Jiang Moubu had devised a trap for Yang Li, but in Yang Ying’s view, as long as nothing unexpected occurred, a single plan should suffice; everything else was merely backup.

The King and Queen were not psychic energy users; their bodies were far too fragile, easily shattered like porcelain. The residual shockwaves from the battle outside were terrifying to them; even a slight touch meant instant fracture and broken bones.

The royal couple were nothing but a liability. Even the most elite masters would struggle to extract them safely—this was one of the very reasons Vati felt so secure.

The supposed plan was exceedingly simple. Yang Ying swung his sword, severing the restraints binding the King and Queen. Before they could even utter their thanks, he cast an illusion to put them to sleep, then pulled them into the Floating Continent, seeking out a hospital. He entrusted them to the care of two medical soldiers, commanding them to regulate the Majesties' health but strictly forbid them from waking up. Then, he returned to the real world.

Once the two Majesties were on the Floating Continent, the liability vanished. In truth, the mission was essentially complete, for as long as the main soul was transferred, they could be summoned elsewhere at any moment.

As soon as he reappeared in the real world, Yang Ying felt Vati charging toward him like a madman, having clearly noticed his absence from the main fray.

"Thinking of it now? Too late, Old Man."

Yang Ying shifted his stance and bolted from the room, encountering Vati on the spiral staircase leading downstairs. Relying on his superior elevation, Yang Ying brought both his light swords down in a single slash!

Vati sensed the danger, roared, raised his sword to parry, and simultaneously unleashed a dense aura of chilling energy. Instantly, the ambient air temperature plummeted, nearing absolute zero!

Dark frost covered everything above, below, left, and right, absorbing nearly all light. The surroundings became pitch black, visibility reduced to zero. This biting cold even seeped into the spiritual plane. Had anyone slightly weaker been struck by this chill, not only would their physical bodies freeze, but their spirits would be flooded with profound solitude and terror. Ordinary people, merely glancing from afar, would feel their souls tremble, their limbs turn cold, and be rendered immobile.

Inevitably, a deafening crash erupted in the darkness, and dazzling electric light illuminated the black void. The ice layer exploded with sharp cracks, and the ground shuddered violently. A mighty, rolling thunderclap surged outwards. Vati held his sword tightly against his chest as dozens of lightning snakes shot from Yang Ying’s hands, striking his blade and sending him hurtling backward. Vati’s hands went numb; he nearly dropped his sword.

The intense shockwave even shattered the outer walls of the tower, sending fragments of construction material blasting out like cannonballs. These fragments struck the exterior shielding, rebounded, and rained down toward the ground.

Vati was stunned that Yang Ying dared unleash such a powerful spell in this location. He shouted, "Are you insane? The King and Queen are in the room at the top of this tower! The power of your spell will reach them!"

Yang Ying offered no reply. He flashed forward, instantly catching up to Vati’s retreating figure, his left and right hands alternating sword strikes as they clashed. The sound of clashing light swords was incessant.

The tower, battered by the successive waves of force from their combat, quickly became riddled with holes. Large sections disintegrated and fell away piece by piece. The entire structure began to lean to one side, looking ready to collapse.

In a region one light-year away from the capital planet, the Second Prince, Halel, and the fifty thousand ships accompanying him waited silently for Yang Ying’s signal.

Halel paced back and forth in the bridge, occasionally checking the time, his face etched with anxiety. He felt deeply uneasy that Yang Ying had not sent any news yet.

"What on earth is happening? Master Yang Ying should have entered the capital by now. Why is there no word?" Halel stopped pacing, asked an aide if there was any new intelligence, and upon receiving a negative reply, resumed his restless movement.

Although Yang Ying had not objected to the royal family dispatching this fleet to draw attention away from him, he had no intention of using them. At least, they were not factored into the plan.

It was a gesture of goodwill. After all, the perimeter outside the capital planet was clearly ambushed. It was entirely possible that when these fifty thousand warships arrived, they would find the Flin Republic had prepared several times that number of fleets, waiting for them to walk into the trap. Yang Ying believed his main strategy could succeed without them, so he withheld the signal, wishing to preserve the Kingdom's forces.

Back at the palace, the tower finally buckled under the intensity of the battle and collapsed. The spire struck the shielding, shattering into tens of thousands of fragments that rained down like a deluge. They smashed into parts of the castle, punching numerous holes in the walls, floors, and ceilings.

Amidst the overwhelming dust and smoke, Yang Ying shot out of the ruined tower. His twelve clones, sharing his consciousness, knew it was time to retreat. Simultaneously, each unleashed a major technique, repelling their respective opponents, and regrouped with the main body. The thirteen figures of Yang Ying then flashed towards the outside of the palace and swiftly vanished without a trace. The masters on the Republic side halted their pursuit.

The great battle left nearly forty corpses of Third-Level masters near the castle gate; almost every survivor was wounded.

Yang Ying’s clones had not emerged unscathed either. Since they could replace bodies at any time, the clones were sometimes willing to trade injuries recklessly—fighting without regard for their own lives. As the fight progressed, many of the high-level experts hired at great expense by the Flin Republic became increasingly reluctant to exert themselves, especially the Third-Level combatants. They were terrified by being killed and refused to approach the clones, opting instead to bombard them from a distance with spells.

The clones remained invisible; once the distance grew too wide, it became hard to pinpoint their locations, resulting in low hit rates for the spells cast by the Third-Level fighters. Even so, they made no attempt to close in. While everyone on the battlefield was risking their lives, in their minds, risking death and actively seeking death were two distinctly different concepts. Those without self-awareness were already dead.

Seeing the enemy retreat, the masters on the Republic side breathed a collective sigh of relief. The pressure exerted by the twelve clones was immense. Not only was their psychic energy profound, but they were also invisible; twelve fighters were managing to hold back dozens of opponents!

The assembled masters exchanged glances, communicating telepathically.

"Should we pursue them?"

"Heh, do you think we could win if we did?"

"Probably not. Even if we could, most of us would be dead by the end."

"Then that settles it. The price the Flin Republic is paying isn't enough for me to sell my life that cheaply."

"Don't flatter yourself. Even if we all died, we probably couldn't take them down."

"Hmph, I took one sword blow... and nearly finished it. Sticking around this long without retreating is already giving the Flin Republic plenty of face."

"That Vati fellow actually claimed this would be a massacre where our side held the absolute advantage. That must have been the conjecture of his pitiful brain. The Kingdom Army actually sent so many masters."

"A massacre? We’re lucky we weren't the ones annihilated! With this many wounded and this many dead, we’ll see how that brat Vati explains this!"

"Speaking of which, where is Vati?"

"He chased them into the castle just now. It seems the enemy managed to sneak one person inside during the chaos. To confirm those two prisoners hadn't been abducted, he went to the tower too."

"The tower has already collapsed. Why hasn't he come out yet?"

"Could it be... perhaps..."

Everyone turned their gaze towards the fallen tower, a hint of dread surfacing in their eyes.

"Go, hurry and look."

They swiftly arrived at the base of the ruined tower, finding only a high pile of rubble remaining in its place.

A peak Third-Level expert, dressed in the uniform of a Flin Republic officer, urgently commanded, "Quickly, clear the debris! Move the stones, find Vati and the two prisoners! Alive if possible, but if not, produce the body!"

Upon this order, these masters immediately split into two groups. Half, composed of experts dispatched by the Flin Republic military—four peak Third-Level experts and fifteen Third-Level masters—harnessed their powerful psychic energy, moving the massive stones and digging downwards. The other half, consisting of the mercenaries, assassins, and bounty hunters they had bought, simply stood by, watching the show.

In their conversations, a hint of schadenfreude could be detected.

The composition of these hired experts from the Flin Republic was complex: former soldiers, assassins, bounty hunters, and more. Some were lone wolves, others operated in pairs, and some belonged to large mercenary corps, commanding numerous soldiers under them. However, about half of this group had died in the preceding battle.

Among the survivors, some were consumed by rage at seeing acquaintances killed and needed someone to blame. Although the thirteen attackers were responsible for killing their comrades, their techniques revealed they all hailed from the same sect, and their psychic energy was overwhelmingly profound—all were at the absolute limit of the Third Level.

Which of these mercenaries, assassins, or bounty hunters could possibly deal with thirteen absolute Third-Level masters?

Some among them even pondered: who could possibly be the teacher capable of training thirteen absolute Third-Level disciples? Perhaps even a legendary Fourth-Level existence couldn't assemble such a retinue of Thirteen Limits.

The enemy was too powerful; there was no hope of revenge, and even harboring hatred was pointless, only serving to sour their own mood. Thus, they vented their anger only on Vati, the mission planner.

Stone after stone was moved, and the mound of rubble grew lower.

"Look, it's Vati!"

The crowd looked down and saw half an arm emerging from beneath the ruins. The back of the hand was covered in green scales. Above that was a tattered sleeve—a figure instantly recognizable to everyone present; it was Vati's sleeve.

Several streams of psychic energy lifted the stones pinning the hand, and what they saw startled everyone.

It was a headless, legless corpse, decapitated and then sliced in half at the waist, leaving only the upper torso clad in Vati's distinctive attire.

"Vati is dead!" The realization echoed among the group, sinking their morale further. Although so many Third-Level fighters had died outside, not a single peak Third-Level master had fallen among the Republic's ranks. The other nine peak Third-Levels remained alive, albeit wounded to varying degrees, but Vati was gone.

That’s the chapter for today; I will make up for it tomorrow.