CHAPTER 338 – VICTOR

Bathed faintly in moonlight, he spotted a strange tree slowly moving out from the edge of the forest. It was subtle, almost unnoticeable at first—its movements were deliberate and incredibly slow, like it was trying not to be seen. But it was unmistakable. The tree was moving.

Dastan blinked. In his entire year in this world, he hadn't seen a single demonic plant. That alone had always struck him as odd. Sure, demonic plants were much rarer and harder to form than demonic beasts, but back on his home continent, you could still find one in almost every decently sized forest.

Yet here… nothing.

After some time, he'd simply chalked it up to another strange rule of this world. Maybe something, like the flying prohibition, was in effect—except this one targeted plant life, preventing them from gaining sentience or evolving.

But now, out of nowhere, one had appeared.

A demonic tree.

Moving slowly and silently out of the forest.

However, what happened next left Dastan dumbfounded.

The "tree" suddenly shriveled and deflated, and a man crawled out from within, moving slowly and carefully, his eyes darting around with caution. He looked completely on edge.

Then, the man spotted the tank—and froze in place, eyes wide with alarm.

Dastan squinted. "Is this guy… Victor? Huh. That stupid clover hat, and he's pretty short, so it must be him. Leyvi probably just missed him somehow."

Without wasting time, Dastan stepped out of the tank and called out, "You there, are you Victor?"

Hearing the question, the man snapped out of his frozen state. The fear in his eyes faded, replaced by confusion and cautious curiosity.

Phew, I thought I was gonna die… but wait. Who the hell is this guy? How does he know me? Possessing something like that, he must be quite a big shot.

"Oi, answer," Dastan repeated, sounding more impatient now, "this prince asked you a question. Are you Victor?"

Shit, this prince? Who does he think he is? This guy seems arrogant and condescending. I want to talk back, but I better not. I'd better not offend him. I survived alone all this time, surrounded by dangerous creatures. It would be stupid if I died here to a human.

"Pardon my rudeness," Victor said cautiously, bowing his head a little. "I was frozen by fear just now. I am indeed Victor. May I ask… how do you know my name?"

"So you're really Victor, huh? Your brother-in-law's been looking for you. He went up the mountain hours ago," Dastan replied matter-of-factly.

"My brother-in-law?" Victor blinked, his expression slightly puzzled. It took a moment for the connection to click in his mind. He'd never really thought of that relationship as anything meaningful—it was just one of those formalities.

"…Is it that goo...ahem...Leyvi? How did he even know I was here?" Victor asked, genuinely surprised. He hadn't expected anyone to come looking for him.

The Crown Prince smiled, clearly pleased with himself.

Heh… now I've confirmed it. This really is Victor. What a genius move by this prince. Dastan felt quite satisfied. Also… they really don't seem close at all. Hah.

"Alright," he said aloud, gesturing with a flourish. "Come and wait inside this extraordinary Crown War Tank. We'll sit tight here until Leyvi returns."

Victor hesitated. His eyes shifted from the tank to Dastan, then back again.

Is this real… or is this some kind of trap? He couldn't be sure yet.

"Oi, shorty, this prince told you to come here. Or do you want to stand there like an idiot and wait for a demonic beast to eat you?"

Victor's mouth twitched. Dammit! This guy's so rude! Is he really one of Leyvi's companions? He clenched his jaw. Ugh, this is why I hate tall guys—they always think they're better!

Grumbling internally, he picked up the deflated tree and stored it in his space ring, then cautiously made his way toward the tank.

He was still suspicious, but the fear of getting ambushed by a demonic beast was stronger. After spending months hiding and pretending to be a tree just to stay alive, Victor was mentally and physically exhausted. He'd worked so hard staying undetected, but in the end, it hadn't gotten him anywhere. It was just too dangerous to continue now.

Of course, he wasn't giving up. He fully intended to return, just after figuring out a better plan.

Victor stepped into the tank.

"So, what should I call you?" Victor asked flatly.

"Hmm. This prince's name is Dastan—the Crown Prince of the Howling Kingdom!" he declared proudly, puffing his chest. "You may refer to this prince as Your Highness."

Victor blinked. Is this guy serious? He stared at Dastan, completely stunned. He actually refers to himself as this prince, and now he wants me to call him Your Highness? Who does he think he is, some kind of play-acting maniac? A crown prince? Yeah, right.

"Hmph! Why are you looking at this prince like that?" Dastan scowled. "That expression… It's irritating. Reminds this prince of his first meeting with Leyvi. He had the same look—like this prince had lost his mind."

Then it seemed to dawn on Dastan. "Ah. Of course. You're from that backward Cloud Continent, aren't you? No wonder you're clueless."

He leaned back smugly. "Shorty, have you heard of the Protogaea Continent?"

A tiny vein throbbed on Victor's forehead. Shorty again?! This arrogant bastard…! Just one drop of my dissolving poison… No, calm down. Calm down.

Victor gave a forced smile and shook his head. "I'm afraid not."

"Hmph, not surprising. That country bumpkin Leyvi was the same," Dastan scoffed. "Listen here, shorty…"

And so began Dastan's grand monologue.

He launched into an animated explanation about the glorious Protogaea Continent, the illustrious Howling Kingdom, and all the superior systems they had in place. He boasted about the Dao Manifestation Realm—a level of cultivation the Cloud Continent hadn't even touched—and the enigmatic class of Spiritual Cultivators. Naturally, he also found a way to make himself the centerpiece of every achievement.

According to him, he was the greatest cultivation genius in the entire history of the Howling Kingdom's royal lineage. At one point, he even brought out several rare treasures and spirit artifacts—things only a crown prince could access—to flaunt in front of Victor, eager to finally show off. After all, showing off in front of Leyvi rarely worked.

By the end of it, Victor was sitting stiffly, half convinced and half deeply skeptical. One thing was certain, though: he didn't believe a word of Dastan's bragging about himself.

That said, the revelations about the Protogaea Continent genuinely intrigued him. He'd spent most of his time obsessing over how to become taller, often ignoring worldly affairs.

Victor hesitated for only a second before he bowed slightly and asked with polite formality, "Your Highness Dastan, may I ask… does the Howling Kingdom have any methods—alchemical or otherwise—that can make someone taller?"

He even used the respectful address Your Highness—swallowing his pride—hoping to gain some favor, despite Dastan's insufferable attitude.

"Daa hahaha! It's been a while since this prince heard that. Finally, someone with sense, showing proper respect to royal blood!" Dastan laughed proudly.

Victor raised an eyebrow. That made him this happy? Just being called "Your Highness"? What the hell has Leyvi been calling him all this time?

"Listen, shorty," Dastan said, folding his arms with an air of superiority. "Our kingdom certainly has methods to make someone taller. But honestly, this prince doesn't think it's a particularly difficult problem to solve. Don't tell me the Cloud Continent is really that backwards? You lot don't have any martial techniques for shapeshifting?"

A vein pulsed on Victor's forehead again, but he kept his expression composed.

"Yes, we do have martial skills like that," he said in a tight voice. "And I've tried them. But in the end, they're temporary. Fake. I loathe such methods!"

His voice grew sharper with every word.

"I don't want to be reminded every second that the effect might wear off! It drove me insane!"

Suddenly, the tank filled with a powerful, almost oppressive wave of Victor's pent-up ambition. His eyes blazed with intense emotion as he stood up slightly, fists clenched.

"What I want… is to be tall permanently! Down to my very genes! The men in my mother's family have always been short—and I will reverse this curse, even if it kills me!"

His voice thundered inside the tank now.

"Never again will I worry about my height! Never again will I pass down a short legacy to my offspring! My bloodline will rise! We will stand tall! And we will be respected!"

He was breathing heavily by the end, trembling slightly from the intensity of his vow.

Dastan was speechless.

He never expected to witness such burning desire, such towering ambition, such unbelievable determination—from someone so... short. All of that, just because of his height.

"Shor—ahem, Victor," the crown prince corrected himself mid-sentence. For some reason, calling him Shorty didn't feel as fun anymore.

"If you want to be permanently tall, down to the genetics, the only real path is to cultivate to the Dao Manifestation Realm, or become a body cultivator and master your physical form completely."

He paused, letting the weight of his words settle.