A huge thank you to SeraphinaReads for the kofis. Enjoy the bonus chapter!!

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The giant owl’s flight was astonishingly swift.

Four dark shadows flapped their wings and soared, effortlessly cutting through the biting gale, covering a thousand miles a day. Fran and the others stood on the giant owl’s back, their elegant cloaks fluttering in the wind, rustling softly.

Their hoods slipped back in the wind, revealing their handsome features. As sunlight scattered from behind the clouds, a hazy halo glowed atop their heads, and their skin was so fair it seemed almost translucent. Shadows swept across the sky, like illusions condensed from the clouds—fleeting phantoms.

A giant owl soared across the plains, while Wraiths gazed down from above at the landscape blanketed in pristine white, devoid of any other color.

Approaching the northern borderlands of the Vampire Kingdom, a dense forest rises from the ground, with various species of giant trees stretching along the borderlands in a continuous belt. This forest has formed a natural barrier, guarding the Vampire Kingdom for tens of thousands of years.

Now, with chaos erupting everywhere, the situation within the forest has also changed.

The once-secure barrier now harbors danger and conceals deadly threats; even the knights of the borderlands dare not venture in lightly.

A giant owl soared over the forest’s edge, while the Wraiths perched on its back gazed down below. His eyes flickered, a shadow of darkness flickering in their depths.

“The Wasteland Forest, the vampire clan’s Forbidden Forest.”

To the north of the forest lies a great river, deep and wide, exceeding a kilometer at its broadest point.

When cold fronts arrive, vast stretches of the river freeze over. Ice floes press inward from both banks, colliding and shattering in the turbulent currents. A few form ice platforms, concealing terrifying undercurrents beneath—enough to easily ensnare a giant crocodile and drag it down to its watery grave.

Heavy snow had fallen in the borderlands for days, causing temperatures to plummet.

The vast riverbed is completely frozen over, and as far as the eye can see, there is nothing but a vast expanse of white. If one stares for too long without caution, there is a high risk of damaging the eyes and causing snow blindness.

To return to the Snow Domain, wraiths must traverse the Wasteland Forest and fly across a stretch of frozen river.

When the group set out, the borderlands were still relatively peaceful; the rebel forces had taken refuge in the canyons and forests to escape the blizzard, and the borderlands knights had retreated to their fortresses to rest and regroup.

Little did they expect the situation to change so rapidly—one moment calm and serene, the next plunging into chaos and bloodshed. To ensure the delegation’s safe passage, Gorod dispatched Skeleton Knights to the borderlands specifically to clear a path.

Their advance was smooth at first, encountering no obstacles, which led them to grow careless. They plunged headlong into the Wasteland Forest, venturing too far in and encountering the Fallen Treants lurking deep within.

Sensing danger, the Fallen Treants awoke from their slumber; their rotting roots burst through the surface, causing vast sections of the snowpack to fracture.

Creak.

The eerie sounds echoed through the woods, startling flocks of birds and sending lurking beasts scattering in terror.

The surface of the massive tree trunks cracked open, revealing twisted faces with clearly defined features, contorting into all manner of grotesque expressions—some roaring, some screaming, some cursing—all emanating from the vengeful spirits of those who had been slaughtered and devoured.

Filled with murderous intent, they swiftly shook off their camouflaging leaves, revealing branches as sharp as steel needles. The warhorses were startled one after another, falling into collective panic.

The Skeleton Knight pulled the reins with all his might, pressing his upper body tightly against the horse’s back, and finally managed to steady himself, avoiding being thrown into the snow. The Fallen Treants were incredibly dangerous.

Wherever they gathered, vast swathes of the ground were corroded; the snow below was nearly hollowed out, concealing countless hidden traps.

Falling into one is like plunging into a bottomless swamp; one would be entangled by countless tree roots, suffering day and night in agony, unable to move, until flesh and blood wither away and one becomes a desiccated corpse.

The Fallen Treants lurk deep within the forest, gathering strength day and night, preparing to launch an attack once the snow stops and seize the fortified stronghold guarded by the Knights of the Borderlands. But the situation took an unexpected turn when the Skeleton Knight, by sheer accident, exposed their secret.

“Roar!”

A furious roar echoed through the forest.

Determined to protect their stronghold, they would not let the intruders escape and were resolved to kill every last Skeleton Knight. A bloody battle was inevitable.

The Skeleton Knights would not sit idly by and wait for their doom; the group quickly rallied and launched a counterattack against the Fallen Treants.

During the battle, massive roots burst from the ground, cutting off any chance for the knights to regroup. Unable to form a cohesive formation, they simply split into smaller squads to fight individually.

“Kill them!”

At the captain’s command, the knights decisively slit their palms. Blood gushed from the wounds, but instead of dripping downward, it surged upward, weaving into bands around the knights.

Skeleton patterns emerged from the crimson mist, one after another, floating three-dimensionally above the knights’ heads.

“Kill!”

The knights let out a roar, loosened their reins, gripped their swords with both hands, and charged forward, empowered by the blood skull. The blood skull opened its massive jaws and devoured the spiked treetops.

A crimson ribbon of blood cut through the forest, tightening as it twisted and turned; Fallen Treants were ensnared, suddenly rendered immobile.

Giving his opponents no chance to break free, the Skeleton Knight spurred his horse forward, sweeping his longsword in a wide arc. The blade sliced through the tree trunk, severing the twisted face etched into its surface.

A blackish-green liquid spurted from the gash, and a sulfur-like odor spread through the air—so thick and heavy it was almost suffocating. The Skeleton Knight pulled down his visor, effectively blocking out the acrid stench.

They fought for survival, willing to risk their lives, striking with ruthless ferocity and charging forward with unstoppable momentum. Despite their numerical superiority, the Fallen Treants found themselves at a disadvantage.

The battle reached a stalemate. Unable to control their frenzied emotions, they inadvertently exposed a weakness and were met with a frenzied charge from the Skeleton Knights, leaving their encirclement in grave danger.

A giant owl soared over the forest, and the Wraiths made no effort to hide themselves. A terrifying aura descended, felt by both sides of the battle.

The Fallen Treants looked up at the sky, and out of fear of the Wraiths, they were instantly overcome with panic. The Skeleton Knights seized the opportunity to break through the encirclement and charged out recklessly.

The warhorses reared up on their hind legs and surged out of the forest like a torrent.

The Fallen Treants were unable to block its path; some were even knocked down, their trunks trampled by the horse’s hooves, letting out angry roars. The Wraiths looked down from above, taking it all in.

“Judging by the situation, they aren’t all complete good-for-nothings,” Fran remarked.

“Compared to the former Vampire Clan Royal Knights, they’re still far too weak. To be trapped by a group of Fallen Treants—they’ve brought shame upon the Royal Guard’s name,” another Wraith spoke up. He had long silver-blue hair, and his pupils were a pale blue, like clear ocean water.

“Delanyia, you’re being too harsh,” Fran said, turning his head toward his companion and clicking his tongue.

“This isn’t harsh; it’s just stating the facts,” Delanyia insisted. When it came to the Skeleton Knights, he had nothing but negative things to say.

“The usurper holds power, and the nobles sit idly in their positions. If you consider the changes among the upper echelons of the vampire clan, you wouldn’t find this strange.” Goya suddenly spoke up, joining the conversation.

Fran and Delanyia exchanged a glance, tacitly ending their argument and agreeing with Goya.

“A debauched tyrant, yet one with a firm grip on power. The nobles are obsessed with personal gain, lacking any sense of ambition. This pact won’t change the reality of the vampire clan’s decline; it’s merely buying time.” Goya cut straight to the heart of the matter, articulating the predicament facing the vampire clan.

“Unless a new power rises to reorganize the kingdom with an iron fist, nothing will change. We will have the privilege of witnessing the decline of the vampire clan—in a manner that is all too predictable.”

As Goya’s voice faded, it vanished into the wind in an instant.

The giant owl flapped its wings and flew northward. The Wraiths ceased their conversation and withdrew entirely from the borderlands battlefield. Shortly after they departed, the borderlands knights suddenly appeared.

Led by their captain, some of the knights charged into the forest, swiftly joining the Skeleton Knights, and the group turned as one, racing toward the stronghold.

The Fallen Treants pursued them to the edge of the forest, where they encountered a trap that had been set in advance. Forced to halt, they shook their crowns and let out a roar that shook the heavens.

The knights did not look back.

Blizzard conditions, endless dense forest.

The battle was going badly for them; recklessness would bring no benefit, only death. 

“Hurry!”

The borderlands knights led the way ahead, while the skeleton knights galloped furiously behind.

The group charged into the fortress, and the garrison quickly cranked the winch to shut the gates. After a heart-stopping race, they finally escaped death.

The Skeleton Knights dismounted one after another, looking disheveled yet arrogant, too proud to express gratitude to the borderlands knights.

Still looking down on them, they spoke in a condescending tone: “You did well, but you could have arrived sooner. We will overlook your negligence and not hold it against you. Once we return to the Royal Capital, we will recommend to His Majesty that your provisions be increased.”

As these words fell, the atmosphere suddenly froze.

Instead of expressing gratitude for saving their lives, it felt more like a direct provocation. Their contemptuous and dismissive attitude showed they did not regard the other party as equals, treating them as if they were mere ants.

Having saved others out of kindness only to be bitten in return, treated with such contempt, and subjected to such brazen insolence, the knights of the borderlands were all seething with rage.

“Is this how you treat your saviors?”

“If I’d known this would happen, I should’ve let the Fallen Treants slaughter you!” 

“A bunch of snobby rich kids.”

“Skeleton Knights, the valiant Royal Knights? How laughable!”

The borderlands knights seethed with indignation, making no effort to lower their voices, their words thick with hostility.

The Skeleton Knight, his pride wounded, summoned a blood skull that surged forward, bearing down on the loudest few. Boom!

Before the crimson light could bear down, a spear sliced through the air. Its shaft shot upward with a fierce thrust, shattering the blood skull. The crimson glow could not sustain itself and faded away in the biting wind.

After the blood skull vanished, two figures stood side by side, blocking the path of the Borderlands Knights.

On the left was Origin; on the right, Buyete. They were the leaders of the Borderland Knights, the most esteemed captains of the order.

Origin sheathed his lance, while Buyete stepped forward, placing one hand on his hip, his tone icy: “A Royal Knight’s blade should never be turned against his own comrades. If you do not wish to be expelled, you must apologize to my knights!”

Buyete was not only a captain but also held the title of Count.

This stronghold was built within his domain, and he had the authority to expel the Skeleton Knights and declare them unwelcome guests. When it came to a noble’s autonomy over their lands, the matter was highly sensitive.

Not wanting to cause a major uproar, Gorod could not openly take their side unless he wished to make enemies of all the great nobles. Buyete would not budge an inch; her stance was exceptionally firm, and the Skeleton Knights finally saw the reality of the situation.

This was not the Royal Capital; they could not act with impunity here. If they did not wish to be driven out, they had no choice but to bow their heads and set aside their arrogance.

“We apologize,” the captain of the knights said in a low voice, the words almost ground out between clenched teeth.

“No sincerity at all,” muttered a knight from the borderlands under his breath, but he was silenced by a glare from Origin, who immediately snapped his fingers to make him stop. The conflict was temporarily resolved, though the peace was merely a superficial facade.

Both sides thus drew a clear line between them, each holding the other in the worst possible light. Fortunately, the Skeleton Knights had no intention of staying long.

The reason for today’s debacle was entirely due to the suddenness of the incident—they had accidentally stumbled into the territory of the Fallen Treants and were caught off guard. They were determined to regroup and do everything in their power to wash away this humiliation.

“We’ll set out first thing tomorrow morning,” the knight captain announced to the group. To redeem themselves, they were determined to return to the Wasteland Forest.

Even if they couldn’t exterminate all the Fallen Treants, they would drive them away to prevent the team from being ambushed upon arrival. The borderlands Knights offered no objections.

At the urging of Origin and Buyete, the group gradually returned to their quarters to rest, paying no further attention to the outsiders. The Skeleton Knights were assigned the stables.

“The number of rooms is limited; I’m sure you’ll understand,” Buyete said apologetically, though she felt not a shred of remorse.

She was well aware of the consequences of this decision and expected trouble to follow, yet she remained firm in her stance for one reason alone: it was simply for her own peace of mind. Origin had once tried to dissuade her, but she refused to change her mind.

Having guarded the borderlands for so long, she had witnessed too many instances of life and death.

She didn’t know how long she’d live—whether years, months, or, more likely, days. She didn’t know how many more sunrises she’d see, so there was absolutely no need to stifle herself. It simply wasn’t worth it.

The Skeleton Knights were dissatisfied with the conditions in the stables, but with nowhere else to go, they had no choice but to hold their noses and put up with it. If they gave up this warm hay, they’d have to sleep in the snowdrifts.

“It’s just one night. Bear with it—it’ll be over soon.” The captain of the knights employed a mix of carrot and stick, promising that once this mission was over, he would make these folk from the borderlands pay dearly.

The knights reluctantly made their way to the hay, their expressions gloomy, yet their bodies betrayed their true feelings as they quickly buried themselves in it. Days are short in winter, and the nights are especially long.

As the lights came on, the skeleton knights chewed on hard, dry bean cakes, drank blood-tinged wine, and fought off their longing for soft beds and pillows, struggling to fall asleep amid the howling north wind.

As the night deepened, the lamps and torches gradually went out, and the stronghold was plunged into darkness. At the edge of the Wasteland Forest, the pits left by the Fallen Treants were all buried in snow.

Beneath the snow lay pools of congealed sap—the stench was foul, yet it fostered the growth of vegetation. Come next spring, when the flowers bloom, the plants here will surely be lush and verdant, more thriving than anywhere else.

Between the forest and the fortress, a shadow skimmed the ground.

A bird’s beak clamped around a broken branch as it soared into the sky, swiftly leaving the borderlands behind and flapping its wings toward the vampire clan’s Royal Capital.

Over the next few days, the Skeleton Knights were kept fully occupied driving out the Fallen Treants and pursuing isolated targets. Their actions sent the wrong signal; the rebel forces mistakenly believed the vampire clan’s main army was approaching, causing some factions to fall into complete disarray. Composed of multiple factions with a complex structure, the rebels were already divided and lacking unity.

Arguing endlessly over the intelligence they had gathered, they wasted their energy and lost the will to attack the stronghold. The borderlands knights, for once, found themselves with nothing to do and were granted a period of respite.

At that time, the Wraiths crossed the vast snowfields and arrived at the Royal Capital of the Snow Domain. The city was built in the center of the snowfields, perched atop a mountain peak.

The cliffs rose a thousand fathoms high, their precipices exceptionally steep; the city hung in mid-air on all sides, as if standing amidst the clouds.

At such a height, scaling the cliffs by human strength alone was extremely difficult; special wooden walkways had to be constructed, and one could only approach the city gates with the aid of mounts and birds of prey. This majestic city was exceptionally ancient, having existed even longer than the Vampire Clan Royal Capital.

The earliest records date back 100,000 years, when the Wraith King himself cleaved the mountain and laid the first cornerstone of the Royal Capital with his own hands. The structures are embedded in sheer cliffs, and with storms raging year-round, the Royal Capital earned its name.

The majestic city walls were sheathed in ice crystals, and most of the structures within were translucent and crystalline, reflecting a kaleidoscope of colors in the sunlight—a fantastical and magnificent sight, as if from a fairy tale.

When Fran and his party returned, they happened upon the city gates wide open. Over a thousand wolves surged out, racing down the mountain ridge before vanishing in the blink of an eye into the wind and snow.

Recognizing the leader’s banner, Goya pulled back his hood and exclaimed in surprise, “It’s Astor’s legion. What’s happened?”

“Not sure.” The others looked equally grave.

Exchanging a glance, they decided to head back into the city first; they would figure things out eventually.

The wolf continued through the city gate, and it took a full fifteen minutes before a spot opened up in front of the gate.

The Great Owl soared to the mountaintop, but instead of flying over the city walls, it spread its wings and glided through the city gates. Separated by a single gate, it was as if they were in two different worlds.

The weather remained cold, but the wind was no longer biting.

Storm City was laid out in neat order, with roads crisscrossing in all directions and houses of varying heights standing side by side in neat rows. The streets were bustling with people coming and going, a stark contrast to the dark image Wraiths had projected to the outside world.

The Great Owl flew along the main thoroughfare, passing by several other groups.

Fran and the others lowered their hoods, briefly acknowledging the oncoming group with polite greetings.

“We’re going to report to His Majesty.”

They flew without stopping, heading straight for the structure situated in the heart of the city—a magnificent crystal palace. There were no guards at the palace gates, simply because there was no need for them.

A single glance at the snow wolves crouching before the castle and the Silver Pythons coiled around its outer walls was enough to deter any intruders. The giant owl landed in front of the castle, well outside the range of the snow wolves and Silver Pythons.

The four leapt down and, upon landing, quickly made their way toward the castle, pushing open the gem-encrusted doors. A brightly lit corridor led directly to the first-floor hall.

Behind the hall doors, upon a throne crafted of Mithril and gemstones, the Lord of the Snow Domain rested his hand against his temple, his eyes half-closed as if taking a brief nap. The hem of his robe flowed like a waterfall, its edges draping over the steps; the embroidered patterns shimmered with a faint glow, and the embedded gemstones sparkled like a starry sky. Seated high upon his throne, a delicate crown resting upon his head, an aura of ice and snow surrounded him—yet it felt not chilling, but rather serene and peaceful. Footsteps echoed from beyond the door, shattering the silence that filled the room.

The Wraith King awoke from his slumber, his long lashes fluttering as he slowly opened his eyes.

His starlike hair cascaded over his shoulders, and the crystals set in his crown shimmered with a dazzling, magnificent glow. The gemstone hanging from his forehead swayed gently, mirroring the color of his eyes—in an instant, it stirred the heart and captivated the soul.