Clang! The instant metal pierced flesh and embedded itself in the rock, Duan Fengbuer's instantaneous movement placed him before the two Barbarian warriors. His five fingers spread wide, clamping over their mouths to prevent any suicidal acts.
Qian Jin strode forward several paces, retrieving a vial from the Dou Jie (Battle Realm) and swiftly pouring its contents into the mouth of one of the Barbarian warriors. “Who did you follow here?”
The Barbarian warrior, whose eyes had just moments before held surprise and rage, immediately fell silent as the potion entered his system. He stared blankly at Qian Jin: “We follow the great Prince Falak.”
Just as Qian Jin suspected—his initial assessment had not been wrong. “Then, what business brings you here?”
“The Prince read a record in an ancestor's notebook, which spoke of sights seen in the Ancient Barren Sand Sea—a scorching desert, impossibly cold and massive snow mountains, with glimmers of treasure light flashing from beneath the snow…”
The vacant stare cleared, and deeper fury etched itself onto his brow. “You…”
Bang! Duan Fengbuer tightened his grip, snapping the neck of the now-conscious Purple-Patterned Bloodline Warrior and tossing the limp corpse aside. This was no place for hesitation.
Falak. Duan Fengbuer had heard Qian Jin mention the name before. Their previous encounter with the Bandit King, Ba Huang Wusheng, had only happened because Falak was pushing another foolish Barbarian prince, Gomei, to assimilate the Outer Frontier bandit gangs, ultimately leading to him taking a casual palm strike from the Bandit King and fleeing injured.
That level of strength, intelligence, and audacity was still fresh in Duan Fengbuer’s memory, marking Falak as a potential adversary.
After all, whether it was the Demon Race's New Demon King Competition or the True Strategy Dynasty's Newcomer King Competition, the Barbarian Race would always send representatives from their younger generation. This served partly as a gesture of goodwill between the races, but also as a showcase of power—the Barbarian Race possessed exceptional young talents, and their future should not be underestimated.
It had become customary for the Barbarian Race’s rising stars to participate in the Newcomer King and New Demon King competitions. In this current era, where six great bloodline warriors might awaken, the Barbarians needed to demonstrate ever-greater strength, and they would undoubtedly attend this grand gathering.
Falak appearing in this location made perfect sense to Qian Jin. The Barbarian Prince was clearly seeking various means to increase his power in preparation for the upcoming Newcomer King or New Demon King tournaments.
The second bottle of the mysterious potion was forced down the throat of the second Purple-Patterned Bloodline Warrior. His terrified eyes immediately glazed over into a detached stupor. Qian Jin once again felt sincere admiration for Teacher Oulala’s mysterious concoctions—though their nature was frighteningly mad in daily life, the price of that madness had yielded truly miraculous potions.
“Does Falak know what is inside the mountain?”
“No. The Seventh Prince merely said that in such a fearsome place, such bizarre conditions must conceal a great treasure.”
Ignoring the urge to praise Falak’s cleverness, Qian Jin pressed urgently, “Then what is Falak’s current strength?”
“The Seventh Prince’s strength…” The Purple-Patterned Bloodline Warrior’s eyes shifted from dullness to a cold sneer, filled with contempt that suggested he was looking at a dead man staring at Qian Jin. “You want to know? I won’t tell you! If you harbor any thoughts about the Seventh Prince, you will die a horrible, miserable death…”
Qian Jin raised his hand and snapped the man’s throat, refusing to listen to the venomous threats, intimidation, and curses any longer.
“Let’s go!” Qian Jin looked toward the summit. “Even if what’s on the mountain is Qian Zhanxuan, we still need to contend for the treasure.”
Given the strained relationship between the True Strategy Dynasty and the Barbarian Race, and specifically considering Qian Jin’s own history with the Seventh Prince Falak in the Outer Frontier, there was no friendship or goodwill between them—only enmity. For the upcoming Newcomer King Competition, it was only natural that they would use whatever means necessary to surpass each other.
The path up the towering snow-capped mountain was rugged and uneven, yet beneath the feet of Qian Jin and his companions, it offered no difference from a smooth, wide road. The group ascended rapidly.
A brilliant flare suddenly shot into the sky. Almost simultaneously, Qian Jin’s arrow pierced the throat of a hidden Barbarian warrior who had been setting off a signal.
Damn it! No stealth attack was possible now! Qian Jin sighed inwardly. He had intended to repay Falak for the sinister actions taken against him in the Outer Frontier, but the Prince was evidently cautious, deploying multiple hidden sentries even in this nearly sealed environment. By the time Qian Jin realized their presence and moved to eliminate them, it was already too late.
Falak, moving higher on the mountain, halted his imposing frame. He slowly removed the white cloak draped over him and took a long-range telescope from an attendant, peering through it bit by bit. “Hmm? Isn't that the brat from the Outer Frontier named Qian Jin? Good, good, good! This is truly excellent!”
“Your Highness the Prince…”
“It’s nothing. Qian Jin has arrived at the perfect time!” Falak’s gaze, magnified by the telescope, locked onto Qian Jin looking down from above. “After I was forced to leave the Outer Frontier that day, I heard much about him while searching for this strange mountain in the Ancient Barren Sand Sea. The entire True Strategy Dynasty has been broadcasting news of him.”
“I’ve heard about him too,” said a Behemoth Bloodline Warrior, eyes wide as he stared toward the unseen Qian Jin far below. “They say he was very powerful in the Outer Frontier, and that he even dared challenge the Qian family’s gates… Your Highness, you must be careful!”
“Newsta, you advise your Prince to be cautious? Cautious of what?” Falak’s smile brimmed with supreme confidence, his tone projecting an air of superiority. “I saw his so-called strength in the Outer Frontier. He doesn't even possess Dou Hun (Battle Soul) strength; it’s all propaganda from the True Strategy Dynasty. What is he compared to me? This time, I shall capture him alive and force him to forge equipment and concoct potions for the Prince. I hear he has some skill in those areas.”
“Not even Dou Hun?” The Behemoth warrior Newsta laughed. “These humans of the True Strategy Dynasty truly are nothing but boastful trash! Your Highness, please continue climbing the peak. I will handle catching them down here.”
“No rush.” Falak stowed the telescope, selected a clean stone, and sat down upon it in a commanding posture, resembling a dragon coiled on its perch. “Searching the Ancient Barren Sand Sea relentlessly these past few days has been dreadfully tedious. Encountering Qian Jin here is an interesting diversion. This Prince shall capture him personally. As for those accompanying him…”
Falak cast a benevolent glance at Newsta. “Let Newsta, the warrior who captured the Flame Demon Tiger, handle them! This Prince will not forget that your fists are faster than lightning and your strength could move sleeping mountains.”
Newsta’s face broke into an expression of deep pleasure. To the Barbarian Race, such praise was the highest honor; only such affirmation truly belonged to a warrior.
“Venerable Prince, future Lord of the Barbarian Race, your wisdom shines like the distant stellar gods.” Newsta knelt reverently on the ground, gazing up at Falak. “Your servant Newsta is willing to serve you eternally. Even if an endless sea of fire lay ahead, with but a single word from you, Newsta would walk into it without blinking to extinguish that flame for you.”
Falak reached into his Dou Jie and produced a complete set of dining utensils, placing a sizzling, whole roasted lamb before himself on a small table. He delicately sliced a piece of fragrant meat with his knife and brought it to his mouth.
Several other Behemoth warriors watched Newsta with resentful jealousy, regretting not having spoken up sooner to seize such an opportunity for glory.
“Oh? They’ve started eating?” Duan Fengbuer swallowed hard. “It looks like they’re waiting for us. Then let’s hurry up and join them; we shouldn’t keep people waiting too long.” Unable to maintain stealth or resort to ambush, the group instead broke into a steady, unhurried, yet leisurely pace toward the mountainside.
Below the snow-covered peak lay verdant green grass, bordered by stones smoothed by millennia of rushing water—so clean they surpassed the cleanliness of most human faces. These elements complemented each other, forming a beautiful landscape.
Falak remained seated, posture regal as if occupying an emperor’s throne, watching Qian Jin ascend the mountain with the ease of a spring outing. He slowly chewed a piece of mutton and spoke: “Qian Jin, long time no see. Do you still remember me?”
Qian Jin smiled. “It’s rare that Falak still remembers me.”
“Two paths!” Falak confidently held up his index and middle fingers. “Path one: Submit to me and become my slave! Then, you can continue living, breathing the fresh air, and sleeping with beautiful women.”
“A generous offer,” Qian Jin shrugged. “However, are you stronger than Qian Zhanxuan?”
Falak’s face darkened abruptly, and the complexions of the Barbarian warriors behind him also grew long. None of them were fools; this rhetorical question was dripping with mockery.
“I knew you would answer that way.” Falak’s stern expression smoothed out, replaced once more by a confident smile. “Many people are like that. Until they truly face death, they believe their judgment is infallible. I am generous; you may change your decision anytime, but you must be quick, because…”
Two beams of lightning-sharp light shot from Falak’s eyes, and murderous intent erupted like a volcano, locking instantly onto the swaggering, nonchalant Duan Fengbuer. “Your friend might—might be injured or even lose his life due to your hesitation!”
As the words fell, a Behemoth beast’s Dou Hun erupted from behind Newsta. His Bloodline Battle Form slammed into activation, instantly transforming him into a three-meter-tall Behemoth shape covered in brown fur. His accompanying Behemoth Dou Hun soared six meters high. He threw back his head, displaying two tusks thick as a normal man's legs, and let loose a wild, primal roar toward the sky.