The station's defenses to the north were thinner than those to the east, south, and west. The reason was simple: atmospheric convection was most violent on the northern side.
High-altitude storms raged there year-round at hundreds of kilometers per hour, making the environment brutally harsh.
The orange-red clouds churned into chaos there, severely disrupting Psychic Energy perception.
Visibility was almost zero, and the Blood-Eclipse Clan believed no one would emerge from that direction.
So only two squads of Seventh Rank guards and one Eighth Rank guarded the north, leaving it clearly undermanned.
Song Chen rested the Falling Star Blade across his knees and calmly reviewed his plan once more.
A minute later, he rose and made his move. The storm swallowed the sound of the Falling Star Blade leaving its sheath.
He left a faint afterimage in the clouds as he plunged from above.
His drawn blade slashed precisely toward the station's northern side, where the two Seventh Rank squads had just reached the space between the fourth and fifth sentry posts.
The leading Seventh Rank had not even had time to extend his perception before he saw the blade light falling.
There was nothing flashy about that strike. The power of Star-Splitting Slash was compressed into an extremely narrow cutting path.
The blade light cleaved straight from the Seventh Rank's crown to his crotch, slicing through his carapace before he could even scream.
Three Seventh Ranks beside him reacted at once, their erupting Psychic Energy lighting up the open ground to the north.
But they never even caught a clear glimpse of Song Chen.
The Falling Star Blade swept sideways, its light passing through three heads. Before the ninth level of Star-Splitting Slash, Seventh Rank carapaces were more fragile than thin ice.
A fourth Seventh Rank had only shouted