Ethan barely spared a glance at the battle raging below before scanning the surroundings. His eyes finally landed on the figure he had been searching for. Leaning against a boulder at the base of the cliff was a man, slumped and unmoving. Ethan recognized him imdiately—Baleron.
The sight was grim. Baleron’s left arm had been severed clean at the shoulder, and blood had soaked nearly half of his body. He lay unconscious, his face ashen. Beside him rested a shattered warhorse saber, broken neatly into two pieces.
In that instant, the situation beca clear. Julian, currently trapped and fighting for his life, wasn’t holding a weapon because it had already been broken. Ethan guessed that Julian must have run into Baleron by chance, and the two had clashed fiercely. Overmatched, Baleron had fled this way, leaving Julian to be surrounded shortly after. As for Astrid’s presence in this ss, Ethan could only guess.
The valley was lush with vegetation, but nothing Ethan recognized. None of the plants radiated any hint of magical energy. Only one peculiar tree stood out—a small one clinging horizontally to the opposite cliffside, as if sprouting straight out of the stone. It bore twenty-seven plump peaches, their golden-pink skins glistening faintly in the light.
He squinted, and recognition struck. Peaches—the sa kind he had jars of back in his Mindscape. He’d stocked them mostly for Lyla, who adored the sweet, soft fruit, while he’d never cared much for them himself.
Still, this peach tree gave off no trace of magic. It couldn’t possibly be a spiritual herb. Ethan forced himself to focus on strategy instead. Nine people from Hurricane City had already arrived, and he had taken care of one. That left five who hadn’t shown up yet. Best to wait until they were all here, then wipe them out in one clean sweep. Julian could hold out a little longer.
"Good heavens! A Youth-Preserving Fruit! No wonder they’re fighting over it!"
Ethan turned to see Micah scrambling up beside him, eyes as wide as plates as he stared at the tree.
Ethan blinked. "Youth-Preserving Fruit?"
"Yes, yes! That’s definitely it!" Micah’s voice trembled with excitent, his gaze glued to the cliff opposite.
"You’re sure?" Ethan frowned. To him, it was just a peach tree.
"Absolutely! The Youth-Preserving Fruit isn’t technically a spiritual dicine—but it’s worth even more than one! Its value is beyond asure..."
Ethan’s eyes widened. "Wait... you don’t an it can... keep soone young forever?"
Micah nodded slowly, still entranced. "Not immortal, no. But it stops the aging of the body. Your skin, your face—they’ll stay exactly as they are when you eat it."
Ethan whistled under his breath. He could already imagine the chaos this would cause back on Earth. Won—and n, for that matter—would sell their souls for a chance at eternal youth. Even now, Astrid was practically hurling herself toward the tree with reckless abandon. Clearly, she knew exactly what those fruits could do.
On the other side, Eamon stood like a storm given flesh. Wind wrapped around him in a thousand flickering whirlwinds, his long hair whipping violently as he struck with a force that made the air itself scream. A single punch cracked the space around him, as if reality were splintering.
Ethan narrowed his eyes. He hadn’t expected Eamon to be so dangerous up close. Every other priest he’d encountered here in the Sea of Death had been a long-range caster, relying on devastating magic from a distance. Eamon broke that pattern entirely.
His opponent, Astrid, was wreathed in arcs of crackling lightning, thin streams of energy racing across her skin like living tattoos. Her aura burned just as fiercely as Eamon’s. The Golden Falcon tribe... masters of lightning? Ethan hadn’t seen that coming.
Wind blades clashed against lightning strikes, each collision producing thunderous booms. The valley floor fractured under their duel as they hurtled from air to ground and back again. Astrid tried repeatedly to break through Eamon’s defense and reach the Youth-Preserving Fruit tree, but he intercepted her every ti.
On the surface, they seed evenly matched. But Ethan knew better. Eamon was holding back. As the son of the Windspirit Faction leader—a hybrid cultivator of wind and Soul Energy—his real killing power hadn’t even been revealed yet.
"What a show," Ethan muttered, lying flat on the rocky ridge. Battles like this didn’t co often. Both combatants were Transcendent mid-stage, but their strikes carried the weight of soone far beyond that rank. Against anyone below War God level, they would be untouchable.
"Brother, we... uh... maybe we should—?" Micah whispered urgently, bouncing on his heels.
"No rush," Ethan said without looking away.
Micah was sweating bullets. Every ti Astrid lunged for the tree, Eamon blocked her, and the resulting shockwaves nearly obliterated the cliff where the fruits grew. If that tree was destroyed... it would be a tragedy beyond words.
Ethan felt his own desire stir as he gazed at the fruits. Twenty-seven in total, all ripe. He had to get one for Lyla. Then there was Celeste, Evelyn, Maria, Aunt linda, Nora, Dot, Clara, Dana, Bongo... Nas flickered in his mind like sparks, including, shafully, a few won who already belonged to other n.
Ethan tried several to clear his thoughts. But when he looked at the fruits again, the sa temptation crept in. One fruit wouldn’t be enough. Maybe he should just take the whole tree. Uproot it, plant it in his Mindscape, and harvest a lifeti of Youth-Preserving Fruits.
The problem was, the tree clung to the sheer cliff opposite them. To reach it, he’d have to cross the battlefield, drawing everyone’s attention. And even if he made it, yanking out a tree growing from solid rock wouldn’t be easy.
Worst of all, if he joined the fray and forced the Hurricane City mbers into a corner, they might destroy the tree out of spite. Wide-area attacks were their specialty. They couldn’t kill him—but they could turn that priceless tree into mulch.
Ethan exhaled slowly, his eyes narrowing. Timing would be everything.
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