Ten Thousand Blades Pay Homage (Part 2)

Several hundred kilometers from Antarctica, high in the sky, a modified human Needlefish-class source energy craft cruised in isolation. Ahead lay a vast and dense sea of clouds. The craft’s pilot knew what lurked within; he had already tried several times. The moment he entered, dozens of dajian source energy ships would immediately materialize from the cloud sea, hurtling toward him in reckless collision. "Com... Commander." Plagued by self-reproach and guilt, the pilot had not dared to speak to Chen Buer at his side. Only now, when the latest battle report arrived, did he finally relax slightly. "Hm?" Chen Buer turned his head, drawing his gaze away from the photograph on the report. "Major Qing seems to have recovered, hasn't he? That's wonderful!" The pilot gave a quiet sniff, a grin spreading across his mouth. "Everything will be fine now that he's back." With Major Qing recovered, the fallout of the Commander's inability to reach the battlefield would be reduced to a minimum. Moreover, the Commander's physical condition was reportedly unfit for high-intensity combat right now, so it was best that he didn't have to go. The pilot comforted himself in his thoughts, feeling a surge of relief. Yet Chen Buer did not answer. Two seconds later, perhaps desperate for confirmation, the pilot plucked up his courage once more, glanced at the battle report, and said, "I've been listening to the pilots' channel. Everyone is saying that not only has Major Qing recovered this time, but he seems even more powerful... Humanity's third true Vault-tier?" "No." This time, Chen Buer finally gave his answer, his tone heavy. "Ah?!" The pilot was both shocked and crestfallen, not daring to press further. "Really?!" It was Xu Xiaohong asking over the communicator. Keeping the channel open, he had heard the exchange as well. "Yeah," Chen Buer nodded and paused before saying. "He hasn't fully recovered. In a certain aspect, he has indeed grown stronger, but as for his overall condition, I can't be sure." "You're not sure? If you're not sure, why the hell are you claiming he hasn't recovered?!" The old comrade on the other end suddenly flared up in anger. "Because low-tier dajian are one thing, but Red Shoulders... He should have used his blade, one strike per foe, to cut down those two Red Shoulders," Chen Buer said, completely unfazed. "Why?" Xu Xiaohong was not a combatant himself. He lacked a concrete, intuitive grasp of battles at the top tier and above, let alone combat at the level of Han Qingyu and Chen Buer. He hesitated in confusion for a moment before asking, "Isn't killing them like that even more impressive?" What Xu Xiaohong voiced in that moment was likely the shared assumption of over ninety-nine percent of humanity. Yet Chen Buer furrowed his brows. "Killing them that way is inefficient and horribly draining. It will exhaust him." On a source energy battlefield, there had never been a more rapid and efficient combat method than resolving everything with a single slash. One strike to obliterate a swarm of dajian, one strike to cleave a Red Shoulder, one strike to fell a Daie, one strike... Beyond that, any flashy or time-consuming maneuvers were a master's sin. Chen Buer believed Han Qingyu understood this truth better than anyone. "Don't forget, he has always been a thoroughly pragmatic person who never cared what anyone else in this world thought. Therefore, his choice to fight in such a redundant manner can mean only one thing: he isn't confident. At the very least, amidst a horde of dajian, he isn't confident he can switch back and forth at will." Xu Xiaohong fell silent. The Commander concluded with a heavy heart. *** The Invincible on Earth had been right. Han Qingyu was exhausted now, acutely aware of his current situation. When he walked out of the lava zone, he had been certain that he was "fully recovered." The Yanxiu was not merely restored; it had completely integrated General Ivan's lava trait. Thus, he should have been even stronger now than when he cleaved his blade in the Zenith War. His life source energy was stronger, his manipulation trait was stronger, and the Yanxiu was more mature, potent, and fiercely resilient. Yet soon after, he discovered that he could not mobilize the power of the Yanxiu. After his consciousness returned, dozens of attempts still failed to break through that barrier of confinement. As a result, he honestly did not know how powerful his absolute peak state was right now. Nor did he know whether his current state was a half or two-thirds of that... Looking back, many of their earlier deductions were likely wrong. His amnesia and weakness after that battle had not been his own consciousness sealing itself away to prevent him from descending into madness; rather, that Daie had done something at the very end. Daie had blasted a mark of Miwang into Han Qingyu's consciousness—a fact that not a single soul knew to this day, including Han Qingyu himself. Over the past six months and more, he had simply dreamed on occasion of an immense, boundless alien beast drifting forward through the depths of the universe. He had thought it was merely a nightmare brought on by his own timidity. Because Miwang was the ultimate evolutionary form of Yanxiu, and Han Qingyu's Yanxiu was still insufficiently mature... one could say that it had fallen into terror. It was precisely because of this state of strength that Han Qingyu did not dare let Stream Blades turn back into a chaotic melee. He could only use his current method to eliminate the threat behind them, and then see how far he could lead them. *** "The Western Front is asking if we need reinforcements!" "They say their pressure is easing up. Once they break through the final dajian defensive line connecting the peninsula and the mainland, they might be able to divert part of their forces to turn back and attack the traction field, drawing away some attention for us..." Wen Jifei suddenly spoke through the private line. The question sounded odd, because Stream Blades naturally needed help—they needed it at all times, even more desperately than the peninsula battlefield facing slaughter. Thus, the true meaning behind this seemingly superfluous question was: "Is there a chance? If there is even a sliver of hope that you can survive, we will stop at nothing to come and support you." "And if there isn't... then we are sorry, but we can only dedicate everything to reinforcing the peninsula, and then organize an evacuation..." No one was detached enough to state such cruel logic outright, but both sides understood the implication. "No. Tell them not to come," Han Qingyu answered decisively. This response made Wen Jifei instantly realize that Qingzi's current situation was likely not as good as it appeared or as they had imagined. Even so, he relayed Qingzi's reply word for word. Then, his heart heavy once more, he looked toward Han Qingyu. By this point, Han Qingyu had advanced roughly two-thirds of the way through the dajian formation. The casualties among the swarm had remarkably surpassed a quarter, including five Red Shoulders. The dajian swarm seemed to have grown timid. They began to shrink back, even actively retreating. They did not block his forward path; instead, they converged along the trail he had walked, forming a semicircular encirclement behind him. Yet could this even be called an encirclement? This was a sight neither the people on the scene nor Azure Headquarters in the distance had ever witnessed, for these low-tier dajian seemed to possess no emotion, and thus no fear. Their intelligence had always appeared exceedingly low. "What's going on?" An uneasy feeling stirred in Wen Jifei's chest, and he hesitated in thought. Suddenly, "Rumble! Rumble..." A gargantuan noise rolled in from far behind him. Wen Jifei whipped his head around. "Report!" Black Tooth, who had been dispatched ahead to scout, came sprinting back at full throttle, shouting from afar, "They're coming!" The massive dajian horde ahead had arrived. Having completed their assembly and received Red Shoulder reinforcements, they could no longer contain themselves and launched an offensive. The moment they moved, it was an all-out sprint. They had not yet entered visual range, nor had they appeared in the sniper scopes. Yet the thunderous footsteps were faintly audible, and the ice sheet beneath their feet was vibrating. Wen Jifei turned back, glancing at Qingzi... and understood: "The dajian aren't retreating out of fear. They're reorganizing their formation—a death-trap array designed to coordinate with the frontal assault, cut off our retreat, and pincer us from both sides." *** High above, Refusal's surveillance feeds clearly displayed the tactical shift occurring on the battlefield at this moment. Stream Blades ultimately could not escape the fate of being pincered from both sides. If anything had changed compared to moments ago, aside from Major Qing's appearance, there was only one thing: the dajian swarm behind them had been weakened. Though fewer than a third had been slaughtered, the loss of further Red Shoulders reduced their actual threat by more than half. So could Stream Blades choose to turn back now? If they did, there might be a slim chance of survival; perhaps some of them would make it out alive. Yet the slaughter on the peninsula was still ongoing. The returning Western Front forces had yet to break through the final dajian defensive line, and Daie was still on the Western Front... They could not turn back. The moment they retreated, the threat to the traction field on the Eastern Front would vanish, and the Antarctic theater would instantly revert to its original state—a dead end, entirely without solution. "They won't turn back. If they were going to, they wouldn't have gone in the first place." "I know, but..." "It looks like it's over!" "Look at Major Qing..." "No, it's impossible. No matter how powerful Major Qing is individually, against a pincer attack like this, few of Stream Blades' warriors will survive. Then their remaining high-end combatants, probably including Major Qing himself, will be surrounded and worn down to death one by one." Behind the front lines, the anxieties and deliberations in the command centers and staff rooms offered no help whatsoever. In front of Stream Blades, that vast, formidable horde of dajian was charging madly toward them. Behind them, the horde recently savaged and slaughtered by Major Qing seemed prepared for vengeance as well. On the Western Front, Daie had orchestrated all of this. *Kill them. That human isn't as strong as you described or imagined to me.* This was the true reason Daie had chosen not to leave the Western Front. Just like Chen Buer, it had pierced through the problem Han Qingyu was trying to conceal. The final order was issued. From within the furiously charging frontal swarm, a column of Red Shoulders abruptly emerged in neat order, forming a triangular arrowhead. It looked strikingly like the arrowhead formation Azure used for assaults, breakthroughs, and decapitation strikes. It wasn't merely similar; it *was* an arrowhead formation. And their decapitation target was only one: Han Qingyu. *** The ground began to shake violently. Through the sniper scope, the black line had already become visible. At the dajian's sprint speed, the remaining time could only be measured in minutes and seconds. So this horde was that colossal, that formidable. Only now did Wen Jifei see it clearly: against such an interception line, even if they had executed the diversion plan, not a single person would have survived. The breakaway force wouldn't even have managed to leave this zone. "Qingzi!" With that thought, Wen Jifei lowered his head and shouted into the communicator. Stream Blades' defensive formation facing the pole had been prepared from the start. Now, the warriors only needed to turn around and stop looking at their King. That meant their entire rear would be left to Han Qingyu alone. "I know," Han Qingyu replied. "I know what the situation is." Half a second later, he added, "I'll try." Han Qingyu did not tell Wen Jifei what he intended to try, or how. *Swish!* For the first time, he broke into a full sprint amidst the dajian ranks. This quickly carried him out of the semicircular encirclement, coming to a halt roughly four hundred meters ahead of the semicircle, aligned with its center axis. The dajian formation surged forward from behind him, their speed building from slow to fast... They held back their pace, seemingly waiting for the main force ahead to arrive before launching a coordinated assault. *** This time, it was not a photograph. Refusal broadcast video footage from above, dynamically presenting the battlefield situation at that moment. Han Qingyu's position was distinctly marked. Three hundred meters behind him was the dajian swarm still surging forward in a semicircular formation; three hundred meters ahead was Stream Blades' frontal defensive line; and directly opposite, that terrifying horde of dajian was rapidly closing in. Both swarms were moving, closing the distance. Han Qingyu stood motionless there. Stream Blades held the Three Formations in reserve, poised to charge at any second. This footage from Refusal was presented not only to Azure Headquarters, but also to the entire world, for a certain old man who truly led Refusal had said: "This may be their final battle. For all they have done, and all they are doing, their battle should be seen by the entire world, regardless of the outcome." At this moment, the whole world stood on its feet. A small portion of people remained blindly optimistic because of Major Qing's presence and his earlier display. Yet far more were gripped by dread and sorrow, weeping in grief, praying in profound gratitude... The already somber battlefield footage suddenly dimmed even further, and then took on color. "Mom, what's that?" A little girl in Kanagawa asked, pointing at the television screen in surprise and fear. "An aurora. It's the aurora," her mother said. Green, blue, violet... Like mountains, like rings, like waterfalls, like curtains, like sacred temples and infernos... Bright, dazzling, faint, dense, ethereal, solid... Across the Antarctic Eastern Front, a sky full of flowing light suddenly enveloped the entire frozen battlefield. Upon the ice sheet, "Rumble, rumble..." The frontal horde finally became visible to the naked eye, a continuous line thundering in across the snowline. "Hiss-roar..." The semicircular dajian swarm to the rear accelerated as well, closing in for the kill. "Prepare," Wen Jifei said calmly over the army-wide channel. As the commander, he could no longer afford to watch Qingzi's situation. It was not that he didn't want to, but that he couldn't. Stream Blades' only chance now was to use Wu Xu and the other top-tier fighters as an arrowhead, piercing a breach through the frontal dajian horde like a fired arrow. As long as they could break through this blockade, their tip would point straight at the traction field. And Qingzi had to hold off the swarm behind them all by himself. How was he going to stop them? ...No one knew. No one knew that at this moment, Han Qingyu had actually deactivated his device, sheathed his warblade, abandoned all defenses, and stood there listening to the sounds of the approaching dajian, allowing them to draw closer and closer... With his current strength, he could not turn this battle around. He knew it himself. Therefore, *Either come out, return to me, and obey! Or we die together! I don't care what your deal is, I don't believe you're not afraid of death. I'm not afraid of dying,* Han Qingyu spoke within his mind. *** "Here they come!" The dajian from both sides were upon them. At the same time, *boom!* On the distant eastern coast, Mount Erebus, which had gradually quieted down, suddenly erupted violently once more, sending churning magma soaring into the sky, even more fiercely than before. Refusal's battlefield surveillance caught this occurrence, but had no time to spare for a natural event. The distance was simply too great; the volcanic eruption had zero impact on the battlefield. Even the Stream Blades warriors on site failed to notice it, and so did Han Qingyu. Yet his body, almost in exact synchronization, began to burn furiously. Deep, surging, scalding magma began to hammer fiercely against his heart from the inside out. Energy began to spill over... Magma-like firelight burst from the left side of his chest, radiating like a brilliant beam of light. Then, molten rock began to flow, spreading across his entire chest, neck, shoulders, and arms... "Here it comes!" A Red Shoulder in the rear formation could finally hold back no longer, lunging forward with its pillar sword aimed straight at Han Qingyu's back. "Here it comes!" Han Qingyu distinctly felt the sensation of his heart shattering. The instant his heart, like a volcanic crater, finally burst its dikes, Han Qingyu's source energy device rebooted, surging into peak operation. Liquid source energy churned in peak operation; life source energy poured out recklessly in peak operation... *Hummm...* A lingering resonance hung in the air, like the chime of a colossal bell from a thousand li away, solemn rather than violent. The first person on the field—and the only one at this moment—to look back was the Little Prince. Severely wounded, he had been assigned to assist with command, giving him a rare moment of leeway. "...Dragon!" Turning his head to look upward, the Little Prince's lips parted. He had spoken this word many times before, each time with fierce excitement, but this time, his voice was as deadened and flat as Wu Xu's. A dragon! Or rather, a gargantuan creature resembling a dragon appeared in Zhu Jiaming's line of sight. Unlike the phantom silhouette of the past, this time the dragon form was condensed into near-physical reality, vivid and alive. It was a colossal magma dragon whose entire body flowed with crimson and gold... Upon appearing, it did not launch an attack. Instead, carrying an immense sense of power, it slowly coiled upward, ascending toward the sky. This scene felt eerily familiar, appearing directly on Refusal's broadcast, laid bare before the eyes of the entire world. Unexpectedly, there was no uproar, no chatter... At this moment, the magma dragon climbed in silence. All of Azure was silent. The entire world fell silent. *Clang!* A crisp sound. *Clatter, clatter...* A series of taps. *Clang, clang, clang, clang...* The sounds began, from one to countless, from a single spot to innumerable places, from faint to intense... Soon, everyone heard it, heard it clearly. By the end, every person's heartbeat was synchronized to the same rhythm. Yet the warriors of Stream Blades could not look back, for the terrifying horde ahead was closing in, and the charge order could be given at any second. The dajian behind Han Qingyu likely heard it too, for those sounds came from right behind them. Yet they did not look back either. They continued charging toward Han Qingyu. "Little Prince, you..." The sniper scope on Captain Milla's rifle was suddenly snatched away by the Little Prince's outstretched hand. Startled and angry, Captain Milla turned toward him in agitation. *Don't move.* The Little Prince held her back with one hand, his eyes locked onto the sniper scope, gazing at the ice sheet behind the rear dajian swarm. He did not speak, but the expression on his face grew increasingly astonished. That was the battlefield where Han Qingyu had walked alone just moments ago. Now, it was the origin of the noise. *Clang! Clatter...* On the ground there, countless pillar swords were moving. As if brought to life, they trembled left and right, knocking and clattering against the ice, coiling with pent-up force. No, not just the pillar swords. The iron armor from the fallen dajian had completely shattered into fragments—thousands, perhaps tens of thousands of them—and they too were moving, leaping and clattering against the ice, restless and eager. No, that wasn't all. What was that?! Lifting the sniper scope slightly, the Little Prince discovered in shock that from even farther away, like a rain of arrows, dense clusters of dead iron weapons were streaking low beneath the aurora. Among them were the pillar swords left behind by the fallen dajian from the earlier interception lines. And the warblades left behind by the fallen warriors of Stream Blades. By now, Milla was completely stunned. As for Ashleia and Ian nearby, they seemed never to have truly "woken up." The Little Prince slammed down the sniper scope, snapped his head toward Han Qingyu standing alone on the field, and then jerked his head up toward the sky... "All Three Formations, char—" Wen Jifei began, but before the word could leave his lips— "No!" The Little Prince reached back, gripping Wen Jifei's shoulder to cut off the command. Yet his gaze never left the sky for a single moment. There, *bang!* A muffled pop resonated through the air, and a solid mist exploded outward. The magma dragon coiling continuously upward had finally completed its ascent... At last, it raised its head: *Roar!—* A dragon's roar shook the entire ice sheet. Milla looked up. Ashleia and Ian woke from their daze. Wen Jifei turned around and looked up. Rusty Sister looked up... The warriors held their ground. *Schwing!* With a sharp screech, Han Qingyu drew his blade. Once again, the warblade scraped past the dead iron hook, emerging from behind his shoulder. *Boom! Crack-crack-crack-crack-crack...* Behind him, and behind the dajian swarm, the sound erupted in an instant, like hundreds of thunderclaps detonating at once. *** Flowing light. Refusal's cameras originally could not capture ground-level details, and the footage filmed on site by Ashleia and Ian had not yet had time to be transmitted, but... It was too colossal; that incoming storm of dead iron weapons was simply too colossal. And it reflected the flowing light. Reflecting across thousands of dajian pillar swords. Reflecting across the warblades left behind by Stream Blades' fallen warriors. Reflecting across countless dead iron fragments of every shape and size. Blue, green, violet, dazzling, shifting... every hue imaginable. Flowing light streaking through the sky. A magnificent, mysterious, gargantuan, and breathtaking spectacle. At this moment, the warriors of Stream Blades maintained discipline and never once turned around, yet the entire world was watching. On this day, upon the Eastern Front of Antarctica, across a battlefield of death, beneath the aurora... The God of War returns, Ten thousand blades pay homage!