Qie Ying glanced at Ulysses, noting nothing different in his bearing or posture; he remained exactly as before—the number one Emissary of the Ape Cult, his strength still only at the level of a near-Master. To Qie Ying, now a peak Master, Ulysses posed no threat, so he paid him no mind. Horas, too, was accustomed to Ulysses’s presence. Furthermore, with Yang Ying, a peak-level adversary, commanding all his attention, Horas overlooked a detailed inspection of Ulysses.

Ulysses took in the state of the battlefield, and a memory suddenly surfaced in his mind. It was a recollection from shortly after his birth, a time when his parents were fleeing pursuit from the human world. If he had not become a Master, possessing the ability of memory retracement, he would never have been able to recall memories from such an early age.

The sights, sounds, smells, touch, and every sensation from that memory replayed perfectly in his mind, as vivid as if he were experiencing it anew.

In a small room of an inn, his mother, Catherine St. Clair, lay upon a sickbed. She possessed a noble countenance, her facial structure classically elegant, though slightly pale. Her flowing, golden curls were tied back, and her eyes were tightly shut.

Ulysses himself, not yet half a meter tall, was wrapped in pure white cloth, lying beside his mother.

The entire room seemed enveloped in a hazy film, appearing somewhat indistinct. Faint sounds of explosions drifted from a distance, but they were too subdued to be clearly heard.

Catherine stirred, turning over and waking, though her eyes remained closed. She reached out, fumbled for him, and lifted him up.

“Ulysses, I just had a dream, one about you,” Catherine murmured, rocking him gently in her embrace.

Ulysses could see her tightly closed eyes clearly. Despite them being shut, he felt a distinct sense of being observed.

“It was a lake, and the stars in the sky were all mirrored in it. Around the lake was a city, but it was encircled by flames. You, grown tall, stood by the water’s edge. By then, you had become a Master and were drawn into the battle between two peak Masters.”

Catherine smiled, and Ulysses could tell it was a genuine, broad smile. She suddenly lifted her head, speaking with deep emotion, “It’s hard to believe, isn't it? Though my eyes cannot see, in my dreams, I can traverse decades and gaze upon the same starry sky as you.”

At that moment, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed from outside the door. Ulysses felt the room, previously wrapped in glass, suddenly snap into sharper focus.

“Hmm, the illusion set by your father has been disturbed. Someone is coming,” Catherine said, setting him down and struggling to push herself up, but her grip suddenly slipped, and she collapsed back onto the sheets.

“I can’t. My head is spinning,” Catherine said, clutching her temple.

Bang!

The door was thrown open with a crash. A crudely dressed old woman burst in, her face contorted with viciousness, wrinkles squeezed deep, her eyes seeming ready to spew fire.

The old woman raised a kitchen cleaver she held, screaming curses at Catherine, accusing her of attracting the army and disturbing the town’s peace. She railed that Catherine had consorted with ape-folk and then given birth to a child—calling her less than human.

The crone’s language was savagely sharp, as if she possessed a venomous tongue; every word was chosen for maximum offense, treating the mother and child as less than living beings. As she cursed, she charged forward, cleaver raised.

“Get out!” Catherine pointed a finger at the old woman, releasing a faint wisp of holy light, but the glow was pitifully weak, hardly brighter than a firefly, utterly ineffective.

The old woman reached the bedside in a few strides and, without hesitation, brought the cleaver down, her face a mask of savage glee, as if her rage could only be sated by the death of mother and child.

Catherine snatched Ulysses and shielded him beneath her body. Ulysses’s vision dimmed; all he could see was Catherine’s body rising and falling as she shielded him, blood spraying outward.

The old woman continued her curses for them to die, hacking away at Catherine with blow after blow.

Pain creased Catherine’s face. Trembling, she spoke, “Ulysses, listen to me. If you ever encounter the scene from that dream, go to the lake…”

“Enough, Horas,” Yang Ying said, pointing his left sword at Horas. “Our spar has been insightful, but it is time for an end. You have roamed the solar system for half a century; today, you rest here forever.”

A flash of golden light followed as the nuclear bomb was summoned from the floating continent to Yang Ying’s side.

“A nuclear bomb!”

With the foresight of a peak Master, Horas reacted even faster than time itself. Before the bomb even materialized, he felt a premonition. He thrust a single finger toward Yang Ying; the particle cannon ring on his middle finger flashed a brilliant red, and a column of fiery red light, over three meters wide, shot directly toward Yang Ying.

Horas was unsure of the precise detonation mechanism, but he estimated an eighty percent chance that it was linked to Yang Ying. To prevent Yang Ying from triggering the bomb, the best course was to destroy Yan...

The particle cannon beam struck toward him at the exact moment Yang Ying summoned the nuclear device. Yang Ying sensed the particle cannon simultaneously. As he called forth the bomb, he instantly shifted his footing, sidestepping the attack, preparing to issue the detonation command.

However, in that fleeting instant—as swift as lightning—a flurry of events unfolded.

Horas foresaw Yang Ying’s evasion and guided the particle cannon beam, making it abruptly curve, relentlessly pursuing Yang Ying’s path of retreat.

Ulysses had been observing the confrontation between Horas and Yang Ying when his mother Catherine’s final words flashed through his mind: “Go to the lake... When you see a nuclear bomb appear from nowhere, draw your lightsaber and strike the enemy you have chosen!”

And when the nuclear bomb truly appeared, Ulysses’s pupils constricted sharply; he knew the opportunity was slipping away. He instantly lunged with the purple lightsaber in his hand, thrusting toward Horas’s back!

In this strike, Ulysses unleashed power far exceeding that of a near-Master. The sword was both swift and vicious, channeling decades of suppressed rage into this single thrust. It was an outburst surpassing his normal level. Thanks to an extra twenty years of accumulated strength, he was already considerably stronger than an ordinary newly ascended Master, perhaps even more powerful than some veteran Masters who had achieved their rank twenty years prior. A streak of purple light, fast as lightning, reached Horas’s back in an instant.

Because the nuclear bomb was capable of annihilating a peak Master in a single moment, Horas had poured all his concentration into controlling the particle cannon, determined to land a killing blow on Yang Ying and deny him the chance to activate the device. As for the surrounding environment—Ulysses’s sudden action was negligible under the shadow of the nuclear threat. Horas paid it no attention; his entire focus was consumed by the bomb and Yang Ying.

When he felt a searing pain in his back, his mind instantly reacted, comprehending Ulysses’s act of betrayal. He tried to shift his posture to avoid the vital point, but it was too late. A purple light blade pierced from back to front, emerging through his chest, striking directly through his heart!

Yang Ying’s thoughts had already connected to the fuse; he was half a breath away from activating it and detonating the bomb when he saw Ulysses pierce Horas from behind. His momentum halted.

Though he didn't understand Ulysses’s sudden action, nor how he had instantly gained Master-level power, recalling the painstaking efforts Master Pang Qian had made to awaken Ulysses, and Agon’s willingness to sacrifice himself to save Ulysses in Paradise City, Yang Ying’s intent to detonate the bomb faded.

Lacking Horas’s guidance, the particle cannon beam grazed past Yang Ying, carving a deep ravine into the ground before plunging into the lake. With a tremendous boom, it caused a massive explosion on the water’s surface. The lake churned violently, sending waves several meters high surging toward the shore, splashing water onto the three figures on the battlefield.

Having his heart skewered by Ulysses, Horas did not die instantly. He thrust a hand backward, erupting in a sudden ball of fierce flame that blasted Ulysses backward, while roaring in fury, “You bastard, you betrayed me!”

Yang Ying knew that such a grievous wound meant Horas was on the verge of death, but he had no intention of standing by. With a suodi step, he rushed before Horas, crossing his twin swords to hack downward.

“Get away from me!” Horas raised his Light Staff, blocking the twin blades. Yang Ying suddenly kicked out, landing squarely on the staff’s grip, knocking it aside, and thrust his right sword toward Horas.

Horas retreated a step, dodging the blow, then pivoted and swept his staff around. Yang Ying noted that Horas’s movements had become sluggish. He blocked with his left sword, then immediately swung his right sword back in a rising cut. Crack! It struck the staff’s handle, shattering the Light Staff instantly!

The Light Staff split into two light swords, and clearly, one half had been ruined by Yang Ying’s strike; the golden blade vanished, leaving only the other half functional.

Yang Ying thought grimly, Good opportunity. Today, you will finally perish here! He swung his left sword again. Horas blocked with the half-staff. Yang Ying followed with his right sword, severing the arm holding the staff. Then, his left sword swept horizontally at waist height—a single cut bisected Horas. His right sword followed with another slice, cleaving off Horas’s head!

The severed head rolled to Yang Ying’s feet and stopped. Yang Ying sighed, letting his arms drop to his sides. He stood motionless, staring down at Horas’s corpse for a long time before exhaling softly. “The leader of the Ape Cult, a peak Master who dominated the solar system for half a century—Horas—is finally dead.”

He raised his head and scanned the surroundings. Most of the city was already engulfed in a sea of fire. The towering flames caused the ambient temperature to soar, already exceeding seventy degrees Celsius and still climbing.

Suddenly, a noise broke the silence. From amidst a field of rubble, Ulysses pushed aside several chunks of broken stone and stood up.