The star sector where the relief fleet had been annihilated was practically drowned in the debris of warships, armor plating, equipment, and corpses; this was the dominant theme of the scene.

At this moment, Weng Sha Lie, leading the Vipers fighter squadron, finally arrived.

Weng Sha Lie saw the horrific carnage on the optical screen. His face was ashen, his pale gold eyes piercing as he stared at the wreckage for a long time without speaking.

Furious roars from the Viper fighter pilots echoed through the communication channel, thousands of voices converging into a single, sky-rending torrent.

“Scatter and look around. See if there are any survivors,” Weng Sha Lie gritted out the order through clenched teeth.

He simultaneously thought that the enemy he had vaguely sensed on the way was likely the culprit behind the devastation before him.

Bang!

He slammed a fist onto the fighter's control panel. “What an utter failure! To suffer a surprise attack so close to Jupiter, and we can’t even find the enemy!”

A moment later, he received a report from one of the Vipers: “Sir, we’ve found the wreckage of a fighter, it might be Lord Bensa’s craft.”

Weng Sha Lie immediately rushed over. Before him, the rear section of a fighter drifted silently in the void. The front half was completely gone, and the remaining aft section was heavily mutilated.

Weng Sha Lie recognized it instantly. This was Bensa’s fighter.

“Bensa, and Mika… they are likely beyond saving,” Weng Sha Lie admitted, as he had long since felt the absence of these two in the spiritual realm. This was merely confirmation.

After more than an hour, the Vipers began sending back reconnaissance reports. The most common phrase was: “Sir, there are no signs of survivors.”

The others contained essentially the same grim news.

Weng Sha Lie remained expressionless. He had heard enough similar news during this time. He turned his gaze toward Jupiter and squeezed out a low sound that seemed to rumble from a bottomless abyss: “Humans, I will make you pay the price.”

The news of the Trant Mercenary Corps’ miraculous victory spread like wildfire. By the time the entire fleet returned to the temporary base on Callisto, everyone knew of it.

News of victory always brought joy, and Yang Ying’s flagship received congratulations from various squadrons, along with numerous requests for details of the battle.

Yang Ying instructed his staff to summarily dismiss all such inquiries, using the excuse of “preventing the Ancient Legion from learning the details and devising countermeasures.”

Any high-ranking military officer who tried to act superior and force information out of them was to be ignored. Simultaneously, they were to be placed on the surveillance list of the Ghost Agents Unit, granting the agents preemptive authorization to act should these officers attempt any retaliatory measures.

It wasn't that Yang Ying was overly anxious. High-ranking officers, accustomed to commanding subordinates for extended periods, possessed a self-esteem befitting their rank, and they might not possess the wisdom of Master Alexander or Master Hamlin. The Trant Mercenary Corps’ refusal could easily wound their pride, leading them to take actions detrimental to the Corps.

There would always be foolish people in the world; to assume all high-ranking military officers possessed wisdom and foresight was to overestimate them significantly.

The high-ranking officers with Council backgrounds were somewhat easier to handle; the failure of Petriel and the annihilation of the Fogeena family served as a great deterrent to them. However, those without Council backing and less familiarity with the Petriel incident—if they developed animosity toward the Trant Mercenary Corps, the Council wouldn't bother advising them to stand down.

Yang Ying never believed that wiping out one Fogeena family meant he could rest easy. In reality, resting easy was a dangerous state that led to complacency and the loss of drive.

Therefore, Yang Ying never lowered his guard or overlooked any factor that could potentially cause trouble.

But regardless of what some resentful individuals might think, the Trant Mercenary Corps’ miraculous victory was an undeniable fact. According to the war mission contract signed between the Corps and the military, once this victory was confirmed, the total reward would exceed one trillion—the largest bounty ever awarded to a mercenary corps by the military.

Various celebrations spontaneously erupted at the Callisto temporary base. Yang Ying also received an invitation from Marshal Alexander to attend a victory banquet. Yang Ying considered it for a moment and decided there was no harm in it; it could serve as recreation between battles, a welcome change of pace, so he accepted.

The temporary base was a modification of the original Callisto Fortress One, built entirely underground. Every space within the fortress had been renovated by the Earth Military Engineering Corps to better suit the Earth Forces' style.

The victory banquet was held in a grand hall on the sixth sub-level of the fortress.

When heading over, Yang Ying brought Blade along as a bodyguard; after all, in certain specific situations, it might not be convenient for him to act directly.

As they approached the entrance to the banquet hall, they saw it had been lavishly decorated. Various magical lighting fixtures adorned the hall, creating a dreamlike splendor. The lighting effects of the 26th century somewhat surpassed those of the 21st century in terms of visual vibrancy, and the various potentials of light had been explored to an astonishing degree; the entire environment of the hall might even be a result of holographic lighting effects.

For instance, the crystal chandelier in the center of the ceiling was a full twenty-two tiers high, each tier hanging with rhomboid crystal pendants ranging from a few pieces to over a hundred. Even when the lights were dimmed, it shone brilliantly. When the lights were on, the soft, pale yellow radiance illuminated the pendants, making them shimmer and sparkle, offering a profound visual pleasure that made one linger, as if standing within a crystal palace.

Yang Ying was certain such an item wouldn’t be transported here as standard military supplies. Clearly, this chandelier was also part of the holographic lighting display.

The hall walls were pristine off-white, rising high around the perimeter and lower in the center, separated by several rows of colonnades.

In the center were four long tables laden with various foods, all freshly prepared specialties from different regions.

Around the tables stood dignified older figures, their wine glasses in hand, conversing politely. Most of them had hair that was more white than black. They wore immaculate dress uniforms, pinned with every medal they could possibly wear, and their shoulder insignia indicated a rank of at least Major General.

In the less conspicuous corners of the hall, the aides-de-camp to these generals were gathered, also chatting happily.

As Yang Ying entered the hall, the atmosphere inside instantly froze, like a gear jamming in the mechanism of a machine, causing the entire operation to halt.

Marshal Alexander, standing in the center of the hall, immediately spotted Yang Ying and beckoned him over. “Commander Yang Ying, you’ve arrived.” As he spoke to Yang Ying, the atmosphere in the hall resumed its normal state.

“Your Excellency, I’m not late, am I?” Yang Ying stepped forward to meet him.

“Certainly not late, Commander Yang Ying. What do you think of this hall’s decor?” Alexander started with a casual topic.

“So-so,” Yang Ying replied, gesturing towards the chandelier above. “But with that chandelier blazing, a victory banquet feels more like a wedding reception. It kills the wartime atmosphere.”

“Oh, Commander Yang Ying feels the same way? I actually had that thought too. While a victory banquet isn’t the battlefield, we are still in a war zone; such luxurious pomp might be a bit excessive.”

Saying this, Alexander called over his beautiful adjutant. “Tell the lighting technician to change the scene. It looks too much like we’re hosting a wedding.”

“Yes, Marshal,” the adjutant replied with a crisp salute and quickly walked toward the entrance.

A moment later, the entire scene abruptly shifted. The crystal chandelier vanished without a trace, replaced by a more conventional white light that reflected pleasantly off the off-white walls.

“Commander Yang Ying, you are the guest of honor today. Why don’t you go up and say a few words?” Alexander chuckled, pointing to a low platform in the corner of the hall—it was only about waist-high.

“A few words would be fine,” Yang Ying agreed readily. There was no need to be coy; this banquet was to celebrate the Trant Mercenary Corps’ success.

As Yang Ying walked onto the platform, the hall fell silent. The assembled generals fixed their gazes upon him. Many of them were meeting the commander of the Trant Mercenary Corps, an organization that had made the Council tremble, face-to-face for the first time. They had not expected such a young commander.

Yang Ying had held the position of Trant Mercenary Corps Commander for a considerable time and was well versed in bureaucratic pleasantries. Upon reaching the stage, he first tactfully praised the performance of the Earth Forces, suggesting that without the efforts of the Earth Forces, the Trant Mercenary Corps’ victory would have been impossible. He deftly skirted over any tactical failures, focusing instead on the courage of the soldiers in combat.

As for how the relief fleet was annihilated, he kept the details as vague as possible. His entire speech, lasting over ten minutes, contained no repetitive phrases. Based on the content, the performance of the entire allied fleet, from top to bottom, was described as heroic and praiseworthy, worthy of medals for every single member. Yet, upon careful analysis, the speech conveyed no substantive information whatsoever.

“Therefore, this is a celebration for everyone. And this is only the beginning. After the Jupiter Campaign concludes and we drive out the Ancient Legion, even grander and wider celebrations will follow, where the entire population of the Inner Solar System will rejoice with us.”

After finishing, Yang Ying descended from the platform amidst applause.

Those white-haired generals and lieutenant generals listening below inwardly marveled at how skillfully Yang Ying, at his young age, had mastered the art of oratory, almost rivaling their own expertise. However, they quickly recalled his status as an Awakened, and their surprise subsided. After all, the learning capacity of an Awakened was universally acknowledged to far surpass that of ordinary individuals.