Gorod was in high spirits as he returned to the throne, his wife in his arms.

His mistresses were tactful; they leaned demurely against the couple’s legs, not a single one daring to challenge Zuona. Occasionally, a glance would drift their way, filled with an air of ambiguity—more like a form of teasing.

They were the king’s bindweed, and they didn’t mind flattering the queen either.

The pursuit of pleasure is the nature of the vampire clan; there is no need to suppress it, much less hide it.

Gorod relished the scene, raising his goblet with one hand as he savored the unique thrill of the beauties’ eager attention. In the hall, the interrupted banquet resumed.

Lush music flowed out the windows, dispersing the falling snow, blending with the wind, and lingering in the night sky, refusing to fade. Outside Golden Rock City, the roar of thunder shattered the sea of snow.

Thirty warhorses raced through the night, their riders returning from exile.

They radiated a menacing aura, clad in coarse animal skins and adorned with looted armor and weapons. They advanced like rolling black clouds, sending a chill down one’s spine. As they neared the city walls, the knights simultaneously pulled on their reins. One by one, the warhorses reared up, standing on their hind legs in the glow of the flames and letting out a chorus of whinnies.

The column had barely come to a halt when a knight rode forward from the ranks. It was difficult to make out her features through the snowy haze; only her slender figure gave away that she was a woman.

The flames flickered on the ramparts as the garrison soldiers peered out from behind the walls.

Uncertain of the visitors’ identity, they would not lower the drawbridge lightly, much less open the city gates.

“Black Knights Ribella,” the female knight announced her identity. Her clear voice cut through the wind and snow, reaching the guards’ ears distinctly.

“We have returned from the Sunset Mountains at the First Prince’s summons!” The Black Knights. The Sunset Mountains. The First Prince.

The soldiers were momentarily stunned, then panic spread across their faces.

Cen Qing was a taboo subject within the royal family. For a full century, the people of the Royal Capital had kept his name a secret, and few ever spoke of him voluntarily. It was only recently, during the peace talks with the Snow Domain, when he was designated as a potential marriage partner, that the situation began to shift. The Black Knights were exiled criminals.

Though few in number, they were formidable warriors, holding their own even against skeleton knights outnumbering them several to one.

With the passing of Queen Yin and the First Prince’s retreat to the Black Tower, their fortunes took a sharp turn for the worse. Subjected to a barrage of slander and denied any justice, they were all exiled by the King.

The garrison soldiers knew the legends of the Black Knights by heart, and some had even witnessed their battles firsthand. They were a pack of beasts, leaving rivers of blood in their wake— unquestionably killing machines.

“It really is the Black Knights!” 

“They’ve actually returned!”

There was no response from the ramparts for a long time. Growing impatient, the Black Knights spurred their horses toward the city gates as a group, and the sense of oppression intensified suddenly. Though there were clearly only thirty of them, the soldiers on the ramparts treated them as if facing a formidable enemy.

“Send someone to the Black Tower. Oh, and send a message to the palace immediately.” A squad leader snapped out of his daze and hurriedly issued orders. He then leaned against the outer wall and shouted to the approaching riders, explaining that they weren’t refusing to open the gates on purpose, but were simply following protocol.

“We are awaiting orders!”

The Black Knights did not force their way in.

After hearing the squad leader’s explanation, they waited patiently outside the city, waiting for the gates to open.

About fifteen minutes later, the messenger returned. On his way, he had encountered a Thorn Maiden and, upon learning she had come specifically for the Black Knights, immediately turned back.

As for the messenger sent to the palace, he was still on his way and would take some time to return.

Yuanwei followed the soldier up onto the city walls. Her thick curls were tied back, and a silver glint shone among her hair—a small knife serving as a hairpin, its blade razor-sharp.

“I come on behalf of the First Prince.”

She declared her identity openly and stepped onto the ramparts; the soldiers did not stop her.

The parchment bearing the prince’s seal was presented before them. Several squad leaders passed it around to verify its authenticity. Upon confirming it was genuine, they ordered the city gates to be opened.

Regardless of Cen Qing’s true standing, and regardless of whether he held any power, until the king formally stripped him of his title, he remained the king’s first prince—the rightful heir to the throne.

He issued his command in writing, and the garrison soldiers were bound to obey.

As long as his orders did not conflict with the king’s, no member of the vampire clan would openly defy him. At least, not on the surface.

The winch turned, and the cable pulled with force.

The drawbridge slammed down, spanning the frozen moat.

The bolts were removed, and the heavy city gates slowly swung open, their hinges creaking as they turned, the sound carrying far into the night. The Black Knights rode their horses into the city.

They consciously controlled their pace, filing through the gate in an orderly procession.

The sound of hooves on the flagstones was slightly chaotic, like a drumbeat on the soldiers’ hearts, inexplicably irritating.

Yuanwei pushed off with one hand and leapt over the city wall. Thorn vines burst from the ground, catching her in midair and allowing her to land safely.

“His Highness has been waiting for you all.” Yuanwei pulled her cloak tight and came to a stop before the Black Knight’s horse.

“Yuanwei, you’ve escaped from the dungeon?” Ribella leaned down close to the horse’s neck, looking at her with keen interest. “How many thorn vine maidens are still alive?”

“Not many, but not few either.” Yuanwei’s reply was airtight.

Unlike the Thorn Maidens, the Black Knights’ loyalty was rooted in reverence for the strong. Until she was certain of their trustworthiness, Yuanwei would reveal no more.

Noticing Yuanwei’s attitude, the Black Knights didn’t mind.

“The thorn vines maidens are always utterly loyal,” Ribella clicked her tongue, then straightened up and held out her hand to her. “Get on the horse. We need to move faster.”

Yuanwei did not refuse.

The two rode together on a single horse, with the rest of the Black Knights following behind.

As they rode, the others exchanged knowing glances, as if to say: Ribella always had the fairer sex’s favor; the rest of them couldn’t hold a candle to her. The group rode through the city and arrived safely at the Black Tower.

The tower gates were already open; a goblin peered out from behind them, his leather-gloved fingers gripping the doorframe.

Seeing the party arrive, they craned their necks and stepped out, quickly taking the reins from the Black Knights and tending to the warhorses with care, all while informing Yuanwei that a room and hot water had been prepared.

“And food—hot, steaming food,” one of the goblins added.

“I understand,” said the maid, impressed by the goblin’s efficiency, and led the Black Knights herself.

As Penorte dismounted, the pouch on his chest swayed violently. The snow leopard cub awoke from its slumber and pushed hard against the tightly tied opening, trying to break free.

“What’s that?” Yuanwei stopped in her tracks and looked at Penorte warily.

The deputy captain untied the pouch, pulled out the little creature inside, and held it up with one hand: “A gift for His Highness.”

It was a tiny, furry bundle, looking incredibly fragile, as if it could be crushed with the slightest touch. It was hard to imagine that in just three months, it would grow into a ferocious beast capable of easily killing a mountain goat weighing over a hundred pounds.

“A snow leopard?” Yuanwei looked surprised, and the goblins turned to look with curiosity.

Penorte held the snow leopard, a sunny smile lighting up his handsome face: “We couldn’t very well come empty-handed.”

“His Highness won’t mind,” came Moli’s voice. She stepped out of the tower gate, scanned the Black Knights present, then turned to Yuanwei. “His Highness is studying the Wraith Tongue. You take them to rest first. As for this,” she gestured to the snow leopard and summoned a goblin, “you’re in charge of looking after it. Make sure to give it a good wash.”

“Yes!” the goblin nodded vigorously.

The Black Knights recognized Moli and had no objections to her arrangements.

She was Queen Yin’s most loyal lady-in-waiting, protecting the Queen’s bloodline in difficult circumstances—a feat worthy of everyone’s respect. One by one, the group dismounted and headed toward the prepared rooms.

After the long journey, they needed a good, long bath, followed by a hearty meal.

The rooms were comfortable, the hot water plentiful, and the food delicious. The air was filled with the scent of herbs known to aid sleep. Once everything was settled, the Black Knights lay on the soft beds and couldn’t help but sigh.

“It’s been so many years, I’d almost forgotten the feel of a mattress.”

“Soft bread, roasted meat, and strong liquor—I’ve had enough of rough wolf meat.” 

“You wouldn’t say that when you’re starving.”

“You even chewed through wolf bones.” 

“And you? You’re just like me!”

Laughter rang out as the Black Knights teased one another.

After a long period of tension, their spirits suddenly relaxed, and drowsiness set in as expected. Before long, their eyelids grew heavy, and snores filled the room. On the third floor of the Black Tower, five or six goblins surrounded a snow leopard, struggling to clean it.

The snow leopard cub lay meekly in the knight’s hands, like a stuffed toy. Facing the goblins, however, it bared its fangs fiercely and lashed out with its claws in a fierce struggle.

Unfortunately, the goblins weren’t having any of it.

They had prepared a large basin of hot water and, as if washing a little piglet, expertly pressed the snow leopard cub into the basin. One goblin fetched a long-handled brush, rolled up his sleeves on the spot, and vowed to scrub this furball spotless. “It’s a gift for His Highness—its fur must be clean and soft, not a single flea in sight!”

“Absolutely no lice!”

The goblins were full of energy, and the snow leopard cub, finding its struggles futile, finally settled down.

Unable to move freely, it lay by the edge of the basin with its head covered in suds, letting the brush work its way through its fur, having completely given up struggling.

In the middle of the tower, behind a door carved with golden roses, Cen Qing sat cross-legged on the floor, with a stack of hardcover books before him—some he had already finished, others he had only just begun.

The books spanned different eras, were written by authors from various races, and covered a wide range of topics.

What made them unique was that they were all written in the language of Wraiths, which differed drastically from the culture of the vampire clan in everything from the structure of the characters to the style of writing.

Cen Qing displayed an astonishing aptitude for learning; in just a few short days, he had mastered thousands of words and could pronounce them accurately. Just as Moli knocked and entered, he had finished reading a collection of poems. Suddenly struck by inspiration, he prepared to compose a poem in the Wraiths’ language.

“Praise be to the King of the Wraiths—you are the blazing sun. No, wait—Wraiths are cold, shadowy creatures. The moon? The stars? The clouds?” Cen Qing furrowed his brow, crumpled the paper into a ball, and tossed it aside, twirling his crystal pen restlessly.

He had to admit that while he excelled at schemes and intrigues, he truly lacked any artistic flair.

“Your Highness, the Black Knights have arrived and have all been settled in.” Ignoring the mess on the floor, Moli stepped forward and addressed Cen Qing.

“They’re arriving sooner than expected.” Cen Qing curled one leg up, wrapped her arms around her knee, and gently chewed on her thumb. “Tell Bashir that the armor, weapons, and warhorses all need to be in place ahead of time.”

“I’ll go myself,” said Moli.

“Alright.” Cen Qing pushed off the ground with one hand and leaped to his feet; the movement was a bit too sudden, and he began coughing again.

“Your Highness, how much of your medicine do you have left? Could it be that it’s not working?” Moli supported him with concern. “I’ll go find Juandan right away.”

“No need,” Cen Qing waved his hand, signaling to Moli not to worry. He understood his condition; it shouldn’t be serious. “It’s just a minor issue—no need to make a fuss over it.”

“But…”

“I won’t push myself.” 

“You promise?”

“I promise.” Cen Qing smiled and held up a finger, then changed the subject. “Everything for the journey must be prepared, including the list of attendants—the tailors and their families, as well as the goblins in the tower.”

“The goblins? You’re taking them with you?” Moli was taken aback.

“Isn’t that only fair?” Cen Qing sat at the foot of the bed, propping her hands on the mattress, and coughed lightly twice, looking completely at ease. “They’ve been taking care of me all this time, and it’s not safe for them to stay here. Of course, if they don’t want to leave, I won’t force them.”

“They aren’t foolish; they’ll surely be immensely grateful.”

“I don’t need gratitude.” Cen Qing tugged at the corner of his mouth and suddenly yawned. His eyes were bright, as if glistening with moisture. “I only need loyalty.”

Moli gazed at him, recalling the Queen Yin, and came to realize all the more clearly the difference between mother and son.

“Everything will be as you wish.”

She lowered her head; her shadow stretched across the wall behind her, gradually warping and twisting, resembling a wildly overgrown cluster of thorn vines. The next day, the heavy snow had just stopped.

As dawn broke, a crimson sun leapt over the horizon, and in an instant, the morning light shone with blinding intensity, dispelling the winter gloom. The rosy glow sliced through the clouds, scattering beams of golden light.

As the radiance enveloped the land, a tornado suddenly rose from the ground, sweeping up remnants of snow and shards of ice as it soared upward. It howled across the sea of snow, closing in on Golden Rock City, situated deep within the plains.

In its wake, the snow cracked open, crisscrossed with jagged fissures. The earth looked as if it had been cleaved by an axe, leaving behind stark, gaping scars. The whirlwind crashed into the city walls, but the ancient city stood firm. Only the icicles hanging from the walls snapped and fell, their cracking sounds ringing incessantly.

Eerie sounds carried on the wind; a violent force swelled and burst, sending wind blades flying in all directions. The soldiers on the ramparts lost their footing and tumbled backward one after another.

Four giant birds burst from the sky, their feathers as white as snow, with wingspans exceeding ten meters. Soaring through the air and emitting piercing cries, they were the fierce birds of prey unique to the Snow Domain.

“Giant Owls!”

A vampire clan soldier struggled to his feet, pressing one hand against his helmet while digging his fingernails into the wall tiles.

The giant owls in the sky flew in a V-formation, completely undeterred by the harsh weather. With every flap of their wings, they advanced dozens of meters, crossing the plain in the blink of an eye to appear above the city.

Several cloaked figures sat atop the giant owls’ backs.

They stood tall and straight, arms folded, like perfectly proportioned sculptures.

Wide hoods covered their heads, the brims hanging down to the middle of their noses, obscuring their brows and eyes; only

their chiseled jawlines and crimson lips were visible. “Wraiths!”

“It’s the Wraiths!”