As Major Qing's most formidable personal combat technique from his earlier, less powerful days, the Rusty Sister Dimple Slash had become a household name across the human world.
Adults talked about it endlessly, recounting its record in battle and conjecturing about the ambiguous romance and stories behind its name. Even children getting into scuffles loved to yell it out first before picking up whatever was at hand to fling.
Over the years, the soaring price of glass in the human world was something a certain Major Han from Huaxia was definitely not innocent of.
Yet compared to other personal combat techniques equally renowned across the globe—such as General Bochen's Skybreaker Hammer, General Ivan's Burning Body, Legion Commander Chen's rumored final strike, or even Wu Xu's Solitary Heavy Array, Weize's Pinnacle of Death Intent, Godly Mutual Perishing, and the like—the modern assessment of the Rusty Sister Dimple Slash was, more often than not, no longer celebrated for sheer destructive force, nor was it ranked alongside those other legendary techniques on that basis.
Most of the time, people simply found it cool to behold—flashy, fun, steeped in backstory, and perhaps with a hint of romantic tension tucked inside. But on a high-end battlefield, its primary utility in his later days amounted to little more than an opening move Major Qing had grown accustomed to and fond of.
Yet today, on the Martian battlefield, in an aerial interception at the razor's edge of life and death, Major Qing made his move... and his opening gambit was still the Rusty Sister Dimple Slash he knew best.
The world knew that a blade thrown from the hand lost its killing power, scarcely able to breach dead iron... Yet he hurled a battleblade to cleave a warship.
To cleave a large Great Spike warship hurtling toward them in a head-on collision.
The lens of the high-altitude reconnaissance drone could not track the trajectory of the spinning, accelerating blade. But very soon, it captured the aftermath: *Screeech... clang-clang-clang-clang-clang-clang!*
Along the left ridge of the large Great Spike craft charging head-on at the CA117, a straight incision abruptly ripped open.
The spinning dead iron battleblade, forged from the sturdiest material known to mankind and enveloped in Major The Qing's potent life source energy, resembled a massive gear bristling with razor-sharp facets as it gouged and smashed its way through...
In a flash, it sliced all the way from the Great Spike craft's shoulder straight to its stern.
Spent of its force, the blade began to tumble in free fall, spinning lazily through the thin air.
A deep, gaping fissure was left carved into the flank of the Great Spike craft's ridge.
Immediately after, with a sickening *screeech*, the tremendous groan of the ship's compromised hull threatening to snap under the strain echoed out, filling the entire expanse.
For his very first strike on an extraterrestrial battlefield, Han Qingyu had unleashed the absolute limits of his maneuver gear, his liquid source energy, and his life source energy right from the start... a state pushing near the peak of his total might.
Because this interception was never going to be easy. On the contrary, it was perilously steep and immensely difficult.
Were it not so, General Ergna would not have flatly rejected their proposal the moment he heard it, nor would they have openly admitted it was a gamble and labored so hard to convince the others.
In truth, in a war like this, how many things could ever be guaranteed with absolute certainty?
The reality was simply that, after weighing the matter in his heart, he could not bear to watch those ships and veterans die in vain. Believing there was a decent chance if he and Yang Qingbai joined forces to hold the line, he had resolved to give it a try.
***
Even in a state nearing his full strength, it was impossible for Han Qingyu to slice a large Great Spike warship clean in two or smash it to pieces. He knew this well. He did not know whether he could manage it if he staked his life and burned everything today, but for now, he harbored no such expectations.
Back in the day, that fellow Chen Buer could stand atop a skyscraper and, without even pushing to his limit, shatter more than twenty warships with a single frontal slash... but that was because those had merely been Great Spike skirmish craft.
Nor had he cleaved every one of those skirmishers himself. The ones he had actually sliced through were probably just the two or three at the head of the formation... thereby triggering a massive chain-reaction crash in midair.
*Creak... crash!*
The large Great Spike craft directly ahead continued surging forward, hurtling toward the CA117... but with a deafening crash, its left flank collapsed inward, slammed against its own hull by the colossal force of the blow.
The side that caved in was where the hatch lay. A Great Spike craft's hatch was always immense, spanning half to two-thirds of the side hull... and that was precisely where Han Qingyu had sliced.
*Clang, rattle-rattle-rattle!* The collapsed hatch did not tear away completely; it shuddered and swayed violently in the air.
The Great Spike craft did not plummet, either.
Having suddenly lost its center of gravity and balance under the tremendous impact, it simply banked hard to the side, thrown into an uncontrollable roll.
In doing so, a gap opened between it and the neighboring Great Spike craft. A breach appeared in the otherwise airtight attack line.
At that moment, the CA117 was also banked on its side.
Only, it tilted the other way. With pinpoint precision, Yang Qingbai squeezed the craft through that solitary, freshly opened gap.
Practically belly to belly, they shot past in a thrilling, seamless sweep, slipping clean through an entire line of Great Spike craft.
"*Whew... hah!*" The sound of ragged breaths and jubilant gasps broke out inside the CA117's cabin after the agonizing tension.
Yet it ceased in an instant.
Because it was not over.
The swarm of Great Spike craft descending from above was vast, and their attack lines were far from singular. Having cleared one hurdle, the CA117 was immediately confronted by another interception front.
Close, and fast.
Naturally, in such circumstances, regardless of how many enemy ships there were, only one was ever directly facing the CA117 head-on.
Except this time, another Great Spike craft to the front left had anticipated the maneuver, turning early to ram in at an oblique angle from the flank.
*The situation is even more perilous than before.*
As a machine, the high-altitude reconnaissance drone registered no emotion, but the Refusers observing and recording behind it, as well as the personnel inside the CA117's cabin, were keenly aware.
Every heart leapt into their throats, paralyzed by tension and helplessness.
Yet there was more...
The Great Spike craft they had just bypassed along the previous attack line had already begun to wheel around. The one at the closest angle executed a maneuver akin to a backflip to reverse its heading... belly facing upward, it strained to adjust its angle and ram the CA117 from behind.
In other words, a medium-sized Great Spike craft was now closing in from the CA117's rear flank, flying slightly lower on the horizontal plane.
*...* How could such a predicament be described, understood, or countered?!
In that split second, neither the Refusers in the distance nor the troops inside the CA117 tried to think. It was not that they chose not to, but that they couldn't... They failed to produce any appropriate response to the crisis. Their minds went entirely blank, followed immediately by the cold realization of facing impending death.
Because this was a dead end.
...In the roughly five seconds that followed, high in the Martian sky:
The CA117 maintained its sideways bank, streaking straight ahead.
Major Qing launched the dead iron battleblade from his left hand—another Rusty Sister Dimple Slash, executed with identical precision, carving toward the flank of the frontal Great Spike craft's ridge.
Because the distance was shorter and time tighter, the blue-glowing pillar swords hovering beside him shot forward as well, forming a line behind the flying blade and slamming into the opposing craft to knock it off balance even faster.
Almost simultaneously, Major Qing launched himself from the roof of the CA117, vaulting into the open sky.
Suspended midair, his momentum seemed to slow, yet his body continued to rise... In the breakneck rhythm of the engagement, the process appeared inexplicably sluggish, agonizingly so.
Then he moved. Neither hurried nor delayed, he brought both hands together behind his head in the posture of gripping a hilt.
Major Qing seemed poised to cleave the enemy craft barreling in from the flank.
Yet he had no blade in his hands!
The blade... came.
The dead iron battleblade that had been tumbling in a lazy, free-falling spin toward the Martian surface below... was suddenly yanked upward as though seized by an immense force, snapping upright and screaming through the air.
Streaking upward, the battleblade plunged into the medium-sized Great Spike craft below and behind Major Qing—the one flying belly-up—entering through its dorsal ejection hatch, punching through the interior cabin, and bursting out the belly...
[The Rusty Sister Dimple Slash carved through the front enemy ship's ridge from one end to the other. The blue-glowing pillar swords slammed home, strike after strike, sending the frontal craft into a roll.]
[Ignoring the other enemy craft charging at an oblique angle from the left, the CA117 banked hard, tracing a fluid arc toward the breach.]
[ *Boom! Crash!* Behind Major Qing, the belly of that medium-sized enemy craft suddenly burst outward with shattered dead iron. A gaping hole tore open, the hull shuddering violently as it lost its angle of attack.]
[The ship-breaching battleblade continued upward along an arc, without a fraction of a second or a millimeter to spare, delivering its hilt right into Major Qing's clasped palms.]
[Major Qing gripped the hilt with both hands, erupting with the absolute limit of his power in an explosive roar as he leapt through the air for the strike.]
[Chest opening... body arching, diving downward, he channeled the full force of his arms, waist, and core, bringing the blade crashing down.]
[ *Boom!* The enemy craft from the flank was struck squarely on the prow, near its crown... The plating shattered, caving in with a massive dent. Jarred by the impact, the ship's nose dipped violently as if cuffed on the back of the head, plunging nose-first toward the ground below.]
[By this time, the CA117 had banked through and cleared the enemy's attack line.]
[Major Qing brought his foot down heavily upon the stricken enemy craft. The kick was supple yet powerful... like a man stepping off a skiff on a lake, the craft rocking as the figure soared.]
[Midair, he hurled the battleblade toward the space above the CA117. The blade arrived in an instant, and he followed right behind, landing atop the hull, catching the hilt, and sheathing it behind his shoulder.]
[Moments later, the blue-glowing pillar swords arrived one after the other, followed by the second dead iron battleblade, all returning to place behind Major Qing's back.]
[He tilted his head and wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand.]
The CA117 curved rightward into a climb, tracing a gentle parabola like a ceremonial procession, skimming past the long formation of Great Spike craft they had just crossed paths with on their right...
In the distance, it swept low once more toward the Martian surface.
By now, the entire Great Spike fleet in the sky had been provoked, yet every last one had been shaken off.
Of course, they would soon give chase...
Here they came... Two hundred Great Spike craft tore after the CA117's tail like madmen, while scattered craft on the surface began taking off to cut them off.
Having dropped in altitude, the terrain below was clearly visible, with desolate hills and barren desert flashing continuously beneath their sight.
With over two hundred Great Spike craft in tow, the CA117 flew like lightning, a blur of wind and shadow...
In the midst of this all-out escape, it inexplicably executed a slow, remarkably seductive and graceful roll. Then, the custom ultra-high-power loudspeaker brought all the way from Blue Star crackled to life:
"Hello, Pegmont."
"Hello, Commander Pegmont of the Human Martian Legion, are you there? This is the Human Martian Expeditionary Fleet, Vessel CA117. I am Han Qingyu."
Chapter 909