"Each relying on their own skills for a laugh!" Horace scoffed at Yang Ying's words, spitting out a curse. Two—mere mortals who haven't even reached the Master realm—think they can challenge me? What do you take a Master for?

In the sea of fire covering the ground, Yang Ying experienced the strength of the peak Master Horace firsthand for the first time; even a casual swing of his staff carried a power that left him far behind.

Truly worthy of the title, the Ape-Bane Pope who had dominated the solar system for half a century; his psychic strength was a full twenty times that of his physical body—truly deserving of his reputation!

Yang Ying’s thirteen minds were interconnected, sharing all sight and sound. Seeing three bodies struck down, the others immediately reacted, splitting off five or six figures that moved continuously, surrounding Horace and hacking at him.

"Annoying flies, scatter!" Horace swept his staff, and with a tremendous boom, the glass of buildings on both sides of the street shattered almost completely. The five or six figures were all caught by the light technique, and although they all managed to block with their light sabers, they felt an irresistible, colossal force transmitted through the blades, immediately losing purchase on the ground and flying backward.

Four more figures flashed instantly, rushing toward Horace from the front and back, eight light sabers pointing at every vital spot on his body.

"Too slow! All of you, get blown away!"

Horace's eyes flickered, and a visible shockwave rapidly expanded outward, pushing in all directions—this propulsive force was like a speeding locomotive. The four figures were hit by the shockwave and immediately rebounded forcefully; had their bodies not been substantially tougher than an ordinary quasi-Master, they would likely have suffered broken bones.

After unleashing the shockwave, Horace instantly vanished from his spot, flashing behind a lone clone and thrusting with his staff!

The movement was incredibly fast, but that body’s powerful instincts reacted immediately: both swords braced backward while the body leaned forward. Stamping a foot heavily, it charged forward with all its might.

However, Horace, through his power of precognition, had already anticipated this response. His light technique followed like a shadow, fixed firmly on the figure’s back.

The closest clone flashed over immediately, slicing toward Horace with its right-hand light saber while pushing its left-hand light saber toward the light technique, intending to deflect the blade.

Unfortunately, this was also within Horace’s precognition. He kept the light technique stabbing forward with one hand while shoving the rescuing clone with the other. That clone felt an irresistible, immense force come towards it, sent flying backward as if riding a cloud.

And the staff, without hesitation, pierced through the crossed defense of the two light sabers as if the defensive line made of blades was mere paper. The clone holding the swords felt a searing pain erupt from its back as a golden light blade stabbed out through its chest.

Horace assassinated one target and flashed again, sweeping past another from behind: "Two!" That clone sensed the danger and made every effort to evade the staff, yet still could not escape, being sliced into two pieces by a single thrust.

Yang Ying intimately experienced the sensations of those two clones. Damn it, Horace's movements are far faster than the Blade Emperor's. Although the physical resilience is comparable, the intensity of the psychic power is worlds apart.

Relying on the Blade Emperor’s body, he could contend with ordinary Master-level experts, using the physical advantage to compensate for the psychic disadvantage. But facing peak Master Horace, where physical strength was balanced, the absolute disadvantage in psychic power became undeniable.

Therefore, he absolutely could not allow Horace to create situations of localized one-on-one duels; the strength of all his bodies must be consolidated.

The remaining eleven figures showed no intent to retreat, immediately forming an offensive formation composed of three groups: front, middle, and rear. The first group of three lined up and attacked Horace first, followed by the second group of four, while the third group of four raised their hands, a storm of electrical sparks flashing between them, launching dazzling lightning strikes to cover the first two groups.

The first group of three rushed before Horace, only to see him execute several movements in an instant: first stepping forward, one hand holding the light technique to block the lightning, the other hand shoving forward. Two of the three figures felt a powerful psychic force blast toward them, their bodies irresistibly retreating—they felt like solitary boats in a storm, struck by a massive incoming wave that sent them flying backward.

That wasn't all; after being repelled by Horace’s psychic power, the two slammed heavily into the four members of the second wave behind them, each crashing into exactly two others.

Fortunately, the second wave of four was prepared. They ducked to avoid the bodies flying toward them and continued their advance.

At this moment, the third member of the first group, seeing the two beside him knocked away, realized he was suddenly exposed and in a very dangerous position. His figure flashed, and instead of continuing forward, he retreated backward.

"Trying to leave? Not so easy!" Horace had pushed the first two away precisely to deal with the third; how could he allow him to escape?

He directed the hand he had used to push the others to suddenly grab toward the third figure. That clone instantly felt its body seize up, feeling a powerful suction emanating from Horace’s hand, pulling it forward. The clone exerted all its effort but still could not resist!

Whether pushing or pulling, these were mere applications of psychic power, yet when wielded by Horace, Yang Ying felt no ability to resist at all—a peak Master’s psychic power was truly this formidable!

"Three!"

Horace roared, his light fist brushing aside the lightning, stabbing straight toward the third figure’s brow!

"They say 'one over, two over, but not three times.' How could I let you succeed!"

In a surge of fury, the third figure pushed his instincts to the limit. He raised his dual swords to meet the staff. Although he couldn't stop the staff, he used the force of the impact to maneuver his body downward to evade.

Yang Ying had once stolen core data from the Taiji Sect. Though much of it was merely supplementary knowledge, a set of Taiji Sword techniques preserved for a thousand years, containing the exquisite methods of borrowing force to redirect it, held significant value for reference.

Facing Horace, the third figure subconsciously employed this method under instinct. His body sank down, his forehead narrowly avoiding the tip of the staff. Then, using the leverage from his swords, he spun them and slashed toward Horace’s waist!

Horace snorted coldly, and another outward-pushing psychic shockwave erupted, repelling the third figure beside him, along with the four figures who were closely following a few paces behind.

Those repelled tumbled several times on the ground before the force dissipated entirely. The sea of fire below had only just begun to recede, with some patches still glowing red. As the figures scrambled up, several still bore traces of magma, appearing quite ragged. Fortunately, their internal and external injuries were rapidly healing; the Blade Emperor’s self-healing ability was exceptionally reliable.

Yang Ying, positioned within the four members of the third group, silently issued a command. A flash of golden light appeared, and two clones were summoned, simultaneously completing their transformation and soul infusion. He then reached out and sucked in the silver swords from the two fallen bodies, instantly restoring his fighting strength back to thirteen.

After the fallen figures rose, the thirteen quickly reassembled and reformed their formation. Horace, however, remained standing where he was, not taking the opportunity to attack while the thirteen were reforming. His eyes were wide open, his expression extremely grave, focused intensely on the two new clones. Deep within his gaze, there seemed to be a flicker of confusion.

He pointed at Yang Ying’s thirteen figures and said coldly, "What is the meaning of this? Where did the two people who just appeared come from?"

The "flash of golden light" phenomenon that occurred when Yang Ying summoned was only visible to him, so from Horace’s perspective, the two newcomers appeared out of thin air.

Yang Ying certainly wouldn't answer Horace’s question. The appearance of the newcomers was different from the bodies that had died, which served as a successful diversion. Yang Ying was confident that even with Horace’s intellect, discerning the truth behind the thirteen figures would not be an easy task.

"Horace, you said three just now, but you broke your word," Yang Ying declared, pointing his sword at Horace.

"Hmph, wasting breath on clever talk. Next time, you won't be so lucky!" Before Horace finished speaking, he vanished from his spot and reappeared before them, striking with his staff.

Yang Ying’s thirteen figures swept forward together with their swords. This time, there was no grouping; the thirteen maintained very close proximity. Whether attacking or defending, they never separated by a large distance, ensuring that each individual could receive support from four to five others.

After a round of exchanges, Yang Ying understood the mistake he had made earlier. Grouping and division of labor, while seemingly orderly and faultless, had not maximized his advantage.

Grouping was a tactic used by ordinary people whose minds could not communicate freely. Clear division of labor streamlined communication and avoided confusion during cooperation because opportunities for dialogue in combat were scarce, often relying only on simple gestures or even glances to convey minimal information. Therefore, simpler, more clearly defined formations were easier to control, whereas complex formations, lacking centralized control, easily led to chaos and unforeseen events.

But he was different. Every one of his bodies knew when and where it should be, requiring no glances or subtle movements for communication. No matter how complex or chaotic the formation, it would only cause trouble for the opponent.

When Yang Ying's thirteen acted as one, if Horace struck once, at least three figures intercepted, while simultaneously, three others launched attacks from different angles, and those slightly farther away provided assistance with various techniques.

The only persistent problem was Horace’s psychic shockwave. Once unleashed, it could repel the thirteen figures, scattering them across the area. At that point, one or two individuals were highly susceptible to being picked off individually. Horace's movements were too fast, and his techniques overwhelmingly powerful; as long as a localized one-on-one situation arose, Horace could generally eliminate a body in two or three moves.

However, Yang Ying had anticipated that this battle would be the toughest since his crossing over, and he had already prepared hundreds of clones for attrition. He was not afraid of a war of attrition.

What Yang Ying truly feared was the light in his mind ceasing to appear!