Eighty-one, dispersed.

The old man shuddered all over. He turned his head to see a half-grown youth standing behind him, his expression cold and sinister.

The boy was thin, dressed in shabby, coarse cloth, his feet clad in tattered cloth shoes. His eyes were as black as ink, fixed unwaveringly on the old man, like a wild beast lurking in the shadows, sending a chill down one’s spine.

“Young… Young Master?” the old man ventured, his voice trembling.

The youth looked at him with an icy gaze. “Where have you been all these years?”

The old man took a step back.

After deciding how to play their hand, Old Du took the other eight men to the fireseed warehouse to collect their equipment, while Zhao Linsen set out ahead with Old Wolf and his family of four.

They moved swiftly, the dangerous zone looming before them.

Finding a concealed spot, Zhao Linsen sat cross-legged in the center, eyes slowly closing, while the four wolves crouched nearby.

For the first time, his spiritual sense spread recklessly outward, extending his perception through the fruit trees he had spent the past month planting throughout the forest. In this moment, every movement within a dozen kilometers fell under Zhao Linsen’s watchful “gaze.”

Warriors were ranked from the first to the ninth level, split into three stages: junior, intermediate, and advanced.

Sorcerers, however, had ten levels, with every two levels forming a stage, for a total of five: Spirit Communication, Spirit Entry, Spirit Speech, Spirit Control, and Ascension.

First- and second-level sorcerers were called “Spirit Communicators”—in truth, little more than novices, possessing scant spiritual power, able to wield only some minor spells. While this was enough to bully a junior warrior, the sorcerer’s frail body meant that a single careless moment could end with a first-level warrior stabbing them dead.

Thus, though warriors seemed to have fewer ranks than sorcerers, there was no absolute superiority between the two. Even those who reached the pinnacle—respected as “earthly immortals”—could still be killed by a ninth-level Martial Saint.

Yet the Legendary Fruit Farmer was a unique anomaly among sorcerers, mastering both the martial and sorcerous paths, as well as a variety of other skills. Fruit tree cultivation, strictly speaking, was an offshoot of the sorcerous Spirit Planter lineage, focused on nurturing and commanding powerful plants.

At the same time, the Legendary Fruit Farmer also raised poultry and livestock, which made him, in effect, a Spirit Beast Master as well.

Moreover, the Legendary Fruit Farmer knew how to create spiritual fields—mastering all the most profitable branches of the sorcerous arts.

According to the village chief’s father, when their ancestor, the first generation patriarch, rose to power, he was a terrifying figure, yet wore only rough hemp and called himself a fruit farmer.

Later, to distinguish him from ordinary fruit farmers, the title “Legendary Fruit Farmer” was bestowed upon him.

Having inherited the Legacy of the Legendary Fruit Farmer, Zhao Linsen, though only a second-level sorcerer for now, was as formidable as several ordinary ones combined, and possessed the constitution of an intermediate warrior.

Due to the legacy’s guidance, Zhao Linsen faced no bottlenecks in his sorcerous cultivation. The Legendary Fruit Farmer’s path did not adhere to the rigid ranks of the sorcerers.

In fact, the Legendary Fruit Farmer never acknowledged himself as either sorcerer or warrior.

“A fruit farmer is simply a fruit farmer!”

This phrase was considered the most shameless line in the sorcerers’ world.

The reason was simple: the spiritual plants and beasts cultivated by the Legendary Fruit Farmer were not bound by his own level.

When the third generation emerged, he wasn’t much stronger than Zhao Linsen was now, yet few on the continent dared provoke him. For though only a Spirit Communicator, the weakest spirit beast at his side was at least level five, while the spirit plants he controlled were often level six or seven, vast in number and utterly fearless—enough to give anyone a headache.

Now, as the new generation’s Legendary Fruit Farmer, Zhao Linsen understood this well.

But all glory fades; in this world’s terms, prosperity seldom lasts more than three generations.

For all their strength, the Legendary Fruit Farmers met a hasty decline. By the time the legacy reached the village chief’s father, not even an heir could be found. All that remained was a single Apple Shooter—how tragic!

The legacy, refined by many generations, was complete enough that, only after Zhao Linsen awakened his spiritual sense and had amassed some spiritual energy, did he finally glimpse its true form.

The beast hide that carried this weighty heritage was from a mighty sacred beast; even after so many years, it remained pristine. Once Zhao Linsen inherited the legacy, the beast hide seemed to vanish, perhaps consumed to offset part of the cost—a loss that Zhao Linsen regretted, for it had been a priceless treasure.

In the blink of an eye, drawing on the power of the legacy, Zhao Linsen’s mind became exceptionally sharp.

With its help, his current ability was enough to contend with a fourth-level sorcerer. Here, in this world, using spiritual arts, Zhao Linsen possessed an overwhelming home field advantage: only he and his allies could call upon spiritual energy.

With no need to fear interference from other practitioners, he could boldly and freely draw upon all the surrounding spiritual power. Thus, even with only the reserves of a second-level sorcerer, he could wield techniques reserved for far higher ranks.

Under Zhao Linsen’s direction, seeds previously buried throughout the forest by the swift wolves absorbed spiritual power and quickly began to sprout and grow. As they matured, they overwhelmed and devoured their neighbors, replacing all other trees at a pace visible to the naked eye.

The enemies moving swiftly through the dangerous zone were oblivious to it all.

When they finally arrived, the forest appeared unchanged on the surface—no sign of anything amiss. It was simply silent, deathly still.

The black market’s men were not surprised; after all, the City Lord’s Mansion had openly allied with them, and assembling so many people in secret was impossible, so prior leaks were expected.

This time, they had no intention of resorting to tricks, instead relying on their overwhelming strength to crush all opposition.

They had only dispatched their true combatants, fully intent on victory.

By the time they swaggered into the high-danger zone, they were already fully exposed to Zhao Linsen’s scrutiny.

Over five hundred men, equipped with nearly a hundred firearms, while the rest carried alloy weapons, most with alloy crossbows.

With ample high-quality steel stockpiled in the city, making guns was difficult, but forging primitive crossbows was no problem. After many modifications, these weapons were as lethal within a hundred meters as any handgun.

Beyond individual repeating crossbows, there were larger ballistae mounted on trucks, serving as artillery. Within two or three hundred meters, these could take down even defense-heavy tier-three dire beasts—except, perhaps, for turtles.

Everyone knew Old Du commanded an entire wolf pack here, so the group was on high alert after entering the forest. Tanks cleared the way in front, two trucks followed on each flank and in the rear, each with two ballistae mounted fore and aft, aimed to the sides.

The ballistae bases had turntables for easy horizontal and slight vertical adjustment, and arrow magazines resembling clips, each holding five bolts for quick reloading.

These were also mounted on the city walls—powerful weapons Zhao Linsen had witnessed himself.

One could only say: necessity breeds ingenuity!