"Sir, we've received word from the Resistance network," an aide reported. "Armed uprisings in several cities have been suppressed. Local garrisons have mobilized, security is airtight, and the armed workers can't break through. They're hoping we can send forces to assist."

"Tell them we're tied up," Yang Ying replied, monitoring the battle below while standing on the bridge of the Behemoth. "Our main forces are currently encircling the new recruit depot on Dolon Star. Tell them to hold out for as long as they can."

The Behemoth was currently positioned over the southern hemisphere of Dolon Star, directly above the rebel recruit depot. The surrounding airspace was already swarming with thirty thousand Spectre fighters, currently launching a full-scale assault on the facility.

The recruit depot occupied an entire large island, covering an area of roughly 300,000 square kilometers—comparable in size to the British Isles on Earth. The island was mountainous, with barracks stretching end-to-end across the peaks, an uninterrupted sprawl across the landscape. Despite being only a recruit depot, its defensive system was incredibly robust, featuring a forest of gun barrels constantly aimed skyward, forming a daunting, all-encompassing anti-air network.

However, that was a relic of the past. Today, the entire island was blanketed in an endless sea of fire. Thick plumes of smoke billowed upward, and the intense heat warped the light, making the entirety of the recruit depot appear indistinct, as if viewed through a haze.

After a full day and night of carpet bombing, all open-air installations at the recruit depot had been utterly destroyed. Casualties were catastrophic. The survivors were either fleeing scattered in fighters or escape pods, or merely languishing in the mountain bunkers.

The twelve clones, led by Blade, had recently been piloting twelve Spectre fighters, weaving through the clouds, ensuring no stragglers escaped. Now, they had disembarked, each leading a strike team, intending to push deep into the mountains, breach the bunkers, and eliminate every remaining rebel.

With the strength of a peak Master, Yang Ying's clone could single-handedly wipe out one bunker. Yet, having accompanying soldiers was useful. At least when the occupants of a bunker surrendered, someone needed to remain behind to guard them. Having a clone babysit a large group of prisoners was not only overkill but exhausting.

Although the Observer drones hovered at high altitude, their scanning equipment penetrated deep into the earth, revealing the hollowed-out interiors of the mountains and the life signs within.

Blade led a team of about fifty mixed infantrymen to the face of a mountain wall. Without a word, he unleashed a localized Mind Storm, the lightning instantly destroying several small devices buried nearby. The mountain face instantly transformed into a massive alloy door.

"Holographic camouflage system."

Blade approached the door. Beside it, embedded in the wall, was a verification console clearly meant for opening the entrance. Currently, sparks were spitting from the device, evidently short-circuited by the Mind Storm's energy discharge.

Fortunately, Blade didn't need to unlock the door to gain entry. He drew the two golden light-swords from his waist and sliced a hole in the door, leading his team inside.

Not far in, another alloy door presented itself. Blade used the same method to bypass it. Upon entering the next section, they found three paths ahead.

A Ghost operative stepped forward, projecting a holographic map derived from the Observers' scans, clearly illustrating where each of the three tunnels led.

"You two take the middle path," Blade commanded, waving his hand toward the other two. "Go cut the bunker's main power supply. The rest of you, follow me." He led the remaining group down the left passage.

The two Ghost operatives designated by Blade did not follow but instead activated their cloaking fields and slipped into the central tunnel.

After two more turns, they arrived before an even thicker, heavier blast door.

"This is it. There are many people hidden behind this. When the power cuts, I strike first; you follow right behind," Blade instructed those behind him.

"Yes, sir!" responded the dozens of soldiers trailing him.

Moments later, the two Ghost operatives succeeded. The entire bunker plunged into darkness. Blade could even distinguish shouts of panic rising from behind the door.

In the gloom, two golden blades instantly ignited. They stabbed deeply into the heavy door. Blade rotated the two swords clockwise, carving out a perfect circle. The height of the cut was slightly taller than a soldier in powered armor, ensuring the troops wouldn't have to stoop to pass through.

Clang!

Blade kicked the circular slab of alloy inward. Immediately, a burst of gunfire erupted from inside, a torrential storm of energy beams blasting toward the doorway. Blade remained unfazed, swirling his light-swords into two shimmering screens of light, deflecting every beam back. Several screams echoed from within. Blade’s sharp eyes caught sight of a squad of rebel soldiers struck by the rebounding energy, instantly killed.

Behind the door was a vast chamber. Blade quickly assessed the area; it spanned at least 40,000 square meters. Inside were over three thousand armed rebels, more than two thousand combat robots, and over three hundred wounded personnel.

Seeing the door suddenly sliced open and two golden blades flashing wildly, the rebels closest to the entrance erupted in screams. Those further back hadn't grasped the situation yet, but the darkness, combined with the psychological pressure of an enemy assault, pushed their fear to the extreme, causing them to join the outcry.

Suddenly, a flash of light erupted, accompanied by a tremendous booming roar. Another Mind Storm, unleashed by Blade, instantly silenced all the screams.

The electrical discharge illuminated the space, revealing the faces of every rebel. Currents coursed through their bodies, causing violent convulsions.

The Mind Storm lasted for five seconds before ceasing. Blade had shown restraint; some stronger soldiers were not immediately dead, only collapsing to the floor, foaming at the mouth, having lost all combat capability.

As for the cannon-fodder combat robots, nearly all of them were annihilated. A powerful current like a Mind Storm was devastating to purely electronic machines; it could easily fry their intricate circuits, causing them to short-circuit and instantly fail.

However, about half the robots in the bunker were Advanced Combat Robots. Given the limited space, the fleeing rebels had naturally brought the best machines. These higher-grade robots were shielded by low-power kinetic barriers that absorbed much of the electrical shock. But when the Mind Storm reached its fourth second, the barrier energy depleted and collapsed rapidly, leaving the final second of electrical assault to fry them into immobility.

If not for the need to neutralize these advanced threats, Blade might have terminated the Mind Storm sooner, potentially allowing some weaker rebel soldiers a chance to survive. But alas, they had chosen to bring so many advanced robots.

"Drag them out. Confiscate their weapons. Restrain their hands, and ready the medical transport for immediate aid. Kill any who resist," Blade ordered the soldiers behind him.

These prisoners were destined for the Resistance organization. Once they left Dolon Star, the Resistance would return to their unseen existence, and holding prisoners could serve as crucial bargaining chips when necessary.

The soldiers filed in. The first few were flametroopers—weapons that hadn't seen much action lately, their flame throwers being the perfect tool for enclosed spaces. Fire and heat don't travel in straight lines; in an uncertain room, a quick blast toward a door or window could eliminate most threats.

The rebels lay strewn about, seemingly incapacitated, making it difficult to distinguish officers from grunts at a glance. As two flametroopers approached a few rebels frothing at the mouth, a figure suddenly surged up from the ground. A red light-sword extended from his wrist, aimed to slash down at the flametroopers.

"Hmph!" Just as the rebel moved, Blade had already foreseen the action. He raised a hand, snatched a small nail from the ground, pushed his arm forward, sending the nail tip-first outward. Its speed surpassed that of a Gauss round!

The moment the figure lunged with his sword, he felt a chilling killing intent envelop him. A sharp sensation grazed his flank. In his peripheral vision, he saw a tiny nail tearing through the air at incredible velocity, hurtling towards him. A cone of shockwaves formed around the nail, accompanied by a shrill, piercing whistle—except the whistle was purely imaginary; he couldn't actually hear it, as the nail's speed had already exceeded the speed of sound!

Before initiating his attack, he had accepted his fate, intending to take at least one enemy down, perhaps two, for the cost of his life. He had planned to ignore the nail and trade his life for two flametroopers. But he realized this was a fantasy; the nail was too fast for his light-sword to kill two targets before impact, and dodging the nail was impossible.

Suddenly, the figure found himself trapped—no escape routes, only a path to death. He didn't even have the chance to marvel at Blade's vastly superior cultivation level before the nail punched through his forehead, instantly piercing his skull, killing him instantly.

Though the description seems lengthy, the event transpired in a split second—from the figure springing up to his death by headshot took less than half a second. The two flametroopers had just managed to react, engulfing the figure's body in flame, reducing it to a charred corpse.

The subsequent cleanup was straightforward. No further surprises occurred. The only psychic within the entire bunker was the charred corpse—the instructor for the recruit depot's special forces, a Level Two High-grade Psychic.

The remaining rebels in this bunker were barely clinging to life. In other bunkers, they couldn't even find a single Psychic. But this was expected. Awakening psychic powers is difficult; on average, only one in a million individuals manifest them. While military organizations usually have a higher concentration, they are not ubiquitous. This was merely a recruit depot; why would they need so many experts?

As time passed, one bunker after another in the mountains was breached. Prisoners were loaded onto medical transports, sedated, and plunged into deep comas. This not only aided in their recovery but also prevented any possibility of rebellion—truly serving two purposes with one action.