On Xilang Peak, across a vast battlefield spanning several kilometers of mountain slope, small battle groups had formed or were in the process of forming.
The collision and slaughter of flesh and iron, life and death, victory and defeat, slashing blades and roaring cries, blood staining the snow... stretched from the circular defense line one-third of the way down from the peak all the way to the mountain's base.
This world of ice and snow, once sacred and tranquil, had now become the cruelest, bloodiest battlefield in the century-long history of human civilization's struggle against the Great Spike invasion.
High above, elite squads were using the fastest speed and formations that cast aside all thought of survival to purge the Great Spikes around their perimeters while fending off charges from above...
Iron flagpoles pierced the ice beneath their feet. One after another, the flags designated before the battle to signify each squad's survival were driven into the ground.
From this moment on, these flags represented an iron wall. As long as they stood, not a single Great Spike from the lower battlefield would make it back to recover or defend the mothership.
Below, across the divided battlefield, races against time and slaughters waged at any cost were unfolding everywhere.
Looking around from any spot revealed only silhouettes locked in bloody combat.
Down the mountain, on a high platform beside the frontline command post.
After a flurry of hushed discussions, more than twenty war correspondents from the Alliance headquarters and various national branches suddenly leaped down from the platform. Their devices erupted with power as they ran toward the battlefield, cameras and camcorders in hand.
Caught completely off guard, the officer in charge shouted anxiously and furiously behind them, "What are you doing?! It's dangerous! Come back!"
The correspondents' degrees of source energy fusion were generally low. Wearing the apparatus now was merely a precaution in case of emergencies, meant to facilitate an evacuation.
Yet now, they were heading into the fray. At this moment on the battlefield, no warrior could be spared to grant them special protection or rescue; to do so would be an insult to this war and to the word "comrade."
The officer had already made this explicitly clear beforehand, and the journalists themselves knew it full well.
"But it's just too far from here!" A short-haired female reporter pointed toward the battlefield ahead, turning her head back as she spoke. "They need to be captured more clearly. Their faces, their fighting—all of it deserves to be properly recorded... remembered."
"Someday, the people of Azure will need to know what others did for their lives and their survival!" another reporter chimed in.
The female reporter nodded. "Even if these battles and sacrifices must be buried for now, they must never be forgotten."
With that, the two turned and pressed on, resolutely chasing after their international colleagues toward the battlefield.
"If I die..."
"If I die..."
Mid-run, the two unfamiliar reporters spoke the exact same words in unison.
"Please help take my camera back."
"...Alright. I'm Ashleia. I just arrived on the last plane from Switzerland today. What about you?"
"Ian, from Australia. Got in last night. Nice to meet you, Ashleia."
"Likewise."
***
Han Qingyu lingered no longer beside the dying Great Spike before him. Wounded to such an extent, it could be left to the surrounding squads to finish off.
Amidst the continuous drone of his source energy apparatus, his surging figure began sweeping across the entire surrounding sector, cutting into one desperate battle formation after another.
Moving even faster than his silhouette were two dead iron straight swords spinning alternately through the air almost without pause. The blade in his hand and the blade in flight traded places constantly... At times, he could even rescue and assist two separate skirmishes simultaneously.
*Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh...* The dead iron straight sword spun through the air.
Head tilted back, Wen Jifei constantly searched for positions and angles across the battlefield. Rarely did one ever see Plague Chicken so focused, and even more seldom did his eyes hold such glacier-cold composure. *Bang... Clang!*
Not a single miss. So far, not once. His performance was startling enough to astound even Liu Shiheng and He Tangtang.
Across the battlefield, Rusty Sister's Dimple Slash struck out again and again... and the Milla 9 custom sniper rifle cracked shot after shot.
The swords parried away or knocked aside always returned to Han Qingyu's grasp, only to be sent spinning out once more.
Others knew little about Wen Jifei, having no understanding of him.
At this moment, perhaps only those closest to him—He Tangtang, Liu Shiheng, Shen Yixiu, and Wu Xu—or perhaps Lao Jian as well, truly understood:
Just how vital and incredible this scene was for "Dice" Wen Jifei, and what tenacious willpower and perseverance he had poured in to make it possible.
Though upon returning he certainly wouldn't say so. He would likely just brag with a laugh, shamelessly claiming, *See, it was mostly thanks to me...* If they could all make it back, that is.
And so, Han Qingyu and his twin blades wove through and held sway over the entire surrounding sector amidst the periodic cracks of the Milla 9 and the booming roar and sonic cracks of his source energy apparatus.
His fighting style was unique. Even other top combat powers, or indeed most super combat powers, could never replicate it.
In those brief lulls between clashes, or after receiving timely aid, the nearby squads—Huaxian, Bhutanese, Indedun—could not help but feel dazed and awestruck.
None of them had ever witnessed such a mode of combat, nor had they ever seen someone command such an immense area of tactical coverage almost entirely on his own.
If they managed to make it out of here alive, they would do their best to describe it and tell countless others that on that day, it was as if a tempest had repeatedly raged across the field, sweeping through the entire sector.
"I think I got him, Ian! I captured that invincible Huaxia Front warrior!" Ashleia said, crouched in a hollow between icy rocks. Looking down at the camera that had just finished a rapid burst of shots, her voice trembled with excitement. A bloodstained sword she had just picked up lay right beside her.
"No," Ian called softly from lower ground, his face tilting out from behind his camcorder as he looked up. "You only captured a storm."
The man moved too fast. Even the camcorder failed to capture a clear enough image, and Ian doubted Ashleia could have snapped a sharp photograph.
"Really? Uh... maybe you're right." Unwilling to concede, Ashleia raised her camera again, cautiously peering out.
Yet that silhouette had already vanished from their view.
After a fleeting pang of disappointment, their lenses swung toward others. In this moment, every single soul on this battlefield was worthy of being recorded.
Not much time had actually elapsed since the battle began. Having eliminated their assigned targets, squads did not linger, moving on to find new objectives. Amidst the fighting, Han Qingyu gradually drifted farther and farther from Squad 1777.
Two figures appeared beside him. Wu Xu and Shen Yixiu had already taken down more than one Great Spike themselves. Just as Han Qingyu made continuous progress, they were progressing as well; the strongest aspects of their individual combat skills had both touched the threshold of top combat power. Working in tandem, their efficiency was by no means slow.
"You guys?!"
"Captain Lao, Vice Captain Qin, the veterans, Rourou, and the rest... told us to come," Shen Yixiu said, a bit flustered. She quickly rattled off a string of names to back herself up, explaining, "They said not to underestimate 1777, not to look down on them... They told us to come."
Wu Xu added, "Mm."
Han Qingyu thought for a moment, then nodded.
"Blue-sheened! Over there, northeast! A blue-sheened! Qingzi, hurry!" Liu Shiheng, who handled communications for the three-man support team and had finally established a signal within range, shouted urgently through the communicator.
Through the hazy air, a remnant squad of around twenty soldiers was locked in a life-and-death struggle against a blue-sheened Great Spike in the distance. Four or five bodies already lay strewn across the snow nearby.
*Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!*
Almost simultaneously, three bursts of acceleration erupted. Steel armor, a spear, and twin blades lunged toward the blue-sheened creature.
Three people, under two minutes.
The blue-sheened Great Spike collapsed.
Just what level of combat prowess was produced when Han Qingyu, Wu Xu, and Rusty Sister went all out in coordination was something perhaps only a super combat power could properly evaluate now.
The remnant squad, a mix of Eastern and Western faces, raised their hands in a grateful salute. Without time for questions, they spun around, sought out new targets, and threw themselves back into the battle.
Judging by their combat fatigues, they were likely a makeshift unit assembled from the survivors of three different squads.
As the squad moved away, Han Qingyu's group ran a few paces to the side, where they discovered... traces of another blue-sheened creature's self-destruction, along with the bodies of fallen Azure comrades.
This showed that three squads had previously combined their might here to hunt two blue-sheened targets. They had slain one at the cost of heavy casualties, after which the survivors banded together to fight the remaining one to the bitter end.
Saluting, they departed... Silent, Han Qingyu sheathed his twin blades behind his shoulder on the run, while simultaneously unfastening the blue-light column sword. Over the past three days, as the bone source permeated it, his understanding of the weapon had deepened considerably. He knew that the bone source likely possessed a hierarchical suppression over the Red Shoulder's source energy control, but he also knew that with his current strength, wielding it imposed a tremendous drain.
Right at that moment, *Wuuu...* a deep, drawn-out alarm finally sounded.
Familiar acoustic pulses echoed from the direction of the mothership. The Great Spikes in combat were finally being recalled.
At the same time, the blue radiance on the mothership's hull flared open with a dull pop.
The dazzling blue light bathed the entire battlefield in an altered hue, as if declaring that the crueler phase of the battle had at last arrived.
At this moment, on the lower battlefield, regardless of their current combat engagements, the Great Spikes that heard the summons snapped around as one and began sprinting madly toward the peak, drawing closer to one another in an attempt to mass together.
"Hold them! ...Stop them!" Across the ordinary battle lines, squads fought desperately along the way, lunging, intercepting, refusing to let the Great Spikes break through... Some charged directly into the converging swarms.
Inevitably, however, a portion of the Great Spikes broke past the encirclement. Converging as they ascended, they began charging toward the circular defense line under the lead of blue-sheened Great Spikes.
The desperate stand had begun.
At a position along the eastern sector of the circular line.
Having just cleared three Great Spikes near their perimeter, the Mexican elite Chichen Itza Squad saw another swarm of seventeen Great Spikes charging up toward them from below, spearheaded by two blue-sheened creatures.
Even as elites, even as battle-hardened veterans, the soldiers could not help but tighten their grip on their dead iron Mexican scimitars, their throats parched.
The situation Azure battle formations dreaded most was a massed charge of Great Spikes, not to mention one containing two blue-sheened variants. Even for an elite unit like Chichen Itza, the swarm before them exceeded their combat limits.
Under normal circumstances, encountering such a force would warrant an immediate call for backup.
Yet at this moment on this battlefield, neighboring positions were under assault just the same... After a brief alert to adjacent units, they could only brace themselves to stand alone, holding to the death while waiting for a super combat power who might arrive to help split the seventeen Great Spikes.
"We can't hold like this. Someone has to charge out and scatter them first..." Vice Captain Ethan, whose thick mustache sat above a fierce, convict-like face, spoke up. Due to clashing personalities and mutual pride, he and Captain Danny Trejo had never gotten along.
Now, he stood up and saluted.
"Once I've broken their formation, lead the brothers to avenge me, Captain."
Charging out to split the line meant almost certain death. Ethan's combat power bordered on top-tier, and as vice captain, he was the best choice.
He glanced back at their ragged squad flag. "I really like this flag. So please, make sure it doesn't fall. Don't let the honor of the Mexico Front be disgraced."
Time was running out. Ethan shook his head, refusing further talk. With a metallic rasp, the Mexican scimitars in his hands scraped past each other. Even as the ringing of the blades sounded, he was already lunging out of the position.
Yet—"Ethan!"
Captain Danny Trejo bellowed suddenly, his hand shooting forward from behind to yank Ethan back.
At that exact instant, expanding from a distant speck before the eyes of the entire Chichen Itza Squad, a column sword glowing with blue light flew like lightning from behind the Great Spike swarm.
The column sword tore through wind and air. The air shattered by the sonic boom erupted like a tangible mass at its tail—a gray mist trailing in the blue light... It shrieked through the atmosphere... on a trajectory without the slightest curve, slamming straight into the swarm from behind.
*Boom!* Ice and snow exploded in all directions.
"..." The entire Chichen Itza Squad froze for a second.
The charging Great Spike swarm had been blown apart in an instant.
Blasted apart by a column sword.
A column sword was supposed to be a Great Spike weapon, wasn't it?! Ethan and Danny Trejo exchanged a rapid glance, then looked back down to see three figures surging toward them.
Huaxia Front combat uniforms.
They understood. It was that person.
The name that had begun to spread four days ago.
"It's Qing!"
"It's King!"
In this moment, no one had the luxury to ponder why he could wield a blue-light column sword. After all, if he could wrest the thing away, why couldn't he use it?! Besides, if it was merely hurled like that, both top and super combat powers ought to be capable of it.
At this moment, "Kill!" Every member of the Chichen Itza Squad roared, charging forward with raised blades toward the temporarily scattered swarm before their position.
The swarm had been dispersed. As long as they completed the first wave of kills and division in time, their elite strength would be enough to hold the line.
Simultaneously, Han Qingyu's trio closed in from behind on a blue-sheened Great Spike, joining the fray to bring it down.
Chapter 262