Like a wide shot from a sci-fi film, radiant light flared across his combat blade, and they saw Qingzi had already blasted out an empty space amidst the pitch-black swarm of Great Spikes, roughly circular in shape.
The ice there lay exposed, reflecting the auroras in the sky.
In the eyes of the crowd on the glacial rock—and especially in the high-altitude footage transmitted by the Rejectors—it looked as though a beam of colored light had suddenly shot out from a colossal black hole.
And so, even the people sitting before their television screens knew at this moment: Major Qing was once again charging forward alone.
With his landing spot at the center, corpses of Great Spikes flew into the air spouting blood, while others hurled backward like cannonballs, knocking over and driving back several others before finally being halted by their dense formation.
This allowed that circular patch of light to expand a bit further for a brief moment.
Even injured, Major Qing's combat prowess remained completely overwhelmingly superior against lower-grade Great Spikes.
Yet in the next second, visible to the naked eye and visible on the satellite feeds alike, the entire swarm of Great Spikes surrounding the traction field began to flow.
The visual impression was that of an immense black swamp beginning to slowly churn and flow.
Because it was so gargantuan and so far away, this movement seemed sluggish at first glance, but it carried an immense weight and power, as though it could crush anything beneath it.
In reality, the onslaught of the Great Spike swarm was anything but slow; they surged forward like torrents and tidal waves...
Great Spikes at the front kept dying, their corpses continuously piling onto the ground.
Major Qing slew them quickly—blindingly fast.
Yet as if devoid of sensation, the Great Spikes from the rear continued to churn and press in from all directions, lashing out at him with utter disregard for their own lives.
The ring of colorful light was shrinking; the cleared circle was shrinking, smaller and smaller, tighter and tighter...
By now, the answer was already obvious: not even Major The Qing could sustain such combat and attrition for long.
"Come back, Qingzi!" Seeing the colorful light in the black hole grow dimmer and dimmer, the circle closing in until he could barely even extend his limbs to strike, Rusty Sister shouted in desperate anxiety.
*Whoosh!* Without lingering in the fight, Han Qingyu pulled out. Relying on the traction of the large column sword, without any preparatory motion at all, his body shot diagonally out of the encirclement in an instant.
Even so, *gasp!* atop the glacial rock, four thousand five hundred people let out a collective gasp.
Because they were all watching—this time, Han Qingyu's escape looked not the least bit effortless as it had in the past, but rather fraught with sheer peril.
The moment his figure broke clear, four Red Shoulders suddenly leaped up simultaneously from within the swarm, slashing toward the air above him from four angles like a closing lid, seeking to hack him back down into the encirclement on the ground.
By a hair's breadth, Han Qingyu was not struck down; column swords grazed past his body.
Soaring through the air, he swung his blade at the same time, deflecting a dozen upward-thrusting column swords, then striking down five or six Great Spikes that leaped from behind, seemingly aiming to tackle him down.
He had broken free.
On the ice below, the small column sword had been pinned down hard beneath swarms of Great Spikes; only with great difficulty did it finally tear free of the formation and follow him, like a fish struggling desperately out of a net.
Reaching out midair to catch the column sword, Han Qingyu landed back upon the glacial rock, standing facing them.
Only then did the rest of them notice that, although he was not wounded, three tears were clearly visible on his combat uniform, ripped open by the tips of column swords.
He had come within an inch of being wounded.
...
As expected, the swarm of Great Spikes surrounding the traction field did not pursue him outward.
At the same time, the breach Han Qingyu had blasted open earlier had already been completely filled in. At a glance, the sea of aliens was as densely packed as ever, like a swamp, as though they had suffered no losses at all.
Under such circumstances, the damage caused by hacking down several dozen Great Spikes was completely imperceptible.
"Hoo... hoo..." The toll had been somewhat beyond expectations. Han Qingyu took deep breaths, finally steadying his state, and turned his head, only to find everyone staring at him.
"What is it?"
Having asked, Han Qingyu looked down, only to realize that in just this short while, a whole pool of blood had accumulated on the ice beneath his feet.
This time, almost everyone saw that pool of blood, including the soldiers in the battle formation.
Major Qing's bleeding was clearly not caused by those few tears in his uniform. Thus, even before this attempt—most likely back during the Myriad Blades Homage—he had already been heavily wounded.
He had merely concealed his injuries, which had finally been fully exposed just now.
*Pfft!* Since things had reached this point, there was no longer any need to pretend. Han Qingyu simply spat out a mouthful of blood, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and said, "Damn it, got a little scratched up by accident."
You call this damn mess getting a little scratched up by accident?!
A *little*?!
Everyone thought the same, and not a single soul humored him.
"It's too far. The column sword's traction range is limited; I can't strike it from a distance," Han Qingyu made conversation on his own, continuing as he pointed toward the traction field.
The traction field stood in the distance, surrounded by layer upon layer of Great Spikes, packed impenetrably tight.
Moreover, there was the blue light enveloping it. Han Qingyu knew it was not some energy shield out of a sci-fi movie at all, but rather a super source energy gravity field.
Therefore, at such a great distance, a column sword hurled from his hand could scarcely reach it, and even if it managed to touch it, piercing through under that crushing pressure would be nearly impossible.
A brief silence fell.
Everyone knew that the swarms of Great Spikes behind them were closing in, and Daie was rushing here as well... A doomed situation, with barely any time left. All they could do was make one final attempt.
Regimental Commander Storm took a step forward. "Let's do what the Little Prince suggested."
The Little Prince's plan was actually simple: everyone charge together. But not in a headlong rush; instead, Han Qingyu, Wu Xu, and the others would blast open a breach first, after which the Stream Blades battle formation would wedge itself inside to hold the breach open.
The top-tier combat powers would group up to attack forward step by step, while the battle formation behind them followed step by step, propping the opening wider.
Under such circumstances, the battle formation had only one purpose: brace against the breach, prevent the Great Spike swarm from flowing together and closing in, and hold open a "sandwich" inside the swarm for the top-tier combat group, so they could press forward without looking back.
This support would come at the inevitable cost of death; victory meant holding on and dragging out enough time for the top-tier combat group to reach a striking distance against the traction field; and the sole outcome would be getting devoured step by step until the entire army was annihilated.
The hope of "victory" was faint indeed, but they had no choice but to try—to hold out as far as they could, and deliver the top-tier fighters as far as possible.
"Make the call, Qingzi. There's not much time left," Gu Zhazha spoke up, referring both to the time on the battlefield and the limit of his own life.
At this moment, all eyes fell upon Han Qingyu's face.
Those rascals... were smiling.
Bearing the relief of finally embracing death, the determination of a final charge, and the reckless gratification of being able to "follow where you lead" one last time, they grinned without restraint.
That oath, which had once sounded like a joke, they had fulfilled.
Though in the end they could not follow Major Qing's banner above the dome, at least they had achieved this: on the path of following him, fighting until the very end, scattering into ashes.
"Make the call." "Yeah, Qingzi." "Make the call, let's smash it!" Like ruffians outside a wet market egging on two brawlers to hurry up and throw punches, the scoundrels hollered in a noisy clamor.
Not a shred of discipline.
Not a trace of grand passion.
"..." Han Qingyu raised his eyes, sweeping his gaze across them. Waiting for them to quiet down, hesitating and wrestling with himself for perhaps three or four seconds, he opened his mouth and said:
"Let me try one more time."
His tone sounded like a plea.
Time was running short; Han Qingyu wanted to try once more, one last time.
In truth, he believed the soldiers still had a chance to survive—a deduction and conjecture in his heart, or perhaps a hope and illusion:
As long as the traction field fell, and Daie was fought to the death, the Great Spike swarm would fall into chaos and completely scatter. Under those conditions, perhaps a portion of Stream Blades' warriors could still make it out of Antarctica alive.
"But..." Regimental Commander Storm started, wanting to ask about his injuries, wanting to ask how he could possibly attempt it.
"I said, I'll try one more time." Han Qingyu rarely spoke in such a stern tone, especially to this iron-blooded stalwart, Regimental Commander Storm, whom he had always respected.
Having said that, Han Qingyu turned around immediately. He held out his hand for Rusty Sister to give him her column sword, and extended his hand again for Wu Xu to hand over the other column sword he had acquired earlier but was never used to wielding.
"What... do you plan to do?" the Little Prince asked in bewilderment.
"Ever seen someone skip stones? I plan to skip a stone," Han Qingyu replied in a relaxed tone.
...
Four column swords in total had all completed bone source permeation and could be drawn by traction. Han Qingyu still left one planted upright on the glacial rock, and strapped two of them across his back.
"This is the advantage of having four rows of hooks on your back." Having no talent for telling jokes to begin with, Major Qing cracked a rather pointless joke, chuckling alone.
Feeling no embarrassment, he turned directly to Wen Jifei and said, "Now!"
The moment the word left his lips, the small column sword in Han Qingyu's hand flew out once more. This time, it was hurled higher and farther, destined to land even deeper within the Great Spike swarm.
This distance was already approaching the limit of Han Qingyu's column sword traction.
"Now!" Suddenly, *ongnong...* under the churning surge of source energy, a bizarre cacophony of eerie pitches and frequencies resonated out, washing over the Great Spike swarm.
Relying on "connections," the four Great Spike voice simulators that Stream Blades had brought back from the training camp were brought out for the first time, all operating simultaneously.
"Daie is dead!"
"On the western front, Daie has just been slain!"
"Daie is dead!"
"All forces retreat! Fast, retreat..."
The final trick held in reserve until now—its efficacy unknown, but used nevertheless... The Great Spike swarm wavered in confusion. Through his sniper scope, Wen Jifei saw them seem to freeze for a moment, then turn their heads one after another.
However, they did not all turn in the same direction.
This likely meant Daie was not in their ranks, or they did not know where it was; at the very least, they had not yet received any contradictory news or countermanding orders.
Regardless, an opportunity, even a sliver of one, was still an opportunity.
High in the air, the small column sword plummeted, crashing into the swarm, only to be pinned down as the surrounding Great Spikes recovered and swarmed over it.
*Boom!* Radiant light blazed from his combat blade as Han Qingyu's form crashed into the swarm once again.
At a position farther than before, he blasted open another breach.
Yet unlike before, he did not stay to fight there.
Above the black swarm of Great Spikes, a flash of blue radiance streaked forth as a second column sword was launched, flying out almost horizontally.
This time, Han Qingyu did not wait for it to hit the ground; instead, he followed right behind, soaring likewise across the tops of the Great Spike swarm.
Along the way, countless column swords slashed toward him, and countless Great Spikes leaped up, lunging at him.
Relying on his own strength and the close-range traction of his final column sword to make rapid, minute displacements, Han Qingyu's silhouette dodged like zigzagging lightning. No one could clearly make out his movements, yet everyone could see him driving forward—forward, ever forward, straight into the depths of the Great Spike swarm...
Alas, *clang!*
Major Qing himself had not been struck down, but the column sword hurtling horizontally ahead was ultimately struck by two Red Shoulders.
With a loud *clang*, it tumbled down into the swarm.
With the man following the sword, his trajectory began to dip downward...
*Boom!* Han Qingyu slashed forward with a single blade.
Twisting and flipping sideways midair, he cleaved downward with the combat blade in his left hand, striking a Red Shoulder's column sword. Rebounding slightly, his right hand hurled forth—*whoosh!*—as his final blue-glow column sword shot out...
Then, touching down for just a split second amidst the swarm of Great Spikes, his body surged forward once more in the wake of the column sword.
Deeper into the swarm.
Toward the traction field.
Chapter 818