Mars Campaign

The massive body of the Great Spike Daie was cleaved in two midair, not yet fallen. Having executed the kill, Han Qingyu and Pegmont did not pause on the cliff top for even an instant. Instead, they dropped straight down along the cliff face toward the dark, unknown valley below. That was their true target. In Pegmont's words, they had come for a raid, and a raid had to look like a raid—even if diving in meant finding an enemy host vast as mountains with no way back. "In a moment, you..." Pegmont began, seemingly intending to coordinate something. *Boom!* Guided by Han Qingyu, the Daie's blue-light column sword shot down from above like a bolt, overtaking both of them and plunging first into the pitch-black abyss of the valley. Amidst the blast, a heavy *hum* resonated as a solid mass of blue light swelled powerfully up from the valley floor in a hemisphere... An energy shield! Both Han Qingyu and Pegmont had seen an energy shield like this before: outside the Great Spikes' super tractor field at the South Pole the previous year. Only this one appeared somewhat weaker. At the sight, the two quickly glanced at each other midair. "Position confirmed. Tractor field located. Order the troops to hold position for now," Han Qingyu said quickly into the communicator, ducking his head slightly. On the other end of the line, Wen Jifei swallowed the all-out attack order that had been on the verge of leaving his lips. He understood what Qingzi meant. He knew the man far too well; though Han Qingyu had raised no objections to his ruthless deployment plan, the moment the slightest possibility presented itself, he would still want to try it his own way first. In this battle, if Qingzi and Pegmont managed to succeed in a direct raid and destroy that tractor field, the expeditionary force could adjust its strategy afterward, sparing the lives of countless veterans. They could even take their time without rushing, scouting out the situation thoroughly while waiting for the Blue Star to dispatch further waves of reinforcements, slowly purging the Great Spikes on Mars and shipping back the spoils of war. "Order: all ground forces and space carriers halt their advance. Conceal yourselves and stand by." "Order: all dispersed airship formations continue executing their assigned directives. Stand by at all times to provide direct support to the tractor field sector, or to cover an evacuation." Wen Jifei issued his updated orders. *** By then, illuminated by the blue radiance, the scene within the deep valley below the cliff face gradually revealed itself: dense clusters of nearly a thousand Great Spikes stood at varying elevations, guarding the spire of the tractor field protruding from the ground. In a scene straight out of hell, the number of Red Shoulders was impossible to estimate for the moment. Yet the towering presence of the Daies was unmistakable—two of them. There were undeniably two Daies standing on the valley floor. As for whether a third lurked in the shadowed corners, or whether a Puta'er might even lie buried beneath, remained an unknown. Evidently aware that another Daie had been slain, the two below did not press forward to attack. Instead, they chose to stand together, anchoring a massive swarm of Red Shoulders to guard the tractor field as they waited for the two humans above to drop down. This situation... Han Qingyu and Pegmont both knew full well that the instant kill just now had not been an accurate reflection of their true strength. In terms of individual combat power, they possessed no real advantage against a Daie—to say nothing of the fact that these two Daies clearly had no intention of engaging them in single combat. Under such overwhelming numerical disparity, once the two touched the ground, they would be encircled and strangled, leaving them virtually no opportunity to strike directly at the tractor field. "It's yours. I'll clear the way for you." In a two-man raid, division of labor was natural and necessary. Han Qingyu took the initiative to hand the task of attacking the tractor field to Pegmont, while taking upon himself the burden of tangling with the two Daies and the large swarm of Red Shoulders below. This was not born of noble battlefield camaraderie or sentimental concern. For men like them, and in the predicament they faced, such things had no place. It was pure combat logic. Pegmont's combat limits were dictated by his "self-perception"—or rather, by what he believed himself capable of. Under the current circumstances, it was difficult for him to believe he could single-handedly hold off two Daies alongside a swarm of Red Shoulders on the ground. Combat after brutal combat had taught him that reality, and the truth was that not even Han Qingyu possessed such confidence; all Han Qingyu could do was strive to buy time. At the same time, Han Qingyu had no certainty of shattering the energy shield with a single strike to destroy the tractor field. Considering how many spacecraft had combined their power to form that source energy field, doing so was far harder than one might imagine. Yet Pegmont, the greatest bug in human history, possessed that possibility—so long as he believed it was possible. And right now, he just might believe it. Because through those casual words, Han Qingyu was projecting a matter-of-fact confidence, planting the psychological suggestion that *that side is easier; go take care of it*. Pegmont had no idea that Han Qingyu was worried he couldn't accomplish it in one blow—meaning Pegmont didn't need to consider himself stronger than Han Qingyu to achieve it—and his own grasp of the task was likely rather vague. Pegmont understood the message, but only took away one thing: *Mars is my turf, and today, I'm going to smash that tractor field to pieces with my own hands.* Without overthinking, he said, "Fine." For once, his tone was dead serious and solemn. By this point, their deliberately controlled descent had eaten up nearly all the distance. "It's up to you," Han Qingyu said, finishing his instructions. Reaching out, he gave Pegmont a shove. That single push sent Pegmont drifting laterally more than ten meters while lifting him upward by over twenty meters. In doing so, their tiered attack positions were established. Han Qingyu struck first. Less than a hundred meters above the blue light shield below, he extended his left foot and stepped into empty air as though treading upon solid ground. With a slight rebound full of rhythm, as if moving in slow motion, his body briefly suspended midair. Stowing his blade behind his shoulder, Han Qingyu kept the source energy throughout his body suppressed, burning violently within, while extending both arms outward to his sides in a steady, powerful motion, neither hurried nor slow... When his arms were fully outstretched, both of his palms were held upright. As the burning of the source energy inside him reached its apex, arriving at a critical juncture, *shriek... boom!* His arms remained naturally extended; shifting only his wrists, he made a simple, forceful turn, flipping his palms violently downward. A shattering detonation arose with the motion, cascading down. The shriek was the sound of howling wind, originating from high above—high up in the sky over the cliff canopy—carrying the momentum of hundreds of missiles fired in unison downward upon their heads. The boom consisted of two continuous, overlapping blasts. The first echoed around Han Qingyu's body: the source energy surge erupting in an instant after being suppressed and stoked to its absolute limit within him, churning like a violent ocean tide. The second sounded atop the cliff: a solid, crushing collision of matter against matter. Those three hundred dead iron battleblades cast into the heights from the airship CA117 had arrived. Under Han Qingyu's explosive traction, they plummeted vertically like lightning, tearing the wind with the roar of thunder... The blade formation smashed home, striking the cliff top first. Following the impact... Amidst violent tremors came the unending, jagged crack of shattering rock. The immense, thick overhang at the cliff top—the section resembling a giant fungal canopy—was sheared off in its entirety. Then, like a mountain peak suddenly severed from its base, it plummeted straight toward the valley below. The rock mass was colossal and heavy, falling undeniably fast, but in the realm of source energy combat, it was not fast enough. Under Han Qingyu's guidance, the three hundred dead iron battleblades moved faster still. *Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh...* Three hundred dead iron battleblades pierced through earth and stone, blazing with light as they emerged first into the open air. In the sky, following Han Qingyu's hands as he drew his blade, gripped it with both hands, and cleaved downward, the formation hurtled with ferocious speed toward the valley below—crashing toward the Daies, the Red Shoulders, the sea of Black Armors and blue-sheened Great Spikes covering the ground, and the tractor field's spire glowing brilliant as a giant diamond. From the look of things, the damned thing seemed nearly finished once again... "Build! That's all you motherfuckers know how to do! We didn't let you build on the Blue Star—did you think you could just build whatever the fuck you wanted on Mars?!"