The Primordial Chaos Sovereign

Invitation From The Guild Master

The entire entrance of the Mercenary Guild had fallen silent.

The barbarian mercenary leader lay sprawled on the stone ground, clutching his stomach while blood dripped from the corner of his mouth. His earlier arrogance had completely vanished, replaced by fear and disbelief.

Around him, his companions stared at Armstrong as though they were looking at a monster.

"How?"

"How could a mere mortal defeat a Late Stage Mortal Tempering cultivator with a single punch?"

Even among Body Cultivators, crossing realms through raw physical strength was extremely difficult.

The surrounding crowd erupted into whispers.

“That kid has no qi fluctuations…”

“He’s really a mortal?”

“No… impossible…”

Armstrong ignored the noise calmly.

Instead, his eyes fell on the leather pouch hanging from the barbarian leader’s waist.

Without hesitation, he bent down and grabbed it.

The barbarian leader twitched slightly but didn’t dare resist.

After what had just happened, he no longer viewed Armstrong as an ordinary youth.

He viewed him as danger.

Armstrong opened the pouch casually.

The moment he saw the contents, even he was surprised.

Five gold coins.

And hundreds of silver coins.

The metallic shine reflected in his dark eyes.

In the Solartin Empire, currency was divided into four levels.

100 copper coins equaled 1 silver coin.

100 silver coins equaled 1 gold coin.

100 gold coins equaled 1 royal gold coin.

Royal gold coins were treasures mostly used by nobles, royal families, large clans, and major organizations.

For ordinary people, even a single gold coin was considered wealth.

Armstrong silently calculated the amount.

Eleven thousand silver coins.

Or eleven gold coins.

His heart shook slightly.

This was more money than he and his mother had seen in sixteen years combined.

A faint smile appeared on his face.

“A fortune indeed…”

The barbarian leader forced out an ugly smile while sweating heavily.

Armstrong crouched before him calmly.

“I believe this pouch belongs to me now, right?” He asked

The barbarian leader nodded so quickly it almost looked painful.

“Yes, Boss!”

His earlier savage demeanor was nowhere to be seen.

“It’s all yours! Please spare my lowly life!”

The surrounding spectators twitched.

Boss?

This shameless bastard changed sides quickly.

Armstrong suddenly grinned.

“Good.”

Then his expression instantly turned cold.

“Now scram before I charge you fifty silver coins for breathing the oxygen around the Great Solartin Mercenary Guild…”

The barbarian leader froze.

“And another fifty for stepping onto this holy land.”

For a second, the crowd was stunned.

Then laughter exploded everywhere.

“Hahaha!”

“He used their own words against them!”

“That kid is ruthless!”

The barbarian mercenaries burned with humiliation, but none dared retaliate.

Especially their leader.

His instincts screamed danger whenever he looked into Armstrong’s eyes.

Without another word, the entire group fled in panic.

The crowd watched them disappear before turning back toward Armstrong with completely different expressions.

Respect.

Curiosity.

Fear.

On his very first day in the capital, an unknown youth had defeated and robbed a D-Rank Mercenary Group publicly.

That alone was enough to attract attention. But what truly shocked them was Armstrong himself.

In this world, there were two great cultivation paths.

The Path of Flesh.

And the Path of Heaven.

Body Cultivators tempered their muscles, skin, bones, organs, and blood to transform themselves into living weapons capable of rivaling ancient beasts.

Qi Refiners absorbed spiritual energy, manipulated natural laws, and pursued transcendence through the Dao.

At higher realms, both paths were equally terrifying.

A peak Body Cultivator could shatter mountains with bare fists.

A peak Qi Refiner could erase cities with a single spell.

Yet despite this balance, almost everyone preferred Qi Refining.

Because Body Cultivation was hell.

It demanded endless pain.

Broken bones.

Torn muscles.

Burning blood.

And even after enduring all that suffering, progress remained painfully slow.

Many died before reaching greatness.

Thus, Body Cultivators were often viewed as crude barbarians or poor cultivators lacking talent for Qi Refinement.

But Armstrong…

Armstrong had just defeated a genuine cultivator using nothing but physical strength.

No wonder the crowd was stunned.

As whispers spread rapidly, Armstrong turned calmly toward the entrance of the Mercenary Guild once more.

The giant black gates towered before him like the jaws of a primordial beast.

Just as he was about to enter,

CLANG!

Heavy footsteps echoed behind him.

The atmosphere instantly changed.

The noisy crowd abruptly quieted.

Armstrong’s eyes narrowed slightly as ten figures surrounded him from all directions.

They wore black armor engraved with silver runes. Crimson cloaks fluttered behind them while terrifying auras radiated from their bodies.

Each carried weapons stained with killing intent.

And on the right side of their chest plates…

An S-Rank badge gleamed coldly.

The surrounding crowd gasped.

“S-Rank Mercenaries!”

“What are they doing here?”

“Did that kid offend someone important?”

Fear appeared in many eyes.

In the Boundless Domain, Mercenary Groups were divided into seven ranks.

D Rank.

C Rank.

B Rank.

A Rank.

S Rank.

SS Rank.

SSS Rank.

A D-Rank leader needed to be either a Mortal Tempering Body Cultivator or a Spirit Gathering Qi Refiner.

C-Rank leaders stood at Skin Forging or Qi Condensation.

B-Rank leaders reached Bone Refinement or Foundation Establishment.

As for A-Rank…

Only Core Formation experts qualified.

And in the entire Solartin Empire, Organ Tempering Body Cultivators were almost nonexistent.

The path was too difficult.

Too painful.

Too resource-demanding.

Thus, almost all powerful mercenary groups relied on Qi Refiners.

But S-Rank Mercenary Groups…

They were monsters.

Their leaders were Nascent Soul experts capable of destroying armies alone.

Even assistant commanders were Core Formation cultivators.

They stood at the peak of the empire’s mercenary world.

So when ten S-Rank armored cultivators surrounded Armstrong simultaneously, everyone believed the young man was doomed.

The pressure alone was terrifying.

Yet Armstrong remained calm.

His sharp senses carefully observed them.

Strong.

Very strong.

Far beyond anyone he had encountered before.

One wrong move and he would die instantly.

The leader of the armored cultivators stepped forward.

He was a tall middle-aged man with a scar across one eye and a giant saber strapped to his back.

His gaze landed on Armstrong thoughtfully.

“You’re the boy who defeated those barbarians?”

Armstrong nodded slightly.

“Yes.”

The man studied him for several moments.

“You’re not a cultivator.”

It wasn’t a question.

Armstrong answered calmly.

“Not yet.”

The surrounding mercenaries exchanged strange looks.

Not yet?

Then how did he possess such monstrous physical power?

The scarred man suddenly smiled faintly.

Interesting.

Very interesting.

“Boy,” he said, “what’s your name?”

“Armstrong.” He answered

“Armstrong…”

The man repeated the name slowly as if memorizing it.

Then his expression became serious.

“The Guild Master wants to see you.”

The crowd exploded instantly.

“The Guild Master?!”

“No way!”

“Why would the Guild Master summon him personally?!”

Even Armstrong’s eyes flickered slightly.

The Guild Master of the Solartin Mercenary Guild was one of the strongest figures in the entire empire.

A genuine Nascent Soul Realm expert.

Someone capable of overlooking the rise and fall of countless lives.

Why would such a person want to see him?

The scarred man noticed Armstrong’s caution and spoke calmly.

“Relax. If the Guild Master wished to harm you, you wouldn’t still be standing.”

The surrounding mercenaries laughed lightly.

Armstrong silently admitted the truth of those words.

Against Nascent Soul experts, he was less than an ant.

Still…

His instincts strangely sensed no hostility.

Only curiosity.

The scarred man stepped aside and gestured toward the massive black gates.

“Come with us.”

Armstrong looked toward the towering Mercenary Guild building.

Deep inside his chest, the strange black mark over his heart pulsed faintly once more. As though anticipating something.

Or someone.

Armstrong slowly exhaled.

The capital city was proving far more dangerous and far more interesting than he expected.

Without another word, he stepped forward and entered the Mercenary Guild under the watchful eyes of countless stunned spectators.