Twelve Ghost Fighters swooped downward, their floating cannons sweeping across the landscape, each discharge taking hundreds of lives. The six spires surrounding the Presidential Palace were technologically advanced defense towers, incorporating significant Kustar technology.

The tips of the towers emitted ghastly pale beams of death, each burst splitting into hundreds of individual rays. Though each ray appeared thin, only about the thickness of a thumb, it possessed intense cutting capabilities. Furthermore, each defense tower was commanded by a Level-Three master who controlled all the death rays. Together, the six spires formed an impenetrable anti-air fire net.

The towers were also equipped with stealth detection systems, their sensitivity surpassing even that of the Gurachig. Yang Ying had intended to approach closer before launching his attack, but he felt himself discovered during the dive. Consequently, he initiated the assault prematurely.

In addition to this, the defense towers were encased in a remarkably sturdy unidirectional shield. Upon detecting the enemy, the six towers collaborated to project a massive unidirectional shield encompassing the entire Presidential Palace.

Death rays could fire outward from within, but incoming attacks from the outside were entirely blocked by the shield.

"What an impressive Hexagram Palace; it certainly doesn't boast an ordinary defense system!"

As Yang Ying Thirteen evaded the sweeping death rays, he counterattacked using the Beam Deflection Cannon, his strongest offensive weapon. The six defense towers possessed immense energy reserves, their offensive power exceeding that of the thirteen Ghost Fighters. Fortunately, the individuals controlling the tower attacks were less skilled than Yang Ying, affording him room to maneuver. The beam deflection cannon blasts struck the massive shield like writhing serpents, weaving and curving toward their target.

Tzzzzzz

The continuous bombardment finally caused the large shield to waver. The shield was originally invisible and colorless, only revealing its presence through a slight refraction of light when struck. This refraction would instantly vanish, but as the bombardment persisted, the shield gradually materialized, appearing like a thin, transparent glass dome where light twisted wildly, conveying a palpable sense of instability.

Several more blasts from the Beam Deflection Cannons struck home, followed by a loud CRACK! The shield disintegrated. The thirteen Ghost Fighters immediately unleashed their full firepower, concentrating everything onto a single defense tower.

BOOM!

With a deafening roar, the smaller defensive shield around the tower absorbed all the incoming attacks.

"What a tough defense tower."

Having failed with the initial barrage, Yang Ying understood that destroying all six defense towers would consume significant time, and time was now critically short; there was no room for slow, methodical clearing. Time to charge straight through!

This was Yang Ying's thought as the thirteen fighters executed highly complex maneuvers, threading their way through the minute gaps between the crisscrossing death rays. To ordinary eyes, these gaps didn't even exist; only a Level-Three peak expert like Yang Ying could discern even a glimmer of a pathway.

The deeper they descended, the denser the death rays became, and the fewer, thinner the gaps grew. Yet, the thirteen fighters consistently threaded through the light net from almost impossible angles. Their evasive maneuvers were nothing short of divine assistance, worthy of being compiled into a supreme flight manual—a truly breathtaking spectacle.

The entire charge was incredibly brief, lasting roughly the span of a normal human breath, as the thirteen fighters breached the death ray net. Maintaining full speed, they plunged headlong into the Presidential Palace.

The Ghost Fighters' plasma shields proved effective; they deflected both physical and energy attacks. Crashing into walls was processed as a physical impact, causing the plasma shields to behave like the hardest substance known, shattering the advancing walls into dust.

The thirteen fighters safely breached the Presidential Palace, tearing through several interior walls before finally halting.

Although the death rays behind them could penetrate the walls to continue their assault on the Ghost Fighters, the angle of attack toward the Presidential Palace itself was restricted by programming. This limitation was a safeguard against scenarios where the operator might be a mole or the defense towers fell under enemy control. With this restrictive programming in place, even if an operator attempted to direct a death ray toward the Palace, the system would reject the command.

Yang Ying and the thirteen locked down their Ghost Fighters, maxed out the shield energy, then ejected from their cockpits, drawing their light blades and flashing toward the deeper recesses of the Presidential Palace.

Singriel had no intention of confronting Yang Ying Thirteen head-on. He was filled with bitter resentment. Because he had trusted the military's trap plan, he had dispatched three of the five Level-Three Apex experts originally guarding the Palace, leaving only two. Of his twenty Level-Three experts, ten were sent out, and six of the remaining ten were currently operating the defense towers, leaving only four at his side.

He had gathered every expert he could manage. Fortunately, among the military bigwigs who had come for the meeting, there were two Level-Three Apex experts and four Level-Three experts. Including himself, that totaled five Level-Three Apex experts and eight Level-Three experts. This made exactly thirteen individuals, but pitted against the thirteen Level-Three Apex experts of the Tlan Mercenary Corps, the odds were overwhelmingly stacked against him.

Cannot fight; must retreat!

Led by one Level-Three Apex expert, they descended into the underbelly of the Presidential Palace, where an extremely heavy vault door waited. The leading Level-Three Apex expert stepped forward and opened the door, signaling Singriel to enter.

This door led to a top-tier sanctuary, fortified with composite defenses of alloy and energy walls capable of resisting all forms of attack—even a nuclear detonation capable of wiping out an entire planet would leave the sanctuary intact.

Once inside and the door sealed, not even thirteen Level-Three Apex experts, but a hundred of them, would be able to breach the refuge.

Suddenly, Singriel felt the tremors from the ground indicating the Ghost Fighters had crashed into the Palace. He instantly flashed through the doorway, leaving behind a voice: "Hurry and close the door, they're here!"

The few others nearby reacted as if whipped, rushing into the sanctuary. The massive door slammed shut, layers of energy shielding immediately activating. Clearly, the sanctuary had entered its operational state.

Only ten seconds later, with a massive explosion, Yang Ying Thirteen blew through the ceiling and arrived before the vault door. Yang Ying could sense his target was just on the other side. He stepped forward two paces and thrust his sword. The light blade sliced into the energy wall only to be instantly shortened, unable to pierce it; the energy wall blocked the blade’s energy transmission.

Yang Ying frowned. For a light blade, alloys were a minor issue; no known alloy could resist its cutting edge. But an energy wall was troublesome; the light blade was ill-suited for engaging such an intangible barrier.

As Yang Ying pondered, a human-shaped holographic projection suddenly appeared nearby. "Are you the thirteen Level-Three Apex experts from the Tlan Mercenary Corps?"

Yang Ying turned and recognized the face in the hologram instantly: it was his target, Singriel. Yang Ying offered no reply to Singriel's question, instead simply swinging his sword to sever the holographic projector hidden within the wall.

However, Singriel's voice still carried through the air: "Why have you come to kill me? I don't understand. I have no feud with you. Intelligence indicated the Flynn Royal Family merely hired you to harass our rear lines; why are you here for my life?"

Yang Ying attempted to use his potent mental energy to force the door open, but again failed; the door remained utterly unmoving. While he could effortlessly lift objects weighing thousands of tons, the force sealing the door was certainly a hundred times greater. However, Yang Ying wasn't worried; even if he exhausted every means and couldn't open the door, he could simply leave; he had other options.

Hearing Singriel's question, Yang Ying scoffed, "You had already set a trap waiting for me, didn't you? Is it only permissible for you to plot against me, intending to lure me into a trap and kill me, but not for me to plot against you and kill you in turn?"

"We certainly intended to plot against you, but that is because you pose too great a threat to us. Should we just sit idly by while our rear lines are harassed and logistics destroyed, and not allow for a counterattack?"

This line was spoken by a different voice; a certain military dignitary, a Level-Three Apex expert, clearly believed their actions were justified.

"Of course you're allowed to counterattack," Yang Ying did not dispute this, but rather agreed. "Look, matters are naturally escalating. My fleet harasses your rear planets, leading you to want me dead. If you had succeeded and we walked into your trap, suffering heavy losses, perhaps even being entirely annihilated—that would have benefited you greatly, with no future repercussions, correct?"

"Correct," replied the voice from inside, and there was more than one voice answering.

"But it's also possible we could escape, yet sustain massive damage, and then try every means to return for revenge, isn't that so?" Yang Ying shook his head. "But why bother with that? Since I've already anticipated your corresponding countermeasures, why not crush them at the source and fundamentally destroy your entire plan?"

While speaking, Yang Ying tried several other methods, all failing to open the door.

"Don't blame me for suddenly storming in; it’s necessitated by the development of the war. As our strikes against you become heavier, the situation inevitably develops to this point. Therefore, my arrival today was also inevitable. I’ve merely skipped a series of intermediate steps and arrived directly at the conclusion."

"I see," Singriel’s voice returned. "Alright, I accept your reasoning. But your action is also destined to fail. Relying on just thirteen Level-Three Apex experts to take my life—that is sheer arrogance! Go back and await our retribution!"

"Since the talk has reached this point, it must end here. This sanctuary is indeed incredibly robust, but do we need to use the door to get inside?"

With a wave of his hand, the space around Yang Ying began to twist, and the colors dimmed, resembling a vortex of gray mist. The thirteen figures flashed into the center of this vortex.

This was the Protoss Arbiter's other spatial divine technique, besides the Stasis Field: the Wormhole!

On the other side of the vault door, within the vast sanctuary hall, an identical gray vortex materialized out of thin air, drawing the attention of Singriel’s party and simultaneously instilling in them a powerful sense of foreboding.

As the gray vortex dissipated, thirteen figures in black robes stood rigidly arrayed in two rows. A terrifying oppressive aura emanated from the thirteen, washing over Singriel’s group. The figure in the center stepped forward. "Finally, face to face. Allow me to introduce myself: I am Yang Ying." For the rest of the story, please visit [link], for more chapters. Support the author, support genuine reading! D08JIUSHSUNSHUAIPIANQIYU