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Challenger Shamantha, now to be known as Shamantha the Orc King, raised his blade to the sky and let out a fierce howl that echoed through the clouds. All the spectators roared in unison, chanting the victor's name. Amidst the battle songs of the Great Shamans and the thunderous drums, they bestowed their highest blessings upon the new Orc King and the mighty God of War.

Unnoticed by the crowd, the silver head of the old Lion King tumbled to the sidelines. A young Lioness girl rushed to her father's lifeless body, weeping bitterly.

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Meanwhile, on the other side of the vast territory of the Orcish Union, where the impregnable Sun Never Sets Mountains met the Half-Orc Wasteland, a small village belonging to the Snow Wolf Clan was nestled beside the perpetually fog-shrouded Snow Wolf Lake. There, a young hunter named Zax Blizzard Wolfe paced anxiously outside his family's leather tent, awaiting the birth of his first child.

Listening to his wife's cries within the tent and his witchcraft-practicing mother-in-law's hurried, indecipherable incantations, expectant father Zax felt like he was losing his mind. Clumps of his silvery fur were yanked out by his anxious hands, sending white hairs swirling around him. Yet, Zax showed no sign of stopping his self-inflicted blizzard. Thankfully, Arubato, the blacksmith standing by, intervened, preventing Zax from prematurely going bald.

"Friend, I say, even if you plucked every hair from everyone in the village, it wouldn't make a difference. There's no need to be so anxious. Your wife will be just fine. Old Witch Woman has a near-perfect success rate in childbirth."

"I'm worried, that's all. Who dares to say it's absolutely safe? It's precisely because you say nearly a hundred percent that I'm on edge. That still leaves room for error, doesn't it? Isn't there still a chance something could go wrong? Can you guarantee it? Tell me, speak up!"

The immense psychological pressure had driven the expectant father into a state of hysteria. Incoherently shaking the poor blacksmith in his grasp, he failed to notice that his usually amiable friend was struggling for breath, his eyes rolling back as he teetered on the edge of the Realm of the Death God.

Fortunately, just as the forlorn blacksmith caught sight of his deceased parents beckoning from across the River Styx, the sudden increase in volume of his wife's cries from within the tent and the witch woman's hurried incantations drew the expectant father's attention. Relaxed hands allowed the blacksmith to slide down, regaining a thread of life.

Inside the tent, with a prolonged cry from the young Snow Wolf woman, a tiny, crimson life entered the world. Had anyone been able to understand the ancient language of an otherworldly Eastern realm, they might have discerned that the infant's first wail was, in truth, a despair-filled cry of longing.

"Thief... wife...!"

Yet, to the women present and the man outside, it was merely a shrill, yet innocent howl.

"It's born! It's born! It's born! My dear wife, I love you~!"

"My goodness, you almost killed me! You're such a lecherous mongrel, apologize or we won't be friends anymore!"

"Grandma, can I see the baby?"

"Hmm, this little one seems full of vitality. With my experience, he'll surely grow up to be a mischievous rascal."

Xuanfeng Wolfe Snow Wolf, the first Wolf Beastman King in the Beastman Alliance and an unparalleled powerhouse known as the "Celestial Wolf," was born in the year 1384 of the War God Calendar, during the Fire Azure Month, by the shores of Snow Wolf Lake.

Unfortunately, no one recorded this momentous historical event. The first appearance of King Xuanfeng in both the beastman and human chronicles wouldn't occur for another fifteen years. At this moment, he was still just a tiny wolf pup being bathed in warm water by a grandmother.

Regarding the Martial Arts in This Book

I know that the martial arts aspect of my book might not be satisfying, but please bear with my predicament.

Firstly, with Chen Xuanfeng as the protagonist, the narrative must adhere to the context established in 'The Legend of the Condor Heroes', a book familiar to all. In the original, the prowess of the Black Wind Duo's external martial arts is well-known to readers. Take, for instance, this passage:

The nickname "Iron Corpse" is no coincidence; her body is as hard as bronze and iron. Despite being struck twice by the golden-haired hammer at her back, she seemingly suffered no significant harm, revealing that her rigorous training has reached an advanced level. Observing her, one notices that apart from avoiding Zhang Asheng's dagger and Han Xiaoying's long sword, she barely evades any other weapons, instead relentlessly launching fierce attacks.

From this, one can gauge the level of physical prowess in "The Eagle Shooting Heroes." If suddenly there were descriptions like "Chen Xuanfeng's body radiated brilliant light, layer upon layer of golden barriers enveloping him, reflecting all proximity curses and divine weapons, killing countless mages and sword emperors," or "Nine Yin White Bone Claw descending from the air, causing a level ten dragon to spill blood and fall to the ground," the book might as well be renamed "Beastmen Dragon Tiger Gate." This is a limitation in the choice of material, something that can only be gradually elevated and not excessively exaggerated in its portrayal.

Secondly, the 5,000-year legacy of Chinese civilization is deeply intertwined with the enduring culture of martial arts. However, for most of history, the Central Plains were unified, a historical context that dictates the limitations of Chinese martial arts in terms of their potential to decisively sway battles on a grand scale. I have encountered numerous instances in wuxia novels where the protagonist's martial prowess is depicted as capable of altering the tide of war. Yet, seasoned wuxia authors often sidestep such scenarios due to an inherent issue they must confront: if there truly existed martial artists powerful enough to influence battles so profoundly, one must question why these formidable figures did not intervene in the course of history? Why did they not conquer the realm and ascend the throne, donning the yellow robe of imperial power?

Attributing it to the protagonist's personality won't suffice, for in any novel, while exaggeration of settings is acceptable, logic must remain coherent. If the main character can attain a certain level of prowess, history must logically have seen individuals who came close to such mastery. If the protagonist can effortlessly decimate armies, then should an ambitious person acquire similar power, they could easily dethrone kings and seize the throne, altering the course of history. Hence, in Jin Yong's novels, no matter how skilled a warrior may be, they would inevitably fall when confronted with an overwhelming military force.

Unlike common settings, the "Xinghai Continent" in this book is a world that has endured millennia of warfare, where magic exists, gods walk among mortals, and mythical beasts roam. To counterbalance these formidable powers, the lethality of martial arts must be exceedingly formidable. The disparity in level between the martial skills cultivated during five millennia of peaceful civilization and those tempered over ten thousand years of relentless battlefields is self-evident. Even if we were to maximize the ingenuity of the Chinese and attempt to bridge this gap, the advantages of the Nine Yin True Scripture and the Golden Bell Shield would lie primarily in their intricate techniques and unique conceptual depth—reflecting the philosophical superiority of Chinese civilization. Relying solely on Chinese martial arts, the notion of conquering the world with bare hands alone, defies logic. Chen Xuanfeng's future path to greatness will depend on integrating his own martial arts with the myriad powers of the continent, thus ascending to its pinnacle.