“Your Majesty.”

The returning Wraith entered the castle hall; the cloak on her body dissolved like melting snow, transforming into a magnificent robe. Fran, holding a letterbox, walked in the center.

From a distance, the group stopped in unison, bowing their heads in deference to the Lord of the Snow Domain. Wu Ying remained motionless.

He propped his forehead with one hand, his slender fingers sweeping across the corner of his eye. His pupils were deep and dark, a blend of ice crystals and Mithril—a color of extreme cold.

“What have you brought back?” Noticing the box in Fran’s hands, he asked.

His voice was clear and elegant, pure and melodious—it was hard to believe that the man before them was a ruthless and decisive tyrant. He resembled more a poet, a painter, or a scholar.

“A gift from the Vampire Prince,” Fran explained the situation succinctly, stepping forward slightly and presenting the letterbox with both hands. The letterbox was rectangular, crafted from a rare material—Goldwood that grew only in the Vampire Kingdom.

This wood was entirely crimson-gold in color, with a hardness rivaling that of black iron.

The vampire clan harvested it on a large scale to craft various types of vessels. Due to their exquisite designs and ability to last a thousand years without decaying, they once swept through the court and even flowed into the surrounding kingdoms through trade.

Alas, the good times did not last, and the thriving trade routes were unexpectedly severed.

Queen Yin, who possessed an ancient bloodline, passed away, and the Goldwood Forest withered overnight. Vast swathes of towering ancient trees toppled, leaving the ground littered with dead branches and fallen leaves. Gorod once ordered the cultivation of a new forest, but unfortunately, he never succeeded.

To this day, the Goldwood Forest has become a forbidden zone for the vampire clan, devoid of even a hint of vitality. All that remains within the forest are vast stretches of lifeless, broken timber and tree roots exposed from the ground.

The letterbox in Fran’s hand was crafted from Goldwood, its surface adorned with natural grain patterns. Though devoid of further ornamentation or carvings, it remained strikingly beautiful. When tapped with a finger, the box emitted a resonant, metallic sound, appearing more like a work of art than a mere tool for delivering letters.

“Have you seen him?” Wu Ying rose from his throne, his robe sweeping across the floor as he strode toward Fran. He cradled the letterbox in one hand, feeling its slight weight and speculating on its contents.

“I’m afraid not, Your Majesty,” Fran replied honestly.

When he left Golden Rock City, the Black Tower remained silent, with no sign of its master.

The maid who had delivered the letterbox, the overly vigilant knight, and the timid goblin seemed to have vanished overnight, all gone without a trace. Given the rumors surrounding the vampire clan, Fran believed that Cen Qing was deliberately avoiding public appearances.

This was, in fact, a misunderstanding.

Everyone in the Black Tower was busy taking inventory and packing supplies, ensuring that everything was in order so that no mishaps would occur during the journey.

According to Cen Qing, they could rely only on themselves. It was more unrealistic to hope that His Majesty the King would suddenly take pity and send help than it was to expect a blizzard to vanish.

Unfortunately, the Wraiths were unaware of all this.

“Your Majesty, that prince is mysterious, but he is by no means lacking in intelligence,” Goya added from the side; he had always been positive about this marriage alliance.

The rebel forces in the borderlands are a grave threat to the vampire clan. Though the Snow Domain remains unaffected for now, it cannot remain uninvolved in the future.

The rebel forces have colluded with the savage tribes; their power grows daily, and their ambitions swell accordingly. If left to develop unchecked, they will eventually become too powerful to control and pose a threat to the Snow Domain.

“He is a wise and beautiful man, an excellent choice as your partner,” Fran said. Wu Ying did not respond to the two of them; he held the letterbox in one hand and casually lifted the lid.

Inside lay three parchment scrolls, each sealed with wax bearing the engraved mark of a golden rose. He selected one, broke the wax seal, and unfolded it.

The parchment hovered in midair. The text was brief—no more than half a page at most—and written entirely in the language of the Wraiths, conveying a sense of sincere intent.

However, there was a major problem with the content.

As he stared at the words on the parchment, Wu Ying’s expression shifted—from confusion and bewilderment to astonishment and disbelief, before finally settling into a deep, shadowed gloom.

“Are you certain this is a letter from the Vampire Prince?” He looked at Fran, his expression impassive as he asked the question, making it difficult to gauge his true emotions at that moment.

Was he pleased or displeased?

The Wraiths across from him gave nothing away.

“Yes, I’m certain.” Fran felt the heavy pressure and secretly speculated on the letter’s contents. He couldn’t say for sure what exactly was written inside that would cause the Wraith King to wear such an expression.

Wu Ying did not ask any further questions.

He unfolded the second parchment, then the third, repeating the same motion.

Finally, he concluded that the content was unambiguous and free of any wording errors. What Cen Qing had sent was not a greeting, nor did it contain any veiled political intentions—it was nothing but unabashed love letters.

The language was exquisite, the sentences brimming with emotion; even a distance of ten thousand miles could not dampen the passion radiating from every line. Three passionate love letters.

An unexpected gift.

A prince of ancient lineage, a marriage partner sent by the vampire clan—was this really the kind of person he was? “I never would have guessed,” Wu Ying murmured to himself, his expression slightly puzzled.

Fran and the others were completely baffled. They wanted to ask, but their better judgment silenced them.

Their instincts told them it was best to suppress their curiosity. Sometimes, digging too deep isn’t the wisest choice. Closing the parchment scrolls and placing them all in the letterbox, Wu Ying turned and returned to his throne.

“An anomaly has occurred in the Wasteland Realm. Astor has already set out and will send back intelligence shortly.” He leaned back against the crystal-carved chair, resting one arm on the armrest. “Goya, summon the Great Owl. If something has indeed happened in the Wasteland Realm, be ready to depart at a moment’s notice.”

“As you command, Your Majesty.”

At the mention of the Wasteland Realm, their expressions grew solemn.

This was the most sensitive region in the central part of the continent, a place of dense forests and swamps teeming with all manner of ferocious flora and fauna. Danger lurked at every turn, and even the savage tribes dared not venture there lightly.

The Snow Domain’s borderlands stretch for miles, inevitably bordering the Wasteland Realm. The two regions are as distinct as day and night.

The Snow Domain has a harsh environment, with blizzards and freezing temperatures for most of the year. The Wasteland Realm, on the other hand, is carpeted with lush green grass, covered in forests, and features hot springs flowing year-round—a breathtakingly beautiful landscape.

Alas, all this is merely a facade.

Beneath the lush surface, danger lurks, ready to erupt at any moment.

Whenever disturbances occur in the Wasteland Realm, toxic mists spread, and hordes of dangerous flora and fauna breach the borderlands, wreaking havoc on the surrounding environment. The borderlands cities of the Wraiths have suffered greatly as a result and have devised multiple contingency plans. Yet, these measures remain a drop in the bucket compared to the destruction caused. “We need to relocate the borderlands cities and villages,” suggested Delanyia.

“Astor will have news; for now, we must wait,” Goya said.

Fran looked back and forth between the group, then turned toward the throne ahead: “Your Majesty, the vampire clan delegation will depart shortly and is expected to camp in the Wasteland Forest. What should we do if they encounter danger? Should we send reinforcements?”

The Wasteland Realm borders the Snow Domain and is not far from the Vampire Kingdom.

If the delegation has bad luck and unexpectedly encounters a beast horde, there will certainly be significant losses.

With knights serving as escorts, the entire group wouldn’t be wiped out. But since they’re transporting a large amount of supplies, there will inevitably be moments when they can’t keep an eye on everything. Especially the vampire clan prince.

As His Majesty’s intended bride—the key to ending his bachelorhood—he must not suffer even the slightest mishap. “Send someone to notify them,” Wu Ying said casually. After a moment’s thought, he removed a ring from his finger, fashioned a crystal case from the air, and handed it to Fran across from him. “Deliver this to Golden Rock City and give it to my future partner,” he said.

“As you command, Your Majesty.” Suppressing his astonishment, Fran respectfully accepted the ring encased in the crystal box. Seeing that Wu Ying had no further instructions, the four bowed once more and turned to leave the hall.

Once outside the hall, they paused in the corridor, huddling together with their heads pressed close to examine the gift bestowed by the Wraith King.

“A Wraith Ring—its symbolic significance is extraordinary.” 

“Could it be a sudden whim of His Majesty’s?”

“Impossible. That’s not His Majesty’s style.”

“Could it be because of those letters?” “Very likely.”

“It must be a return gift.”

“His Majesty is very fond of this prince and is determined to have him.”

Having reached a conclusion, the four wasted no more time; they hurried through the corridor and decided to split up. That same day, a giant owl flew out of Storm City.

The Wraiths on the giant owl’s back returned to Golden Rock City with gifts and soon vanished into the clouds.

By evening, the Wolf Legion sent word that all was normal in the Wasteland Realm; the alert had been lifted, and the earlier alarm had been a false alarm. Calm returned to Storm City, and the Wraiths were no longer on edge.

They learned the news from their returning kin and eagerly discussed the vampire clan delegation. The conversation centered on the Wraith King’s intended spouse, the vampire clan prince.

“I hear he has hair and eyes as dark as the night—a true beauty.” 

“I wonder what his personality is like.”

“His Majesty has been single for far too long; he needs a beauty by his side.” 

“I can’t wait for His Majesty’s wedding.”

Human nature is a complex concept.

The cold and sinister Wraiths, synonymous with bloodshed and brutality, could not help but engage in gossip when gathered together, sharing all manner of rumors with great enthusiasm.

This phenomenon would continue for some time until the vampire clan delegation arrived in Storm City, Cen Qing made a public appearance, and the grand wedding officially began. As the center of attention, Cen Qing was completely unaware of the Wraiths’ reactions.

On a bitterly cold winter day, a blizzard once again engulfed Golden Rock City.

With the departure date approaching, the members of the delegation became increasingly busy.

The nobles’ carriages had been modified, lined with thick blankets and the doors trimmed with fur to provide maximum protection against the bitter cold of the Snow Domain.

The accompanying knights were equally busy.

They had to prepare their own armor, weapons, and food, as well as tents and blankets to ward off the cold. According to the nobles, all of this was only to be expected.

“I have given you more than enough gold. You have sworn allegiance to me and pledged to protect my safety. You cannot ask for anything more than that.”

This had always been the way of things; the knights were long accustomed to it and would not complain further.

However, a pebble suddenly fell into the calm waters, sending ripples across the surface. The old barriers were torn down, and news from the Black Tower completely shattered their understanding.

“His Highness the Prince will provide all equipment, as well as the supplies necessary for the journey.” 

“All of it?”

“Yes, including everything needed for the journey.” 

“That’s impossible!”

“Nothing is impossible; the reality is right before your eyes. Look at those Black Knights—they returned from exile with nothing to their names. Now look at them today. If not for His Highness the Prince’s generosity, how could they have transformed so completely? They couldn’t even afford a single set of armor!”

The news spread quickly. The Black Knights’ firsthand accounts had a palpable impact on the crowd, though that wasn’t the most astonishing part. What truly shocked everyone was Cen Qing’s attitude toward servants and slaves.

Those goblins from the Black Tower—strictly speaking, they didn’t even qualify as servants; they were all branded as slaves. Yet Cen Qing actually intended to take them with him, offering them quite generous terms.

It was simply unbelievable! “If all of this is true…”

This caused unrest within the team.

It is not scarcity that causes distress, but inequality; comparison is the most dangerous thing.

From the knights at the top to the servants at the bottom, everyone’s heart was in turmoil; resentment was brewing, and once the waters were ruffled, they could never return to calm. On this day, the maiden of the thorn vines appeared at the palace on Cen Qing’s behalf.

Holding a document signed by Cen Qing, Moli sought an audience with Queen Zuona, demanding to take the tailors and their families away.

Attached to the document was a list, dictated by the tailors and handwritten by the Thorn Maidservant to ensure that not a single name was omitted.

“Her Majesty the Queen is magnanimous; surely she won’t begrudge a few tailors.” Moli handed over the list, her tone devoid of any inflection. Zuona’s expression was grim.

No matter how her feelings toward Gorod had changed, and no matter what schemes she was plotting, she had always despised Cen Qing—and after today, her hatred only deepened.

She clenched the document handed to her, causing the characters to warp.

The strokes were sharp and forceful, piercing through the paper, as if a scent of blood were rushing toward her.

“If I refuse, what will he do?” Zuona’s voice was taut, her gaze menacing. Sharp fangs pierced her gums; she couldn’t control her ferocious expression—nor did she intend to.

“His Highness has prepared two documents—one is in your hands, and the other will be sent to the King. That is, if you insist on not releasing them.” Moli’s tone was neither servile nor arrogant, yet her attitude was sufficiently forceful.

“Just for a few tailors?” Amid her anger, Zuona felt a sense of absurdity. “It also includes their families,” Moli corrected.

Zuona found it even more absurd.

The situation was too preposterous; her anger unexpectedly subsided, and she was genuinely baffled: “What is his reason for doing this?” To win people over?

A mere handful of tailors? It seemed hardly worth the effort.

“His Highness believes keeping one’s word is of the utmost importance. Once he makes a promise to someone, he must keep it.” Moli’s expression was serious as she answered Zuona’s question earnestly.

Zuona visibly paused for a moment. She remained utterly baffled.

It wasn’t a matter of intelligence, but rather her environment, her upbringing, and even her personality—all of which had completely narrowed her perspective.

In her view, servants and slaves were nothing more than walking tools. They were not regarded as independent beings, and keeping promises to them was a complete absurdity.

However, regardless of what Zuona thought, she had to give an answer that would satisfy Cen Qing.

Given Gorod’s emphasis on alliances, as long as his demands weren’t excessive, Cen Qing’s requests would be granted.

A mere handful of tailors and their families were utterly insignificant. If Zuona stubbornly refused to agree, she would be seen as unreasonable and would inevitably face reprimand.

Probably not even Zax would understand her.

Weighing the pros and cons quickly, Zuona gritted her teeth and had no choice but to bow to reality.

“All right, I agree.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty, the Queen.”

Having fulfilled her mission, Moli did not linger in the palace; she bowed gracefully and took her leave. She had arrived with only three people, but now she was followed by a long procession.

These people, having received word in advance, had gathered on mules and horses, all bringing everything from their homes—not even a single piece of firewood was left behind. The procession deliberately circled through the city, broadcasting the First Prince’s generosity and kindness.

Gossips and curious onlookers inquired far and wide; once they learned the full story, they were all stunned. Word spread from mouth to mouth, and the news quickly went viral, causing quite a stir.

The mysterious Black Tower, the unconventional Prince, and his rare displays of tenderness and kindness.

Once today’s events became known, even if Cen Qing left Golden Rock City, the people would not easily forget him. On the contrary, they would grow even more curious and nostalgic about him, continuing to talk about him with great interest.

This was not Cen Qing’s primary objective; one could only say that while he intended to plant flowers, he ended up growing willows. The direction in which events unfold is always unpredictable.

When Moli returned to the Black Tower, the Black Knights had changed into their work clothes. Working in small groups of two or three, they inspected the wheels and carriages, securing the ropes on the wooden planks to ensure the carts were sturdy enough to prevent any accidents during the journey.

The goblins were busy hauling grain.

They were experts at stockpiling; the granaries were piled high with wheat, salted meat, and salt blocks. Now that they were leaving, naturally they had to take it all with them—they wouldn’t let anyone else get their hands on it.

“We belong to His Highness, so naturally, these belong to His Highness as well!”

The goblins declared with conviction, their enthusiasm for work growing ever higher; the scene was visibly bustling with activity. Amidst the hustle and bustle, the sound of bells rang out from the city walls once more.

The crowd paused to look up. Before long, a dark shadow streaked across the sky—it was none other than the Wraiths’ giant owl. The bird of prey did not head toward the palace, but flew straight toward the Black Tower.

After circling the tower once, the Wraith leapt from the bird’s back and announced his identity before the tower: “By order of the Lord of the Snow Domain, I bring a gift for His Highness Cen Qing.”

Wraiths always wore a hood when out in public, giving them an exceptionally mysterious appearance. They were of similar height and build, and some even had strikingly similar voices.

Even with her exceptional memory, the Maiden of Thorn Vines found it difficult to tell whether the Wraith before her was the same one she had met before.

“Please wait a moment.”

The thorn vines split up: two arranged for the family members they had brought back, while one hurried to see Cen Qing to report the Wraiths’ visit.

“He has brought a gift from the Lord of the Snow Domain. Should we invite him into the tower?” Moli asked for instructions.

“No.” Cen Qing clasped the hardcover book with one hand, handed her the sealed letter, and said, “Accept the gift, and give this to him—it’s for the Lord of the Snow Domain.”

“Yes.” Moli took the letter and, without lingering, quickly left the room.

Cen Qing rose and walked to the window, resting his hands on the windowsill. He looked down and immediately spotted the figure in front of the tower. He let out a sigh of relief.

It seemed the Lord of the Snow Domain had reacted favorably to his gift.

“It’s not easy, but nothing is impossible.” Nothing is ever simple.

Whether it was reclaiming his mother’s entire inheritance or securing a place to stay within the Wraith King’s palace.

Just as Cen Qing was about to step away from the window, he stepped on a fluffy bundle as he turned. Before the snow leopard cub could run off, he had already picked it up.

Their eyes met, and Cen Qing suddenly curved his lips into a smile, lowering his head to bury his face in the snow leopard’s round belly. Clearly, this little fellow was well-fed. Ignoring the cub’s struggles, Cen Qing completed his “leopard-sucking” mission and felt refreshed once more.

He returned to the desk, opened the hardcover book once more, and immersed himself in the sea of knowledge. He was not reading poetry, but documents chronicling the history of the vampire clan.

Referencing the map sent from the palace, he occasionally picked up his pen to make notes. The writing appeared chaotic and seemingly without any pattern, but upon careful examination, it was clearly a preliminary plan for the domain, covering the entire Thousand Lakes Fief.