"Oscar…"
Li Zhexian's fur cloak gleamed black against the snow.
The upturned collar was studded with stray grains of unmelted frost.
He stood there like a lone wolf, its eyes filled with winter's chill.
Oscar shrank his neck, an inexplicable dread gripping his chest.
"Everyone, come here!"
"Report your age, Martial Soul, and Spirit Power rank again—let the captains choose their men!"
At the coarse shout, the newcomers rushed forward, and Oscar hurried to squeeze into the crowd.
Li Zhexian stood with his arms folded.
Behind him, five burly men loomed like iron towers.
The reek of blood mixed with the pressure of Spirit Power, making even the snow curtain feel heavy.
"Boss, this batch doesn't look too good," one scar-faced man grinned.
"How did a little brat get mixed in?"
Li Zhexian's gaze swept toward him.
That man's heart clenched tight.
Another mercenary immediately kicked him hard on the backside.
"Watch your mouth! What brat? Our boss looks younger than him! You looking down on the boss?!"
The scar-faced man scrambled to explain.
"N-no! I wouldn't dare!"
Expressionless, Li Zhexian withdrew his gaze.
The law of the mercenary world was naked and sharp—fists were the only authority.
By this time, several squad leaders had already begun picking members from the crowd to strengthen their own squads.
One by one, the newcomers were chosen, until only Oscar stood there alone.
Clutching the knife at his waist, he shouted anxiously:
"Brothers!"
"I'm still here!"
"You forgot about me!"
But the captains ignored him.
Only a bald mercenary, slowly polishing his felt hat, gave a cold laugh.
"Kid, just 'cause you've grown some fuzz on your chin doesn't make you a man."
"You still reek of milk. A food-type Spirit Master? What the hell are you doing here? Go home and play with your birds!"
Oscar's face went from pale to flushed red.
He bit his teeth, ready to argue—
but the moment his eyes met the bald mercenary's killing aura, his face went pale again.
This was different. Worlds apart.
He realized it now—
Spirit Masters raised in academies could never compare to these mercenaries who lived with blades pressed against their throats.
Even so-called death-fighters in the Spirit Arenas could not compare to these mercenary veterans.
The softness of academy upbringing was nothing but paper-thin fragility here.
Oscar lowered his head and turned away, snow stinging his face like needles.
"Oscar."
At that moment—
A cold voice cut through the wind and snow.
Oscar looked up in haste—it was that "Captain Ji."
The youth in the black fur cloak stood in the snow, his features as sharp as a blade. Behind him, the five mercenaries stood silent as if cowed.
"C-Captain Ji…"
His voice trembled.
"Come here."
Li Zhexian's tone was faint.
At once, the other captains halted, casting wary glances at the cloaked youth.
Yet—
Not one of them dared mock him.
The Snow Bear Mercenary Group's commander was a Spirit Saint of rank seventy-one.
Its two deputy commanders were both Spirit Emperors.
Before this—
Every squad captain had been at least a Spirit King.
Until the arrival of this young man named Li Ji.
In a dispute over prey, a captain once picked a fight with him. Ten punches later, that captain had been beaten to his knees.
From that day on, the Snow Bear Mercenaries had gained another "Captain Ji."
"M-me?!"
Oscar couldn't believe it, his face flushing once more.
He didn't understand.
Why would such an extraordinary captain choose him?
"Quit dawdling, you piss me off!"
One of the big men at Li Zhexian's side cursed.
"That Oscar—Captain Ji called your name, get moving!"
"Ah!"
Oscar jumped and quickly jogged over.
Li Zhexian cast him a single glance, then turned silently toward the tavern.
The reason he took Oscar was simple: he recognized the boy's talent.
A food-type Spirit Master born with innate full Spirit Power—even among the Shrek Seven Monters, his gifts ranked only below Tang San.
As for character, he was one of the few among them considered normal.
Sharp Blade Town's taverns were always loud and rowdy.
But the moment the young man in the black fur cloak stepped inside,
the noise dulled noticeably.
Reverent gazes followed him everywhere. Oscar trailed behind, hardly daring to breathe.
They sat by a window.
Oscar hunched nervously in the corner.
"C-Captain Ji…"
He ventured cautiously.
"Do you… want me to introduce my Martial Soul and Spirit Abilities?"
Li Zhexian took a sip of wine.
"I heard them."
"Ah—alright."
As soon as Li Zhexian emptied his cup, Oscar quickly seized the wine jug before one of the big men could.
"Hey, you brat—"
The mercenary glared.
Oscar pretended not to hear. He knew very well who his true boss was now.
First he filled Li Zhexian's cup respectfully.
Then poured one for himself.
"Captain Ji! Thank you for choosing me!"
"I won't let you down!"
With that—
Oscar threw back the fiery liquor in one gulp.
He'd been in the north for a while now.
But the burn of burning knife liquor still overwhelmed him.
"Cough, cough! Cough!"
The spicy feeling rushed straight into his throat. He immediately flushed red and coughed non-stop.
Seeing this, the mercenaries burst into a roar of laughter.
"Hopeless!"
"With that kind of tolerance, what are you doing toasting anyone?"
"Captain Ji's men don't have weak livers!"
…
Li Zhexian drained his cup calmly, then fixed his quiet gaze on the still-coughing Oscar. His voice was flat and cold:
"On missions, don't drag us down."
"You're a support-type Spirit Master. I'll assign men to protect you—but you'd better prove your worth."
The cold edge beneath those words made Oscar's heart jolt.
He forced down his coughing and nodded heavily.
"Understood, Captain Ji!"
After three rounds of drinks—
Whether from growing familiarity, or from the heat of alcohol—Oscar grew a little bolder.
At last he asked the question that had gnawed at him:
"Captain Ji… how… how old are you?"
"Not older than you."
A scar-faced mercenary grinned.
"But our boss has slain more Spirit Beasts than you've ever eaten!"
Oscar snuck a glance at the youthful yet sharp face across from him, marveling inwardly.
"To be this young, and already a captain of a great mercenary group?"
"That such a prodigy hid away in this frozen land?"
At the thought of "prodigy"—
An image unbidden rose in his mind: that white-robed youth who had shaken the entire continent. His gaze grew tangled with mixed emotion.
"But before that one…"
Oscar sighed inwardly.
"Who would dare call themselves a prodigy?"
...
High atop the divine mountain—
Amid the sea of clouds—
The Angel Temple stood in solemn majesty.
Nine hundred ninety-nine steps of light ascended like a bridge to heaven—
Extending straight to the brow of the Angel God statue.
Halfway up the stairway—
A figure of peerless beauty struggled upward.
She swayed as if about to fall—yet her resolve was unshakable.
Step by step, she climbed toward the pinnacle of light.