By now every planet circling the alien nest had been blasted to dust. Nine war engines poured a single, unbroken stream of fire at the fortress core.

A barrier array—laid down ages ahead—shrugged off the barrage; the nine engines hammered in vain.

Alien soldiers surged through the gauntlet, charging straight at the encircling legion that carried Ye Liuyun’s banner. Blades met; the fight shrank to bayonet distance. Ye Liuyun’s cohort held formation and sharper steel; if the grind continued, they would be the last ones standing.

Yet Yu Xiaofeng refused to spend every alien soldier under his command. The instant the fortress planet cracked apart he pulled the war engines back, sent them racing along the enemy rear, scything down stragglers in a final hail of fire.

With the two hosts already locked shin-to-shin, the guns dared not risk friendly steel; the engines withdrew to the second cordon.

All that remained of the nest-world was a single palace adrift in the void. Ye Liuyun’s golden pupils had already locked on the patriarch—Meng Tianlei—so he felt no rush to erase it.

Everyone waited to see what card the alien still nursed. The human elites and the spear-tip units already had their hands on their hilts.

The alien legion inched forward; the scattered defenders would be crushed sooner or later. If Meng Tianlei stayed his hand, the slaughter would only quicken.

Ye Liuyun’s guess proved dead-on: the patriarch still carried an ace. What galled Meng most was that Ye Liuyun had turned alien against alien—right to the end, the blood spilled was purely their own; demon and human skins remained unbroken.

But if he did nothing the rest of his race would be scoured away. And now, with the war engines drawing back, a gap yawned.

He loosed a long sigh and opened his pocket world: a hundred-thousand elite sprang forth—only a tithe of the legion, yet enough to punch a wedge through the ring.

Ye Liuyun glanced, shrugged, signalled Broken-Horn to keep the butcher’s work moving. Alien killing alien saved everyone the trouble of mopping up later.

Every alien general in Ye Liuyun’s host wore a slave-seal; every soldier had sworn a blood-oath. Orders were orders—they drove their blades into their own kin.

Yet the patriarch’s fresh corps out-numbered the cordon; the ring was thin. The hundred-thousand drove at a single seam, burst through, and spilled free.

Yu Xiaofeng flung Black Mountain and a hundred-thousand demon infantry to plug the breach, hoping to herd the fugitives back into the killing sack.

But the alien elite knew retreat meant mutual annihilation; at last they faced the true foe. They fought to the last breath, taking roughly fifty-thousand demons with them into death. The field ran equal parts green and crimson.

On the main front Ye Liuyun’s alien legion had lost well over half. Scattered alien champions—many three-eyed—had sniped a harvest of officers.

Ye Liuyun stayed his hand; let them gnaw each other. His own ranks held three-eyes enough to answer theirs.

And those three-eyes could do nothing against the war engines. The hulls were slicked and sigil-wrapped; a single beam could not bite through. Even if a three-eye poured shot after shot, the engine answered with a full salvo that turned the sniper to ash.

Ye Liuyun watched the butchery and murmured, “Aliens who once blotted the stars—now mere carrion beneath our boots. The unclimbable summit lies toppled at my feet.

Who knows what horizon this boundless cosmos will fling at us next?”

Deciding the work was almost done, he stepped forward and appeared before the drifting palace.

“Meng Tianlei,” he called, “will you walk out, or shall the guns carve you out?”

The patriarch stepped forth without hesitation, flicked a wrist, and the palace folded into his sleeve. 𝕗𝚛𝚎𝚎𝐰𝗲𝗯𝗻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝕞

No fear showed on the alien’s face; Ye Liuyun kept his guard. A clone watched from the void; Zhan Kong and Wu Yin remained cloaked at either flank.

“Never thought our race would be ended by a single human. Now it is your turn—show me what breeds such arrogance.”

The legion had lost, yet Meng still measured Ye Liuyun and found him wanting: three full realms above the human, he stood at Unity Four. Lose a war, perhaps; lose a duel—never. If he could kill Ye Liuyun, scattered enclaves might one day flower again.

Ye Liuyun’s lip curled. “Even if I grant you the bout, you die today.”

Meng dipped his head. “Then let my death buy your corpse.”

Aura blazed; his soul-weight crashed toward Ye Liuyun. From the pocket world twenty Unity-Three killers in stealth-cloaks flickered into being.

Ye Liuyun’s golden pupils could not see the bodies, but he saw their souls.

Zhan Kong and Wu Yin snapped a warning.

Time law flared; two three-eyes died before they blinked.

“The rest are yours,” Ye Liuyun tossed the invisible hunters to his hidden blades.

Half the cloaked killers turned—not toward Ye Liuyun—but toward Yu Xiaofeng’s command tent.