Frankly speaking, today’s battle offered the Wang family far too many opportunities to secure victory. Yet, their failure to seize a quick win cannot be blamed on Wang Mu or the swordsmen. It was entirely due to the military culture of the Empire. Throughout its long history of warfare, the Galactic Empire had developed a martial culture where every individual took pride in being a soldier. Moreover, an ancient chivalric spirit was gradually resurging. Imperial officers, confident in their strength, preferred to wait for a formal, decisive battle rather than resorting to underhanded tactics like ambushes.
At the very moment Wang Mu missed his chance, Yang Hao, through every possible means of command, finally managed to arrange his formation. In the process, countless Yeti-men were trampled, and many had their pants torn off. When they finally lined up, the absurd sight almost made the swordsmen burst into laughter. Only Wang Mu’s strict discipline kept the Wang family’s formation from dissolving into chaos.
The formation of the Demon Bear Corps was indeed bizarre. All the Yeti-men had stripped off their trousers, leaving only their briefs. They lined up in three rows—top, middle, and bottom. Whether crouching on the ground or floating in midair, all of them turned their backs to the enemy, sticking their buttocks high in the air as if they intended to fight with their backsides.
“Even if your backsides are unbreakable as diamond, you still won’t escape death!” Wang Mu had no patience left to watch his opponents’ ridiculous performance. “Formation of the King! Charge!”
The moment he shouted the word “charge,” the well-trained swordsmen immediately gathered their energy, swords raised, ready to unleash a devastating attack that would reduce the Yeti-men to dust.
But unexpectedly, this time the Yeti-men moved unusually fast. Before the swordsmen could release their energy, a thick cloud of smoke rose from the Demon Bear Corps, followed by a deafening explosion.
It was indeed an explosion, but without flames or electric arcs, completely different from the cannon fire of massive warships. As the explosion echoed, the Demon Bear Corps launched a series of pale blue energy spheres, each about the size of a human head, and no one could tell what they contained.
The spheres came swiftly. The swordsmen barely saw them before it was already too late to react. The blue spheres struck and exploded violently.
It was an utterly unexpected turn of events—even seasoned veterans like Wang Mu were stunned. The explosions, while not comparable to nuclear detonations, were no weaker than standard cluster bombs. Especially when thousands of them struck in unison, hitting the swordsmen directly, the force was enough to reduce even the most elite martial artists to ashes.
Within an instant, thousands of spheres surged forward, instantly killing over a hundred elite swordsmen of the King’s Corps. The survivors barely managed to retreat, but they had already lost all capacity for counterattack.
Even worse, after the explosions, the spheres released an unbearably foul stench. This nauseating odor seemed to penetrate the soul, making those who inhaled it feel rotten from skin to bone. The mere scent was enough to strip anyone of their will to fight. Even the swordsmen, and even Wang Mu himself, felt as if they had been hit by tear gas a thousand times stronger. The only thought left was to retreat.
Wang Mu was truly baffled. Even if he had ten thousand heads, he still wouldn’t have understood how things had come to this. Whether minutes, hours, or even days ago, the advantage had always been on his side. But the moment he encountered this strange fellow Yang Hao, everything changed.
What baffled Wang Mu even more was that this planet was filled with flammable marsh gas, an extremely dangerous environment like a powder keg, which had forced the Wang family army to abandon its technological advantages and refrain from using high-tech weaponry. Yet, how could Yang Hao and his forces fire such cannons? And it seemed as if the projectiles even contained biological gases capable of breaking the enemy’s will.
The remaining members of the King’s Sword Corps fled in panic under Wang Mu’s command. While running, Wang Mu shouted furiously, “You dare to use biological toxins? I will definitely file a complaint against you!”
“Dummy! That’s not biological toxin! That’s just the farts of your grandfather’s clumsy bears!” Yang Hao, seeing his formation succeed at first strike, was so delighted he danced with joy. “Now you know the power of my Yang Hao Special Pills, right?”
Not only Wang Mu was confused about how Yang Hao had fired those projectiles, even Maya, who was watching from the sidelines, couldn’t figure it out. She only saw the Yeti-men sticking out their butts, a thin wisp of smoke rising, and then those blue spheres appeared like bubbles from a goldfish’s mouth. She couldn’t see any launcher or cannon from Yang Hao’s side.
This was Yang Hao’s secret weapon—the very reason he dared to challenge Wang Mu here. And it was also why Yang Hao would later be known as the world’s most unpredictable master. His ability to innovate in seemingly impossible situations, to come up with brilliant ideas no one else could imagine, was the key to his great success.
The move just unleashed by the Demon Bear Corps was named by Yang Hao as the “Fart Formation.” Those blue spheres and the faint white mist were nothing more than massive farts released by the Yeti-men.
Yang Hao had long understood that the Yeti clan’s greatest talent in life was defecating and farting. Therefore, to win this war, he had to leverage these two advantages. Thus, he lured Wang Mu’s main forces to this planet, a place built from excrement, where the marsh gas produced here prevented the imperial army from launching large-scale bombardments. This was the defensive strategy.
However, defense alone wasn’t enough to withstand the overwhelming power of the King’s Sword Corps. So Yang Hao had an offensive plan as well—the newly developed “Fart Formation” of the Demon Bear Corps.
Earlier, Yang Hao had been taught by Hun Yuan Zi to refine a pill called “Blue Mood.” This pill had the miraculous effect of neutralizing aphrodisiacs, but it also had a side effect: when consumed, it caused the person to release extremely high-pressure farts. Once, after taking just a tiny pill, Yang Hao had released a fart so powerful it launched him dozens of meters into the air—an astonishing display of power.
Now, Yang Hao had given each of the naturally flatulent Yeti-men ten of these “Blue Mood” pills. As they gathered together and unleashed their farts without restraint, the resulting fart-bombs were exactly as he had imagined—powerful enough to launch a surprise attack that utterly crushed the King’s Sword Corps.
What was even more astonishing was that, no matter how powerful Yang Hao’s Fart Formation was, and no matter how violently those fart-bombs exploded, their source of energy was still the Yeti-men’s own flatulence. In essence, they were almost identical to the marsh gas already present on the planet. Therefore, they produced no sparks and could not cause any fire or explosion.
Yang Hao’s strategy had achieved tremendous success. His Fart Formation could arguably be called the most eco-friendly superweapon in history. In a series of explosive barrages, Wang Mu was forced to flee in disgrace, leading less than thirty percent of his original forces. But Yang Hao’s side had just gained the upper hand—how could they possibly stop now?
Especially Kevin, who, though the commander of the Demon Bear Corps, had never achieved any major victories before. Today presented a golden opportunity to defeat one of the Empire’s top ten sword corps. Kevin naturally wouldn’t let it slip away. Moreover, the Yeti clan had suffered under the Empire’s oppression for so long, and now, finally, they had a chance to strike back. He kept ordering the Demon Bear Corps to continue the bombardment: “Target, five hundred meters ahead—fire! Target, six hundred meters ahead—fire!”
With more and more fart-bombs launched, the battlefield became a scene of utter chaos. The corpses of swordsmen lay scattered, bloodied and unrecognizable.
“Keep firing!” Kevin roared furiously, “Lift your butts higher! Do you even understand parabolas? Fire!!!”
So relentless was their assault that even Yang Hao, the mastermind behind it all, felt a bit uneasy. He tried to reason, “An old master once told me, ‘Don’t press a desperate foe too hard.’ Maybe we should stop.”
“Absolutely not! I’m going to blow every one of these bastards who’ve oppressed us to pieces!” Kevin refused to relent. This was likely the first time in Yeti history that they had gained the upper hand in battle against the Empire. Not only Kevin, but the entire Demon Bear Corps showed no sign of stopping. Their Fart Formation continued nonstop, aiming to wipe out the entire sword corps.
But soon, the situation changed again. As the blue fart-bombs relentlessly pursued the fleeing swordsmen, seemingly about to annihilate them completely, one figure turned back.
It was none other than Wang Mu, the commander of the King’s Sword Corps and the Heavenly King Fleet. Now in his forties with streaks of gray in his hair, Wang Mu had experienced countless battles. His command had seen both victories and defeats, but never one as devastating and humiliating as this.
Wang Mu now understood why Wang Tao had died at Yang Hao’s hands. It wasn’t because Yang Hao was particularly strong, but because of his bizarre, unpredictable tactics. Wang Mu could hardly bear to imagine what would happen if word of this battle reached the Imperial Privy Council and other noble families—that the Wang family’s elite army had been utterly defeated by the stench of Yeti farts. The shame would be unbearable. Perhaps even the ancestors of the Wang family would rise from their graves in fury.
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