"Spade, you’re not planning to brush us off with just this information, are you?"
Inside Governor Spade’s camp, dozens of people sat around a bonfire. Though they were all leaders of various factions with high evolution levels and little fear of the cold, having a warm fire nearby was still a comfort they appreciated.
The speaker was a burly man with no arms—instead, he had two chanical limbs. His skin tone suggested South Arican origins.
Among these leaders, fewer than five dared speak to the mountainously obese Governor Spade in such a tone. This chanical-ard man was one of them: Vincent "Severed Arms", head of the Viscous Guild.
"This information... isn’t enough?"
Spade smiled amiably at Severed Arms, his tone deceptively mild.
Yet everyone else felt a chill.
"You know more. Far more detailed than this." Severed Arms didn’t back down, staring straight at Spade.
The others knew this was true, but none dared say it aloud.
Governor Spade chuckled coldly, his layers of fat quivering.
His silence was answer enough.
However, he’d obtained this intel, and it had undoubtedly co at a high cost. Spade clearly intended to leverage it for greater gains inside the wheel space—why would he share everything so freely?
The scraps he’d revealed now were only due to pressure from the outsiders. His real aim was to prevent infighting in the early stages, lest foreign factions take advantage of their disunity.
Of course, there was also the matter of paynt—even these vague tidbits weren’t free.
"If that’s how it is, then we’re done here."
Severed Arms stood and left with his n without another word.
"I’d love to snap his neck and shove those trash arms down his throat."
Spade said this cheerfully, prompting uneasy laughter from the others.
No one doubted he’d do exactly that given the chance.
"Big Z, report."
Spade turned to a gaunt man clad in a jester’s garb, his face covered in war paint.
"Troubleso. That team of won and children has exceptionally high individual combat power. Nurous battle beasts, top-grade gear—their strength far exceeds what their gender and age suggest. Estimated evolution levels: six to seven stars. Blue-grade equipnt is common. Their battle beasts range from level five to seven. Most notably, they possess a bizarre but devastating standardized weapon."
He paused, letting the information sink in, then continued:
"The faction with the chanical constructs is equally formidable. Those machines have terrifying offensive capabilities—my scouts couldn’t even get within a hundred ters."
"As for the Europeans? Utter savages. Their mutated polar bear cavalry is unstoppable once they charge. That’s where I deployed the most forces. We breached their lines, but the cavalry slaughtered us. Lost over a thousand fighters."
"The rest? Didn’t have enough manpower to probe."
After the painted jester finished, the group fell silent, waiting for Spade’s decision.
Truthfully, they had no qualms about devouring these outsider factions—they just needed soone to take the lead and absorb the initial losses.
Spade told the jester, "I’ll replenish your troops," then lowered his head to gnaw on a massive, bloody raw leg of a mutated creature—bones and all. The crunching sounds sent shivers down spines.
Everyone knew the Governor was weighing risks.
Only about half of North Arica’s forces here had gathered under Spade’s banner. The other half lurked nearby, watching. If they attacked the outsiders and succeeded, all would be well. However, if soone seized the chance to sabotage or strike them during operation, the consequences could be dire.
Spade shoved the last bone fragnt into his mouth, his expression sharpening—he’d made his decision.
High risk ant high reward. If they crushed these outsiders, their gear, resources, and battle beast crystals would be theirs—a fortune by any asure.
But before the mountainous Governor could speak, the mountain peak’s faint glow suddenly erupted in brilliance. Black streaks cascaded downward like waterfalls, accelerating until they reached the base, where they solidified into pitch-black portals.
The sight stunned the onlookers. When the portals stabilized, realization struck:
The Mountain Crown Wheel had activated!
After a frozen mont, the crowd scattered in a frenzy, leaving only the conflicted, regretful gaze of the obese Governor behind.
………………………………
Ye Zhongming’s hand slipped.
The gold-tier equipnt he’d been crafting failed.
But he had no ti to mourn the wasted materials. He sprang to his feet—on the mountain-facing side of Cloud Peak’s camp, a massive black energy passage had opened.
Like a gaping maw, it seed ready to devour everything. Thɪs chapter is updatᴇd by novel·fıre·net
"Boss, recon complete. No changes elsewhere."
Xiao Min had efficiently anticipated his needs. Her report confird this sudden black passage was the only entry point.
Ye Zhongming nodded and ordered Cloud Peak to advance imdiately.
This passage was unmistakably the Mountain Crown Wheel’s signal—there’d be no danger.
The team assembled swiftly. Each mber received one of those luminous firefly-like devices before filing into the dark portal in sequence.
Darkness. Then light.
Ye Zhongming’s vision cleared.
Before him lay the sa frozen wilderness, yet he felt no cold. The surroundings seed real yet distorted, like a glitched image, evoking deep unease.
Behind him, Cloud Peak’s warriors materialized one after another. Within minutes, the entire force had gathered—including Yangos and the undead dragon-fish.
The forr had arrived last—the wicked dragon had spotted the mountain’s anomaly and raced back at top speed.
The latter, although still undergoing transformation and sluggish, could move. Fleshy mbranes now partially covered its body—soon, real flesh would grow.
After a headcount, Cloud Peak advanced cautiously.
The landscape remained monotonous. No other lives or factions appeared. Ye Zhongming suspected the Mountain Crown Wheel had intentionally separated them.
Since everyone had used Zero-Point Fireflies, he couldn’t tell whether factions were grouped together or randomly scattered.
He leaned toward the forr.
If so, his alliance with Cannibal Chain was effectively aningless—unless they reunited before the final prize’s contention began.
The others remained equally vigilant, scanning their eerie surroundings.
Then—tremors.
The ground shook with increasing intensity. On the distant snowfield, a black line erged, racing toward them.
Cloud Peak’s warriors tightened their grips on weapons.
The Mountain Crown Wheel’s first trial had arrived.
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