor plating had suddenly grown over it, causing the whole body to swell slightly. Simultaneously, two grotesque bone wings sprouted from its back. A pearl-like raindrop gathered on one wingtip, then detached and dropped onto the rock surface below, landing with a faint 'pat' that was instantly swallowed by the endless roar of the surrounding rain, attracting absolutely no attention.

All of this occurred while remaining completely invisible.

The formless shadow was Yang Ying’s clone, now transformed into a Blade Emperor.

With a knee bend and a powerful spring, Yang Ying shot upward like a rocket toward the top of the high wall.

This dripping, formless shape—scarcely describable as a shadow now—appeared atop the wall and was immediately spotted by the surrounding sentries.

However, Yang Ying was faster. He drew both hands in slightly, condensing the ubiquitous rainwater into two water masses the size of fists. In the next instant, these masses transformed into twin water blades that shot toward two adjacent rows of mercenaries.

The water blades were as soft as silk ribbons yet as sharp as cutting edges. Upon piercing one mercenary's heart, they would pass clean through, then curve to strike the next target.

The supremely yielding rainwater became a cohesive rope, linking the more than ten men in those two rows on the wall together, causing them to collapse under the heavy rain!

Blood sprayed forth from the punctured chests and backs, instantly dyeing the stone floor red!

Yang Ying glanced at them, shook his head, then tapped his foot and entered the fortress through a small side door.

The topographic map of Fort Julian Calendar had already been obtained via satellite reconnaissance, and the refuge point for the Caesar elite had been pinpointed. Yang Ying moved straight toward his objective.

He had already reabsorbed the rainwater clinging to him and cast it outside the fortress, thus restoring his perfect state of invisibility.

He strode rapidly through more than ten gates, dozens of corridors, and countless stairwells, passing groups of patrolling mercenaries carrying Uranium Rifles, some even clad in Powered Armor that produced a metallic resonance with every step.

The interior of the fortress was mostly bare rock, with little ornate decoration. Almost everywhere was the same oppressive gray: flat walls, flat floors and ceilings, and identical doors—though the plaques hanging outside the doors did differ.

High-tech products were scarce here; even the door locks were old mechanical ones, perhaps because electronic components were more numerous and fragile. Mechanical products offered better earthquake resistance, and severe shocks from heavy artillery could potentially damage electronic gear.

Thus, the fortress facilities were kept as simple and reliable as possible.

Yang Ying gradually approached the core area. The defenses here were noticeably tighter, with guards almost every three steps and sentries every five. Furthermore, electronic surveillance devices appeared with greater frequency.

Monitoring probes were nearly omnipresent, and certain hidden hatches likely connected to automated defensive weaponry, capable of turning any corridor into a killing field instantly upon detecting an intruder with a barrage of fire.

Under such defenses, even a moderately powerful Psion would struggle to pass through. But for an entity as intangible as Yang Ying, this was merely a clear path.

Finally, Yang Ying reached the entrance to the core sector: a massive alloy gate ten meters high, currently closed. Twenty heavily armed troops stood guard before it, equipped with Powered Armor and supplemented by two Level-Two Uranium Cannons for extra firepower.

From his intelligence, Yang Ying knew the area surrounding the core section of Fort Julian Calendar was shielded by thick alloy plating. Although the exterior walls appeared to be stone, piercing the outer concrete layer revealed the dense alloy sheeting within.

Breaching the structure through the walls would be significantly more difficult than forcing the main gate.

However, Yang Ying chose neither the gate nor the walls; he opted for the route frequently used by all manner of infiltrators: the ventilation shafts.