In terms of speed, the specialized Wraith fighters were no match for the Master-class fighters of Meecai. Since its engagement, Blade’s fighter, suffering from damage, had been unable to operate its power systems at full capacity, and after a few seconds of pursuit, Blade could only feel that the distance between himself and Meecai was not shrinking at all, but rather increasing at a visible rate.

Blade frowned, shook his head, and wrenched the control stick, turning back toward the main battlefield. Chasing at that speed was futile; instead of wasting energy on useless effort, it was better to let his five clones continue the pursuit of Meecai while he remained on the main field, leading the sixty thousand fighters to continue the mop-up operation.

Hiss… hiss…

As Meecai’s fighter fled ahead, it simultaneously utilized the beam-bending function of its Ura-Ray Scatter Cannon, firing energy beams backward at the five pursuing Wraith fighters to create trouble for his pursuers.

The five Wraith fighters retaliated, weaving a net of light from their remote-controlled funnels and projecting it forward. However, due to the presence of the enemy shield, the beams, despite striking several times, failed to penetrate the energy barrier and reach Meecai’s fighter.

“This shield is truly troublesome, hm. But perhaps the original function of the Can-missile can be utilized here. I hope Meecai’s fighter shield shares some structural similarity with Protoss shielding.”

The main consciousness and the souls of the clones were interconnected. Upon learning of the difficulty his clone was facing, Yang Ying, aboard the primary vessel, felt a shift in thought. He projected his main soul into one of the clones, raised a hand, summoned a Boron Missile, and fired it toward Meecai’s fighter.

“What is that thing? I have a very bad feeling about it.”

Meecai spotted the missile rapidly approaching from the optical display and was immediately startled. An extremely ominous premonition seized his heart.

“I must destroy that missile.”

The missile’s trajectory materialized in Meecai’s mind. He locked onto it psychically, then unleashed a barrage from the Ura-Ray Scatter Cannon—a massive wave of energy beams surged toward the Boron Missile.

He was no ordinary fighter pilot. As a Master-level expert, destroying a lifeless object controlled by a computer, such as a missile, was as easy as breathing.

However, Yang Ying had already anticipated this scenario. The distance between him and Meecai was not great, and the Boron Missile quickly entered the effective attack range shortly after being fired.

Bang!

The Boron Missile detonated just before being destroyed by the energy beams. An invisible electromagnetic shockwave spread outward along the beam’s path, enveloping Meecai’s fighter.

Instantly, the faint blue aura enveloping the fighter vanished without a trace.

“What?!”

Meecai watched the shield energy index on his dashboard plummet to zero, his shock immeasurable. But at that moment, he sensed that the sixty remote funnels behind him were about to fire simultaneously. This gave him no time for deeper analysis. He could only activate an ability, True Mirage, transforming his fighter into dozens of phantom images to disperse the incoming attack.

Yet, the sheer volume of beams was overwhelming. Even dispersed among the phantoms, the attack density remained sufficient. A dense, impenetrable net of light swept across the void, annihilating the mirages in a single pass. Even Meecai’s true form was struck by a beam, punching a hole in the rear section of the fuselage, alarmingly close to the thrusters.

“Damn it, did the electromagnetic pulse disrupt the shield’s energy matrix? They even equipped missiles on their fighters—was this a contingency prepared specifically for me?”

Having narrowly evaded that volley, Meecai paused for a moment to think, correctly guessing that the recent missile was the nemesis of his shield, and his thoughts began to spiral.

“Just one more push! Attack!”

Yang Ying roared, and the five Wraith fighters, controlling sixty remote funnels, launched a continuous assault against Meecai.

The situation on the battlefield was now starkly clear: without his shield, Meecai’s hope of escaping was slim to none.

After three more waves of attack, Meecai’s fighter was riddled with holes. He swung his aircraft around, firing his Lock-on Scatter Cannon at the five Wraith fighters in a final, desperate struggle. Five or six funnels were destroyed in this attack.

Immediately afterward, however, Meecai’s craft was struck by hundreds of focused beams, triggering a violent explosion that disintegrated it into scintillating fragments.

Meecai, like Saint-Sa before him, escaped the cockpit using the Space-Warping Technique. But in this boundless, infinite cosmos, if a fighter could not escape the encirclement, how could flesh and blood fare any better?

“Damn you. Though I may not live to see the grand achievement of the Legion, the Legion will ultimately triumph. You will eventually discover that what you guarded today is merely your tomb.”

After uttering these words, Meecai was vaporized down to the molecular level by several hundred converged energy beams.

The five Wraith fighters converged on the spot where he had been incinerated. Yang Ying’s main soul still resided in one clone. He opened the cockpit canopy, reached out, and retrieved the fragments of Meecai’s light staff, depositing them into the Floating Continent.

Then, he sighed into the void and spoke slowly, “Guarding? Master Ape-Man Meecai, it seems you have misunderstood. Protecting Earth is not the purpose for which I joined this war.” This voice was audible only to himself; the vast expanse of cosmic space remained eternally silent.

Closing the canopy, Yang Ying returned control of the body to the clone and phased back into the primary vessel.

After another dozen minutes, following the violent detonation of the main command ship, Blade and the ten thousand Wraith fighters under his command completed the annihilation, erasing the entire reinforcement fleet of this ancient Legion from space.

Yang Ying possessed Blade once more and unleashed a barrage of Boron Missiles onto the fleet wreckage, blanketing every vessel. This time, the goal was not to disable the ships, but to destroy all recording equipment and ensure the battle remained secret.

Using Boron Missiles was the simplest and most expedient method for cleaning up a battlefield.

After sweeping through all the vessels, Yang Ying recalled the sixty thousand fighters, including the initial one hundred formations, back to the Floating Continent.

Blade returned alone. As for the hundred formations, they could be summoned again once they rendezvoused with the fleet of the Terran Mercenary Group.

Aboard the primary vessel, on the bridge.

Yang Ying, seated in the command chair, opened his eyes.

“Sir, you are the busiest of all. Constantly jumping around—just finished eliminating Master Ape-Man Meecai, and now you have to return to Colonel Blade’s position to handle post-battle cleanup.”

Yang Ying turned his head. Howard stood there with a relaxed smile, continuing, “Sir, nothing ever happens up here on the bridge during a battle. We just watch from the sidelines.”

Yang Ying surveyed the bridge again. He noticed that all the staff officers wore similar expressions—a sense of relief mixed with an underlying itch, as if their inherent warrior spirit was yearning for another engagement.

“Tactical review, this is as far as we can go for now. But the Jupiter Campaign is not over; you will have your chance to shine. Remember, however, that the Earth Government has never offered us any favors. We fight their wars to advance our own development through conflict. Therefore, on the battlefield, cherish your lives,” Yang Ying stated seriously.

“Yes, Sir,” the assembled staff responded in unison.

“This engagement took approximately half an hour. Marshal Alexander’s engagement should be reaching its climax by now. Are there any updated reports on the situation?” Yang Ying inquired.

“Reporting, Sir! Yes!”

A staff officer rose immediately, his expression impassive, his voice clear and crisp as he reported, “It has been nearly an hour since the right flank, composed of the Third and Fifth Fleets, encountered the main force attack by Ong-Sall. Ong-Sall was indeed prepared. Although he only brought five main fleets, he concentrated all the Vipers from seven main fleets and committed them to the fight.”

“The total number of Viper fighters on the field exceeded ten thousand, supplemented by fifteen Master-class fighters from the Ancient Legion, giving the Ape side an absolute numerical advantage. The right flank was equipped with only fifteen thousand first-generation Wraith fighters, and the number of Master-class fighters from the Psionic Monastery was only ten. Thus, they were at a disadvantage in quantity. They managed to hold the Vipers at bay for half an hour before completely routing and falling back to shelter behind the fleet formations, relying on the anti-air fire support from the warships.”

“As for the left flank led by Marshal Alexander, they have still not reached the battle zone for support. This is because they were delayed by the five patrol fleets Ong-Sall summoned. Calculations show that the left flank requires approximately forty-five minutes to break through the patrol fleet obstruction, while Ong-Sall’s forces only need twenty-five minutes to completely crush the right flank. Report concluded, Sir.”

The officer snapped his hand up, rendered a salute, then lowered it, awaiting Yang Ying’s next command.

“I understand. You may be seated,” Yang Ying said, extending his right hand to signal him down.

“Yes, Sir.” The staff officer nodded firmly and sat down.

Yang Ying turned to Howard. “Marshal Alexander’s gamble appears to have failed. Even completely annihilating the Ancient Legion’s five patrol fleets would not compensate for the losses sustained by the Third and Fifth Fleets.”

“Those two fleets are the Earth Military’s most elite first-line main forces. They are not on the same level as the Ancient Legion’s patrol fleets at all.”

Howard stated calmly, “Isn’t this precisely what we were worried about before the battle? Otherwise, we wouldn’t have initiated our current operation.”

“Indeed.” Yang Ying nodded, then looked out toward the cosmic expanse. “Then, it is time for this operation to prove its worth. We need to see if the attack on this reinforcement fleet can force Ong-Sall to create an escape route for the right flank. I order the Observers to simulate the Ancient Legion’s highest-level distress signal and transmit it toward Jupiter for aid. Immediately after transmission, cease all activity to create the illusion of communication interference.”

Yang Ying had previously dispatched Observers to monitor numerous battles between the Earth Military and the Ancient Legion, granting the Observers a profound understanding of the Legion’s various methods of information exchange.

The highest-level distress signal was reserved for moments when the entire army faced annihilation. This reinforcement fleet carried substantial materiel and provisions—a critical resupply for the Ancient Legion after enduring a major engagement.

I hope that in Ong-Sall’s estimation, the reinforcement fleet carries sufficient strategic importance, Yang Ying thought privately.