Skywalker hurried toward a group of clone troopers, where his Master, Obi-Wan, stood at the center of the crowd.
As his gaze swept across the group, he immediately noticed the bandages wrapped around his Master's hand.
"It's nothing serious, just a graze," Obi-Wan said, sensing his gaze. "How's the front line?"
"Oh, Master, everything's going perfectly."
"Except for this endless rain, I presume?"
The surrounding clone troopers chuckled, all too familiar with Anakin's aversion to rain.
Despite his rigorous training at the Jedi Temple and his journeys across a hundred worlds, the young man from the desert planet had never grown accustomed to such abundant rainfall.
However, compared to the rain, he hated sand even more.
"Alright, Anakin, look here." Obi-Wan projected a small holographic tactical display. "Lead your squad around the left flank of this hill. I'll outflank from the right."
Kenobi clearly marked the route on the map. "Remember, be careful!"
"Understood, Master!"
"Also, Anakin, try to capture some prisoners. Fresh intelligence is crucial, and wiping out the enemy will only deepen their hatred, making future battles even more difficult."
Anakin hesitated before asking the question that had been on his mind. "Master, I've always wanted to ask—if you're the General, what am I?"
"My Apprentice," Obi-Wan replied without hesitation, then immediately assigned a new task. "Now, take the Second Battalion to Rendezvous Point Two and circle around the hills to execute the flanking maneuver."
Just then, a Clone Commander stepped forward to report. "General, we've secured the central fortress. I recommend diverting some forces to attack the enemy's flank and expand our gains."
"We were just about to do that, Zeth," Obi-Wan nodded.
"Let's move out, Master!" Anakin responded eagerly, quickly mounting a Speeder Bike and racing toward his squad.
He skidded to a halt at the squad's position and shouted, "Deng! Bring the battalion and follow me! I'll lead the charge!"
Before he could finish speaking, the Speeder Bike surged forward, weaving nimbly between the rocks, its body pressed low, nearly skimming the planet's surface.
As he leaped over the enemy trenches, Anakin activated his lightsaber, precisely severing the heads of several B-1 battle droids.
Suddenly, a powerful premonition of danger surged through the Force, forcing him to swerve sharply to the side.
The spot he had just occupied was instantly riddled with energy blasts, and an unfamiliar Speeder Bike plummeted from the sky in a fiery crash.
"The pilot's skilled," Anakin thought, attempting to outmaneuver his opponent and gain the advantage. But the enemy pilot expertly evaded his every move. Just then, he realized, "This pilot is Force-sensitive!"
The two Speeder Bikes engaged in a wild chase through the torrential rain.
Anakin fired energy blasts repeatedly, but the opponent's precise dodges kept them all at bay.
As they raced across a battlefield raging with intense combat, Skywalker's gaze swept across the crowd and caught sight of a familiar figure.
The communicator suddenly crackled, and Obi-Wan's voice came through the earpiece, tinged with both surprise and annoyance: "Anakin, what exactly is happening on the front lines?"
"Everything is under control, Master!" Anakin replied, weaving desperately through the enemy AT-AT Walkers.
"You were supposed to be commanding the Third Battalion's assault on the left flank!"
"Everything is truly under control!"
"Under control? I doubt it! As Commander, you should be fighting alongside your soldiers, not chasing a single Speeder Bike!"
"Master, that pilot is Force-sensitive! I can sense it clearly! I can't let him escape!"
The chase continued, finally leading them to the ruins of a small settlement.
Anakin spotted a derelict Speeder Bike, immediately jumped off his own vehicle, and activated his blue lightsaber.
Suddenly, a woman's laugh echoed.
Across from him, emerging from the passage between two crumbling buildings, a figure slowly walked out. In each hand, a lightsaber glowed, its fiery red blade casting flickering shadows across her face.
Anakin immediately recognized her as a Sith.
"How about it, Jedi scum? You've fallen right into my trap! Now, you're as good as dead!"
"Are you so sure?" Anakin sneered, then leaped into the air, his lightsaber whistling through the air as it slashed toward her.
The tent was packed with people.
Besides the busy clone troopers, Ahsoka's sharp eyes also spotted Master Cyrus, Master Leska, Obi-Wan Kenobi, and his apprentice, Anakin.
"It's good you could get here so quickly," Kenobi said, stepping forward to greet them.
"We pushed forward at full speed to cut the journey as short as possible," Master Glaive replied.
Ahsoka's gaze swept over the group before settling on Skywalker's face, where a fresh scar marred his skin.
Before she could speak, Solo beat her to it. "Skywalker, that wound—is it from a lightsaber?"
"Yes, General Viktor. I encountered a Sith in battle and then—"
"And then fell into their trap," Obi-Wan finished for him, his voice tinged with resignation.
"But he survived. These minor injuries are nothing," Solo said. "Who was that Sith?"
"I don't know, but her combat style was very similar to the one you faced in London. She used two red lightsabers, combining variants of the Jarkai and Makashi forms, with curved hilts," Skywalker recalled. "I almost captured her, but she managed to escape in the end!"
Solo nodded thoughtfully. "Two red lightsabers? That must be her—Asajj Ventress, a Dathomir Witch. It seems she's forged a new lightsaber to replace the one I confiscated earlier."
"Wait," Master Leska suddenly looked up. "You confiscated a Sith lightsaber?"
"That's right."
"Where is it now?"
"In my quarters," Solo answered indifferently.
Ahsoka mentally projected to her Master: Master, why are they so tense about the Sith Lightsaber?
Solo: I'm not sure.
"Then why haven't you turned it over to the Jedi Council?" Master Cyrus asked, standing up.
"I've been on missions constantly. Is there any chance?" Solo spread his hands. "I've been swamped with frontline combat lately and just can't find the time."
Master Cyrus explained gravely, "General Viktor, if you don't understand the risks, let me tell you. Sith lightsabers are extremely dangerous. The Kyber Crystals within them are saturated with the Dark Side of the Force, which exerts a powerful temptation on Force-sensitive individuals, luring them toward corruption. Such dangerous artifacts must be handed over to the Jedi Council for destruction. Furthermore, Sith lightsabers are exceedingly rare. Even Master Kenobi couldn't obtain that Zabrak's lightsaber back then."
Ahsoka noticed a shadow flicker across Obi-Wan's face.
Anakin immediately defended his Master. "My Master was engaged in a fierce battle with the Sith at the time, and Master Qui-Gon Jinn—he sacrificed himself in that battle. Besides, what does it matter? My Master still killed that Sith."
"Killed?" Solo glanced at Obi-Wan with a peculiar look. "I don't think so."
Anakin asked, puzzled, "What do you mean?"
"Force-sensitives possess remarkable vitality. Through exceptional skill, they can endure unimaginable pain and survive seemingly fatal situations. So, while the chances of your opponent surviving are slim, they are not entirely impossible."
"Hmph," Master Leska snorted. "Since you're so knowledgeable, perhaps you can explain this to us?"
He pressed a button on the tactical table, bringing up a blurry image of a ferocious beast-like creature battling a Clone Trooper in the rain.
"This footage was captured by a helmet camera on a clone trooper," Leska explained. "A reconnaissance squad was wiped out, and we still don't know who the killer was. The only certainty is that the clones met a gruesome end."
"Go to hell," Ahsoka muttered, hearing her Master curse in a language she vaguely recognized from somewhere.
Obi-Wan, curious, asked, "Uh, General Viktor, what was that?"
"I think I know what this is—or rather, who did it."
Ahsoka stared at the image. "To me, it just looks like a blurry smudge."
"Look here," Solo said, pointing at the holographic image. "See? This is the helmet, the arms, the torso—"
Master Glaive couldn't help but ask, "Solo, what the hell is this thing?"
"If I'm not mistaken, it's a bounty hunter named Durge."
"Bounty Hunter?" The group exclaimed in unison.
"Yes."
Skywalker asked curiously, "How do you know his name?"
"I read an ancient report from about 130 years ago. A group of renegade Jedi intervened in the conflict between the Mandalorians and the Ityluans, primarily to oppose the Mandalorian massacre of the Ityluans."
"Why didn't the Jedi Council intervene officially?" Ahsoka asked in surprise. "And what does this have to do with the bounty hunter?"
Master Cyrus looked equally puzzled.
"The Senate chose to turn a blind eye to this conflict, for reasons unknown. The Jedi Council also approved the decision not to intervene, though the underlying considerations remain unclear.
As for the bounty hunter, he was hired by those renegade Jedi to assassinate the Mandalorian leader.
And, incidentally, he succeeded."
"The result was a schism within the Mandalorian people, and the current political landscape of Mandalore was shaped by that event."
Master Cyrus asked urgently, "These historical details are fascinating, but what should we do now?"
"Indeed, let's get back to the matter at hand." Obi-Wan Kenobi waved his hand, and the tactical table's display switched to a terrain map. "Master Glaive, General Viktor, you will lead your forces to advance here and attack Joal City from the north. All troops in this area will be under your command."
"Understood. We depart immediately."
Alto Stratus slammed his fist onto the tactical table, glaring furiously at the map.
The damn Republic Army was tightening its encirclement of the Capital step by step, and even the robotic forces boasted by the Confederacy of Independent Systems couldn't halt their advance.
Of course, thanks to the mercenaries sent by Count Dooku, the southern front had barely stabilized, but the loss of the northern Handuin region was undoubtedly a devastating blow—
As Stratus pondered over the map, a member of the Cloud Rain Assault Team burst into the tent. "Sir, there's urgent news!"
"What is it?"
"The storm is coming!"
In just five words, Stratus immediately understood their meaning. A savage grin curled his lips.
He burst from the tent and raced into the central street of the tent city, leaping onto a massive boulder.
Numerous militia members turned their gazes toward him.
"Brothers! The storm is coming!
The thunderstorm will severely disrupt the Republic Army's sensors, blinding and deafening them!
We launch our full assault now! Such an opportunity won't come again!
Attack! When you hear the first thunderclap, hit them hard!"
Warrior Odra Stadlo wrapped her cloak tighter around herself.
The rain intensified, and the flashes of ion discharge in the sky grew more frequent, heralding the imminent arrival of a violent storm.
She turned to the Clone Trooper guards beside her. "Everything seems calm."
"Yes, Madam."
Suddenly, a rocket-propelled grenade struck an AT-AT Walker with pinpoint accuracy.
The violent explosion instantly blasted nearby clone troopers into the air, and a searing shockwave swept through the area.
Odebra turned, and several energy blasts pierced her chest. She collapsed, and the Clone Trooper guards beside her were simultaneously shot down.
"The entire front line is under enemy attack! All units urgently need reinforcements!" panicked calls for help crackled over the communicator.
"The Hutts picked the worst possible time," Larsema Billisura muttered, instinctively brushing the wet hair from his face, his voice filled with frustration.
"Everyone, immediately deploy to reinforce!" he ordered the troops beside him.
Larsema stood on the cliff edge, watching the clone troopers futilely attempt to cross the lowlands that had turned into a muddy riverbed.
"General, the rain is intensifying, and the mud has overflowed the riverbanks. All our vehicles are stuck! Requesting air support!" a clone trooper officer reported anxiously.
"Request denied! The current atmospheric conditions are too unstable—air support carries too high a risk! I'll try to use the Force to pull the tanks out of the mud."
Larsema closed his eyes, focused all his mental energy, and extended his hands toward the All Terrain Tactical Enforcers stuck in the mud, silently chanting: "Size is irrelevant—weight is no more—"
Just then, a wave of killing intent surged from behind him.
Before he could react, a vibroblade plunged deep into his chest. A cold voice behind him hissed: "Closing your eyes, Jedi—you're so easy to kill—"
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