Phantylia reclined languidly on a lotus throne woven from living vines. A highly mocking, deeply amused light swirled within her golden eyes.
"The once-grand Brood Lord of the Borisin, after failing to claim his beloved 'white moonlight' master... has finally set his sights on the precious little disciple she personally trained?"
She deliberately heavily enunciated the words 'white moonlight', not even bothering to mask the sheer, unadulterated sarcasm dripping from her voice.
"Mangus!"
A terrifying, bloodthirsty roar violently shook the tent. "If you think you have too many teeth in your mouth, I'd be more than happy to personally rip them out!"
Accompanied by the heavy, booming sound of footsteps, a suffocatingly massive figure stepped out from the shadows of the tent—the Borisin Brood Lord, Hoolay.
A metal beast mask covered half his face, exposing a pair of terrifying fangs. His ice-cold, spectral-blue eyes glared out from behind it, as sharp as freezing daggers.
Thick, heavy metal chains, completely etched in tribal totems, were wrapped tightly around his ridiculously heavily muscled arms like living serpents, radiating an aura of absolutely untethered, primal savagery and suffocating, apocalyptic pressure.
"Heh, then you'd better try your best."
Phantylia acted as if she completely didn't notice the terrifying, murderous intent pressing down on her, even letting out a soft, dismissive chuckle.
"It'll be the perfect show for those stupid wolf cubs outside. Right on the eve of our grand, apocalyptic clash with the Luofu, they can witness the two leaders they placed all their hopes in publicly slaughtering each other to the death."
Before she even finished speaking, an impossibly fast, terrifyingly sharp arc of cold light violently severed the lotus throne. But the blade merely passed through a rapidly dissipating illusion.
"The pups of Dulan would only cheer for it!"
Hoolay retracted his battle blade, letting out a low, rumbling growl.
The violently flickering light of the campfire cast his terrifyingly massive silhouette across the tent, completely engulfing nearly half the space in shadow.
Despite aggressively brushing off her threat with his own action, Hoolay still turned and began marching heavily out of the tent.
Every single step he took violently cracked the hardened ground, leaving behind deeply indented wolf-paw prints lined with spiderweb fractures—a clear, undeniable reflection of the chaotic, boiling rage surging within his chest.
—Hmph. He confirmed the boy's identity as that woman's disciple through me, and now he can't suppress his boiling bloodlust, can he?
Phantylia's figure reformed effortlessly back onto the bisected lotus throne. She watched his departing back with immense amusement.
"A word of advice. Rather than that little boy named Fuli, you should probably be far more wary of that Chrysos Heir girl holding the scythe."
She held out her hand, casually inspecting her perfectly manicured nails. "In a way, she is the absolute natural predator and ultimate counter to all of you meatheads who rely solely on your absurd regenerative capabilities to do whatever you want."
At his absolute peak, Hoolay was undeniably an S-Rank powerhouse, and definitely sat at the absolute apex of that tier.
Even so, when facing Castorice's innate 'Blessing of Death,' unless he realized the danger beforehand and constantly burned astronomical amounts of Honkai energy to forcefully neutralize the effect, the moment she touched him with her bare skin, he would instantly face the complete, absolute end of his life.
This was precisely why the young girl had achieved such terrifying notoriety at such a young age. Setting aside her potential to reach the Sequence level, the sheer priority of her death-touch was high enough to pose a lethal, unavoidable threat to S-Rank superhumans.
If utilized perfectly, it functioned exactly like Rita's reality-warping domain, White Moon Oriole's Resurrection—an absolute 'First-Encounter Kill' against top-tier powerhouses.
"Hmph!"
Hoolay merely responded to Phantylia's warning with a cold, highly dismissive snort.
His massive figure stepped entirely out of the tent, completely dissolving into the deep, heavy darkness of the night.
(Illustration: Flawless Flying Light)
The next day, early morning...
Just off the coastline, two tiny, soaking-wet heads—one black, one purple—suddenly popped out of the water.
A closer look revealed it was Fuli and Castorice, having successfully traversed the ocean via a massive fish stampede.
"As expected of our Cassie's foresight."
The boy violently shook his head like a wet dog, sending water droplets flying everywhere. He looked deeply relieved as he stared at the incredibly heavily fortified coastline in the distance.
"Thank God I didn't actually lose my mind and bust out that yacht last night. With all the noise it makes, we would have been blown out of the water as target practice hours ago."
Thanks to the Borisin's terrifyingly sharp sense of smell—which practically functioned as a passive D-Rank reconnaissance skill—they had established dense, overlapping patrol routes all along the massive coastline, completely dividing and heavily fortifying every single stretch of the beach.
Above them, Borisin scouts mounted on massive, ferocious war eagles constantly screeched past, their sharp eyes relentlessly scanning the sea and the sand below. It was, quite literally, an inescapable net spanning heaven and earth.
"Look at it the other way. The more heavily guarded and highly prioritized this area is, the more absolutely critical it must be to them."
Castorice brushed a few strands of wet hair away from her cheek, her eyes flashing with a calm, analytical light. "It is highly likely that the control core of this activating planet is hidden somewhere in this zone. We must be incredibly careful. We absolutely cannot alert the enemy."
"You're right about that."
Fuli turned his head, looking at the companion he had spent the entire night entangled with. "I can just use my Presence Concealment to sneak in. But do you have any methods of completely hiding your own presence, Cassie?"
"Hiding my presence?"
Castorice thought seriously for a moment before replying uncertainly, "If I... pull the hood of my cloak over my head... does that count?"
"Loud and clear."
"I apologize, Lord Fuli. It seems I am of no help in this regard."
The girl lowered her head guiltily, and even her slightly pointed, elf-like ears seemed to droop dejectedly.
"Hey, don't get so down. My Presence Concealment is currently sitting at B-Rank. Carrying one person with me during a stealth op isn't an issue at all. The only real problem is our scent."
Fuli pondered for a moment. "How about this? I'll use Outer Path to directly devour all the scent pheromones currently lingering on your body. That way, we can completely bypass those stupid Borisin dog-noses."
Castorice: ?
Even though they had spent the entire night literally hugging each other to sleep inside the cramped Crystal World, hearing the words 'devour your scent' still caused the girl's flawlessly pale face to instantly flush violently crimson, the color rapidly spreading all the way to the tips of her ears.
H-Having the Lord completely sniff out and devour my scent... That's so embarrassing!
Is he going to act like a little animal? Is he going to press his nose against my neck, slowly moving down, eventually sniffing every single corner of my entire—
Waaaah!
No! Stop thinking about it!
Castorice felt like actual steam was about to shoot out the top of her head. She was a freshly baked 'Steam Princess'.
She violently shook her head, desperately trying to throw those utterly chaotic, highly degenerate thoughts into the trash.
—No! Castorice! Now is not the time to think about this!
—This is for the safety of countless millions of lives on the Luofu! It's to shatter the Borisin's grand conspiracy and save the world from an apocalyptic slaughter! A little 'sacrifice' like this is absolutely nothing!
"Do it! Lord Fuli!"
The girl clenched her fists. Looking as if she had just made the most monumental, life-or-death decision of her entire existence, a deeply tragic, entirely resolute expression set upon her face.
She abruptly threw her arms wide open, completely dropping all her defenses, and squeezed her misty, violet eyes tightly shut. A faint puff of white breath escaped her lips as she spoke in the deeply heroic tone of a martyr marching to the execution block:
"I am completely ready! Please, do not hold back! Ravage me to your heart's content!"
"Uh... okay."
Fuli nodded. He immediately manifested the simulated black hole of his predatory organ, instantly devouring every single trace of scent on Castorice's body.
Total time taken: 0.3 seconds.
Ever since General Feixiao had publicly called him out for 'smelling exactly like his Master Jingliu', he had put in serious, grueling hours of specialized training specifically focused on scent management.
Now, he didn't even need physical contact! He could perfectly and precisely devour scents from a distance!
"Done! We're completely foolproof now!"
The boy dispersed the simulated black hole and gave her a thumbs-up, flashing a clean, bright smile under the morning sun.
Except... why does Cassie look... kinda disappointed?
Why is that?
How strange~
Regardless, carrying the fragrant, soft girl securely in his arms, Fuli effortlessly slipped through the massive security net, safely setting foot on the mainland entirely undetected.
Unlike the completely barren wasteland of yellow sand and jagged rocks they had originally crashed into, the territory currently occupied by the Borisin had clearly undergone extensive, highly meticulous terraforming and development by the Foxians.
Looking out, massive, sprawling clusters of nomadic tents and solid earth-and-wood structures stretched as far as the eye could see, forming an absolutely massive, fully functional mega-camp.
"What're you lookin' at?!"
"I'm lookin' at you, what're you gonna do about it?! Keep lookin' and see what happens!"
"By Tengri, I'm literally going insane! Did you know the new bathhouse scrubber your family hired is actually gay?!"
"Huh? But our family never hired a bathhouse scrubber?!"
The air was thick with the scent of violently roasting meat, the pungent, heavy aroma of fermented mare's milk, and the intensely potent body odor of tens of thousands of Borisin.
Gruff, booming shouts, the sharp clatter of weapons, and the frequent, wildly unhinged roars of bestial laughter constantly echoed through the camp. It was a thriving, highly energetic scene of absolute chaos.
It made sense. This was an army of over two hundred thousand Borisin.
Just managing their basic daily needs—eating, drinking, sleeping, and sanitation—was a massive logistical nightmare. Having a fully functional mega-camp like this wasn't surprising in the slightest.
Fuli and Castorice genuinely wanted to just casually blend into the crowd to gather intel, but their physical appearances were far too glaringly obvious. At best, they could try to cosplay as lowly Foxian slaves.
But anyone with a brain knew exactly how Foxians were treated in Borisin society. Just managing to avoid being immediately dragged off to do grueling manual labor or being forcefully mutated into a direwolf would be a miracle.
Fortunately, before Little Li had set off, his incredibly considerate Big Sis Kallen had packed his care package with a whole bunch of bizarre, highly practical gadgets—including a Smart Optical-Camouflage Mask.
This facial equipment could actively scan and alter the wearer's facial features to perfectly mimic any target based on inputted parameters. It had incredibly low energy consumption: a five-minute charge could easily sustain the disguise for ten hours. It was absurdly practical.
Fuli quickly scanned the facial data of a few Borisin patrollers they had passed along the way. Swiping a hand over his face, a faint distortion of light rippled across his skin, and his head instantly morphed into the terrifying, jagged visage of a Borisin warrior.
"How does it look, Cassie?"
Sporting a massive wolf-head, Fuli made a highly exaggerated, comical face at Castorice. "Do I look like one of those howling wolf cubs?"
The girl took a step back, carefully sizing him up.
Even wearing the face of a Borisin, the Lord is still incredibly handsome... that wild, untamed aura...
A faint smile touched her lips as she analyzed the situation completely seriously. "Purely from a facial standpoint, there are no flaws whatsoever. However, compared to a standard Borisin warrior, your physical build is simply far too slender. It will undoubtedly arouse immediate suspicion."
Fuli was never the hyper-muscular meathead type. He belonged to the category of 'looks slim in clothes, incredibly shredded underneath'.
In human society, that kind of physique was absolutely perfect, and exactly the type to attract wealthy sugar mommas. But if you dropped him into a massive army of two-meter-tall, mountain-sized, hyper-muscular Borisin beasts...
Hilarious. Which blind Foxian slave is trying to disguise himself? Tell me your name so I can snap your neck!
"I need to think of a workaround," he muttered, racking his brains.
"Lord Fuli, perhaps we could..."
Castorice gently tugged on the hem of his shirt, signaling him to lean down.
Then, standing on her tiptoes, she brought her soft lips close to Fuli's ear, whispering a few words in a volume only the two of them could hear.
Hearing her proposal, Fuli was massively shocked, a highly hesitant look crossing his face. "Is that really okay? That's way too much of a sacrifice on your end, Cassie!"
"It doesn't matter!"
The girl looked incredibly resolute. "Everything is for the safety of the countless millions of lives on the Luofu!"
Besides, we spent the entire night hugging each other inside the Crystal World anyway. What difference does a little longer make?
Subconsciously feeding herself perfectly logical excuses to continue cuddling with him, she completely proactively opened her arms to Fuli.
(Illustration: Castorice)
Although the Borisin race gave the distinct impression of being a horde of mindless meatheads who only knew how to slaughter and pillage, even meatheads needed entertainment and ways to unwind.
Historically, their primary form of entertainment after a successful raid was grabbing a few battle-brothers, sitting around a blazing campfire, clinking massive mugs of highly potent mare's milk, and loudly boasting about their kills.
If they felt particularly festive, they'd draw straws, slaughter a few 'lucky' Foxian slaves, skewer them on spits, and roast them over the fire for a snack.
But as their interactions with more 'civilized' factions—like the Xianzhou Alliance and the Interastral Peace Corporation—increased, certain external cultural concepts gradually began bleeding into their society.
Establishments highly resembling standard taverns began springing up like mushrooms after rain inside Borisin encampments.
Among them, the tavern named "The Prairie Eagle Fears No Gale" was arguably the most famous and heavily populated establishment in this entire sector.
When Fuli, currently sporting a highly ferocious Borisin face, pushed open the heavy wooden doors and stepped inside, an oppressive wave of heat—heavily mixing the pungent smells of sweat, body odor, cheap alcohol, and burnt meat—slammed into his face, causing him to fiercely furrow his heavily disguised brows.
"Cassie, you doing okay?"
He whispered softly to the completely new, heavily added mass clinging to his chest.
"I am fine, Lord Fuli."
Clinging to the boy like an octopus, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck and her legs locked securely around his waist to heavily pad out his overall volume, Castorice warmly reassured him.
Combination. That was the brilliant idea the girl had come up with.
If one person's overall mass wasn't enough, then if the two of them practically glued themselves together and wore an exceptionally baggy, massive overcoat, wouldn't that make him look incredibly wide and imposing?
From the outside, he just looked like a particularly massive Borisin warrior with a prominent beer belly!
And as everyone knows, a massive 'beer belly' in many tribal cultures was the ultimate symbol of extreme wealth and high status! It was highly noble subcutaneous fat!
And so, the intimately fused boy and girl casually found an inconspicuous corner in the highly rowdy tavern and sat down.
Pricking up his ears, Fuli actively tried to filter through the deafening, chaotic chatter around them, searching for valuable intel and heavily scouting for a prime target to kidnap and interrogate.
Sure enough, after downing a few massive barrels of strong liquor, several Borisin who had participated in the massive encirclement battle earlier started slurring their words, loudly boasting about their heroic deeds.
Naturally, the conversation eventually drifted toward the horrific casualties they had suffered.
SLAM!
A completely red-faced Borisin squad leader violently slammed his empty wooden barrel onto the greasy table. Beating his chest, he wailed mournfully, "I keep thinking about my direwolves! Every single one of them was a true, loyal brother!"
In the eyes of the Borisin, direwolves forcefully mutated from Foxians were incredibly loyal, fiercely cool mounts. They would fight to the death without hesitation, knew exactly when to retreat if the enemy was too strong, and didn't constantly plot to escape or stab their masters in the back like regular Foxian slaves. They were practically the perfect soulmates.
The squad leader grew increasingly distressed as he spoke, literal tears streaming down his furry face. "Oh, my sweet direwolves! It wasn't me who killed you! It was this cruel, chaotic world that killed you!"
"Alright, alright, shut the hell up already!" A heavily scarred Borisin sitting next to him looked incredibly annoyed. "If all the Foxians are mutated into direwolves, who the hell is gonna do all the disgusting, exhausting manual labor for us?!"
"Exactly!"
Someone nearby immediately chimed in, highly agitated. "Look at us the past few days! We've actually had to start mining Divine Gold and hauling away corpses ourselves! That used to be pure slave work!"
Divine Gold. Also known as Pyre-Flame Metal.
Formed when specific carbon isotopes mixed into the core of a planet, this metal violently hardened after being forged and cooled.
Once set, it would not show the slightest sign of melting even when exposed to temperatures exceeding 1,500,000°C. It was easily one of the hardest naturally occurring metals in the universe.
It was insanely expensive and incredibly rare. Yet, once a vein was discovered, it was surprisingly easy to mine. In fact, it was so absurdly profitable that successfully mining even a tiny chunk of it would cause the miner to uncontrollably burst into manic laughter—hence the popular universe-wide slang: "Divine Gold! You actually made me laugh for a second!"
The Borisin who had just complained noticed a soot-covered comrade pushing through the tavern doors, clearly having just finished a grueling mining shift. He couldn't help but tease, "If you ask me, just half-ass the work. Who knows if Seer Mangus is even watching us anyway?"
"Yeah, yeah. If she doesn't see us, aren't we just breaking our backs for nothing?"
"We should be discussing what's for dinner instead."
"Oh, good point. What are we eating?"
"Foxian skewers?"
A massive burst of utterly unhinged, bestial laughter erupted from the crowd of savage seniors. The sheer volume of the noise practically threatened to blow the roof off the tavern, making Fuli's ears ring violently.
The chaos continued until the battered wooden doors of the tavern were suddenly, violently shoved open from the outside. Every single eye in the room immediately snapped toward the entrance, and the deafening laughter instantly died in their throats.
Radiating an incredibly ferocious, intensely murderous aura of "Do Not Approach," an absolutely massive Borisin warrior strode into the tavern with the domineering gait of a tiger. His physique was terrifyingly huge, his muscles bulging like forged steel. With every step he took, the ground seemed to tremble slightly.
"That is Qiyan, the 'Surging Torrent'. He is one of the Four Heavenly Kings of the Eclipse Pack, and currently the strongest contender to claim the title of Brood Lord."
Castorice's voice echoed softly against Fuli's chest, carefully feeding him crucial intelligence.
"High Command, huh?"
The boy's eyes instantly lit up.
Alright, my designated kidnap-and-interrogate target... I choose you!
Completely unaware that absolute disaster was currently locking onto him, Qiyan marched straight to the bar and heavily sat down.
Without him even needing to open his mouth, the highly perceptive tavern owner immediately slid over a massive barrel of the warrior's favorite smoked liquor.
Grabbing the barrel, Qiyan violently downed the entire thing in a single, uninterrupted gulp, casually throwing the empty cask aside.
At this moment, a few Borisin who considered themselves somewhat close to Qiyan mustered up the courage to approach him.
"Boss Qiyan, what's got you in such a foul mood today? Tell your brothers about it, let us share your burdens—"
BOOM!
A terrifyingly sharp arc of claw-light flashed.
A headless corpse stumbled backward before heavily collapsing onto the floorboards.
Instantly, the entire tavern was paralyzed with shock.
While Qiyan was notoriously moody and violently short-tempered, he was usually at least capable of basic communication—otherwise, no one would have dared approach him in the first place.
But today, he had literally decapitated someone without a single word of warning?!
"My petition. The one requesting the Pack to formally crown me as the contemporary Brood Lord. Seer Mangus has finally replied."
Qiyan's massive, bell-like wolf eyes violently swept across every single person in the room. A deep, heavily suppressed, apocalyptic roar vibrated from the very depths of his throat, the sheer volume shaking the dust loose from the rafters:
"SHE REFUSED!"
Oh. Well, that completely explained it. That wasn't strange at all.
The surrounding Borisin exchanged glances and collectively relaxed.
Compared to the terrifying prospect of the Luofu's Cloud Knights breaching their main camp, this was absolutely nothing.
The squad leader who had been tearfully mourning his direwolves earlier had already mostly sobered up from the sheer terror of the decapitation. He laughed nervously and said, "Boss Qiyan, isn't that just because... Brood Lord Hoolay is still around...?"
"Him? That fake imposter created by Mangus?!"
Hearing the name, Qiyan let out an incredibly vicious, highly dismissive sneer. "That stray dog completely lost the right to sit on the Brood Lord's throne a long time ago!"
An imposter?
Fuli's heart violently skipped a beat. His instincts flared.
Oh, there is some massive, juicy drama hiding in here.
(Illustration: Cyrene)