Published at 13th of December 2025 8:48 am

Chapter 1822 The regressed substitution once more?

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Clatter

In that moment, Caesar slowly drew out his halberd- a high-tier epic weapon of tremendous prestige that he had recently won in a fierce auction - and planted it into the ground beside him with a heavy, echoing thud.

His left hand tightened around the haft with unwavering strength... his entire posture signaling that he was fully prepared to join the ground battle himself the very instant the situation demanded it.

Ever since he had issued that fateful decision all those long years ago the decision to abandon several planets temporarily until a real solution could be found - many worlds had gradually slipped away from their control one after another. The loss was especially severe among the distant planets they had attempted to conquer outside the Still Pulse Starfield, where their influence weakened rapidly with each passing year.

But this planet... this planet was different. It absolutely could not fall into anyone's hands, no matter the circumstances. It was one of the closest to the capital, planet Originus, and most important worlds affiliated with the Cradle Empire, holding the largest known reserves of several rare and desperately needed raw materials. And more importantly, it lay deep within the Still Pulse Starfield. If this world were stolen from them, it would be an unforgivable blow - a humiliating slap across the face and the beginning of another disastrous decline, one far worse than the losses of the past.

The battlefield if front of Caesar surged with both life and death at the same time, an overwhelming tapestry of chaos and power... Note fleets, accompanied by vast draco armadas, streaked across the skies in thunderous, world-shaking clashes. And weaving between them with deadly elegance were World Cataclysm entities from both sides, slipping through battlefield gaps to deliver terrifyingly precise strikes before vanishing once more into the storm of war. As for the battle on the ground - it was, as usual, complete and utter domination by the Cradle Empire's forces. Their advantage had held firm and unquestioned for two straight hours now, the enemy unable to break their formation even once.

Two hours...

At this point, the frontline units of the Hundredfold Cradle Empire Army began to show the familiar signs of exhaustion. Their energy attacks weakened, dimming gradually until they ceased altogether. One after another, they raised their shields, took cautious steps backward, and shifted into a defensive posture... the unmistakable signal of a regressed substitution maneuver, or any similar formation shift where the ground forces temporarily pull back to reorganize and refine more elixirs.

Grip

Right then, Jabba extended his hand and grabbed onto the glaive as well, stopping Caesar from acting. "Hey," he called with a firm tone, staring directly into Caesar's eyes with unusual intensity, "how about showing a little trust for once?"

"... Is this really the moment for experiments?" Caesar answered, his brows knitting together as he faced Jabba. "Do you have any idea what will happen if we lose here today? The consequences will echo for decades."

"Just a little trust, my friend. That's all I'm asking for. Show some faith - and put your halberd away." Jabba leaned in slightly, his gaze sharpening even further. "If we lose today, I'll treat you to the most extravagant dinner you can imagine. How does that sound?"

"....." Caesar remained silent for a moment, weighing the situation and his companion's confidence. Then, with a faint exhale, he withdrew the glaive back into his ring. "Hmph. Fine. But Ignar better be the one cooking that feast - and Kaylis must come sing for us during the meal. If they don't, I am not forgiving you!"

"...." Jabba froze in disbelief. He hadn't expected Caesar to casually throw around the names of entities of that unimaginable level - not in a joke, and certainly not in the middle of a battlefield. Or... was he not joking at all?!

... Meanwhile, on the ground, the enemy army's marshal watched intently. He waited until the Cradle Empire's frontline retreated those few crucial steps and noticed a shift occurring within the rear ranks. Then, with a triumphant spark lighting up his eyes, he raised his voice and roared: "Now!!"

The first row of close-combat soldiers immediately dropped to one knee, forming a structured firing lane. Behind them, heavy cannons, glowing arrows, and specialized throwing spears emerged and locked into position. The enemy army was preparing the usual counterstrike - the same crushing tactic they had used countless times to overwhelm and disrupt the retreat-replacement

maneuver.

Finally - after losing nearly a quarter of his troops in the relentless two-hour assault the marshal believed the moment had arrived. The moment where he would finally wipe the ground with the Cradle Empire's so-called elite. Exactly as they deserved, in his eyes.

But-

"Hehe now!"

BAM

The frontline troops who had seemed to be retreating with weakness just moments earlier suddenly slammed their feet into the earth with tremendous force. The ground shattered beneath them like brittle cake, fragments exploding outward. And then- as if pulled by an unseen command - they launched themselves forward in a fearsome charge, shields braced in their left hands and massive, thick-bladed swords raised in their right, rushing with an overwhelming ferocity that shook the battlefield itself.

"What?!"

The enemy army's marshal recoiled in sheer terror, his entire body trembling. By every calculation he had made, by every rule of warfare he understood, the effect of the elixirs should have long run dry after more than two hours of relentless, brutal fighting. He could sense it clearly-those soldiers in the first ranks no longer radiated even a flicker of inner energy. They were supposed to be exhausted, drained, little more than battered shells of fighters.

So what in the world had just happened?

How could they suddenly explode with such frightening power?

Was it possible that their very souls refused to collapse... refusing to die without one final, monstrous struggle? Or was something far more terrifying

occurring?

But- BOOOOOM!

His thoughts were torn apart as massive blades came crashing down upon the archers and portable cannon teams, cleaving several of them cleanly in half, as though their armor were made of paper instead of hardened alloys.

Bam! Bam!

A handful of cannons managed to fire-pure reflexes from their operators-just before their own bodies were split apart. The explosive blasts streaked toward the Cradle Empire's charging soldiers. Yet Wooooooom-the projectiles detonated the instant they touched them, bursting into clouds of sparks and fragments, completely ineffective.

All the detonations accomplished was to halt each advancing soldier for barely a heartbeat-one single second-before they lunged forward again with renewed ferocity, as if the attack had only angered them.

The kneeling vanguard troops, who moments ago had dropped to one knee to free the line for the archers and gunners to fire, found themselves instantly overwhelmed. Enormous blades and gleaming glaives descended upon them without mercy, slicing through throats, armor joints, and necks with brutal precision. None of them even had the chance to raise a final shout.

"What happened?! What is happning?!"

The marshal, his bizarre curled mustache twitching wildly, grabbed his aides by the collars and shook them so hard their helmets rattled. His voice cracked from disbelief, and his mind refused-absolutely refused-to acknowledge the

sight in front of him.

The battlefield had transformed in an instant. One moment, the Cradle Empire

troops were exhausted and on the verge of collapse. The next, it was as if someone had reignited the very flame of life within them. It felt as if the grueling two-hour battle had simply never happened.

And the most horrifying part:

They weren't using any heavenly laws.

They weren't channeling any mystical martial art techniques.

Just the sheer, raw might behind their weapons-swords, shields, halberds-was enough to annihilate the enemy's first six rows in minutes.

Meanwhile, the regressed substitution maneuver had been completed perfectly at the back. The rest of the army had fallen back in organized fashion, and

fresh, fully-rested troops surged forward, unleashing coordinated bombardments from the rear. All that happened under the protection of the tank-like men shielding the entire formation at the front rows.

...On the other side of the battlefield, Caesar leaned back with a deeper breath, relaxing more than he had in years. A strange, satisfied smile spread over his

face.

"Not bad at all," he murmured, almost proudly.

"Haha! I told you! This strategy was designed to support the regressed substitution flawlessly!" Jabba clapped his hands with a booming laugh full of

triumph.

He had personally requested Caesar to provide the strongest, most seasoned frontline soldiers available. Then, for fifteen long years, Jabba strengthened them through arrays-specialized formations-ove and over again, pushing their bodies to perfection. He drove each of them all the way to the initial threshold of the Martial Emperor Realm before finally returning them to Caesar.

The plan itself was surprisingly simple:

They were to ignore their physical strength entirely at first, relying solely on

inner power in the opening stages of battle. Only after their inner energy was completely drained were they to switch into physical-dominance mode. Theoretically, this approach would extend their battlefield presence, allowing the regressed substitution tactic to be used repeatedly. But judging by what they were witnessing right now... The results were even more outrageous than the theory predicted! "Hmm... but won't the ones in the front eventually need rest too? Watching

them makes me tired, Caesar said softly, the edges of his eyes gentling. He knew many of those warriors personally; several had marched with him during his first legendary campaign on Greenland.

"What are you even saying?" Jabba waved dismissively, scoffing playfully.

"Physical strength is the hardest thing to drain. As long as they don't use high-tier bodily techniques, we don't have any anyways, they can maintain that level of explosive aggression for at least six more hours-possibly more." "... Of course," he continued, "physical cultivators without advanced defensive arts are vulnerable to heavenly laws and energy-based attacks, but they have their shields-each one packed with layered arrays. And they have Pearls hidden inside those shields to feed them endlessly. They won't do more damage to the enemies but they won't fall easily!" He let out a hearty laugh. "Those tanks could support three, maybe even four regressed substitution today if we

really want to push it." "Heh~ thank you."

Caesar's voice came out unexpectedly sincere. After a few seconds of silence,

exhaustion suddenly clouded his eyes, as if years of stress were finally lifting. "I

can finally reclaim those planets now..."

"...."

Jabba stared at Caesar from the side. The weight of the humiliation Caesar had endured-losing world after world-was painfully obvious. Now, the chance to fight again using prepared, disciplined human soldiers had lifted an enormous

burden off his shoulders.

"There's no need to thank me. I barely did anything," Jabba said quietly, then

stood up. "My job here is finished. I'll return now. I have to oversee my Sky Opining City-its operations must begin at full efficiency soon." He took a step-then paused, turning back with an almost casual tone:

"Oh, by the way... before coming here, I found an expedition team from the Interas Galaxy inside Originus- the homeworld of the Cradle Empire."

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