“Wild Grass looked up at the stars,” he murmured. “I don’t know exactly what happened, or why it happened. All I know is that Black Wind suddenly descended into chaos, as if the confusion started right after that new Ten-Leader joined.”

“Ten-Leader?” Gan Jing blinked. Wasn’t the Iron-Arm Mantis bloodline warrior he killed beyond the frontier the Ten-Leader of Black Wind?

“The moment Big Sister saw him, she told us Black Wind might fall into disarray,” Wild Grass replied, closing his eyes as he sank into memory. “Barbarians, Behemoths… That’s what Big Sister said.”

Barbarians? Behemoths? Gan Jing sat up straight. While various horse bandit factions beyond the frontier certainly housed bloodline warriors, arcane warriors, and even barbarian champions, it was unheard of to find an Elven King bloodline warrior, or one with the bloodlines of a God of War or the Three-Headed Golden Dragon among them.

Naturally, a horse bandit group would never harbor a Fallen Angel bloodline arcane warrior, nor one with the lineage of an Undying Monarch or a Naga. A Behemoth bloodline barbarian champion—a figure that held royal status among the barbarians—would never involve itself in the petty squabbles beyond the frontier, just as the Demon Race or the True Policy Dynasty wouldn't.

Could it be? Gan Jing recalled the Behemoth bloodline assassin Mei was holding at the Torrent Fortress. Impossible, surely?

“I’m not very clear on the specifics,” Wild Grass admitted, shaking his head repeatedly in distress. “All I know is that we were surrounded. So many horse bandits I didn't recognize rallied to the First Leader’s side… The fighting was brutal. The frontier has only become more lawless because of this; many factions are now exploiting the chaos to raid our merchant caravans…”

Gan Jing exchanged a glance with Gu Yue Jiaying, and they both understood why their two merchant convoys had been hijacked recently. This current upheaval on the frontier was far more severe than they had imagined.

“Behemoths? Interesting!” Hong Zhelimguan grinned, tossing away a devoured chicken carcass. “I thought I’d have to wait until the barbarians sent envoys to the Dynasty before I got to meet that Behemoth bloodline champion they brag about—said to be stronger than the ten greatest bloodline warriors of the True Policy Dynasty. Looks like I get to meet him early.”

Barbarian envoys? Gan Jing looked at Hong Zhelimguan with a touch of envy. According to the Gan family records, the barbarians would periodically send envoys to the True Policy Dynasty or the Lucifer Dynasty. Ostensibly, it was for exchange, but it was also a show of force, a warning to the two major powers not to harbor any designs on the barbarian lands.

Usually, the barbarians dispatched exceptional warriors from the younger generation. Though few in number, their strength was undeniable. Over the years, the barbarian Behemoth warriors had certainly left behind both victories and defeats in the territories of the True Policy Dynasty and the Lucifer Dynasty.

Fighting against a Behemoth warrior trained by the System? Gan Jing mused. It should certainly help in elevating his own strength as a warrior. At the very least, fighting in front of His Majesty the Emperor could boost his reputation, which would be quite helpful when arranging alliances for the Gan family.

“What a pity!” Hong Zhelimguan stretched his arms and sighed deeply. “In non-bloodline combat, apart from the Three Heroes of the War Hall, no one has managed to defeat those barbarians in years. The barbarians! They truly are a race of born warriors…”

Gu Yue Jiaying’s usually placid eyes shone with rare pride. It was a reflection of one of her father Fabredis’s most triumphant battles, and simultaneously, the fight he hated the most.

“Kid, are you interested in participating in non-bloodline combat?” Hong Zhelimguan turned his gaze to Gan Jing. “If you meet the standards, I can recommend you.”

Mùnè Tiān Cè shot Hong Zhelimguan an amused glance with his folding fan. This senior was truly eager to curry favor. Even knowing Gan Jing was a prince, he still jumped at the chance to offer an introduction. Perhaps this was what his older brother meant by tempering oneself—competing with bloodline warriors for valuable talent.

“Very well,” Gan Jing nodded. “If I can get in, I’ll gift you a War Tool, Senior. I wonder… what is your preferred weapon?”

“A War Tool? I have them!” Hong Zhelimguan beckoned and pulled two battle knives from his War Realm. The blades were a foot wide, and the hilts nearly three and a half feet long. While not as massive as a Polearm Blade, they were still exceptionally large dual swords.

Gan Jing squinted as he scanned the dual blades in Hong Zhelimguan’s hands. “Level Six War Tools?”

Hong Zhelimguan startled. Was this kid just guessing? Or did he somehow know the quality of his War Tools beforehand? He had never heard of anyone being able to discern the quality of a weapon just by looking, without even holding it for detailed examination. Not even a Master Forgemaster could achieve that!

“That’s right. Level Six War Tools.”

Hong Zhelimguan flicked his wrist, and the two battle knives spun rapidly in the air, resembling two bright windmills as they slashed toward Gan Jing.

Bang! Gan Jing reached out, grasped the blades, and channeled his Dou Qi into them, eliciting a harsh, ringing sound as he carved several streaks into the air.

“Waste of material. These should be at least Level Eight,” Gan Jing flicked his wrist and tossed them back to Hong Zhelimguan.

Level Eight? Hong Zhelimguan smiled and gently shook his head. This young man might know a little about forging, but he didn't understand that when a blade is too wide and the body too long, the difficulty of forging increases exponentially. Achieving Level Six for these twin blades was already a matter of luck.

Gan Jing waved his hand and pulled Jidu from his War Realm. With a flick of his wrist, the Polearm Blade shot out like a throwing knife, leaving a beautiful streak of light in the air before landing softly in Hong Zhelimguan’s hands.

“Th-This is…”

Hong Zhelimguan stared at the Jidu Polearm Blade, dumbfounded. In terms of both blade width and body length, it far surpassed his own Sky Cleaver. As for its grade, it seemed infinitely high.

“I forged it myself,” Gan Jing said, pointing to Jidu. “The material is slightly better than your dual blades.”

Slightly? Hong Zhelimguan nearly bit off his tongue. This was a top-tier War Tool! Although Level Eight, Nine, and Ten War Tools had similar structural integrity, there were vast differences in how they channeled Dou Qi and other aspects. In a battle between two warriors of equal strength, the quality of the War Tool often determined the final outcome.

Mùnè Tiān Cè shook his folding fan, leaning in with curiosity to examine the Polearm Blade. He tapped the back of the blade with his finger, clicked his tongue repeatedly, and nodded. A top-tier War Tool? Not even the master smiths of the royal family, or those from the Blacksmith General Union, could forge one like this without months of effort, and even then, they’d rely on luck not to drop it to Level Nine.

And to achieve this level of refinement on a weapon with such a wide blade and long body—the difficulty was significantly higher. Mùnè Tiān Cè shook his head, unable to continue contemplating it. He was beginning to understand why Gan Jing dared to propose an alliance with the families of the Gryphon King bloodline warriors, rather than merely seeking a position as a guest elder. A weapon of this caliber might not fully qualify him for entry among the Ten Great Bloodline Warrior Families who possessed Sacred Artifacts, but no family would dare look down on him. Granting him a position as a High-Level Guest Elder, or even an Honorary Vice-Patriarch, would be no difficult task.

“You really can forge a blade like this?”

Hong Zhelimguan still found it hard to believe Gan Jing could craft a War Tool of this caliber. If an old man with a white beard and eyebrows had said it, he might not have even doubted it, but Gan Jing’s age made it nearly impossible to accept.

Gan Jing reached into his War Realm, retrieved some paper, carefully wrapped the uneaten roasted chicken, and placed it back inside. “Your War Tool… it’s been sharpened twice, hasn’t it? The two sharpenings were done by different people, but they must have been related, perhaps fellow apprentices?”

Hong Zhelimguan subconsciously nodded. This could be seen just by looking at the blade? It seemed he had underestimated the rumors. He had only heard that Gan Jing had become the President of the Eternal Flow Blacksmith Union, assuming it was some secret deal between the Torrent Fortress and the Union, allowing Gan Jing to hold the title temporarily. Now, he realized! Gan Jing likely wasn't acting in concert with Yun Xinghuisheng that night. Hong Zhelimguan tossed the Polearm Blade back to Gan Jing. “An alliance might be difficult. But becoming a High-Level Guest Elder…”

“No rush,” Gan Jing said, storing the Polearm Blade away and using dirt to extinguish the bonfire. He mounted his horse. “Let’s go. We need to reach the frontier early.”

Ride, ride, ride…

They spurred their strong horses relentlessly until the mounts began to show signs of fatigue.

Gan Jing stood at the very edge of the frontier, inhaling the wild, untamed air unique to the region, and surveyed the reputed prosperous settlement: the Rushing River Fortress.

In legend, the Rushing River Fortress was a hub where merchant caravans from all directions converged daily. Now, forget caravans; even a single merchant was a rare sight. The entrance to the massive fortress gate was guarded only by soldiers bearing swords and spears.

“Damn it! Have the horse bandits out there gone completely insane? We haven’t even seen a merchant these past few days.”

“Yeah! No chance to skim any extra military pay.”

“I say we ask the General to approve a joint punitive expedition with the surrounding fortresses. Let’s wipe out those bandits.”

“Right! Wipe out the horse bandits!”

“Wipe out the bandits? How do you know this isn't a scheme orchestrated by the Demon Race? What if we move to eliminate the bandits, and the Demon Race suddenly ambushes us or attacks our fortresses while we’re exposed?”

A soldier wearing a captain’s uniform kicked several of the other soldiers sharply in the backside and cursed irritably, “A bunch of fools! For a little money, if you get ambushed by the Demon Race, you think you can take that money and bribe the Star God to bring you back from the stars?”

Mùnè Tiān Cè gently nodded, casting an appreciative glance toward the captain. This wasn't the first time the frontier had erupted in chaos. Previously, both the Demon Race and the True Policy Dynasty had attempted similar stratagems to ambush enemy armies, and both sides had fallen for the traps. Since then, they had become extremely cautious regarding unrest on the frontier.

Gan Jing gently urged his horse deeper into the frontier area and remarked softly, “We are entering the frontier now. Keep a sharp lookout.”

The soldiers near the gate shook their heads as Gan Jing and his companions proceeded inward. They were just another group of youngsters trying to take advantage of the frontier chaos to kill horse bandits for bounties. Most of these people ended up either joining the bandits or being killed by them. Very few managed to kill bandits and claim the rewards.