Chapter 007: The Last Legion

Only ten remained, four of whom were injured—the final company of the Qin family was hanging by a thread.

Lin Zhan, once a mere bystander, had now become an indispensable force in battle. In such dire circumstances, claiming lack of experience was no longer an excuse; when life and death were at stake, inexperience meant waiting for death, and worse, dragging others down with you.

Just like the two gravely wounded soldiers who, having lost the use of their legs, silently drew their knives across their own throats when their companions were distracted.

Of the other two, whose injuries were not as severe, they gritted their teeth and pressed on in silence. Anyone who tried to lighten their burden instantly became their enemy.

Eight. Only eight remained, precisely the number of a peacetime squad in the real army.

Rookie Lin Zhan—no, by now, he was surely a seasoned private. Battle and death are the devils that forge a soldier’s growth, and on this cruel path, Lin Zhan was proving more capable by the day.

Though he still could not draw out the blade’s luminous aura to wound the wild beasts, his combat instincts had sharpened rapidly. He could now judge threats in an instant, seize favorable positions, harry snarling monsters, and wield his crossbow with increasing skill, providing invaluable support to the team.

Most importantly, he had discovered he could help his comrades summon forth even stronger blade and sword spirits—a secret he intended to keep for now.

The two wounded soldiers, ultimately unable to overcome their injuries, fell to the claws of a flying hare.

Six remained!

The constant loss of comrades did not dampen the survivors’ fighting spirit; if anything, it only fueled their determination. Their teamwork grew more seamless, and on the third day, they finally emerged from the snow-laden forest.

Lin Zhan squinted as a breathtaking range of snow-capped peaks appeared before him. Five towering mountains loomed, exuding an awe-inspiring majesty, like deities standing between heaven and earth, forbidding and unassailable.

In that moment, there was only one feeling: human beings are so very small.

At the foot of the nearest peak, a crowd—hundreds strong—had gathered. Soldiers in every manner of dress, barbarians, and heroes from across the human realm clustered in front of a narrow mountain path, their purpose unclear.

After days of fighting beasts, the sight of so many humans brought a sweeping sense of relief.

Here, only one more trial remained before they would be given a chance to ascend the snow peaks.

A path opened through the crowd as several dejected figures made their way out.

“Brother Guang, why are those people leaving?” Lin Zhan asked, scanning the scene.

“Ah, you think this checkpoint is easy to pass?” Zhang Daguang replied with a sigh. “It’s called the Talent Test. It measures your innate attributes. If you lack the basic qualifications, it won’t matter even if you reach the summit.”

Lin Zhan fell silent at these words.

What happens if you have no innate talent? In this world, if you lose your chance to cultivate and are condemned to remain an ordinary human, it’s a grim fate indeed.

Clutching his pack, Lin Zhan straightened his back. He was done being cannon fodder. “Just because others failed doesn’t mean I will!”

After a while, the line thinned as those who passed pressed forward with excitement, while the rest withdrew in disappointment.

But the rejected did not leave. Instead, they set up camp on a nearby plateau, prepared to wait as long as it took. Some hoped that as more were eliminated, there might be another chance to try, while others dreamed of encountering someone extraordinary—a noble clan or a sect—who might offer them another kind of destiny.

The last remaining members of the Qin family’s company queued up for the talent test.

But an argument had broken out ahead.

The line descended into chaos, allowing Lin Zhan a glimpse of the scene within.

At the entrance to a mist-shrouded mountain path stood an elderly man, exuding an aura of otherworldly wisdom, his hair and beard snow-white. Beside him were two young boys with their hair tied in high topknots.

All three wore unknown pelts, finer by far than anything seen among the crowd.

The old man and the two boys stood within a stone gate—a simple frame, barely more than two upright slabs and a lintel. Still, it was the only way onto the mountain, and so it was called a gate.

The commotion was over who should be tested next.

“You fools, do you not know this is the Second Young Master of the Fan family? How dare you push ahead!” A burly, black-faced servant, clearly the leader, lashed a young man on the ground with a python-skin whip.

The young man writhed in pain, begging for mercy, insisting he’d been shoved by the crowd behind him and meant no harm.

The Fan family’s second son was surrounded by fierce-looking servants, cowing everyone into silent submission.

“That young man is in for it…” someone muttered.

“On the road here, I saw the Fan family catch an unlucky fellow who bumped into them by accident. They hacked off his limbs alive and left him to the wild beasts.”

“No wonder Fan Ning is so arrogant—his uncle is an elder of the Snow Shadow Sect, and his elder brother joined the Floating Snow Gate three years ago…”

A small servant, weeping bitterly, knelt before the crowd. “Please, sirs, have mercy on my young master Tong Feng!”

Lin Zhan edged closer but felt Zhang Daguang tug his sleeve. “Lin, don’t get involved in other people’s business.”

Lin Zhan nodded, warmed by the concern.

He noticed that Qin Qingxuan stood right beside him, her delicate brows furrowed in anger. She, too, was a heroine who could not abide injustice.

As the servants whipped Tong Feng, Fan Ning, the second son, stood at the stone gate. Seeing the white-bearded elder pause the testing to wait out the quarrel, he grew impatient and waved his hand. “Finish him off quickly! I’m waiting to be tested!”

“Yes, sir!” the servant leader replied. His python-skin whip glowed with a green light, the scales bristling with murderous intent.

He raised the whip high, ready to bring it down on Tong Feng, when the servant boy, summoning the last of his strength, leapt up and threw himself over his master’s body.

The whip cracked through the air, reeking of blood, and struck the servant boy. The blow left a deep, bone-exposing gash, and the sickening sound of shattering bones could be heard. The air filled with the stench of seared flesh—burned by the whip’s glowing energy.

“Courting death!” the servant snarled, furious that he had killed only the lackey. He kicked the corpse aside, revealing Tong Feng, who had already fainted. The whip rose again. “Let’s see who’ll die for you now!”

“Stop!” Two voices, one male and one female, rang out in unison.