A Burk man, grotesquely swollen to a size that seemed impossible to support his own frame, appeared on the communication screen.

"A mere Foreign Minister? The Speaker has no time for you. I am Gaberl, a Core Council Member of the Protoss High Council. Speak to me if you have business," replied the fleet commander, the Templar Gaberl.

"You... what arrogance! Do you realize we Burks are the supreme rulers of this sector? Outsiders call this the Burk-Maurek Sector. 'Burk-Rake' in the Burk tongue means 'Land of the Burks.' We command a million-strong fleet, capable of wiping a planet from existence with a mere gesture. I suggest you show us a little more respect!"

The Foreign Minister issued his threat. The Burk race was generally overbearing, with an extremely strong sense of territoriality; within what they considered their domain, they tolerated absolutely no defiance. "A million ships? Hmph. A diplomat indeed. Empty threats roll off your tongue quite smoothly," the Protoss responded. Having no vocal cords, Gaberl vibrated the air with his psionic energy to produce sound.

After a pause, he laid bare the Burk's true military strength: "You Burks possess only thirty primary fleets, each numbering between twelve and eighteen thousand vessels, totaling only five hundred thousand ships. The rest are second-line fleets composed of obsolete warships, suffering from mechanical decay and lax training. Their routine task is merely guarding your colonies in lower civilizations—hardly worth mentioning. We recently erased one of your main fleets with ease. Do you truly imagine we fear those second-line fleets that are only fit for defense?"

Whether it was Worungas, who had long since pledged allegiance to Yang Ying, or the fleet commander whose mind was scanned just moments before, both had divulged a massive amount of Burk military intelligence to Yang Ying. Now, through the Protoss psionic link network, nearly the entire Protoss race possessed an intimate understanding of the Burk situation.

In truth, the combat capability of the Burk second-line fleets was not weak. The Burks recruited many local soldiers from their colonies in lower civilizations, promising them a good future, which kept their morale exceptionally high. Although, in the eyes of the Burks, this contribution was but a drop in the ocean, for the indigenous people of lower civilizations, it represented an extremely advantageous opportunity.

Lower civilizations merely lacked sufficient technological accumulation. They were all intelligent beings, not fools; the natives of the colonies could indeed master the operation of warships under Burk tutelage.

While the quality of the warships in the second-line fleets was indeed somewhat inferior to the main fleets, they were still vessels manufactured by the Burks, ranked ninth in the Orion Arm. As such, they still vastly surpassed the civilizations ranked outside the top ten in that arm.

Therefore, the Burks could casually deploy a second-line fleet to make a grand show of force. Gaberl’s belittling of them was merely a counter-jab, engaging in a bit of verbal sparring.

Following a stretch of meaningless haggling, the Foreign Minister finally revealed the purpose of his visit: "We hear that within your race, there exists a Tier Four entity. We Burks wish to invite him to serve as a senior guest minister for the Burk Empire. In exchange, your planet can be incorporated into the Burk Empire, and your race can enjoy the privileges of Burk citizenship."

"Hahahaha!" Gaberl burst into laughter, as if hearing the most ludicrous tale. "A planet incorporated into your Burk Empire? Your race enjoying Burk privileges and living under your rule? You certainly went to trouble to phrase subjugation so delicately. But if that is your intention, I can only tell you: dream on! We are not one of those lower-caste races incapable of resistance!"

The Foreign Minister’s skin was as thick as his fat, and he spoke with an air of entitlement: "Of course, we would not treat you like lower civilizations. Lower civilizations are fit only to become colonies of the Burk Empire, serving as our slaves. You are different; you can become citizens of the Burk Empire. Our military analyzed the imagery brought back by the fleet that barely escaped last time. After rigorous analysis, we discerned that you possess powerful technology, even showing evidence of a Level Nine cannon. However, we Burks command vaster territories and resources. Clearly, this is mutually beneficial."

"But," the Foreign Minister’s face shifted, growing stern and menacing, "if you refuse to see reason, we Burks are not a race that forgets humiliation easily. The destruction of one of our main fleets by your hands is still fresh in our minds. If you submit today, fine. If not, we will exact vengeance for the soldiers we lost last time! Don't think one Tier Four entity can save you. I have brought a fleet of two hundred thousand ships today—enough to flatten your planet and exterminate your race! Convey my words to your Tier Four being. If he cares for his people, he will accept our demands!"

"There is nothing more to discuss. Declare war," Kas’s voice resonated through the psionic network and into Gaberl’s mind.

"Yes, Speaker," Gaberl replied, his eyes faintly glowing. He addressed the Foreign Minister: "Burk representative, our negotiation ends here. The Speaker has authorized me to formally announce that the Protoss and the Burks have officially entered a state of war! Transmission ended."

"Wait, you ignorant fools—" The Foreign Minister hadn't finished speaking before the screen snapped dark.

A blue Khaydarin crystal embedded in Gaberl's chest suddenly flared with intense light, causing the entire carrier command deck to shimmer with starlight. The brilliant azure flame enveloped the carrier, unleashing its full power.

All Protoss Templars, in times of war, donned ornate golden armor, intricately etched with patterns and runes. The design was even more complex than the Star Saints' Cloths, exuding an aura of solemn artistry. Certain parts of the armor were inlaid with Khaydarin crystals, the foundation of their energy matrix technology, capable of significantly amplifying psionic power. This mighty crystal was one of the legacies left to the Protoss by the Sa-Naga.

"All forces, attention! Interceptors, launch!" Gaberl commanded.

The one hundred thousand carriers were all new-generation models, representing eight million squadrons and ninety-six million carrier-borne interceptors—nearly a hundred million in total! At the command, an endless stream of interceptors poured out like bees swarming from a hive, truly a veritable deluge, rushing toward the Burk fleet.

"We knew about your automated fighter technology. How could we not be prepared! Ambush forces, emerge!"

At this moment, on the Burk flagship, the Foreign Minister had stepped back. His place was taken by the Commander-in-Chief of the Burk Fleet. Both men were equally corpulent, equally imperious, and equally convinced of their own supremacy.

Beyond the edge of the star system, another series of brilliant flashes erupted. Wave after wave of warships arrived via spatial jump. Their numbers grew exponentially, tens of thousands every second. After ten seconds, the count had reached five hundred thousand!

The Burk warships appearing around Aiur now constituted more than half of the entire force the Burk military possessed. And the commander of this Burk fleet was clearly one of the highest-ranking figures in their military.

"Hmph," the Burk Fleet Commander patted his immense belly. "It’s fortunate that higher command recently intended to claim a piece of the Perseus Arm. The fleet was already assembled. We will use you as the sacrifice before our true campaign. A total of seven hundred thousand warships—even with half being second-line vessels, it is more than enough to annihilate you completely, leaving no trace of life."

After speaking, he bowed toward the void with an uncharacteristic air of reverence. "Great Lord Xydylen, the matter of the enemy's Tier Four being is entrusted to you. Once this is settled and this nuisance is removed, when our great army moves into the Perseus Arm, we will follow the lead of the Roa Empire."

A cold snort echoed from the void. "I have long told you not to waste your efforts; the enemy will not submit. Our Great Emperor Sarian, during his visit to the Burk capital world, had a premonition and gave you a prophecy. It was quite clear: as the Burks move into the Perseus Arm to claim territory, their rear will be threatened, and they will be annexed by an outside race. I suspect that prophecy is being fulfilled on this very planet."

"Currently, affairs in the Perseus Arm are complex, with many high-level Tier Four beings engaging in struggles of wits and power, casting the future into fog. Even Emperor Sarian cannot discern the full pattern, which is why he hopes the Burks can assist him in handling the competition from the Galarans and the Seikro. Therefore, he sent me to lend you a hand. Otherwise, based only on your Burk invitation, I would have no reason to meddle in such trivial matters."

"Yes, yes..." The Burk Fleet Commander and the Foreign Minister nodded repeatedly, their arrogance entirely vanished.

"Emperor Sarian the Dog is the eternal sovereign of the Roa Empire; he once carved the Wall of Kings from Galaxium, earning eternal fame. And Lord Xydylen carries the title 'God Slayer'; the Tier Four entities who have died by his hand number more than one or two. His reputation is vast. Dealing with this tiny planet should be as easy as taking candy from a child."

Xydylen offered no reply. The bridge remained silent.

After a moment,

"Phew, it seems he has finally left," the Foreign Minister said, wiping sweat from his brow as if relieved. "That God Slayer is too terrifying; he has almost no presence. If he had stayed a moment longer, I might have gone mad."

"Silence!" the Commander roared. "We don't even know if he’s truly gone yet. You should feel honored. If you weren't a figure of some standing in the Burk Empire, you wouldn't even qualify to speak with him."

The Commander’s face then showed a trace of melancholy. "The Roa possess three Tier Four beings, yet we Burks have none. Fate has been truly unfair to us."