“In two more hours, Europa will swing around from behind Jupiter. At that time, the radiation side of Ganymede Station Two will intersect with Europa. If we start a war with the Ape-men then, we’ll be attacked from both flanks, hit by both stations. If we force an attack now, the losses will surely exceed our imagination,” Alexander stated gravely.

“If that’s the case, are we still fighting?” The speaker was Randolph, participating in the Jupiter campaign as the supreme commander of the Third Fleet.

Over the past six months, Yang Ying and Randolph hadn't communicated much. Each time they connected, Randolph never mentioned Wen Jing, or words like 'glimmer of hope'—it all felt rather businesslike.

Compared to half a year ago, the distance between them seemed to have stretched considerably. Yang Ying understood this was unavoidable and chose not to dwell on it.

Hearing Randolph’s question, Alexander clenched his right fist and swung it forcefully, booming, “Of course, we fight! If we cannot secure all of Ganymede, then using Ganymede as cover will also be impossible to maintain. This planet’s rotational period is over two weeks. Under the current situation, within two days, Station One will be within range of Europa’s fortress cannons. If we don’t shift to the other side of the planet then, we’ll have to rely on Station One’s fortress cannons to duel with Europa. Even if we destroy one of their stations, Europa still has two others. Destroy those, and there’s still Io and Callisto. This fight will be endless, and we don’t know how many lives and how many ships we might lose.”

Destroying a fortress with fleet cannon fire in space is not easy. Every fortress must possess extremely heavy defenses. Take Station One, for instance: most of its fortress cannons are hidden beneath secret hatches, only opening when the cannons are to be used.

A secret hatch is at most ten meters wide, not much larger than the cannon muzzle itself. It is extremely difficult for warships’ cannons in space to hit such a small secret hatch, especially while they are under fire interference from the fortress. This lowers the hit probability even further.

The fortress’s various facilities are deep underground. Unless a fortress cannon is hit directly, it cannot be stopped from firing—unlike warships in space, whose cannons fall silent once the ship is sunk.

Therefore, even if a fleet attack on a fortress succeeds, the casualties will inevitably be massive.

“Fortunately, we still have the option to abandon Station One and temporarily withdraw outside Jupiter’s defense perimeter. We can return to attack later when the Ancient Legion’s defense system shows another vulnerability,” an Admiral suggested. “Station One isn’t strategically critical. Having it is good, but losing it won’t cause any major loss.”

Marshal Alexander glanced at him and said, “The problem now is how to capture Station Two. Your idea is a last resort. Only if Station One is fully exposed to the enemy and we still cannot capture Station Two should we abandon the tactic of using Ganymede as cover.”

“After talking so long, Alexander, do you actually have a viable tactic? Tell us,” General Hans, commander of the Fifth Fleet, asked. Hans and Marshal Alexander had a good private relationship and had both been promoted recently for the same reason, allowing him to address Alexander by name directly.

Alexander pondered for a moment. “The reinforcement units have now joined us. We currently have four primary frontline fleets, two secondary frontline fleets. The mercenary strength is roughly equivalent to one primary frontline fleet. The Ancient Legion has seven mainline fleets; their strength varies from fleet to fleet. But calculating the ratio of forces, it’s roughly two to one in our favor.”

Everyone in the meeting hall, including Yang Ying, nodded. They were already intimately familiar with these force comparisons.

Alexander continued, “According to intelligence, the Ape-men’s overall commander is Peak Master Ong Shali. You all know his tactical acumen; he is an extremely difficult opponent.”

The crowd nodded again, and several people turned their gaze toward a specific area in the hall. There, seated in a row, were more than ten Nirvana Masters dressed in monastic robes. The leader had an Eastern face, appearing to be in his late forties or early fifties, with streaks of white at his temples. His eyes were like falcons’—severe and sharp, giving an impression of indomitable might.

This was Master Tu Xin of the Nirvana Temple’s Hengfeng branch. Rumored to be over two hundred years old, he was one of the most senior Master-level experts in the Nirvana Temple, known for his absolute hatred of evil and merciless approach. This time, to reclaim the Jupiter orbit, the Nirvana Temple had significantly increased its support for the Earth forces, sending Master Tu Xin and several other experts to reinforce the front lines, in addition to the existing Nirvana advisors in the various fleets.

Seeing everyone look toward Master Tu Xin, Alexander did not mind and continued, “The current situation is clear. It is unrealistic to expect Ong Shali to make a mistake. We must confront him directly and launch an all-out assault with superior numbers to forcefully capture Station Two!”

“But Your Excellency just said that a frontal assault would cause—” a Lieutenant General interjected, voicing what many were thinking.

“The battle doesn’t start now; it starts in two days,” Alexander said, taking his baton and pointing it at the image of Ganymede. Several arrows indicated the Ancient Legion’s fleet and Station Two. “In two days, while Station One is exposed to Europa’s face, Station Two will move out of Europa’s fortress cannon radiation range. At that time, ground troops and the fleet will act simultaneously. We will tie up the Ancient Legion’s fleet to create an opportunity for the ground forces. The ground troops’ mission is to take Station Two. Even if they can't capture it, they must destroy all its fortress cannons.”

General Hans frowned. “A direct confrontation means casualties will be too high.”

Alexander asked coolly, “Do you have a better solution?”

Randolph tapped his fingers a few times on the table and spoke up, “Perhaps we could dispatch a small but sufficiently elite special operations team to attack a critical target—say, the fortress on Europa directly facing Ganymede. This might force the Ancient Legion’s fleet to split its forces, thereby easing the pressure of a full-scale assault.”

“Might?” Alexander scratched his head and sighed. “Ong Shali is not an enemy you can lead by the nose with a ‘might.’ But since you suggest it, we can try. After all, we cannot dismiss any potentially useful suggestion based on speculation.” He surveyed the room and asked, “Who is willing to take charge of the special operations team’s mission?”

A wave of shaking heads went through the room. No one wanted to accept this task. It was indeed a possibility, but the danger was immense, and there were too many unknowns. The Ancient Legion had occupied Europa for half a year; who knew what traps awaited? Furthermore, Ong Shali’s reputation as a brilliant commander was legendary; trying to use trickery against him was inviting disaster.

Alexander turned to Randolph. “Randolph, no one volunteers. Since you proposed it, you should lead it. However, this special team might end up being a suicide squad.”

Randolph’s expression shifted slightly. He hadn’t expected Alexander to assign the mission directly to him, throwing the burden back onto his own shoulders. He felt a sudden weight settle upon him and wanted to refuse, but the words caught in his throat. What was said was like spilled water; retracting it now would brand him as a spineless coward, instantly ruining his reputation.

He recognized that the special team’s mission was extremely dangerous and potentially meaningless. Taking responsibility for it involved considerable risk.

Marshal Alexander tapped his baton, turning off the holographic screen. “Any other proposals? If not, we will move to the next issue.”

In the bridge of an Ancient Legion Dragon King-class battlecruiser, Ong Shali opened a pair of brilliant golden eyes. He stood and walked to the front of the bridge, looking out the viewport at Ganymede.

“Humans, I suspect you will ultimately resort to a frontal assault. No, this is my choice. You have no choice but to fight me head-on right here. I don’t care how those omnipresent eyes operate, but as long as both sides are visible on each other’s radar in an honorable contest, those eyes can only perform redundant tasks. Consequently, the flow of information between both sides will be equalized.”

“Sir, Europa has emerged from behind Jupiter,” an Ape-man staff officer reported.

“I know.”

Ong Shali didn't turn back, still speaking to Ganymede. “Ultimately, you chose not to strike when my forces were thin—before the other four fleets arrived and before Europa showed itself. Was the two-hour window not enough time? You disappoint me. Should I call you cautious, or perhaps timid?”

After the meeting, Yang Ying disconnected from the virtual hall but remained seated, running through the various factors in his mind. He murmured quietly, “I have a bad feeling about winning. Perhaps the preparations I made last time can finally be used.”

He gently closed his eyes.

At this very moment, deep inside an iceberg on Europa, at the center of a purple barrier, the door of a small medical pod hissed open with a bang. The clone body Yang Ying had left behind when he evacuated Jupiter walked out.

He stretched his limbs and jumped twice on the spot, muttering to himself, “Six months motionless. This body feels a bit rusty, and it has never undergone psychic sculpting. Well, as long as it works.”

Yang Ying extended a hand. With a flash of golden light, he summoned a clone who was currently cultivating on the floating continent. He always left some clones behind on the floating continent to cultivate; these clones’ bodies had undergone psychic sculpting and were much sturdier than a newly generated body.

Damn it, I’m going to be late again today.