Wharton

"Young Master An, there's trouble ahead." Hillman reined in the carriage and pointed forward.

An rode up and saw a crowd blocking the highway in the distance. There were fifty or sixty of them, dressed in mismatched leather armor and carrying assorted weapons. Their leader was a burly, bald man mounted on a black magic beast-a sixth-level Ironback Savage Bull.

A hideous scar stretched from the bald man's forehead to the back of his head, and he wore a black eyepatch. He held a double-bladed battle-axe.

The bald man spotted An's carriage as well. His eye lit up. The carriage was lavish: all four horses were fine thoroughbreds, and the cabin had gilded trim and exquisite carvings. A prize this rich rarely came along even once a year.

"Brothers, time to get to work!" The bald man raised his battle-axe and bellowed, "Leave the carriage, and you can go! Otherwise..." He grinned, exposing several yellow teeth. "You'll stay here and feed the wolves."

The bandits behind him burst into laughter, raised their weapons, and began closing in on the carriage.

An straightened in his saddle and regarded the bandits calmly.

The bald man noticed An's gaze, and unease stirred in his heart. But he quickly suppressed it. He was an eighth-level warrior and had run rampant across this lawless region for more than a decade without ever failing.

"Kid, are you deaf?" The bald man urged his Ironback Savage Bull a few steps forward. "I said, leave the carriage, and you can-"

Before he could finish, something blurred before his eye.

An leaped from his horse and hovered in midair.

The bald man's face instantly turned deathly pale. His lone eye widened, and his mouth opened and closed. His voice sounded as though someone had seized him by the throat. "Saint... Saint-level?"

The bandits behind him were dumbstruck too. Some began backing away; others dropped their weapons, which clattered sharply against the ground. In all their years of banditry, they had encountered seventh- and eighth-level experts, but Saint-level experts were figures of legend. There were only a handful on the entire Yulan Continent.

"My lord! Spare us, my lord!" The bald man tumbled off his Ironback Savage Bull and dropped to his knees, knocking his forehead against the ground. "We were blind fools to offend you! Please spare our worthless lives!"

The other bandits fell to their knees as well, bowing their heads against the ground over and over.

"Funeral of the Wind."

Wind essence surged wildly through the air, gathering from every direction into an enormous vortex dozens of meters across above the bandits' heads. Within it, the wind essence condensed into countless wind blades.

The bald man felt death approaching. He desperately circulated his battle energy, forming a blue-green barrier over his body with the power of an eighth-level warrior.

Wind blades poured down like a torrential rain.

The first wind blade slashed across his barrier, making it shudder violently. The second, the third, the fourth... In less than a second, the barrier shattered. The hundreds of wind blades that followed sliced into his body, tearing him to pieces in an instant.

The other bandits fared even worse. Some tried to flee, but the vortex covered an area dozens of meters across, leaving them no way out. Wind blades swept through them, blood sprayed, and screams rose one after another, only to fall abruptly silent less than two seconds later.

The Funeral of the Wind lasted less than five seconds.

When the vortex dispersed, nothing remained on the highway. Only countless fine grooves crisscrossed the ground, densely packed and half a foot deep, bearing witness to what had just happened.

Hillman jumped down from the carriage. Seeing the grooves covering the ground, he could not help sucking in a breath.

"Let's go."

They encountered several more bands of robbers along the way. Those foolish enough to cross them were dealt with by a single wind blade from An.

In the seventh month, they crossed the border into the O'Brien Empire.

The O'Brien Empire was the greatest military power on the Yulan Continent, with territory far larger than the Holy Union's. It was divided into seven great provinces, each considerably larger than the Fenlai Kingdom. Worship of the War God was the empire's state religion. Its people placed their faith in the War God O'Brien, while the Radiant Church could only lurk in the shadows. The empire took an uncompromising stance toward the Radiant Church, ruthlessly wiping out any of its forces discovered operating in secret. This policy had kept the church from expanding its influence within the empire. It still had a fair number of people stationed in important cities such as the imperial capital and provincial capitals, but only a few dozen remained in prefectural cities. In the towns and villages, there was not a single member of the Radiant Church.

An had chosen the O'Brien Empire because a blood feud lay between the Baruch Clan and the Radiant Church. Although he did not yet have the power to take revenge, he would never place his family within the church's sphere of influence.

After crossing the imperial border, An immediately noticed the difference. The roads were broader and smoother, with way stations and patrolling soldiers every few dozen li.

"An empire indeed," Hogg remarked. From inside the carriage, he watched the fields sweep past the window. The farmland was neatly laid out, irrigation channels crisscrossed the countryside, and wisps of cooking smoke rose from the villages. Everything spoke of prosperity. Compared with the war-torn Holy Union, this was another world.

The carriage continued onward. After a full year of travel, An, Hogg, and Hillman finally reached Chiyan City, the imperial capital of the O'Brien Empire.

Chiyan City was a true metropolis.

Its walls towered into the sky, standing dozens of meters tall, and their thickness was even more astonishing. It was said that four carriages could travel abreast along the top.

The city gates were heavily guarded, with an endless stream of people passing in and out. The soldiers wore matching black armor, and even the weakest among them was a fourth-level warrior. In one of the Holy Union's smaller kingdoms, any of them could have commanded at least a hundred men.

An dismounted outside the city and had Hillman drive the carriage slowly through the gate. As they entered, the guards checked their identification.

Once inside, Hogg was stunned by the sight before him.

The streets were broad enough for eight carriages to travel abreast, paved with level blue stone slabs that would not turn muddy even in the rain. Shops and restaurants stood tightly packed along both sides, their signs bearing writing in various languages: the empire's common tongue, the language of the Holy Union, and even the ancient script of the Yulan Empire. The shops were filled with goods from all across the continent-magic beast cores from the north, spices from the south, silk from the east, and magical implements from the west.

Pedestrians crowded shoulder to shoulder. Nobles in luxurious clothes walked with servants and guards trailing behind them; warriors carried weapons on their backs, and mages wore long robes. Vendors and street performers called out from the roadside, drawing passersby to a halt. In the distance, the palace spires gleamed in the sunlight. Farther still, War God Mountain rose majestically, its summit blanketed in snow.

"It's huge," Hillman marveled.

Fenlai City was already the largest city in the Holy Union, but it was nowhere near Chiyan City's scale. Chiyan City had a population of several million and more than a dozen markets within its walls alone. The largest, the central market, covered hundreds of mu, and its daily trade equaled a small kingdom's annual revenue.

An asked a passerby for directions and found the O'Brien Warrior Academy, where Wharton studied.

The warrior academy stood in the eastern part of the city and occupied an enormous area. Its walls were towering, and two massive stone lions stood imposingly at the entrance.

An gave Wharton's name at the gate, and the gatekeeper went inside to announce their arrival.

A short while later, a tall youth rushed out of the academy.

"Father! An!"

Wharton was already fifteen. He wore the warrior academy's standard leather armor, with a longsword hanging at his waist. His face still held a boyish innocence, but a warrior's resolve had already taken root in his eyes.

Hogg's eyes reddened. He stepped forward and embraced Wharton, patting his back firmly. "You've grown taller and stronger. Good, good."

"An." Wharton released Hogg and turned to An.

The brothers embraced as well. An looked Wharton over carefully and nodded inwardly in approval. Wharton's battle energy cultivation had already reached the level of a sixth-level warrior.

"Wharton, how has life at the academy been?" An asked.

Wharton wiped his eyes and grinned. "Pretty good..."

"Come on, I'll show you around!" Wharton excitedly took An's hand. "Our academy has the largest training ground in the entire empire, and special battle energy training rooms. Oh, and our library has loads of martial technique manuals. I can borrow them for you to read..."

An let Wharton lead him along, following with a smile.