For the six months following Lu Nian's brutal clash in the Eastern Pavilion, that group of young people—once seemingly unstoppable with their sharp, cutting edge—had suddenly vanished. Regardless of how fierce the battles between Venus and Saturn became, or how many rumors circulated about the gathering of heroes, they might as well have evaporated into thin air.

The Himalayas are known as the Roof of the World. Although the concurrent development of the five major planets means the mountain range no longer holds the title of the Federation's highest peak, and Mount Everest is certainly not the highest summit anymore, they remain the tallest mountains on Earth!

At the pinnacle of the main peak, amidst the blinding white snow and the biting, raw wind, the air density is only 2.7% of sea level. Even ordinary martial artists would find themselves breathless and constricted here.

Qin Fen sat at the very apex of the mountain. He gazed out over the vast, boundless earth—the sprawling land that had nurtured billions of souls. He had been sitting there for seven days, doing little more than eating and quietly observing the immensity before him.

The thick snow crunched underfoot with a satisfying krr-krr sound. Qin Fen didn't need to turn around to know Chen Feiyu had arrived. The martial arts prodigy, possessing the Solar Bronze Bone and only half the meridian capacity of a normal person, stood on the summit as well.

Chen Feiyu remained silent. He observed Qin Fen; six months had layered a thick beard onto his companion’s cheeks. He stroked his own jaw and chuckled softly, realizing he was in the exact same state.

He scooped up a handful of snow and placed it in his mouth, chewing lightly on the natural drink, savoring the sharp, bone-chilling wind.

Unlike Qin Fen, who sat observing the mountains and rivers, Chen Feiyu stretched out flat in a wide, capital 'I' shape, gazing up at the seemingly reachable blue sky.

Another day passed, and Brooks arrived at the peak. He looked at his comrade, whose face was also bearded, smiled, grabbed a handful of snow, and lightly wiped his gigantic battle saber.

This past half-year, apart from constant travel, Brooks’s only companion had been this saber. He carried it on his back, slept clutching it, yet never once drew it in anger.

Caesar arrived at the summit that same afternoon. Standing beside Qin Fen, his hands clasped behind his back, he strode like a dragon surveying his domain, gazing down at the vast earth, softly reciting, "On this boundless earth, who commands the ebb and flow?"

Morade, carrying his heavily scarred, vermilion spear, chose to sit beside Qin Fen. He looked only at the weapon in his hand: “Thank you, but I will still kill you.”

Qin Fen nodded slightly. Suddenly, a dragon's roar echoed through the mountains, followed by the sound of avalanches shaking loose the piled snow.

Spanning thousands of meters wide, snow accumulated over countless years began to stir. With the forceful, heaven-shaking bellow of the Little Dragon King, Yang Lie, his Gang Qi pierced the air. The accumulated mass shifted, pushed against itself, roaring like ten thousand charging horses, kicking up dust, or perhaps like the sky itself collapsing—it swept down the mountain in a deluge of white, surging snow waves.

"Qin Fen!"

His roar was full of challenge. The Little Dragon King manifested a serpentine movement, sweeping through the white snow like a newly born white dragon. Yang Lie whipped his arms like a dragon, fingers spread like an open maw. His movements rose and fell, truly resembling a great dragon. His strength, unseen for half a year, had ascended to the sixteenth-star peak. Accompanying his sudden cry, the earth shook for a hundred miles. Though lacking Caesar’s supreme, kingly pressure of the Nine-Five Sovereign, it exuded a majestic, commanding aura, no less potent.

Dragons are creatures of myth; even emperors claim dragon lineage. Though different, they share a common source. When a true dragon emerges, the heavens change color. Yang Lie’s dragon roar summoned the avalanche, and he channeled all the avalanche’s might into his fist. Transforming into the Dragon King’s emergence, the slightest tremor of his arm unleashed seemingly endless power.

Amidst the long cry, Yang Lie charged up against the avalanche, leaping repeatedly through the endless sea and tide of snow. Every step he took landed as if on level ground, like the Dragon King traversing the clouds. Where he departed, the snow wave would erupt, like the Dragon King snapping his fingers to unleash a sudden thunderclap.

Yang Lie moved sequentially across the avalanche, closing the distance straight towards Qin Fen seated at the peak. This rapid assault internalized the avalanche’s world-destroying momentum, his aura mounting layer by layer. With his final step onto the snow, he momentarily crystallized the entire avalanche! It was as if the polar current had blown into the roof of the world itself.

The sheer sound and momentum—even surpassing Qin Fen’s power displayed in the Sahara battle six months prior. His internal Gang Qi, at the sixteenth-star peak state, had solidified his body into an iron slab. His entire being radiated fighting spirit, filling the small space until no gaps remained. Even an ordinary person without martial arts training could sense the sheer, arrogant will to fight radiating from him.

The Dragon Rages in the Wild!

Yang Lie’s insights gained over the last half-year, combined with his past experiences, had now been sublimated. As his massive frame tensed, he merged all his martial arts into this single punch.

There was no need to shout "Receive my attack," nor any need for pointless words. Everyone present understood the meaning of Yang Lie’s action.

The mountain peak beneath Qin Fen felt the force of Yang Lie’s attack, and the snow began to tremble.

Simultaneously! Brooks’s hand, which had been wiping his saber, stopped abruptly. His eyes, previously glazed over in near-obsessive focus, suddenly erupted with fighting intent as bright as the sun. The blade he had polished to a mirror sheen let out an excited shing. At the sixteenth-star peak, his saber unleashed its strongest move: Heaven Severing!

Qin Fen was Brooks’s target as well. Without any warning, the blade erupted, its Dao Qi shooting straight toward the heavens! This created a pincer attack with Yang Lie, striking Qin Fen from the front and rear.

Chen Feiyu, lying prone, sprang upward like a coiled spring. His palms glowed crimson, resembling blood jade. He whipped his waist, shook his shoulders, and drove his palm forward like a colossal spear. The low-density air emitted a grating, piercing whistle as he executed the Blood Jade Heart-Piercing Palm—a modification of the Butcher’s Heart Plucking Hand!

Caesar remained planted, his legs unmoving. He waved his hands as if an emperor placing the final seal upon a decree, executing Caesar’s own technique, The Severing, aimed directly at Qin Fen’s crown chakra.

Morade also moved. His long, mottled, vermilion spear—a weapon ill-suited for close combat—suddenly became as nimble as a thin, finger-sized crimson snake. The tip of the spear compressed the surrounding air pressure as it thrust toward Qin Fen's throat.

Qin Fen raised an eyebrow slightly. At the absolute center of this battle, he finally felt the pressure. Several martial arts masters, already famous half a year ago, were unleashing their first major coordinated burst after months of silence. This was not to be taken lightly.

Qin Fen watched Caesar’s fist descend from above. It wasn't a large fist; the five fingers pressed with even force, resembling a small, ruby-red jade seal that seemed to harbor the world’s accumulated fury. It compressed all the scarce air around his body, creating a vacuum. His ears roared with the sound of rushing water, like descending into the deep sea, gurgling continuously—as if trying to suck the last breath from his lungs.

Caesar’s punch was grand and majestic, carrying an aura of absolute sovereignty sweeping across heaven and earth, creating a feeling of inability to dodge or leap away. Yet, one couldn't precisely pinpoint where the punch would ultimately land.

The Emperor's Heart is Unfathomable! Over the past six months, Caesar hadn't just traveled across the Divine Land; he had visited its few ancient relics. He slept in imperial palaces, absorbing the essence of kingship spanning centuries.

The Mausoleum of Qin Shi Huang, long sealed, had finally been opened due to advancements in technology. Caesar absorbed the spirit of the First Emperor, lingering among the Terracotta Army to feel the clash of iron and metal from that era—the very spirit that swept across the six directions.

The sound of the punch compressing the air mixed with the echoes of war chariots and swords, sounds that had endured millennia and still refused to vanish from the river of history.

Qin Fen watched the descending fist. He lifted his left palm, rotating his wrist to draw a gentle circle, and slowly pushed upward, meeting that thunderous strike.

The instant his palm contacted Caesar’s seal-like punch, Caesar felt the sweeping torrent of history he was riding suddenly slip beyond his control. His entire trajectory seemed to be rerouted by an unseen hand gripping history itself, channeled down a newly carved path. His feet felt momentarily light, akin to stepping into an elevator that rapidly ascended from the basement, or the intense G-force pushing one back during takeoff.

The accumulated snow beneath his feet seemed to be violently sucked upward into the air.

"History has been altered in an instant," Caesar felt a strange sensation rising within him. Even the great emperors of antiquity, facing the irresistible tide of history, could only submit to fate, obeying what the heavens decreed.

Can man truly not conquer destiny? A sense of helplessness churned within Caesar under Qin Fen’s gaze. Was it truly impossible to defy heaven? No! The emperor who once ruled an era, who led hundreds of millions of farmers to establish an empire, had once declared: Man will conquer Heaven!

The intended path of the punch—a decisive execution—began to subtly reverse against that vast heavenly will, slowly changing course back toward its original trajectory.

Qin Fen’s right hand closed into a loose five-finger grasp, much like a seasoned blacksmith bringing down a heavy hammer. There was no pretense of momentum; it was as simple and unadorned as a common laborer swinging a sledgehammer. His arm muscles were dense and streamlined. The seemingly ordinary swing easily connected with the tricky, vermilion spear.

When flesh met metal, Morade felt an invisible, immense power surge through his spear. This rotation wasn't caused by his hand forcing a spin; the simple impact of the strike forced the spear shaft to naturally spin, instantly turning it into a crimson dragon seemingly beyond his control, ready to leap from his grasp.

Morade staggered and could no longer sit. He pulled the spear back, planting his feet in a strange rhythm, shaking the weapon to cast a flurry of spear blossoms—thirty-six styles of the Vermilion Bird Spear Technique. Morade had always used it masterfully, confident in unleashing its full power. In these six months, he had gained new understanding, unleashing the style Vermilion Bird Swallowing the Sun, reminiscent of the firebird in murals consuming the solar orb. This thrust caused the perpetual fierce winds atop the peak to reverse course, emitting a cry like the divine Vermilion Bird, creating visible marks of wind across the air.

In the same instant, Qin Fen rose. Without pressing an attack, he turned and executed a Pipa Sweep, clamping both elbows in a straight line toward his chest to meet Chen Feiyu’s direct central strike, the Blood Jade Heart-Piercing Palm. Maintaining a mobile horse stance, he drove his right shoulder toward Chen Feiyu. The muscles of his unremarkable right shoulder suddenly bulged, tearing the super-nano combat suit. The massive muscle resembled a shield larger than two men's heads.

Ancient Technique: Supreme Path of Hegemony! Originally designed to harden the body’s muscles to the consistency of steel, this technique used the shoulder’s power—enough to bend metal—combined with methods similar to the Eight Extremities’ Iron Mountain Lean or the Arhat Fist’s Revolving Back Lean to effectively attack the enemy. Qin Fen, however, had modified it for both offense and defense, as if carrying an iron shield on his shoulder to guard or shatter the enemy.

A battle of spear and shield! Chen Feiyu’s left hand, previously hidden at his waist, extended simultaneously. His drill-like palms reverted to normal. The inner sides of both wrists joined, ten fingers spread outward, slamming against the meat-shield of the Supreme Path of Hegemony. The surging power unleashed a sound like a deafening war drum.

Chen Feiyu felt a searing pain shoot up his arms, as if he had struck solid iron with both palms at full force. His momentum, meant to crush everything, blasted him hundreds of meters into the sky.

Brooks’s bright, sharp saber was already upon him. His feet struck the ground like thunder, slicing into Qin Fen’s phantom image. Qin Fen remained airborne, using Thunder Step to cloak himself with the Dragon’s shadow!

Brooks had timed the Heaven Severing perfectly; even with the passive defense of the Thunder Step, it was nearly impossible to evade. Qin Fen instinctively used Dragon Concealment.

The Heaven Severing slash struck the phantom image. The saber twisted with the wrist movement, the blade naturally shifting angle, following through to cut at the retreating Qin Fen. The crucial difference between blades and fists or feet is that the follow-up moves of a blade retain devastating power, and mid-strike changes are difficult to nullify without sacrificing lethal force.

Seeing the horizontal cut, Qin Fen flipped his wrist, fingers spread, and slapped directly onto the blade’s body! Brooks countered immediately, twisting the saber from a downward horizontal cut to an upward slashing sweep. In that instant, Qin Fen flipped his palm, fingers clamped down, gripping the thick spine of the saber, and violently yanked, seizing the weapon. He immediately flung it behind him toward the Little Dragon King Yang Lie who was closing in.

Overbearing Saber Throw! Yang Lie shifted his form, narrowly avoiding the speeding projectile. A metallic clang sounded behind him; Morade’s spear flicked the saber. The blade veered in the air, soared over Qin Fen's head, and dove toward the empty-handed Brooks.

"Deceive..."

Qin Fen’s eyes twitched upward. He suddenly heard the sharp whistle of a palm splitting the air. Intense Ren Gang Qi erupted from behind a large boulder. A figure flashed instantly into view, taking rapid, earth-pounding steps. The distance was short, yet he sprinted as if a fighter jet skimming the ground. His five fingers merged into a point and stabbed upward, directly toward Qin Fen’s vulnerable lower abdomen!

"My Electric Step? And a modification of Dragon Cannon’s Thousand Mile Thrust?"

Qin Fen’s eyes brightened. He recognized that Lin Ling, who had hidden her presence so completely that even he hadn't perceived her, was attacking with his own Electric Step combined with a modified Dragon Cannon!

She sought not grand momentum, but a single fatal strike. Qin Fen had considered this approach but disliked it; hiding oneself before a thrust seemed inherently difficult. As one ascended to higher levels of martial arts, he found complete self-concealment became harder. The sensory perception of high-star martial artists was beyond ordinary people's imagination.

Qin Fen couldn't help but admire Lin Ling. This woman always accomplished what others could not. While the attacks from his other companions had disrupted his judgment and control, she managed to appear with the subtlety of an ant’s arrival, noticed only at the last second. Lin Ling appeared soundlessly, as if she had never existed, simply manifesting from thin air.

Qin Fen ducked low, combining Lightning Step with Dragon Concealment, pressing his body lower than Lin Ling’s as they charged toward each other in opposition. He suddenly spread both arms and wrapped them around Lin Ling’s waist, pulling her into an embrace.

The Dragon Cannon strike, though powerful, covered a wide area, leaving few openings. But this modified Thousand Mile Thrust condensed all its attack into a single point, exponentially increasing its killing power, yet creating a flaw: numerous openings during the rapid forward charge.

Familiar with this flaw, Qin Fen pulled Lin Ling into his arms and swiftly pressed his lips against her neck, whispering in her ear, "You are already dead."

Sixteenth Star? Only through direct contact in combat did Qin Fen truly gauge Lin Ling’s star level—it was sixteenth-star Ren Gang Qi. But why hadn't he detected it before?

He released his embrace, using the momentum of his rise to launch himself toward the Little Dragon King Yang Lie.

"You are already dead," Lin Ling stood stunned. If her lips had been replaced by a snarl, she would indeed have been slain. A warm current coursed through her body. She looked up at Qin Fen, now wrestling with the other young warriors, feeling a slight flush on her cheeks. Recalling the moment Qin Fen held her, her body had experienced an unexpected rigidity. If Qin Fen hadn't been so... "clumsy" with his words, she would have had ways to counter.

Clang!

A metallic collision rang out. Sparks flew as metal struck metal in the sky. Somehow, Morade’s spear had clashed with Brooks’s saber. Their equal strength forced both men to recoil repeatedly, their internal energies churning even more violently than if Qin Fen had struck them directly.

Qin Fen separated his hands, each wrapping around the fists of Yang Lie and Caesar. With raw brute force, he lifted both and hurled them into the distance. Using Lightning Step combined with Dragon Cannon movement techniques, he rushed before Chen Feiyu, cupping his hands over his opponent's head, then spun, delivering a palm strike to the chests of both Brooks and Morade before planting himself firmly, watching Yang Lie and Caesar far off in the sky.

This was clearly not a fight to the death. Lin Ling, Brooks, Morade, and Chen Feiyu all knew that in a true life-or-death battle, they would already be dead. As for Caesar and Yang Lie, they would hardly withstand Qin Fen’s next volley of attacks.

Brooks calmed the churning energy in his chest, shaking his head and sighing repeatedly, "A pity, little one. Even joining forces, we couldn't force out your full strength. If Solomon were here, that would be something."

Chen Feiyu clicked his tongue repeatedly. Any one of these young warriors, individually, was a formidable expert to be admired. Yet, united, they still couldn't compel Qin Fen to reveal his ultimate power. How had this kid spent the last six months? How had he improved so much?

"Solomon?" Qin Fen frowned slightly. "Where is he?"

"The Golden Triangle," Yang Lie returned to the ground. "He said everyone's martial path is different. He dislikes tedious travel. He went to the major life-or-death fighting rings in the Golden Triangle, suppressing his strength completely, seeking constant life-or-death combat with the local fighters."