This scene was broadcast across the entire world: on Antarctica's Eastern Front, at the violently erupting crater of Mount Erebus, Major Qing plunged from midair in a self-sacrificing strike, cleaving Daie into the pillar of lava, driving it down into the caldera, and falling in right after it.
Against a blazing backdrop of fiery red and yellow, it was an overwhelming spectacle that struck the senses—just as Major Qing had said, giving the impression of a warrior descending into hell alongside a demon.
"A mutual destruction?"
"But Daie doesn't seem like it can be scalded to death. What about Major Qing? He seems to share many ties with magma as well..."
The whole world fell into silent contemplation, doing their best to think along positive lines.
At the same time, to He Tangtang standing on the volcanic slope, the scene just now looked more or less like a spicy hot pot into which two huge chunks of meat had just been tossed.
If only one of those big chunks hadn't been Han Qingyu... for a Yanxiu scavenger beast, this would surely have been the most wonderful wait.
"Eat... me, eat Qingzi?" In He Tangtang's mind, scenes of himself devouring the restaurant assassin and devouring the Red Shoulders flashed by in rapid succession.
When all those bodies and faces were replaced by Qingzi—his expression enduring agony, his face smiling in willing surrender... an overwhelming anguish made He Tangtang briefly think about throwing himself into the crater as well. Dying would be better, bringing a clean end to everything.
Yet He Tangtang knew full well why Qingzi wanted him to eat him. He was just as acutely aware of what the four thousand Stream Blades brothers at the traction field were enduring, and what they were waiting for...
With things having come to this, He Tangtang could not even choose to die, nor could he choose what to eat.
Going down into the crater was out of the question.
Stacking up the dead iron blocks he had hastily gathered and hauled over on his back to make a small iron post, He Tangtang stood atop it, waiting in numb helplessness. The surroundings remained scorching hot, and he was already on the verge of being singed.
Dull, massive rumbles of churning magma reverberated from deep within the mountain from time to time...
They weren't dead. Qingzi and Daie still seemed to be fighting.
***
The same news was received across the entire theater of war, including everyone on the Antarctic Peninsula, the relief forces heading south to the Pole, and Stream Blades.
"Don't panic! Qingzi won't die." Noticing the slight stir in the battle formation, Wen Jifei hurried to reassure them, saying, "He deliberately chose that place."
Han Qingyu would always be Han Qingyu. Contrary to the image he presented to the world, humanity's superhero had actually always been a thoroughly sly and calculating man.
So even when facing Daie while grievously wounded and with death already in his heart, he remained the same—scheming slyly even on the brink of death.
The endless magma beneath the crater of Mount Erebus was the only place where he stood any chance of winning, even if the odds were still slim.
That Daie was "unafraid" of magma did not mean the molten rock had no effect on it at all, much less that it possessed a greater affinity for magma than Han Qingyu or was better suited to fighting inside it.
To that end, Han Qingyu had feigned weakness the entire way, exaggerating his injuries while quietly accumulating his source energy surges. He had led Daie all the way to the crater before finally creating an opening to unleash a sudden, death-defying burst and strike it down.
Inside Mount Erebus at this very moment, Qingzi was waging his final desperate gamble...
Wen Jifei knew this, but he knew even better that he could not afford to be distracted. Forcibly pulling his thoughts back, he surveyed the situation before him:
The losses among the top-tier combatants on the perimeter were somewhat severe. Fortunately, Qingzi had infused several source energy blocks along the way earlier, which helped keep some of them clinging to life; however, all those people had lost their fighting capability.
At the same time, under the relentless grinding of the swarms of Great Spikes, Stream Blades' circular battle formation had shrunk to less than a third of its original size.
While this indeed reduced the surface area of the formation exposed to simultaneous attack, the squad defensive formations were gradually losing the room to deploy, and their charging and striking distances were gone...
Stream Blades' entire battle formation was like a spring being continuously compressed. The moment it retreated any further, it would completely lose its elasticity and power.
Shortly after, it would be thoroughly crushed, snapped, and pulverized.
"Critical point!" Little Prince shouted concisely, glancing back from the slaughter on the perimeter.
The feedback aligned with his observations. Wen Jifei nodded. He reached for the communicator, only to realize with a glance that there was no longer any need. He immediately fired a shot into the sky, his source energy billowing as he yelled at the top of his lungs:
"Push out! Front ranks prepare, make way on my command! Rear ranks switch to offensive formations! Top combat power groups take your positions... Five, four, at all costs, we push out!"
The moment the final words fell, *shroom... boom!*
Along the circular position held by Stream Blades, the outermost battle lines split down the middle and transitioned into a wing formation, lunging forward along both flanks.
Into the central gap they vacated, offensive formations charged straight out one after another, cutting into the Great Spike swarm.
At the fore of every formation, the top combat power groups carved an opening in a desperate, death-defying advance.
***
In the imagery monitored by Refusal, the circle belonging to Stream Blades began to slowly expand, swelling outward.
"They've pushed out! They pushed out!"
Cheers erupted across the observation room, even though everyone knew in their hearts that this was merely another unyielding, defiant struggle by a doomed force that refused to surrender.
They still clung to that last glimmer of hope, watching every subtle shift on the battlefield with both dread and anticipation.
Just moments ago, someone in Refusal's observation room had likewise recognized that Stream Blades was already at the critical boundary between life and death, teetering on the verge of total annihilation.
He was an elderly white man whom the vast majority of Refusal's personnel had never seen before, yet all the superiors and prominent figures they recognized walked behind him with deference.
Earlier, during that transmission about Stream Blades charging into hell, he had been the one who took the microphone and broadcast it to the entire world.
His name was Geyehe, a name that lived on the opening pages of the history books—one of the Three Azure Pioneers was still alive!
"Stream Blades pushed out in the nick of time. That young commander of theirs truly seems capable of carrying the future, just as Xu Xiaohong appraised him."
"The execution of this force is astonishing as well."
"A pity..."
"Shut up!" the old man snapped, his mood turning irritable as he cut through the cheers in the room. Frowning at the people beside him, he said, "Right now is actually the most dangerous moment. I fear a countercharge from a cluster of Red Shoulders..."
***
As Stream Blades expanded outward as a whole, gaps inevitably opened in their formation, while their high-end combat power was fully dispersed to lead the counteroffensive... Under such conditions, if a cluster of Red Shoulders executed a countercharge, the consequences would be unimaginable.
They could potentially drive straight into the center of the formation, threatening the two snipers who were vital to the current situation, threatening the command staff, and threatening the wounded.
They might even pierce through the circular formation entirely. That would mean the units driving outward with all their might could suddenly suffer attacks from behind, triggering a complete collapse of the entire line.
It wasn't that Wen Jifei hadn't anticipated this; he simply had no choice.
This was a battlefield. On a battlefield, there were never perfect choices—only weighing the pros and cons, and whether one was willing to gamble.
As the formation expanded outward, Wen Jifei's heart remained lodged in his throat. Holding the Elegy of the Plaza, he continually turned around, watching the entire perimeter of the battlefield.
*Swish!* A dense series of concussive bursts approached rapidly from afar.
The scenario he dreaded most had finally come to pass.
A cluster composed of five Red Shoulders suddenly broke into a countercharge, swiftly piercing through two layers of the battle formation along their sector and plunging toward the center.
Furthermore, they came from directly behind Wen Jifei.
Whether it was an instruction left behind by Daie before departing or a mere coincidence, their first target upon breaking in was Wen Jifei.
Wen Jifei had his back to them at that moment.
However, Xu Shiliang and more than a dozen other soldiers tasked with guarding the sniper positions—or rather, guarding Wen Jifei—were facing the direction of the incoming Red Shoulders.
As Wen Jifei moved while observing, they had followed his movements, continually keeping themselves positioned opposite his line of sight.
"Watch out!"
There was only time to shout those two words of warning. *Boom!* Xu Shiliang pushed himself to his utmost limit, raising his blade with both hands as he crashed head-on into them.
He knew Wen Jifei lacked the strength to dodge, and he knew what Wen Jifei meant to this battle and to everyone here.
Xu Shiliang was the only top-tier combatant among these guards, his true combat power bordering on the peak of the top tier. Yet what he faced was five Red Shoulders...
The head-on collision produced only a slight delay. Drenched in blood, Xu Shiliang was thrown backward through the air.
*Boom! Boom, boom, boom...*
The brothers behind him, lined up in a single column, slammed into them one after another!
Aside from the concussive roars of their bursts and collisions, not a single battle cry or shout was uttered. Just like that, they slammed forward in silence.
...They managed to hold back that Red Shoulder cluster for perhaps five seconds.
Five seconds was enough for Wu Xu and Weize to reach the center of the formation.
Chapter 826