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Orcs are ultimately different from humans; they revere strength and prize combat ability above all else. Chen Xuanfeng's power represents his voice and influence within the clan—even the Golden Wolf Chieftain cannot disregard his stance. Moreover, the wolf tribe must consider another possibility: if Chen Xuanfeng were to become a Sword Saint in the future and seek to contend for leadership over the entire orc race, the political system of the orc nation would become a critical factor. If it remains an alliance, it would be normal competition; but if it becomes an empire, it would be outright rebellion. The difference between the two would profoundly impact the wolf tribe's future, making careful consideration absolutely necessary.

Chen Xuanfeng himself is equally troubled by this.

Upon reflection, his life has never truly intersected much with Sandor's. Though he faced schemes and suppression during his rise, and their few interactions were far from friendly, no deep hatred ever took root. If there is hostility, it stems mostly from his own pride—an unwillingness to submit—rather than any irreconcilable enmity.

The conflict between these two strongest male orcs originates from the strongest female warrior of their race: Catherine Blizzard Rhine.

As the sole member of the millennia-old Warfang Lion Tribe who refused to bow to the orc king, Catherine's hatred for Sandor is truly boundless—a blood feud born of vengeance, spanning her entire childhood. With a will strong enough to master the *Emperor Martial Overlord Art* to its peak—or perhaps an unyielding stubbornness that knows no retreat—there is no room for reconciliation in this grudge. And since Chen Xuanfeng married Catherine, he naturally inherited this enmity. As her husband, he has no intention of abandoning it, even after fighting alongside Sandor and witnessing his selfless sacrifices for the orc tribes. But the mind of a ruthless man like Chen Xuanfeng, hardened across two lifetimes, is not so easily swayed.

The only problem is that Chen Xuanfeng now realizes that even if he raised the banner of rebellion today, it seems impossible to stop Sandor from proclaiming himself emperor.

"Ah… it seems that by aiding Sandor wholeheartedly at Saint Spirit Mountain, I’ve only made his imperial ambitions unstoppable. Though the elders of the Golden Wolf Clan haven’t made their decision yet, getting them to side with us is utterly impossible. And even if they unanimously opposed it, the voice of just one of the five great combat races wouldn’t be enough to stop Sandor’s ascension," Chen Xuanfeng mused, standing atop the gardens of Qingcheng Fortress in Fontainebleau, with a headache. "If I’d known Sandor had already won over the bear, eagle, and bull tribes, I should have—"

"No, husband, you made the right choice," interjected Catherine, seated gracefully beside him, her golden hair elegantly coiled. Though her jade-like face now carried a newfound softness—especially with the visible swell of her pregnancy—her resolve remained unshaken. "My hatred for Sandor may be irreconcilable, but that doesn’t mean I’d jeopardize the entire alliance’s future. Before, we secretly incited the human rebellion in the northwest because we didn’t know Sandor was injured—we had to stall for the elves’ full-scale invasion. But the battle at Saint Spirit Mountain decided our race’s fate for the next century. There was no room for error. Even if I’d been by your side then, even knowing the consequences, I would’ve still fought alongside Sandor."

Chen Xuanfeng sighed. "I understand that. But now we’re at an impasse—if we can’t stop Sandor from becoming emperor, we lose the legitimacy to oppose him later. Any future challenge for the throne would mean outright rebellion. Yet, even though we control the western continent, nearly a hundred million humans still live here, and powerful human empires dominate the east and south. Any civil war would plunge the orc tribes back into ruin. So rebellion is out of the question. How do we resolve this…?"

"Husband, don’t drown yourself in schemes. Not everything can be solved with strategy," Catherine said gently, watching him frown in thought.

"What… Catherine, what do you mean?" Chen Xuanfeng blinked.

"Let me put it this way: even if you became a Sword Saint like Master Leimen, and combined your strength with mine—assuming the Shamans of the War God Temple remain neutral—could we openly challenge Sandor’s current power?"

"Of course—wait…" Chen Xuanfeng’s confidence faltered as realization struck. "I see. Even weakened, Sandor is still a Saint Master, no weaker than you. And even if I reached Leimen’s level, I couldn’t single-handedly crush ‘those things,’ let alone Sandor’s elite swordsmen and any hidden forces…"

"Those things" referred, of course, to the martial/magic hybrid warriors of the Warfang Clan.

Before the battle at Saint Spirit Mountain, Chen Xuanfeng might have been confident in overpowering Sandor after attaining Saint Master power. But now, facing dozens of these hybrid warriors—each rivaling a Sword Emperor in combat—even Leimen resurrected wouldn’t claim more than a thirty percent chance of victory. Legends tell of the first Sword Saint, Leinster, the Ancestor of Sword Saints, though he carved through armies, slew countless orc champions, and seized divine artifacts mid-battle, could never single-handedly topple the orc elite or assassinate their emperor and War God Pope. Against dozens of orc Sword Emperors united, even a Saint’s domain can’t guarantee victory—it is no match for their combined might.