After putting down his phone, Julian was now certain that the person the Whitmore family had invited was Rowan. He smiled faintly, wondering what expression this guy would have when he saw him later.
Still, he couldn't help but wonder—what exactly had the Whitmore family offered to secure Rowan's involvement? Even if the Whitmore family had become a vassal of the Willow family, it still didn't make sense for the Willows to send their own heir just for the sake of a mid-tier family like the Whitmores.
Frankly, it made the heir look a little… cheap.
On the way, the Thornton brothers kept glancing at Julian, trying to read his expression. When they saw that he seemed to be in a good mood, Dean took the chance to ask, "Young Master, after this matter is settled, would you like to have dinner with us?"
Right now in Drakoria, if there was any trainer at the height of their fame, it was definitely Julian.
And the Walker family was one of the nation's top-tier clans. They might have fewer members, but their power spoke for itself.
The Thornton family was a vassal under the Turner family, and with the Turner name backing them, most families wouldn't dare provoke them casually.
Unless there were overwhelming benefits at stake—or the other side had backers just as strong as the Turners.
The Whitmore family was precisely such a case.
And in fact, their backers were even stronger than the Turners—a top-tier clan with deeper roots and greater overall strength. Otherwise, the Turner family wouldn't have sent Julian, an outsider, to handle this matter.
Dean was naturally hoping to maintain loyalty to the Turner family while also building a good relationship with Julian.
He didn't dare think of switching allegiances entirely. If they turned on the Turners and tried to become vassals of the Walkers, the Turners would crush them, with no help coming from the Walkers.
"Hm"
Julian nodded. After all, they were a vassal of his grandfather's family, and he quite appreciated Dean as a person.
---
Members of the Whitmore family were already waiting.
As the two brothers stepped out of the car, Julian followed.
"Where's the Whitmore family head?"
Dean noticed that only younger members of the Whitmore family were present—no elders, let alone the patriarch himself.
'They must be absolutely confident.'
Dean sneered inwardly.
Then again, with the Willow family heir backing them, they probably thought victory was assured.
"The patriarch is inside."
The one who spoke was a direct descendant of the Whitmore family, his tone indifferent, laced with thinly veiled disdain.
"So the Whitmore family head is really putting on airs, huh? While my brother and I may not be worth his welcome, does even Young Master Walker not warrant his presence?"
Nate glared at the Whitmore heir, his tone aggressive and clearly meant to provoke. It might've been a bit of borrowed bravado, but Julian didn't mind. After all, he'd come here exactly to back these two brothers up.
Although Julian stood beside them, the Whitmore family members didn't recognize him—because he was wearing a mask.
They had assumed Julian was just a subordinate of the Thornton brothers or some junior tagging along to gain experience.
Even though Nate had mentioned "Young Master Walker," none of them immediately connected the title to Julian Walker himself.
"Young Master? What Young Master? Nowadays, just about anyone can call themselves a 'Young Master'?"
The Whitmore heir sneered, not even sparing Julian a second glance.
Julian found this guy… impressively bold. It had been a long time since anyone had dared speak to him like that.
BAM!
Before Julian could even respond, Dean delivered a vicious kick straight to the Whitmore heir's stomach, sending him flying back four or five meters.
The sudden violence instantly enraged the surrounding Whitmore family members.
They might have still been wondering who this "Young Master Walker" was, but now, with Dean's attack, their fury took over—who cared who he was?
This was the Whitmore family's turf. Kicking their direct heir in front of them? That was a slap to their entire family.
And they were all young and hot-blooded, too—emotions flared quickly.
Fortunately, they still had some sense left and didn't immediately send out their Pokémon. Instead, they surrounded Dean.
Nate turned to Julian. "Young Master, just sit back and relax."
With that, he immediately stood shoulder-to-shoulder with his brother.
Surrounded by five people, the two brothers showed no fear—if anything, they looked eager.
These Whitmore kids had shown up at just the right time. They'd been wondering how to deepen their ties with Julian, and now, the opportunity had fallen into their laps.
Coming from humble backgrounds, they were no strangers to street fights. Even outnumbered, they were confident they wouldn't lose.
Julian, meanwhile, thought to himself that he could've handled this alone.
After all, he'd trained in Bajiquan under Shen, and with his Mega Pallet Town physique, even if a hundred people came at him—so long as they were human—he could knock them all down like bowling pins.
'One punch per kid.'
(T/N: I don't think there needs to be any debate about this unlike the Gorilla one, which I personally believe that the first two are gonna be on a T-shirt.)
"Beat them to death!"
The Whitmore heir staggered up from the ground, clutching his stomach and wincing in pain. His face twisted with rage as he pointed at the Thornton brothers and roared.
Just as the Whitmore family members were about to strike—
"Julian!"
A voice cut through the tension.
Everyone turned to see Rowan—the Whitmore family's most honored guest—rushing over to Julian with visible excitement.
"You really came to Harborcrest City!"
Rowan grinned at him.
Hearing Rowan call the masked man "Julian", the Whitmore family members' minds went blank.
As members of an aristocratic family, that name was like thunder in their ears.
Their brains practically exploded.
So this was the "Young Master Walker" the Thornton brothers had been referring to?
'F**k!' This wasn't some underling—this was a goddamn dragon crossing into their territory.
By then, Julian had already removed his mask.
The moment they saw his face, the Whitmore family member's expressions changed drastically.
Internally, they scolded him for being a bad guy.
If he hadn't worn that damn mask, none of this would've happened in the first place.
And when they saw that their supposed backer, Rowan, actually knew Julian—and seemed to have a very good relationship with him—their hearts instantly sank to rock bottom.
If Rowan hadn't known Julian and had truly stood on their side, then even if Julian had been upset, he probably wouldn't have pursued the matter too harshly, out of respect for the Willow family.
After all, this whole situation had been a small matter.
"Did these people offend you?"
Rowan asked, sensing that something was off. Just moments ago, as he was walking over, he'd clearly seen members of the Whitmore family preparing to attack.
And the two men they'd been targeting were obviously here with Julian.
Julian looked toward the Whitmore family's heir. The young man's face had gone pale—whether from pain, fear, or both—it wasn't clear.
Rowan's own expression darkened.
SLAP!
A loud slap landed across the Whitmore heir's face.
Rowan and Julian had survived life-and-death situations together in the Top-tier secret realm. Moreover, the reason Rowan had broken through to the pseudo-Champion level was largely thanks to the "Ice Core"—something Julian had personally found and given him.
Compared to Julian, the Whitmore family meant absolutely nothing to Rowan. Even if they possessed something he needed, it wasn't worth jeopardizing his bond with Julian.
The Whitmore heir stared in disbelief.
He never expected Rowan to side with Julian so decisively—without even giving him a chance to explain.
"Apologize to Julian," Rowan said coldly, "unless you're ready to face the consequences."
In that moment, he had gone from their ally to their adversary.
SLAP!
Just as the Whitmore heir opened his mouth to apologize, another harsh slap landed on his face—this time from his own father.
"You disgraceful brat! Apologize to Young Master Walker right now!"
The Whitmore family patriarch's face was twisted with fury.
The Whitmore family heir, who had just been kicked and slapped twice, was filled with rage, grievance, helplessness, and unwillingness—but in the end, he could only obediently apologize to Julian.
He understood all too well what Julian represented. And it was now clear that the Whitmore family's supposed backer, Rowan, was firmly on Julian's side.
If he didn't apologize—not to mention whether the Whitmore family might collapse—he himself was certainly finished. Even if his father was the family patriarch, after this incident, his status as heir would likely be stripped. If things went really badly, he might even be exiled from the Whitmore family.
And once he lost the Whitmore family's protection, a spoiled young master like him wouldn't last long in the outside world. Countless people who had grudges against him—previously held back only by his status—would jump at the chance to destroy him.
"Young Master Walker, I'm sorry!"
The Whitmore heir dropped to his knees before Julian without the slightest hesitation.
Unless someone was a complete idiot, anyone in this situation would apologize.
As for pride? Such things meant nothing when weighed against status and survival.
Julian said nothing. From beginning to end, he hadn't even taken the Whitmore heir seriously.
He turned toward Rowan and smiled. "So, what did they offer to get you here?"
In terms of status, Julian and Rowan were equals—both heirs to top-tier families.
Julian was helping the Thornton brothers purely because they were vassals of the Turner family, and the Turners were his maternal relatives.
But for Rowan to be helping the Whitmores—surely it wasn't for the same reason?
On the Whitmore family's side, everyone finally let out a sigh of relief. Though Julian hadn't said anything like "I forgive you," the fact that he remained silent meant he wasn't planning to pursue the matter further.
"They have a piece of Blue Ice," Rowan explained.
"Ah, no wonder," Julian nodded.
Blue Ice was a treasure just one tier below the Ultimate Ice-type treasures. For a mid-tier family like the Whitemores to possess such an item was incredibly rare.
"Though it looks like I won't be getting it after all," Rowan said with a helpless smile.
His entire purpose in coming here was to help the Whitmores secure control over Intermediate Secret Realm No. 60 for the next five years.
He'd already defeated the Turner family's eldest son, making victory all but certain.
But unexpectedly, the Thornton brothers had brought Julian with them—at this point, the outcome was obvious.
Still, Rowan was puzzled—was Julian connected to the Turner family or the Thornton brothers?
"My maternal grandfather is Harold Turner," Julian explained, seeing his confusion.
"Ah, I see. So the Turner family is your mother's side. No wonder your Pokéblocks are so good," Rowan said, suddenly understanding everything.
In truth, Rowan was much like Julian—he didn't pay much attention to the intricate relationships between aristocratic families.
Rowan only knew about Julian's father and grandfather, since both were extremely famous. As for who Julian's mother was and which family she came from, he honestly had no idea.
If he had known about the connection, he wouldn't have come in the first place.
Harold Turner was one of the top breeders in Drakoria, and Top-tier breeders were even rarer than Champions.
"Here."
Julian handed Rowan a vial. "You know what it does."
The Turner family was, after all, his maternal relatives. Since they had asked him for help, he naturally had to see it through. But Rowan was also his good friend—he couldn't let him walk away empty-handed after losing out on the Blue Ice.
"Then I won't be polite."
Rowan grinned and immediately slipped the vial into his pocket.
He knew exactly how potent this stuff was. Maybe soon, he'd have another Pokémon with Blue-grade potential.
In just a few words, the two had settled the matter of who would control the Intermediate Secret Realm No. 60 for the next five years.
The Thornton brothers looked visibly excited.
They never expected the Willow family heir to know Julian—and to be on such good terms with him. Dean even sensed a hint of deference in Rowan's attitude, as if he didn't dare offend Julian.
"So, how about a battle? My Abomasnow has just broken through to Pseudo-Champion," Rowan challenged, raising an eyebrow.
Among the younger generation of Pseudo-Champion-level trainers, he had very few rivals left. Julian was the one opponent he most wanted to defeat.
"Sure."
Julian nodded.
A Pseudo-Champion Abomasnow was indeed a worthy opponent.
"Young Master Willow, Young Master Walker, the battlefield is ready," said the Whitmore family patriarch.
The two followed him to the arena, accompanied not only by the Thornton brothers but also by numerous Whitemore family members—both young and old.
A battle between two Pseudo-Champions was a rare sight, especially when both trainers were so young.
As the protective barrier activated, Rowan sent out his Abomasnow.
---
Pokémon: Abomasnow (Grass/Ice)
Level: 81
Potential: Blue
Ability: Snow Warning
Held Item: Never-Melt Ice
Gender: Male
Moves: Ice Punch, Leer, Mist, Powder Snow, Razor Leaf, Aurora Veil, Leafage, Ice Shard, Icy Wind, Swagger, Ingrain, Wood Hammer, Blizzard, Sheer Cold
TMs: Protect, Water Pulse, Magical Leaf, Rock Tomb, Earthquake, Avalanche, Hail, Bullet Seed, Brick Break, Stomp, Bulldoze, Snowscape, Chilling Water
Egg Moves: Leech Seed, Growth, Ice Beam, Double-Edge
Note: Enhanced by the Ice Core—Ice-type moves power increased by 20%
---
The aura of an early-stage Pseudo-Champion was unmistakable. And thanks to its ability, snow began to fall across the battlefield the moment Abomasnow appeared.
The Snow Warning ability was like Tyranitar's Sand Stream—once mastered, the Pokémon could control its weather effect at will.
Abomasnow recognized Julian and gave him a nod of greeting before its expression turned serious. Its Snow Warning ability intensified, and thick snowflakes began swirling violently across the battlefield.
Julian reached for a Poké Ball at his waist, but Rowan suddenly called out:
"Don't send out Moltres."
Abomasnow was quadruple weak to Fire. If Julian used Moltres—who was already a higher level—this wouldn't be a battle. It would just be Abomasnow volunteering for abuse.
'Fine, I'll pick a different one.'
Julian moved his hand to another Ball.
"And no Metagross either!" Rowan shouted again.
Metagross was even stronger than Moltres, so it was also banned.
Julian: (艹皿艹)
'Since when did this guy become so shameless?!'
Wasn't this supposed to be a proper battle? Now even which Pokémon he could use was being dictated?
Even Abomasnow looked slightly embarrassed by its trainer's antics.
"How about sending out Slowking?" Rowan suggested.
"F**k off."
Julian shot him a glare. Slowking wasn't even at the Elite-level. And more importantly, it was his caretaker, not a fighter.
"Gehehe~."
Suddenly, Gengar emerged from Julian's shadow, throwing a few air punches as if warming up. Then it looked at Julian, clearly volunteering for battle.
"Alright, go ahead then," Julian nodded.
"Gen~"
Gengar grinned mischievously and dove headfirst into the battlefield, slipping straight through the protective barrier.
A white Gengar, paired with gentle falling snow from the sky—if you added a paper umbrella, the scene would have been pure art.