The Eastern Region had become a theater of fire and blood, but for the invaders, the victory was proving to be a tedious, grinding affair.

At the heart of the Fire Giant Tribe Main Camp, the air was thick with the scent of roasted meat and the acrid smoke of obsidian-fueled braziers.

Huge tents made of the thick hides of prehistoric beasts stretched across the scorched earth, and in the largest among them, Korgar, the undisputed leader of the tribe, sat on a stone throne.

The throne was a jagged slab of basalt, and in front of him, a large map of the Eastern Region was written on coarse, sun bleached leather.

Korgar was a titan of a man, his skin a dark, volcanic red and his body covered in scars that told the story of a thousand battles in the Vast Wilderness.

He frowned as his massive finger traced the lines of the human defenses.

"These humans..." Korgar’s voice was like the rumbling of a distant earthquake. "Although they don’t have any strong experts, their numbers are truly terrifying, outnumbering us twenty to one."

He spat on the dirt floor of the tent. To a warrior of the Fire Giant Tribe, the way humans fought was cowardly and frustrating.

Even though the giants were individually stronger, possessing muscle fibers like braided steel and bones that could withstand the impact of a falling meteor, fighting twenty people at the same level as you is incredibly difficult.

No matter how many ants you crush, the swarm eventually finds the cracks in your armor.

"I guess their numbers are the only thing going on for these bunch of weaklings," Korgar muttered, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the Spirit Hall’s current position.

Humans were weak, fragile creatures. If it weren’t for their numbers crawling like ants, they would’ve long since went extinct.

But then he shook his head, his primal instincts forcing him to be more objective. "No, those Formations, Artifacts, Pills, and those so-called Seers that can look through fate and see our plans. Each one of them are more troublesome than the last."

Indeed, the disparity between the two races was not just physical, but cultural and technical as well.

As mentioned before, people from the Vast Wilderness actually had incomplete cultivation systems, and they did not cultivate "Techniques" in the way humans did.

For the Fire Giant Tribe, they didn’t even have battle techniques that can allow them to manipulate their qi into powerful attacks, or powerful spiritual sense to search for enemies.

Their victories in this war is mostly them relying solely on their powerful physique and their innate bloodline ability to control and manifest primordial flames.

They fought with raw, unadulterated instinct and brute force.

Aside from that, they also didn’t have the sophisticated "Auxiliary Professions" that gave human civilization its edge.

They lacked Alchemists to brew healing tonics, Gourmet Hunters to refine energy-rich meals, Seers to predict the weather or the enemy’s movements, Formation Masters to build defensive perimeters, Artificers to forge magical equipment, and Master Teachers to optimize the growth of their youth.

So, although the Fire Giant Tribe was so overwhelmingly powerful in a one-on-one cage match, the humans from the Eastern Region were able to hold their ground using pills that mended broken bones in seconds and artifacts that could fire beams of concentrated light from a distance.

Not to mention those arrays, which could trap a giant in a localized pocket of distorted space, meant to seal them away or kill them through a thousand cuts of qi.

"This is really troublesome. If we don’t end the war soon, those people from the Central Region might send their reinforcement."

At this moment, a young man, a human, entered the tent.

It was Tang Shan, a man whose eyes were filled with a cold, hollow bitterness, completely unlike the man full of pride and arrogance many years ago.

"Chief!" he called out, his voice echoing in the quiet tent. "We have received news that the Central Region have sent reinforcements!"

Korgar’s brow furrowed, the heat in the room rising with his agitation. "Are there any Saints?"

That was the only question that truly mattered.

A single Saint could alter the atmospheric pressure of an entire region, turning the tide of war with a single thought.

In the oral legends spoken in their tribe, a Saint was said to possess the ability to even create an entire world.

If the Tian Yuan Empire had sent even one Saint, the giants would have to retreat back to the Wilderness immediately.

Tang Shan shook his head, his expression grim. "We don’t know yet, but what we know is that only those scions of noble clans will be arriving first!"

Korgar relaxed visibly, his massive shoulders slumping back against the stone throne.

As long as there isn’t a Saint, then everything can still be saved.

The young nobles, as mentioned by Tang Shan to him before, were just famous for being "greenhouse flowers"—pretty to look at, but easily crushed under a heavy boot.

This is something that Korgar always fail to understand. Why do they allow such incompetent people to lead them?

In their tribe, such people would’ve long since died due to harsh environment of the wilderness.

At that moment, he stared at Tang Shan, the traitor who betrayed humanity for survival and revenge, and couldn’t help but snort in disdain.

Korgar was a barbarian, but he followed a code of primal honor.

Their tribes disliked betrayal the most; a man who could turn on his own kind was a man who could never be trusted.

However, this man was indeed still very useful for his knowledge of human psychology and tactics, so Korgar wouldn’t do anything to him yet.

"Assemble all remaining forces. We will attack and capture the last bastion of humanity today," said Korgar.

He stood up, his height nearly reaching the apex of the tent as hs he walked towards Tang Shan, the air seemed to ripple with the heat of his presence.

"Although only those scions will arrive, we can’t afford to be careless. There are for sure some elders following them in the shadows. Once those elders make a move, this entire conquest will fail."

Tang Shan nodded, keeping his head low to hide the flicker of dark satisfaction in his eyes. "Understood, chief!"

With that, Tang Shan cupped his hands and ran out of the tent to relay the orders as Korgar looked at his back, then at his own massive, orange-tinted hands as he clenched them into fists.

The sound of his knuckles cracking was like dry wood snapping.

"We must conquer this land. We have sacrificed far too much to fail. We can’t afford to lose," Korgar whispered to the empty air.

The Fire Giant Tribe was fleeing a dying territory in the Wilderness; for them, this was not just a war of expansion, but a war for survival.

*

*

*

At this moment, in the Spirit Hall, the atmosphere was one of stifled, anxious hope.

Lu Xinglan, the Pope of the Spirit Hall, stood at the center of a massive, plain area, a landing plaza designed for the great flying vessels of the Empire.

Her daughter, Qian Yunxi, stood by her side, along with the rest of the elders who weren’t currently on the front lines.

They were all staring at the sky, their spiritual senses pushed to the limit.

At that moment, the air suddenly hummed with a low-frequency vibration that made the stones beneath their feet tremble.

Then, the space itself seemed to tear open like wet parchment as a massive Profound Ark, shimmering with golden and black light, appeared out of the void.

It descended with a majestic grace, landing softly on the ground without kicking up a single speck of dust—a testament to the skill of the pilot and the quality of the vessel.

The great doors of the Ark groaned open, and a ramp descended.

Shen Haoran was the first to walk out. He wore his black and gold robes with an effortless air of superiority, his golden hair catching the sunlight.

Behind him walked Shangguan Mu’er, followed by the rest of the Five Crowns, each one radiating a dense, refined aura of the Nascent Soul realm.

Then, the disciples from the Immortal Sects and other great powers followed in a disciplined line.

Finally, the Crown Prince Xu Xiaojun walked out, flanked by the rest of the noble scions, who were looking around the ruined Eastern Region with expressions of curiosity and subtle disgust.

Lu Xinglan’s eyes landed on Xu Xiaojun for a fleeting moment before they immediately locked onto Haoran.

She saw his golden hair, his regal bearing, and the way the other powerful youths seemed to naturally gravitate around him.

To her, there was no doubt—this young man, who possessed such an overwhelming and kingly presence, had to be the heir to the Empire.

He looked so capable and regal, and she couldn’t help but think that if this man was the one who will inherit the Empire, then perhaps she wouldn’t have to continue her plan to establish her own Empire.

She stepped forward, her purple robes billowing behind her, and bowed with the formal etiquette of a regional sovereign.

"Greetings, Crown Prince. I am Lu Xinglan, the current Pope of the Spirit Hall." She spoke solemnly, her voice filled with the weight of her responsibility.

However, as she straightened up, she noticed a strange phenomenon.

The noble scions behind the ’Crown Prince’ were looking at each other with amused expressions, some of them covering their mouths to hide a laugh.

Her gaze then shifted to a man in golden armor standing several paces behind Haoran—a man whose face was turning a shade of red so intense it looked as if his head might actually explode from the pressure.

"Did I... say something wrong?" asked Lu Xinglan, her brow furrowing in confusion.

She was a Nirvana Rebirth expert; her senses told her something was off, but she couldn’t place it.

Shen Haoran chuckled softly, the sound clear and melodious in the quiet plaza.

He didn’t seem offended at all; if anything, he looked mildly entertained by the situation.

"Nothing," he replied, giving a slight, polite nod. "I am Shen Haoran, and unfortunately, I am not the Crown Prince."

He then gestured with a casual wave of his hand toward the fuming man in golden armor. "The man currently trying to swallow his own tongue behind me is the Crown Prince, Xu Xiaojun."

The silence that followed was thick enough to be cut with a blade.

Lu Xinglan felt a rare flush of embarrassment creep up her neck, while the "geniuses" of the capital struggled to maintain their composure.

She stared at Xu Xiaojun, and her embarrassment disappeared instantly.

This...this is the man destined to inherit the Empire?

Why does he look so....

Incompetent?