"Two reasons." Alamos raised fingers. "First, the upper winds here are vicious—non-level-nine fliers can’t stabilize. The central zone is a death trap."
Ye Zhongming gazed at the white-streaked sky, seeing nothing unusual. But Alamos wouldn’t lie—others could verify.
"Second, low-altitude flight is no safer. Marine life can leap or attack through ice."
Ye Zhongming fell silent. If true, this was problematic. Neither sky nor ice offered safe passage.
Then his eyes drifted back to Cannibal Chain’s camp.
Do they have a solution? Is that why they proposed terms so confidently?
"Our past conflicts don’t matter. The apocalypse has no permanent enemies. Consider it. The Crusaders agreed. The Saint will likely comply. Your participation ensures success."
With that, Alamos departed.
"I’ll scout."
Xia Bai moved to take flight, but Ye Zhongming stopped her.
"Unnecessary. Alamos told the truth."
As if on cue, two dark specks streaked across the sky—Yangos and the Undead Dragonfish. (Icebird remained hidden in the hive, preserving surprises.)
Even this limited display awed the other factions.
"F*cking winds! I hate wind dragons—this feels like their turf!"
Yangos’s curses preceded its landing. It imdiately demanded food from the Youth Army—days of scouting had left it hungry. As a fire dragon, the icy environnt accelerated its energy drain.
Ye Zhongming inspected the dragon, noting shallow marks on its scales. The Undead Dragonfish’s bones bore similar scratches.
Now he understood Alamos’s warning.
Winds capable of harassing Yangos and the Undead Dragonfish? Unprecedented. Ye Zhongming estimated their force equaled interdiate-grade wind-based skills.
Visually, the strait’s gales were akin to Mo Ye’s blade winds—endless, lethal. Even Yangos couldn’t erge unscathed.
This was bad.
After that, Gyanendra arrived, halting 200 ters away. Ye Zhongming t him halfway.
"Alamos spoke to you. Your thoughts?"
The Saint cut to the chase.
"Seems we’ve no better options."
After seeing his battle beasts’ condition, Ye Zhongming leaned toward cooperation.
Even he dared not underestimate the ocean’s horrors.
China’s mutated lifeform rankings only covered land creatures. Including marine species would overwrite the top ten entirely.
"Going alone isn’t impossible, but why shoulder all the risk? More allies benefit us."
Ye Zhongming instantly grasped his aning.
The Motley Crusaders—largest in number but weakest in average strength—would be the primary target during any attack. Their sacrifice could buy others’ safe passage.
You don’t need to outrun the danger—just outrun the others.
Ye Zhongming wasn’t saintly. He agreed imdiately.
Satisfied, Gyanendra turned to leave—then paused.
"Rember my words in the desert?"
"Which ones?"
"I said we might fight side by side soday. Didn’t expect it so soon."
With that cryptic remark, the Saint departed.
Ye Zhongming watched his retreating figure, unsettled.
He had theories, but confirmation would wait.
It would be after this North Arican venture.
The factions finalized preparations, eager to depart the treacherous strait.
But cooperation wasn’t so simple. Sequence beca the next dispute.
Nobody wanted to go first—the vanguard bore the brunt of danger. Argunts raged for half an hour.
Finally, they settled on… advancing simultaneously.
Whoever got attacked? Tough luck.
The leaders knew this "collaboration" was superficial at best. True cooperation would’ve assigned roles based on strengths.
But among rivals, this was already remarkable tolerance.
Cloud Peak was positioned second from the south. Cannibal Chain led, the Motley Crusaders occupied the center, Alamos’s group followed, and Gyanendra’s forces anchored the north. Official source is novel⦿fire
The march began.
Yet barely ten kiloters into the crossing, disaster struck.
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