On the western front, along a blood-soaked march that had long ceased to resemble a world of ice and snow, the soldiers of the Azure Western Front had, in truth, long grown somewhat numb to slaughter, death, and ceaseless combat.
Yet after withstanding an unprecedentedly frenzied onslaught from the dajian forces, a sensation of relief gradually crept into the warriors' utterly exhausted limbs, slowly registering in their minds.
Within their field of view, the scale of the dajian force had not visibly decreased, and the offensive continued unabated. Why, then, did it feel so much easier?
The answer soon dawned in everyone's mind and was confirmed by observations across the battlefield—the number of Red Shoulders among the dajian swarm had dwindled, their proportion sharply dropping.
They had been reassigned. After their previous assault had failed, they had quietly withdrawn from the western front.
As for where they had gone? There was no need to ask.
This seemed to prove that the anticipated sole breakthrough point in Antarctica did indeed exist and was effective: the redemption offensive by Stream Blades on the eastern front had finally posed a substantial threat to the dajian towing field at the Pole.
Being closer to the Pole, the western front forces were the first to sense this quiet shift in the battlefield.
Yet no one felt happy about this change.
Because they were warriors—warriors who had fought to the death all the way here. Because every one of them clearly understood in their heart that every bit of relief won here on the western front had been bought with the sacrifice of their allies on that other march.
Every Red Shoulder that departed the western front would appear on another battlefield.
A battlefield where the disparity in strength was already staggering.
"They only had six thousand men... No, not even that many anymore."
At this moment, all eyes turned instinctively toward the east. They could finally quicken their pace to reinforce the peninsula, while on the other side, Stream Blades was accelerating its pace, sprinting headlong into hell.
"Us! Let's attack over there too?!" Because of a bond forged years ago on Xilang Peak, the entire Mexico Front still held immense goodwill toward Stream Blades.
When that suggestion came from a pinnacle super from Mexico, the movements of the remaining two hundred thousand soldiers across the western front seemed to freeze for a moment.
Fight their way back?
Tear through the dajians' western defensive line and charge toward the towing field at the Pole—their original objective.
Pincer the enemy from east and west alongside Stream Blades, make their final stand around the towing field, and do all that was humanly possible, leaving the rest to fate.
Never doubt the courage of any Azure warrior who had fought this far. They were willing.
"Do we do it?"
"Let's do it!"
In an instant, countless voices echoed the question.
But—"No... move out!"
Go. Don't hesitate, don't think, don't waver, don't let it all go to waste... Severely wounded, Commander Hua gripped his saber in one hand and clutched his wound with the other. Turning his gaze back, he shouted with surging source energy.
The arm holding his blade still pointed south.
The dajian defenses on the western front were the thickest on the entire Antarctic continent. It was precisely because they had drawn almost all of Daie's attention earlier that a breakthrough point had emerged on the eastern front.
Even now, with a portion of the Red Shoulders gone, this defensive line remained insurmountable.
The two hundred thousand exhausted troops of the western front no longer had the strength to punch through this defensive line. Going would only mean dying together, throwing away everything the eastern front had fought for, and leaving their comrades and logistical personnel on the peninsula battlefield to suffer continued slaughter.
So, they had to go.
Keep heading south, seize the opportunity created by their allies, press on with the breakout, and reinforce the peninsula to establish local superiority...
This meant that very soon, on the main continent of Antarctica, only that lone force might remain.
"...Move!" After a brief silence, Commander Hua roared again at the top of his lungs, his voice hoarse.
This roar was for the soldiers of the western front, who were visibly hesitating.
Even more, it was for himself.
As the de facto supreme commander of the Azure Western Front at present, the immense agony and guilt of issuing this command turned Hua Bixuan's eyes instantly bloodshot—a Huaxia pinnacle super renowned for his carefree and indolent nature.
Hua Bixuan knew that from this day forward, he would likely carry this guilt and pain for the rest of his life.
The eighth breakout attempt—the charge began. With altered emotions, the warriors of the western front finally resumed their southward march home.
Right at that moment—"Oho, running away? Where do you think you're going, little Daie?"
Arrogant, smug, showy, and brash, an untimely voice suddenly rang out from the summit of an icy peak off to the side.
If there remained a single person in all of humanity right now who was completely unconcerned about the allied forces on the eastern front, it could only be the owner of that voice: Currently Swollen with Pride · Pink-Haired · Pegmont.
He had said he would tie down Daie for the eastern front. That way, the pressure on the eastern front would be greatly relieved, and with that bastard over there, there would be no foe capable of standing against him.
"Took me long enough to corner you, you son of a bitch."
Boom! The icy peak fractured under the force of a kick. Amid the explosive roar of source energy, pink hair fluttering in the wind, Pegmont lunged forward in pursuit of Daie once more.
Even though Daie was currently situated in the middle of a dense swarm of dajians.
Daie had not left yet. It seemed that after weighing its options, it still believed it should remain on the western front to intercept them, or perhaps it feared that if it left, this pink-haired, freakish human who defied all biological logic, combat logic, and special characteristic logic would slaughter everything in sight.
*Chwack! Crack-crack-crack-crack... Boom!*
Daie raised its greatsword with both hands and split the flying chunk of ice peak down the middle, colliding head-on with the incoming Pegmont right after.
On the Antarctic western front, Pegmont vs. Daie, collision number N, commenced.
At this moment, the communicator on Pegmont had long since shattered. Even if Makarov wanted to contact him and tell him anything, he couldn't.
In truth, even if someone had managed to contact him, or if some Rejectors frequency inadvertently passed along the truth that Major Qing had not actually recovered and was not on the eastern front, it probably wouldn't change anything... because he wouldn't believe it.
No matter who said it or how, Pegmont would never believe it now.
He had an exceptionally solid, straightforward logic supporting this: earlier, that bastard really had caught his full-power strike without batting an eye; and right now, he himself really had been trading blows with Daie on equal footing, wounding each other heavily and hacking away for a long time.
Therefore, that guy was at least Daie's equal, and most likely still stronger than Daie.
"Let him be. Maybe he really can tie down Daie. Yes, he can. Or maybe, if things go that way, he'll end up following it all the way to the eastern front."
Makarov felt a pang of worry at the thought, yet instinctively hoped Peg could go. Because if Daie truly returned and Major Qing wasn't there, no one in Stream Blades could stand against Daie.
...
"Pick up! Pick up..." Yang Qingbai had been calling for nearly twenty minutes, yet still received no response from Wen Jifei.
Wen Jifei was likely in a battlefield-wide one-way transmission state right now.
And all Yang Qingbai really wanted to say was a single sentence: "He's coming."
Qingzi was gone; he had headed for the battlefield. In the twenty-odd minutes since his departure, Yang Qingbai had been trapped in a chaotic, tangled state of mind, swinging between remorse and self-blame, fear and worry, and involuntary anticipation...
*Something must have happened to Qingzi. It must have. After all, he stepped straight into the magma without the slightest hesitation.*
Yang Qingbai tried to reassure himself and look on the bright side.
"Instructor, Instructor!" The shout came from behind. Lubi Azha and several airship pilots watched Yang Qingbai as he finally snapped out of his daze. "What do we do now?"
Right. What do we do now?
The Swordfish-class airship was still here, but the person meant to be evacuated had already gone to the battlefield. That left a group of airship pilots stranded here, unable to enter the fray and unsure where to go.
"...I don't know," Yang Qingbai grunted irritably, popping a cigarette into his mouth.
In any case, leaving was out of the question.
In Yang Qingbai's world, the only reason an airship pilot ever left the battlefield was to evacuate their comrades.
Therefore, on the Antarctic eastern front today, there was destined to be no human source energy airship bearing the red moth insignia lifting off for an evacuation.
"I wonder what's happened over these past twenty minutes..."
"At Qingzi's speed, he might already be almost there, right?"
Yang Qingbai thought uneasily.
Chapter 805