Tang Ying’s clone struck inward along the Fengjiu Dao inside the warehouse, arriving at a massive, imposing door that was no less formidable than the one at Mao Ershan.

After unlocking a series of security measures, the door swung open to reveal a wide corridor stretching over a hundred meters long.

But the clone did not step forward, for standing in the center of the corridor was a strange creature, four meters tall, entirely covered in insectoid chitin. Its lower body boasted eight legs, resembling a spider, while its upper body possessed four arms. The lower pair were shaped like mantis scythes, but the upper pair were a hybrid of machinery and biology, their foremost joints having been amputated and refitted into gun barrels—clearly two Grade-Two Uranium Ray Cannons.

The creature’s head housed two sets of eyes: one a compound insect eye, the other a pair of electronic optics glowing with red light.

At its feet shuffled several one-meter-tall security robots. As the door opened, the creature turned its gaze toward the entrance, and the security robots instantly rose to attention.

However, the clone remained cloaked in invisibility; neither the creature nor the robots could detect any sign of life.

“Ancient behemoth? Doesn’t look too huge. A cyborg, a biomechanical hybrid, perhaps?”

While the clone observed, the creature, finding no one at the threshold, suddenly opened its maw and spat out a sheet of white webbing!

These ancient behemoths possessed a certain degree of intelligence, or perhaps, pure combat instinct.

“A probe?”

The clone shifted its footing instantly, slipping clear of the webbing’s range. The net moved swiftly, not as fast as a bullet, but comparable to the speed of an arrow.

The web fell upon the doorway, engulfing two security robots. The robots immediately began to struggle, but the more they thrashed, the tighter the net constricted.

It was visible that the webbing exuded a clear, transparent mucus, which seemed both adhesive and corrosive. As the net covered the robots’ chassis, it emitted a sizzling sound, carving deep grooves into the metal shells.

With just this single move, augmented by its electronic eyes and ray cannons, the clone could easily surmise the outcome: ordinary soldiers would have to expend considerable effort and suffer heavy casualties to bring down this modified creature. But against him, this hybrid had struck a vein of bad luck.

That web was the creature’s sole opening attack. The eleven invisible energy swords strapped to the clone’s waist flew out, circling the modified beast several times, instantly slicing it into a thousand pieces.

The swords then dispersed, hacking the security robots into fragments as well, after which the clone proceeded into the corridor.

To the left ran a row of lights, illuminating the entire passage with piercing clarity. To the right stood a series of ten doors.

It was clear that at the far end of the corridor, the final door bore a distinct nuclear weapon symbol.

Approaching that door, the clone once again disengaged a sequence of security locks and opened the heavy vault door.

Peering inside, a conveyor belt was visible in the center, leading toward an entrance 1.5 meters high set into the left wall. Overhead hung a mechanical pincer, matte black and chillingly cold to the eye.

Both the conveyor and the pincer were currently stationary.

On the right wall of the room were two rows of square tables, serving as drawers, approximately a dozen in total.

The clone’s eyes lit up with delight, and he murmured, “Yes, this is it. The nuclear warheads must be in these drawers. The conveyor belt likely leads to a missile silo. When it’s time to launch a nuclear missile, the drawers open, the pincer grabs the warhead, places it on the belt, sends it to the silo, and installs it into the missile.”

The clone clapped his hand, and the invisible energy swords on his waist shot out again, slicing through the locks on all the drawers. He reached out, pulling them open one by one using telekinesis.

Indeed, nestled within the drawers were black, conical warheads. At the base of each, markings in Yuan script could be seen; upon brief inspection, they confirmed the designation: nuclear warhead.

“Now that we’ve found them, it’s time to summon the main soul for possession.”

The transfer of souls required no time or ceremony. As the clone formed the intent, in the very next instant, Yang Ying’s primary consciousness inhabited this body. A cross symbol appeared on the back of the body’s right hand.

“Stealing nuclear warheads always brings a certain satisfaction.”

Yang Ying stepped forward, hefted a warhead, and returned it to the Floating Continent, leaving only one behind.

This last warhead, he intended to use right here?

It wasn't just here; he had employed the exact same tactic at the other two fortresses on Europa, emptying their armories and leaving behind a tampered warhead in each.

Yang Ying had left a body on Europa specifically to sow chaos during the counterattack against Jupiter.

He cared little for the direct benefit these actions brought him; his Terran Mercenaries had become deeply embedded in this war, and the outcome held meaning not just for Earth, but for himself and every soldier under his command.

Initially, the people of the Floating Continent had no connection to the Sol system. That bond was forged by Yang Xin, but Yang Ying himself was a transmigrator, not raised by the Earth United Government. The body he currently possessed belonged to an orphan who had lived a life akin to a solitary star from childhood, possessing no relatives or friends on Earth.

Consequently, Yang Ying always felt a degree of detachment toward the current Earth, a feeling less profound than his attachment to the Earth of five centuries prior.

Going to war was primarily a training exercise, providing the warriors of the Floating Continent with a field where they could prove their worth and hone their combat skills for better performance in future engagements.

However, training wasn’t meant for glorious suicide. Creating the optimal combat environment for his soldiers, putting them in an advantageous position to overwhelm the enemy, was also Yang Ying’s goal—hence the plan for this permanent solution to neutralize all bases on Europa.

When the plan was finalized, Fortress One was supposed to be his first target, but yesterday, as he approached the armory, Gang Di’s senses had acutely registered something amiss.

For Master-level experts, any action that potentially threatened their safety triggered an intuitive alarm. In the eyes of a Master, nuclear weapons were the most dangerous instruments, second only to the light swords wielded by another Master. As long as Yang Ying remained silent within the fortress and kept clear of Gang Di’s line of sight, he remained hidden. But the moment he conceived of targeting the nuclear arsenal, Gang Di immediately sensed it in the ethereal weave.

Had he not been vigilant yesterday, he might have encountered Gang Di, sparking a confrontation.

Although Yang Ying was confident that with his eleven clones and his main body present, he could defeat a Master-level expert, killing one was an entirely different proposition—a difference in kind, not just quantity. If a Master-level expert decided to flee, even a fellow Master might fail to catch them, let alone Yang Ying.

If all twelve of his forms attacked and Gang Di still managed to escape, the enemy would surely be prepared the next time such tactics were employed.

Yang Ying retrieved a trigger device the size of a circular platform from the Floating Continent. It was a round base designed to fit the warhead’s mounting plate. Yang Ying then used telekinesis to lift the warhead, disengaged several safety catches, and seated it onto the base.

Finally, he powered on the control panel attached to the base, set the detonation sequence for remote explosion, and detached the remote controller situated beside the panel.

Just as he finished these tasks, Yang Ying detected an anomalous sound near his ear—the sound of someone rapidly approaching.

“Perfect timing. I’ve just finished the setup.”

Yang Ying looked up, closed the door to the warhead storage room, and stepped out into the corridor.

Two Ape-men Quasi-Masters appeared at the far end of the hallway. They had just witnessed the nuclear armory door closing but failed to notice the invisible Yang Ying in the slightest.

“Bad news! The enemy is moving the warheads!”

The taller Ape-man Quasi-Master shouted loudly, sprinting down the corridor. He paid no heed to the fallen hybrid creature or the security robots; in his mind, only the nuclear vault mattered.

“Careful!”

The slightly thinner Quasi-Master yelled, instantly appearing behind the taller one and activating his light staff, whirling it into a fan shape.

With two sharp ziz sounds, the light staff seemed to connect with something intangible.

The tall Ape-man then finally registered that there was indeed an invisible enemy in the corridor.

When he had moved to open the door, he had suddenly felt a chilling premonition, as if a vortex of death was bearing down on him. Had his colleague not intervened, he would likely have been gravely wounded, if not killed.

“Thanks,” he called out to the slender Ape-man Quasi-Master, then activated his own light staff, positioning himself back-to-back with his colleague. They focused their sensory abilities to the absolute limit, awaiting the move of the unseen foe.

Yang Ying observed their wary stance and knew that a surprise attack was no longer possible. They currently possessed only a vague awareness of his presence, which was why they hadn't struck immediately, but it was only a matter of time. He should strike first, before they adapted to fighting an invisible opponent.

With a thought, the eleven invisible energy swords on his waist shot out with a whoosh. With their blades ignited, they accelerated to extreme velocity, slicing in from all four directions toward the two Ape-men Quasi-Masters.

“Guard your sectors!”

Though unable to see the eleven swords, the two Ape-men Quasi-Masters could vaguely sense the attack coming from every direction. They immediately stood back-to-back, swirling their light staffs into a combined wall of light, securely defending both sides.

The invisible energy swords suddenly curved sharply before reaching the light staffs, avoiding direct impact, then looped around toward the weaker area between the two guards, piercing inward with force!

“Clockwise!”

“Roger!”

The two Ape-men Quasi-Masters communicated instantly via telepathy. Their feet began to turn in a clockwise motion, repositioning them directly into the path of the incoming swords. Ziz-ziz sounds rang out, loud and grating, as several invisible energy swords were batted away.