After a clash between super soldiers, neither side had shown a significant boost in morale, and the Saudi reporters at the front had already fled before the super soldiers had departed.

The southern war zone of Mardis was the long-term activity range of the main forces of the Fiery Flames; with the battle heating up and the battlefield expanding rapidly, within just half an hour, the ambush battle had spread tens of kilometers, extending directly from the Giant Sword Mountains down to the banks of Lake Latin.

Not long after, Feng Yi returned to the battlefield, dirtied and disheveled, from an unknown direction, piloting a 9th generation Mecha named Rally. He knew what his soldiers needed the most at that moment was not the Revenge Shadow Rider, but their own corps commander. Since the Revenge Shadow Rider hadn't appeared at the most critical time for the team to assemble, it was strategically meaningless for him to show up now that the team was stretched so far apart. On the contrary, what was needed at this moment was for him as the commander of the Fiery Flames Corps to reorganize the troops' spirits.

Right then, the shore of Lake Latin was a complete mess. The scorched wasteland was full of the gunpowder scent from the smoke of roasting, spreading through the deep valleys. There were also indistinguishable mechanical wrecks from both sides, all telling the tale of the fierce battle. Amidst the thunder of artillery, the Fiery Flames Corps finally welcomed their supreme commander.

"Boss, you're finally back. Without you, the brothers here can't fight properly," shouted John from the trenches, with bullets and shrapnel raining overhead, clutching his communicator. The noise of explosions nearly drowned out his voice; had it not been for Feng Yi's enhanced hearing within the Mecha, it would have been very difficult to discern.

Feng Yi also looked crestfallen and frustrated. Super soldiers were too special to the Federation. If it weren't for rescuing Hugo, he wouldn't have appeared on the battlefield now. "Sorry, I was delayed. What's our casualty count now?"

"Not low." John's voice suddenly became choked up as he responded. This was worrying; he said hesitantly, "About 10,000 soldiers are missing in action."

"Wha, what? You said 10,000 soldiers are missing in action?"

"Yes, commander. If I'm not mistaken, most of them have probably..."

John didn't finish his sentence, and Feng Yi obviously understood what he was about to say. Hearing this news, he hesitated, the dimming and brightening light on the imager reflecting his somewhat gloomy face, far from being at ease.

Although he had anticipated this outcome—the enemy's numbers were too overwhelming—the news of such devastating casualties was still hard for Feng Yi to come to terms with. What did the loss of more than 10,000 people mean? A third of the Fiery Flames Corps' armed forces—these were soldiers he had meticulously trained, and they were brothers who shared life and death in the same trenches.

Upon hearing this number, Feng Yi couldn't even bring himself to ask about the imperial soldiers' casualties. But as the saying goes, "Know the enemy and know yourself, and you will never be defeated." Moreover, as the supreme commander, Feng Yi still went through the motions to ask John how many imperial soldiers they had repelled.

John replied uncertainly, his voice low, reporting that it was about 50,000 or so. This was the best result they could get from the ambush.

"I see... haha, that's... that's not bad," Feng Yi said, his tone growing even heavier. Though he said it wasn't bad, his voice sounded distracted...

A commander should not be emotional. After a long pause, Feng Yi finally collected himself as if he had become a different person. He then roared into the Sky Network's public frequency with the highest access, but he didn't proceed with global strategic command. Global commands had been simulated in advance. Even if he were to direct it by himself, it would be too much to handle—he could, at best, issue strategic directions. More often, it was the field commanders who had to adapt to crises on the spot.

Instead, Feng Yi ordered his soldiers to fight bravely and with vigor. The enemy forces were running low, while our own casualties were very low thanks to everyone's hard work. Now more than ever, they should muster their final strength and take down the enemy.

Upon hearing the corps commander's voice, the silent troops seemed to be infused with the Power of the Soul from some ethereal source.

After all, Feng Yi's principle was that there were rewards for killing enemies. With battlefield recorders documenting everything, killing one more meant one extra day of rest when returning to camp; killing ten promoted one's rank, and killing a hundred granted a special promotion and the award of a title and land.

Of course, granting titles and land was unrealistic—Feng Yi added, in jest, that there were no nobles or dignitaries anymore. But his resounding roar contained a touch of humor. In fact, this was part of Feng Yi's charm. Wherever he was, there was joy, passion, and also fervor and morale—even on a battlefield where life hung by a thread.

To hell with it, if we're going to die, let's die with spirit. The corps commander has spoken, what else do the brothers have to fear? They couldn't care less about ranks or special titles. Even just for a word of praise from the boss, they would give it their all right now.

For a while, the standoff between the two sides continued. But somehow, the Fiery Flames troops suddenly counterattacked with the ferocity of someone with nothing to lose. Their willingness to risk their lives for mutual destruction was astounding. No matter how numerous the enemy, they hesitated in the face of such determination. And now, the imperial troops were not as plentiful, and the Fiery Flames soldiers' average quality far exceeded that of the imperial army.

You could say they were crazy, desperate, or reckless, but this was the core influence that Feng Yi had over his troops: it was manageable to deal with one or two such fighters, but when so many suicidal attackers lunged at the enemy forces, the imperial legion's looming defeat became inevitable.

Under the breakthrough of this iron flood, the imperial force's commanders initially managed a full-force counterattack. But the opposition fought so fiercely, with a high ratio of battle damage, that it was simply too vicious—this was a real attack. It seemed that it was better to retreat quickly due to the risk of life-threatening danger. In an instant, the commanders took the lead and fled.

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