Chapter 41: Heavy Snow Begins
"You were truly born in the wrong era."
Once, it seemed someone had said something like that to him.
In a distant memory, nearly forgotten, within an ancient and austere training hall, a middle-aged man lay struck down on the ground. He lay flat on his back, eyes half-open, breathing heavily as he gazed with a complex expression at his son—the one standing before him, the one who had defeated him.
"You have already surpassed me."
With a deep sigh, the battle-hardened middle-aged man slowly rose to his feet. He looked at the young man before him and spoke with a mix of emotion and regret: "Unfortunately, in this world, even if you learn to be invincible, there is no place for you to use it."
This was a world that no longer needed battle...
The middle-aged man's eyes were filled with pity.
—You are a starving wolf among sheep, craving blood, lusting after raw flesh, yet forced to chew on green leaves and sleep on the grasslands. Even if you search the entire world, you will find no one worthy of fighting.
Unable to find meaning in your own life, unable to understand what lies in the hearts of men, unable to sleep through the night without knowing why... Is there any creature more twisted, more pitiable in this world?
The young man remained silent and indifferent. He stared at his own fists, clenching and unclenching them, as if he did not care at all.
But how could he not know that everything his father said was the truth?
He simply longed for it—longed for a thrilling, unrestrained battle, longed for the passion of walking the line between life and death. But it would never come again. Neither the age of martial arts in the past nor the war that had just ended would ever return. The pulse hidden deep within his soul and heart could not be ignited, and there would never be a day it would burn.
This was a world of great harmony, a world without conflict. Warriors had no reason to exist.
The fragments of memory slowly faded. In the distant sky, a frost-breathing wyvern circled above the mountain peaks, and the faint howls of beasts could be heard, broken apart by the wind as they carried into the distance.
Amidst the blowing cold wind, Joshua suddenly laughed. He stood at the edge of the fortress wall, surveying the mountains and the world, his gaze as if it could pierce through all obstacles, seeing every magical beast hidden in the shadows and darkness.
He stretched out his palm. A crimson fluctuation burned like fire in the center of his hand. As this battle qi emitted light, it slowly began to change color. The red light gradually dimmed, and a black-red radiance shone on Joshua's face, casting every angular contour into sharp relief.
But as if blocked by something, this black-red flame could no longer grow any darker. It remained in this form, unmoving, no matter how violently the fluctuations surged.
"With no target to release my killing intent, I can only reach this level."
A low murmur escaped his lips, carrying a hint of regret, but even more so, confidence and anticipation: "But when the next battle begins, that will be the moment my Glory Force is achieved."
His voice was resolute, leaving no room for doubt.
This was a real world.
There was not a shred of falsehood—whether it was the heart beating in his chest, the thin layer of frost beneath his feet, the surging hot blood in a warrior's breast, or the splattered flesh of a fallen enemy. These were not data in a game, nor exquisite textures. These things were all truly real, no different from his previous life.
He seemed to realize this for the first time, yet he was not at all surprised. Perhaps this realization should have come when he first swung his weapon to kill an enemy, letting hot blood soak his chest. But regardless, it no longer mattered now.
The power of this world was real—whether it was battle, slaughter, or death. The same was true of the power that dwelled within his body, sharing the same origin as battle qi, flowing endlessly yet remaining latent and unexpressed.
Clenching his battle qi, the black-haired warrior extinguished it.
Glory Force—that was a power that delved deep into the depths of a person's soul, the strongest light that bloomed when will and soul burned together. How could it be explained or awakened by a mere game or system from his previous life? Even if he was a former legendary warrior, this step still had to be taken on his own.
After all, he was a transmigrator, and far from a kind-hearted person. Joshua held no affection for this world. Even knowing that this land would one day face great suffering, he felt no sympathy. He only cared about the well-being of those close to him... But accompanying the disasters would come wave after wave of increasingly powerful enemies, just like the Abyss Worm encountered at Ares Fortress. This was an opportunity for battle.
As long as his killing intent could be released and the battle could continue, that was enough.
"Ying, it's getting late."
Without paying attention to the look in the silver-haired girl's eyes, the warrior patted her little head and said, "Let's go."
"Mm."
Though she did not understand what her master had been thinking or saying earlier, Ying could only nod in confusion and follow behind Joshua.
However, even though she did not get a satisfactory answer, at least one thing was certain.
—Joshua wanted to fight, and for that, he would inevitably need Ying.
That was enough.
The weapon, content in her heart, laughed silently and followed her master away from the fortress wall.
It had nothing to do with emotion or loyalty. Just as a warrior belongs to battle, a weapon belongs only to its master.
Snow and wind filled the air.
In the direction Joshua had been gazing earlier, beyond the mountains, deep within the black forest, a dragon with a body split evenly between black and gold lay coiled on a gray-white cliff.