As the date of the diplomatic mission’s departure drew nearer, the Royal Palace and the Black Tower tacitly maintained a superficial peace; the Royal Capital remained calm, and all was calm and peaceful.

The massive convoy had assembled, all supplies were ready, and everything had been packed into boxes and loaded onto the wagons. The wagons stretched out in a long line, every compartment fully loaded. From a distance, they resembled a series of small, rising hills. As agreed with the Wraiths, the vampire clan delegation would set out through the snow and arrive at the northern border before the end of the harsh winter. 

Count Zax was appointed as the Chief Envoy, with a deputy delegation comprising both established nobles and representatives of emerging powers. The most notable figure was Seccombe, the son of Chancellor Bashir, who had openly broken with his father and inherited his mother’s title. Additionally, Viscount Ruskin was among the Deputy Envoys.

A departure from his usual flamboyance, he behaved with unusual restraint. This was particularly evident when Cen Qing’s entourage passed by; he was uncharacteristically quiet, which inevitably aroused suspicion among those who knew him.

“Ruskin, what’s wrong with you?” Robert and Lai Li walked up to him, placing a hand on each of his shoulders.

Both were captains of knights, each commanding hundreds of cavalrymen, and held significant influence among the rising nobility.

They were not wearing armor, but rather elegant coats and trousers. Their boots were polished, and their gloves bore their family crests, making them quite a striking sight.

Marten-fur capes draped over their shoulders, the hems falling just below mid-calf; the outer layer featured beautiful patterns, while the thick lining effectively blocked the cold wind, providing excellent warmth.

“What are you talking about? What do you mean, ‘what’s wrong with me’?” Ruskin frowned at Lai Li, then glanced at Robert, brushing the hand off his shoulder.

“You’re acting strangely.” Robert crossed his left arm over his chest, propped his chin on two fingers of his right hand, and scrutinized Ruskin suspiciously. He was handsome, with a high bridge of the nose, a sharp jawline, and a very masculine demeanor. 

When he looked at people, his pupils contracted slightly, reflecting a cold gleam.

“I agree,” Lai Li nodded in agreement. He was about the same height as Robert and equally handsome, though his demeanor lacked aggression, giving him a gentler appearance. 

Setting aside their appearance and demeanor, a close look at their eyes revealed that the two were indistinguishable. Essentially, they were equally cold-blooded—unquestionably members of the Dark Race.

“I’ve been thinking about His Highness Cen Qing.”

Surprisingly, Ruskin didn’t beat around the bush. He confided in his friend about his previous experiences in the Black Tower, telling him how the thorn maids’ dominance had nearly overwhelmed him.

“They terrify me. They feel too sharp; I sense a threat and have to take them seriously,” Ruskin tried to explain more clearly. “The maids’ confidence must come from their master.”

“So, you believe His Highness the Prince is behind this. Are you planning to take him on?” Lai Li chose his words carefully and asked in a lowered voice.“Take him on? No, I’ve never thought of it that way.” 

Ruskin waved his hands hurriedly, glancing cautiously around him, finding the suggestion too absurd. “I was just wondering—if he harbors resentment over past experiences, is sending him to the Snow Domain really a wise choice?”

Robert and Lai Li exchanged a glance and fell into silence. After a long moment, Robert ran his fingers through his hair, ruffling his auburn locks into a messy, bird’s-nest-like pile on top of his head.

Ruskin’s words had left him deeply troubled.

“The letter of credence has already been sent, bearing the king’s signature and seal. The Wraith King of the Snow Domain has personally delivered a gift, and word has spread. Even if what you say is true, no one will believe you. They’ll deliberately ignore your concerns, accusing you of ulterior motives, of trying to disrupt and undermine the alliance,” he said.

Lai Li quickly added, “Even if someone did believe you, so what?”

Yeah, so what.

The three fell silent, standing where they were, each feeling a mix of emotions.

A small squadron of knights rode past, no more than ten meters away.

The squadron consisted of thirty knights, all clad in black armor, mounted on tall, sturdy warhorses lavishly decked out in full tack.

They wore iron helmets and masks covering their faces. Their weapons were slung over their shoulders or strapped to their horses’ backs, and they bore no further identifying marks. Even if they wore matching rings, they were now hidden beneath gloves, invisible to the naked eye.

Behind the knights followed a large group of goblins.

They carried ropes over their shoulders, the other ends of which led porcupines of varying sizes, from at least three different herds. Only goblins knew how to tame porcupines and raise them well.

These porcupines would replace horses and mules in Cen Qing’s ranks. Their long quills served as anchors, and in times of danger, they became deadly weapons.

“It’s the Black Knights.” Recognizing the passing column, Ruskin’s expression grew even darker.

Robert and Lai Li had heard the legends of these knights; they exchanged a glance but said nothing, silently watching the column depart.

After the Black Knights and the goblin column had passed, a large group of re-clad slaves followed closely behind.

Compared to when they first arrived at the Black Tower, they were completely transformed.

The tattered burlap had been discarded, and they now wore warm robes and leg guards. The fabric was coarse, but it covered their torsos and limbs, protecting them from frostbite.

They now had hats and shoes, and the frostbite on their fingers had been treated with ointment prepared by the maids; even though the pain and itching were unbearable, they were reluctant to wipe away even a single drop.

The days spent following the First Prince felt like a dream.

They ate their first-ever filling meal and slept in a warm room for the first time—it was all too good to be true.

When they learned they would be accompanying Cen Qing to the Snow Domain, they had no objections whatsoever. Without the steward needing to crack his whip, they vied with one another to roll up their sleeves and get to work.

The thorn maids stepped out of the Black Tower, slightly surprised by the slaves’ transformation, but they soon understood.

Especially those like Juandan, who had spent a hundred years in the dungeon.

“It’s easy to understand.”

The moment they regained their freedom, beyond their hatred for Gorod, they felt even greater gratitude toward Cen Qing, swearing allegiance to him until the end of their lives.

“These people are no different.”

Warm clothing, food to fill their bellies, precious ointments. Most importantly, the hope that kept everyone alive.

This was what Cen Qing had given them.

They would also strive to repay him, doing everything in their power.

It took several days to assemble the convoy.

Between personnel assignments, inventory checks, and various other tasks, a separate camp had to be set up within the city specifically for parking the vehicles.

Zax dared not be the slightest bit careless; he handled everything personally, which unexpectedly turned his reputation around.

In the eyes of the nobility, he was no longer merely a sycophant; he was now seen as possessing some measure of competence, barely befitting his current position.

“Carriages, provisions.”

“The gift chests—separate the gems, pearls, and furs.”

“Feed for the warhorses—who mixed up the feed?”

“Damn it, what’s growing between your ears—stones?!”

As he walked through the camp, roars echoed from all directions—from the record-keepers, the knights’ captains, and the overseers directing the slaves.

The nobles’ carriages were stationed in separate areas, with different families clearly demarcated, making it difficult to mix them up.

This situation changed when Cen Qing’s party arrived.

The first to arrive were the Black Knights—the very group Ruskin and his two companions had witnessed.

The second group was the thorn maids, followed by goblins and a small number of slaves like Tiemu, serving as the prince’s attendants.

Cen Qing appeared last.

As he stepped out of the Black Tower, the heavy snow had just ceased, and the sky was beginning to clear.

Vivid beams of colored light fell from the clouds, diffusing outward and casting rippling patterns of light onto the ground.

This dreamlike scene lasted for several dozen seconds before finally dissipating completely, squeezed out by the stratus clouds.

“Your Highness, it is time to board the carriage.”

Moli walked beside Cen Qing, reminding him that it was getting late.

Cen Qing tore his gaze away, stepped down the stairs, and climbed into the carriage parked in front of the Black Tower.

Behind him, large swaths of thorns peeled away from the Black Tower’s outer walls.

Before they hit the ground, countless thorn branches shot through the windows, scouring every room of the castle and carrying away everything that could be moved—including, but not limited to, ornaments, furniture, carpets, and candelabras. Cen Qing’s large bed was also dismantled, with the bed frame, posts, and mattress being transported out of the room in batches.

Were circumstances not forbidding it, the thorns would likely have dismantled the Black Tower and rebuilt it exactly as it was on Cen Qing’s future estate.

“Old Buck.”

Moli stood on the steps, directing the thorns to pack the luggage, while not forgetting to summon the last remaining goblins in the tower.

She called out several times before a few hunched figures finally appeared.

They were short in stature, their faces creased with wrinkles. Their protruding ears hung from either side of their heads, like broken fan blades.

“Up.” Moli pointed to the small cart woven from thorns, which had a raised canopy that could be covered with animal hides for warmth.

The old goblins rubbed their eyes, unable to believe they were being taken along.

“Is His Highness truly willing to take us?”

“Of course.” Moli surveyed the goblins, most of whose teeth had fallen out, and said solemnly, “I told you long ago that His Highness has decided to take all the goblins.”

“But we’re old now, and we’re of no use. We can’t even lift a kitchen knife…”

“Stop.” Moli cut him off immediately, reiterating Cen Qing’s order. “His Highness’s meaning is clear: harbor no doubts. You have cared for him for a hundred years, always diligently and loyally. He is about to leave Golden Rock City and will certainly not abandon you. Of course, if you have other plans, he will not force the issue.”

The goblins’ eyes reddened; they raised their arms to wipe away their tears and prostrated themselves on the ground, crawling toward the carriage.

“We are willing to follow His Highness until we return to the earth!”

“Even if we die and our bones rot in the soil, our souls will loyally guard His Highness the Prince!”

Once the goblins had crawled to their feet, Moli pointed toward the trailer: “Hurry up and get on—don’t waste any time.”

“Wait a moment—we still have our old friend.” Old Buck relaxed, suddenly becoming agile, his steps carrying a breeze.

He turned and went back into the tower. Before long, he led out a porcupine just as old as himself.

This porcupine was nearly as old as he was; many of the porcupines in the Black Tower were its descendants.

It had been well cared for; though old, it was still strong, with good speed and stamina. It could still haul the goblins on long journeys, traversing the snowy terrain day and night.

“It can pull a cart. Can we take it with us?” The old goblin gripped the porcupine’s quills as he tried to negotiate with Moli. “I can guarantee it won’t be a burden.”

“Moli, take it with us,” Cen Qing’s voice came from nearby. He rolled down his car window, overheard the conversation between the maid and the goblins, and witnessed the goblin’s actions—he was willing to grant their wish.

“Since His Highness has agreed, let’s take it,” said Moli.

“Thank you, Your Highness!”

The goblins immediately beamed with joy.

They led the porcupine to the trailer and skillfully harnessed it with a rope.

Their movements were practiced, and their work was done with remarkable efficiency, as if they had suddenly regained their youth overnight.

The journey from the Black Tower to the camp required traversing half the city.

Cen Qing leaned back in the carriage, a snow leopard cub curled up on his lap, fast asleep.

Through the carriage window, he could hear a cacophony of sounds: voices, the rumble of wheels, footsteps, and the howling wind.

From the day he was born until now, he had never truly looked at this city.

Today was no different.

“Your Highness, the Mistress’s summer palace is up ahead.”

As the vehicle passed through a street, the surroundings suddenly fell silent. The clamor vanished without a trace, as if they had shifted through space and entered another world.

“My mother’s summer palace?”

“Yes, this is where you were born.” Moli sat across from Cen Qing. After a moment’s hesitation, she rolled down the window and pointed to the building in the distance. “She also spent her final days here.”

Cen Qing looked up and gazed outside.

The heavy snow had ceased, but the wind remained bitterly cold, lashing his face like a knife cutting to the bone.

The view outside was wide open; there were no pedestrians on the road, and the buildings along the way were clearly visible.

It was a fiery-red palace—vibrant and exuberant—a stark contrast to Golden Rock Fortress, as if representing two extremes.

Over the course of a century, the palace had lost its master, and its once-glorious colors had faded into decay.

The doors and windows were tightly shut, the roof covered in remnants of snow, and icicles hung in rows from the eaves.

The courtyard was overgrown with weeds, withered in the winter, exuding an air of decay. The fountain within the courtyard was dry, and the main gate was rusted and pitted, looking as if it might collapse at any moment.

“Ever since the mistress passed away, Gorod has used that as an excuse to seal off the palace and relocate all the residents in this area. This place was meant to be yours…” Moli’s voice was slightly hoarse; it was rare to see her so despondent.

Cen Qing surveyed the castle in the distance; the snowlight reflected in his pitch-black pupils, giving them a glass-like sheen.

He withdrew his gaze and corrected Moli’s statement: “No, Moli, you’re wrong.”

“Your Highness?”

“This beautiful building belongs to me—not that it ‘should have belonged to me.’” He turned to gaze at Moli, his voice soft and gentle, as if speaking words of love, “Including Golden Rock City, and the Vampire Clan Kingdom.”

Moli stared at him in a daze; for a moment, she was reminded of the Queen of Yin on the battlefield.

Full of vigor and vitality, her spirit soaring.

She was like a blazing fire; wherever her light fell, everything would be melted by her.

Her son, however, was the complete opposite.

He was like moonlight—cool and crystalline, soft and luminous, as elusive as a gentle breeze. One often overlooked the danger lurking beneath the light and shadow, where a deadly intent lay hidden.

“Please forgive me; it was my oversight.” Moli bowed her head, her tone solemn.

“It’s all right, my dear Moli.” Cen Qing rested one arm on the windowsill, tilting his head to rest it on his arm, a faint smile on his lips that felt like a breath of spring breeze. “I am heading to the Snow Domain today, and one day I will return. I hope you can help me so that I may achieve all this sooner.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

For the rest of the journey, neither of them spoke.

The carriage picked up speed, its wheels rolling as it sped through the empty streets.

The goblin’s trailer followed close behind; the elderly porcupine seemed rejuvenated, running with renewed vigor.

A massive mass of thorns rolled like a dark cloud, carrying the supplies brought from the tower, sweeping across the road in waves as it chased the carriage forward.

Buildings on both sides of the road receded at lightning speed, and the fiery-red castle was left behind.

The structures gradually shrank in the field of vision until they vanished into the gray mist, disappearing without a trace.

In the afternoon, Cen Qing’s carriage arrived at the camp.

As planned, the convoy would set out at sunset, journeying through the night toward the kingdom’s northern border.

The vampire clan does not fear sunlight, but they prefer the moon’s glow.

As the convoy departed, a long line of vehicles stretched out, and knights on horseback formed several columns, passing through the city gates in a grand procession.

Flags fluttered on the city walls, and the deep toll of bells echoed through the night sky.

Nobles such as Bashir appeared on the city walls to watch the procession depart. Regardless of their differences, now that the matter was settled, they all hoped the mission would proceed smoothly.

Gorod did not make an appearance.

Even as the massive convoy crossed the snowy expanse and vanished into the night, His Majesty the King remained unseen from the city walls.

The nobles were deeply disappointed.

They gained a clearer understanding of Gorod’s reckless behavior.

“Let’s return.”

Chancellor Bashir was the first to turn away; the hem of his cloak billowed in the wind, revealing a dark-colored robe.

The somber fabric, embroidered with gold thread, created a striking contrast that assaulted the viewer’s eyes, evoking a sense of opulent awe.

The ministers followed behind Bashir, exchanging no further words as they silently boarded their carriages.

As the carriages passed through the city, the nobles pushed open the windows and gazed toward Golden Rock Fortress, their eyes flickering with a complex array of emotions.

Moments later, the windows closed, and everything vanished into the darkness, hidden within the snowy night, leaving not a single trace behind.

As the procession moved forward, a vast flock of crows appeared in the sky, pressing northward like a dark cloud, heading toward the kingdom’s border ahead of them.

At the same time, the Wraith King also set out from Storm City.

The worg raced through the snow, the giant owl soared through the sky, and the Wraith King, flanked by his guards, journeyed through the wind toward meeting his bride, the future queen of the Snow Domain.

Howl—

The worg raised its head and howled, while the giant owl let out a shrill cry.

The Wraith’s procession transformed into a gale, piercing the snowfields like a sharp blade.

Both the barbarian tribes and the growing rebel forces fled at the mere sound of their approach, fearing that to block the wraiths’ path would mean being reduced to bones, with no place to be buried.