As a quasi-master facing the Blade, he held only an ordinary red light saber, two tiers below the silver one. After dozens of exchanges, the hilt became unbearably hot and suddenly exploded.

Blade showed no hesitation, seizing the opportunity to press forward with a downward slash, instantly cleaving the quasi-master in two. Even in death, no one could discern if he had been operative number two through six.

Ulysses seemed poised to intervene, but the event unfolded too swiftly; Ulysses could not reach in time. Next, Blade joined the fray between Yang Ying and Ulysses.

Two silver light sabers danced overhead, their coordination seamless. Facing a two-on-one situation, the supremely skilled Ulysses gradually found himself at a disadvantage.

“Master Pang Qian has been searching for you for a long time. Why don't you return with me this time?

Let Master Pang Qian reverse that mind control technique of yours. What do you say?” Yang Ying inquired while swinging his sword.

“Commander Yang Ying, the Cult Leader is almost here. You are struggling to save yourself; what is the use of worrying about me?” Ulysses flickered repeatedly, his feet tracing evasive, bizarre patterns.

In a few quick moves, he broke free from the encirclement of Yang Ying and Blade, retreating to stabilize his position, forming a defensive perimeter, and then pressing forward again. Yang Ying’s swordplay had not yet achieved the mastery required to form such a defensive circle, so facing an opponent with established defenses, he struggled to maintain pressure.

Sizzzzzz Yang Ying thrust his hand out, unleashing a brilliant bolt of lightning as thick as an arm, tearing through the air toward Ulysses. Zzt Ulysses dared not be careless, instantly interposing his purple sword.

The lightning struck the blade, yet it was absorbed into the metal! “Light sabers are reputed to break all techniques with a single blade.

All energy attacks—flames, lightning—are absorbed. Your lightning spell is indeed formidable, but it cannot harm me.” Ulysses swung the purple sword sharply, deflecting the lightning.

The bolt struck a nearby streetlamp, shattering the bulb and traveling through the circuit, affecting an entire row of streetlights along the road. With a series of sharp pangs, a rain of glass fell upon the onlookers.

The street surface began to glitter brightly. Sizzzzzz Blade also launched a lightning strike, which Ulysses blocked with his purple sword.

Yang Ying took the opportunity to fire another bolt. Combined with Blade’s strike, Ulysses let out a low growl as the immense force of the two lightning bolts pushed him backward.

His feet plowed two deep furrows in the pavement, and the soles of his boots were shredded. At this moment, Helas was two minutes away from Hammer.

The evacuation of the city's residents was nearing completion. Hammer’s bomb shelters were specially designed to eject from the city upon command; once Helas appeared, that order would transmit automatically.

As for the city itself, if Helas could indeed be slain here, perhaps both the Earth Forces and the Psionic Temple would gladly absorb the loss. On the street, Yang Ying and Blade had cornered Ulysses with lightning.

Suddenly, Yang Ying withdrew his lightning, pointed a finger, and roared, “Great Vortex!” An ominous, dark-red carpet seemed to unfurl, and chains appeared poised to lock Ulysses within its bounds. However, Ulysses roared, swept his purple sword, and shattered the chains, only to be struck by Blade’s lightning and thrown backward.

“Sacrificing the piece to save the king. He’d rather take the lightning than suffer the unknown effect of the Great Vortex,” Yang Ying stared sharply at Ulysses.

“Good, very good! Keep attacking!” Two minutes later, Ulysses was covered in several scorch marks.

His hair was disheveled, giving him an afro, and his movements were slightly disjointed, betraying signs of defeat. Still, he held out until this point, refusing to be beaten by Yang Ying.

Boom! A massive sound echoed from the sky; Hammer’s barrier was breached, and Helas’s fighter craft burst through.

He quickly spotted the confrontation between Yang Ying and Ulysses. Several precise energy beams shot down, separating Yang Ying, Blade, and Ulysses.

The fighter then hovered above the trio, the cockpit canopy hissed open, and Helas jumped down. He had not resorted to firing wildly from his fighter, as he required intelligence from the Trane Mercenary Group, not just Yang Ying’s life.

Helas’s imposing figure descended slowly, as if supported by an invisible elevator beneath his feet. Even before touching the ground, an oppressive, unseen pressure washed over everything.

Helas’s aura was like a volcano: already searingly hot even when contained, but erupting with violent force capable of incinerating everything in its path. “Cult Leader, your subordinate failed in his mission,” Ulysses bowed, pointing at Yang Ying and Blade.

“These two are at the absolute limit of quasi-mastery. Together, they are even stronger.

Your subordinate could not prevail.” Helas waved a hand, and Ulysses retreated behind him. Helas glanced at Yang Ying and Blade.

“You two have done remarkably well, considering.” He pointed at Yang Ying. “Yang Ying, the power your Trane Mercenary Group wields has begun to upset the balance of the battlefield.

The Legion cannot stand by and watch. You have two choices now.

One: submit to the Legion and join the Ape Worship Cult to serve us. Then, when the Legion conquers the solar system and rules humanity, you can represent the Legion as the King of Men.” “And the second?” Yang Ying asked, gripping his light saber tightly.

Helas’s very presence exuded an intense pressure, observing him was like watching some ancient Tyrannosaur—full of killing intent and danger, his gaze one that scorned all below, viewing all life as sustenance. “The second is that I use the mind control technique on you, and I will obtain everything I require anyway.” As he spoke, Helas’s tone remained utterly calm, neither pleased nor angry, as if merely stating a fact.

Yet, it was precisely this demeanor that displayed Helas’s supreme confidence—his words were his bond. The mind control technique inherently damaged the psyche, and Helas wished to integrate the Trane Mercenary Group’s military hardware as intact as possible, requiring Yang Ying to maintain his full faculties.

However, if he truly gained control of the Trane Mercenary Group through this means, who could guarantee he wouldn't revoke his promise and subject Yang Ying to the mind control anyway once Yang Ying lost his usefulness? “I imagine you’ve said this to many people before,” Yang Ying remarked.

“Even for the throne of a mere puppet, many in human society would sharpen their noses trying to crawl into it.” “Indeed,” Helas did not deny it. “Very well, I have given you ample time.

What is your answer?” “Does a question like that even require my answer?” Yang Ying raised his sword and pointed it at Helas. Simultaneously, Helas turned his gaze toward the city center.

Dark silhouettes flashed past, rapidly descending to Yang Ying’s side and forming a protective circle around him. Helas frowned.

“All quasi-masters, and all at the limit of quasi-mastery, close to the brink of breakthrough. How have so many appeared at once?

Does the Trane Mercenary Group possess a means to mass-produce quasi-masters?” In reality, Helas’s assumption was close to the truth. It wasn't the Trane Mercenary Group mass-producing quasi-masters, but the Zerg—and what they were mass-producing were merely Yang Ying's clones.

“Is this the basis of your defiance?” Helas shot Yang Ying a cold look, then addressed the clones surrounding Yang Ying. “I shall reduce you all to ash and let you comprehend how profoundly mistaken you are.

In the final moments of your lives, feel the gulf between a quasi-master and a peak master.” As the words faded, a red light flared in Helas’s eyes, and a wave of fire instantly swept over the thirteen figures of Yang Ying. The erupting flames surged like a torrent, and the thirteen were the reefs within the current, the waves slamming against them with such violence that they could not hold their footing.

A thought stirred in Yang Ying’s mind, and the thirteen began to transform. The firestorm lasted for about five seconds, sweeping across half the street.

The ground underneath that half of the street melted into magma, glowing an orange-red and occasionally bubbling. The walls of the adjacent buildings showed signs of melting, appearing soft and uneven.

“Huh? What is this…” Helas frowned, looking at the thirteen figures at the heart of the inferno.

Thirteen Blade Emperors stood perfectly unharmed in the center of the flames. The thirteen Yang Yings were now covered head-to-toe in light purple bio-armor.

Its lines were simple and flowing, as if abstracting the savagery of the wild into sculpted art. The surface was as smooth as polished metal, complemented by dense bone spurs at the joints and a pair of bony wings unfurled behind their backs, instantly inspiring dread.

At this moment, the thirteen Yang Yings stood on the magma, which felt to them like stepping on seawater. The scorching temperature rose against their bio-armor, producing plumes of white smoke, but inflicting negligible damage.

The body of a Blade Emperor was comparable to that of a peak master. Helas seemed to take the situation seriously.

He drew a light staff from his cloak and activated it with a hiss. “You appear to be products of biotechnology, or perhaps some alien race.

What exactly has the Trane Mercenary Group been hiding? I am now even more intrigued.” The thirteen Yang Yings had originally been draped in simple outer robes, but after the transformation, what they wore became irrelevant; their clothing was torn apart by the light purple bio-armor, leaving only scraps of fabric.

Yang Ying tore the rags away and simultaneously drew a second light saber from his belt, activating it with a hiss. The other twelve followed suit.

Each one wielded two swords, holding a pair of silver light sabers. This sight caused Helas’s eyes to narrow once more.

A total of twenty-six silver blades—this number was nearly half the total silver swords held by the Psionic Temple. “From which crack in the stone did the Trane Mercenary Group emerge?” Helas leveled his light staff, stepped forward, and instantly appeared before the thirteen figures.

“Whatever your secrets, today I will force them from you!” Before his words fully landed, he brought the staff down in a powerful strike! “Easily said.

Today, I will see you perish here. We shall rely on our own abilities; the victor remains unknown.” The three Yang Yings—six swords—met the blow.

They were forced back several steps before they could neutralize the massive force of Helas’s staff. The remaining ten surrounded Helas, their ten pairs of light sabers whirling with lightning speed, attacking him from every angle and direction!

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