Chapter Bonanza (3/5)

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Giant owls soared through the skies, and worgs raced across the land.

The sudden appearance of the wraith legion threw the rebel forces attacking the dock-fortress into instant chaos.

Deprived of unified command, the rebels thought only of survival; their fighting spirit completely shattered, they fled in wave after wave at the first sign of danger.

They transformed into long-distance runners, running at the fastest speeds of their lives, racing each other to escape the battlefield, attempting to flee into the boundless, desolate forest.

Like a blade slicing through the air, the wraith legion split in the center: some pursued the fleeing troops to the edge of the forest; others patrolled the battlefield, searching for stragglers.

A few stragglers, unable to escape in time, attempted to hide by feigning death.

Alas, it was all in vain.

Whether fleeing or playing dead, none could escape the fate of annihilation.

The giant owls, their eyes sharp, took turns diving toward the ground. Their massive wings whipped up gales, and wherever their talons struck, they effortlessly tore apart their fleeing targets.

A pack of worgs gathered outside the dock-fortress. The wraiths riding their backs were shrouded in a blue, ghostly glow. The pack raced forward, charging into the chaos and tearing through the fray, leaving a trail of blood in their wake.

At the center of the battlefield, a dark red hue blanketed the ground.

A carriage stood at the center of the crimson stain, its roof torn off, leaving the bare interior exposed. Cen Qing sat by the window inside, raising his arm to shield his eyes, his expression betraying his astonishment.

The giant owl flew close once more, reaching its talons into the carriage.

Accompanied by a cold gust of wind, he was suddenly pulled out of the carriage. The ground receded instantly, and blue swirled rapidly into his field of vision.

“Your Highness!”

Moli turned pale with shock and lunged forward, trying to grab Cen Qing. Unfortunately, she was a step too late; she only managed to pull off his cloak, missing him entirely.

The warhorse, startled, dared not approach. The Black Knight simply dismounted and ran on foot toward the carriage, intending to block the wraith in the sky.

The thorn maids gathered around the carriage. As they ran, they transformed into thorns, their upper bodies shooting upward, arms reaching toward the sky—yet they still could not close the distance to Cen Qing.

They had never felt so helpless as they did at that moment.

They could only watch helplessly as the giant owl flew away, letting Cen Qing drift out of sight and vanish behind the clouds.

“Your Highness!”

“I’m fine. Stay where you are!”

Just before he vanished, Cen Qing’s voice echoed from the sky.

He was calming the maidservant and the Black Knight, preventing them from acting rashly in their desperation.

Even so, the latter was still filled with rage, especially the thorn maids.

They glared up at the sky, their eyes stained crimson, their eyes bulging with fury.

A mist of black vapor swirled around them, while the thorns beneath their feet coiled like venomous snakes; their sharp spines glinted with a cold light, radiating boundless murderous intent.

A wraith sensed the chaos here. Not wanting to cause a misunderstanding, he immediately informed her companions and led his worg alone to approach.

“Do not worry about your prince; that is His Majesty.”

The massive wolf’s head pressed close, its fangs sharp, with fresh flesh and blood still clinging between them—remnants of the slain rebel soldiers.

Upon learning his identity, the maids’ anger did not diminish in the slightest; on the contrary, it flared up even more fiercely than before.

The Wraith King, the ruler of the Snow Domain?

True to his reputation as a tyrant—he’s nothing but a bandit, a robber!

Regardless of how furious the thorn maids were, Cen Qing was carried away by the giant owl, swiftly transported far from the battlefield, rising higher and higher above the ground.

A biting wind swept past him, producing strange sounds that pounded against his eardrums, disrupting his hearing.

Reason told Cen Qing that he must remain calm.

Having missed his best chance to break free, it would be unwise to act now. The situation had unfolded differently than expected, but it wasn’t entirely disastrous.

As Cen Qing thought this, his mind grew increasingly clear.

He began to consider more practical matters.

The bird’s sharp talons were clamped around his waist, and the position made him extremely uncomfortable.

He turned his head to look over his shoulder, but all he could see were snow-white feathers; the wraith on the bird’s back remained out of sight. He shifted his body within the confined space, not to break free from the grip, but simply to make himself more comfortable.

His cloak had been left behind in the carriage, and he felt a bit cold.

Fortunately, his coat had a thick lining, preventing him from freezing solid in the air.

A vampire frozen in the sky.

A strange thought suddenly popped into his head, and Cen Qing couldn’t help but curl the corner of his mouth at the ill-timed humor.

The giant owl flew higher and higher; the temperature dropped sharply, and it felt as though he could reach out and grasp the clouds.

The earth grew ever more distant; the endless barren forests, the scattered border dock-fortresses, and the frozen riverbeds all shrank beneath him.

The people below looked like ants, scurrying and running through the chaos. Even the massive fallen treants and snow giants appeared exceptionally small from this vantage point, like a cluster of matchsticks.

Cen Qing was familiar with the Black Tower’s vantage point, yet this experience was entirely different.

A sense of lofty superiority filled the air; everything lay beneath his feet, as if he could effortlessly control it all, taking whatever he desired.

This sensation was mesmerizing.

It lasted only an instant, merely a fleeting glimpse, yet it was enough to shake one’s resolve and stir a deep-seated yearning for domineering power.

The giant owl did not fly much further; it barely crossed the border and circled above the desolate forest.

A swift-flowing river cut through the woods, its channel at its narrowest still a hundred meters wide.

In the depths of winter, the river froze over, the ice crystal-clear, growing thinner toward the center. Beneath the ice, the current flowed ceaselessly; schools of fish migrated with the current, searching for potential breathing holes along the way.

The northern bank of the river belongs to the Snow Domain, while the southern bank is claimed by the vampire clan.

The tree species on both banks are similar; each stands tall and majestic, like rows of valiant warriors who have guarded the kingdom’s borders for centuries.

Downstream, the river branches into several tributaries. Over the long course of time, the water has changed course repeatedly, carving out numerous canyons that extend into the vast Snow Domain.

The canyons are naturally formed, winding and narrow inside, hiding countless winding paths; one can easily lose their way if not careful, making them unsuitable for long-term settlement.

Decades ago, a group of cave dwellers migrated here to escape the barbarian tribes.

Working together, they hollowed out the valley floor, carving out caves of various sizes and widening some of the paths, completely transforming the environment at the bottom of the valley.

A band of marauders stumbled upon this place. They slaughtered the cave dwellers, seized the caves by force through bloody means, and used them as a base to grow in strength.

That massacre turned the canyon into a river of blood.

To this day, the shattered bones of the cave dwellers still lie scattered across the canyon floor. On nights of blizzards, one can faintly hear the wails and cries of the wronged spirits.

Gorod allowed the Rebel Army to grow strong, solely to weaken the power of the border nobles.

Driven by self-interest, he sowed the seeds of his own downfall. Now that the situation has spiraled out of control—threatening his kingship and fueling even darker ambitions—he must bear the consequences alone.

It’s a lose-lose situation: harming the enemy only hurts oneself just as much.

Utterly foolish.

And what choice does he have?

Should he ignore it and let it run its course, or find a way to exploit it?

Gazing down upon the land, Cen Qing’s thoughts drifted far away; his many ideas tangled like a ball of yarn, making it difficult to untangle them all at once.

The map and the actual landscape were worlds apart.

Soaring mountains and towering peaks, highlands and dense forests.

Gorges with countless ravines, snowfields stretching for thousands of miles.

A multitude of wondrous sights filled his vision, and Cen Qing gazed in awe. Thinking of his own domain and comparing it to the map in his mind, his eyes sparkled with excitement.

He was far too quiet—neither screaming nor uttering a single complaint.

Such a reaction was truly unexpected.

The giant owl began to descend, landing on the branch of a massive tree.

It was an oak tree, over a thousand years old.

Its vast canopy spread out, standing alone to support a world of its own.

The trunk plunged straight into the ground, and the branches were thick and sturdy, yet they still swayed uncontrollably under the weight of the giant owl. Snow fell in a rustling shower, and the creaking sounds never ceased until the tree finally steadied itself after a long while.

The giant owl retracted its talons, and the restraints binding him vanished instantly. Cen Qing placed one hand on the trunk, feeling the rough grain of the wood beneath his palm. A bit of his tension dissipated, and he grew increasingly calm.

Behind him was the oak trunk, with the giant owl blocking his path ahead. He stood still, pulling his coat tighter around him, waiting for the owl’s master to appear.

The sky was clear and bright, the clouds parting and drifting away above the forest.

Sunlight caressed the earth, and patterns of light and shadow flowed above the trees, like a light veil dancing gracefully as it passed.

Beams of light pierced through the dense canopy, slanting into the gaps between the branches, their tips speckled with a kaleidoscope of colors.

A beam of light fell precisely upon Cen Qing’s face, casting a glow over his pitch-black eyes.

He instinctively squinted and raised his hand to shield his forehead.

His skin was porcelain-white, almost translucent in the light.

A cold breeze swept by; the branches tangled, and the gem-studded hair tie holding his hair in place unexpectedly came loose. His black hair slid down his shoulders, cascading like a waterfall behind him.

The giant owl crouched low.

A slender figure slowly descended to stand opposite Cen Qing.

Like all wraiths, he wore a long cloak, though the fabric was far more luxurious.

A wide hood covered half his face, revealing only a high, straight nose and crimson lips. The curve of his jawline was sharp, yet it did not appear sharp, only serving to highlight his exquisite features.

A strand of long hair slipped from the hood, catching Cen Qing’s eye.

It shone with a dazzling silver, as if starlight had fused with mithril.

The figure across from him said nothing; he began to approach Cen Qing, his steps light and his movements silent.

Without warning, the Wraith King raised his right arm and pinned Cen Qing against the tree trunk.

The vampire clan possesses exceptional agility—it is a racial trait.

But in that moment, that gift failed him, and Cen Qing found himself at a disadvantage in speed.

His back pressed against the rough tree trunk, a pale hand pressed against the side of his head. A chill crept closer, compressing his space, forcing him to lift his head and look up at the Wraith King before him.

Very tall.

Cen Qing was no short man, yet facing the Wraith King, he still had to look up.

The wind swept through the forest, the leaves rustling as they brushed against one another.

A beam of light grazed the tip of Cen Qing’s nose, momentarily blurring his vision and leaving him dazed for an instant.

The wide hood slipped off in the wind, revealing the Wraith King’s true face.

Elegant, noble, and cold.

As if a deity had taken up a brush, presenting a perfect work of art. Mesmerizing, even maddening, yet strangely devoid of life.

The vampire clan is creatures of darkness, and so are the Wraiths.

They are even more chilling.

“A tribute sent by the vampire clan—my bride.”

Icy fingers moved downward, lifting Cen Qing’s chin.

Their eyes met, and Cen Qing saw clearly: the other had eyes the same color as his hair, equally exquisite, yet radiating a chill.

“My future wife,” Wu Ying murmured softly, tilting his head closer to gently bite Cen Qing’s right earring. The hand gripping his chin tightened, as if clamping down on a beautiful, fragile bird.

Cen Qing offered no resistance; he allowed himself to be controlled, his smile radiant: “Your Majesty, it is a pleasure to see you.”

Wu Ying paused, gazing intently at Cen Qing from close range. He cupped the side of his face in his palm, a hint of confusion flickering in his eyes: “You’re pleased?”

“Of course.” Cen Qing nuzzled against his palm, mimicking the playful manner of a snow leopard. His gaze was soft and smiling, as if he were not facing the Wraith King of Wu—a tyrant renowned throughout the world for his bloodthirsty cruelty.

“I’ve written you many love letters. I imagine you’ve read them?” He reached out his arms and wrapped them around Wu Ying’s neck, drawing them even closer together.

“Ever since I learned you would become my husband, I’ve been thinking of you constantly. Day and night, I’ve longed to see you, to visit your palace. Will you grant my wish?”

Wu Ying looked down at Cen Qing, as if trying to see through his thoughts.

After a moment, a large hand cupped Cen Qing’s waist, and Wu Ying wrapped him in his own cloak, cupped his chin with his right hand, and pressed his icy breath against Cen Qing’s lips.

“You are clever, my Golden Rose.”

In the sky, more clouds dispersed, and bright light filtered through the treetops, falling upon the two of them.

King Wu Ying lifted Cen Qing with one arm and returned to the giant owl’s back: “According to the traditions of the Wraiths, I should simply take you by force and bring you back to my palace.”

“I don’t mind.” Cen Qing relaxed his body, resting his chin on the Wraith King’s shoulder. “I would be more than happy to submit to you, Your Majesty. But I must confess to you: I hate my father. If you take a liking to me, I do not wish for you to grant him any favors because of it.”

When one is not yet strong enough, one must learn to show weakness.

Before meeting Wu Ying, he had considered various scenarios, but after actually meeting him—even if only briefly—he was able to quickly adjust and choose the most advantageous path.

Honesty, candor.

The benefits are impossible to gauge for now, but there is absolutely no downside.

“The pact still needs to be sealed.” Wu Ying stepped onto the giant owl’s wing while setting Cen Qing down, his arm still wrapped around him. It was as if he had acquired a treasure—perhaps not the most fitting analogy, but in any case, a sense of novelty made him reluctant to let go.

“I have no objection to the pact, just don’t give him any more favors.” Cen Qing made no attempt to feign reserve; his finger brushed against Wu Ying’s chin, the gesture laden with seduction. He understood his situation: before truly seizing power, he needed to play the role of a tender lover, one who played to the other’s desires.

The giant owl took flight once more, flapping its wings out of the forest and retracing its path across the border to return to the skies above the dock-fortress.

The battle was over.

More than half of the rebel forces had been killed or wounded; the rest scattered in flight.

The dock-fortress gates stood wide open. The knights who were still able to move emerged from the dock-fortress and began clearing the battlefield in groups.

The delegation led by Zax found Cen Qing’s carriage. Seeing the wrecked carriage, various speculations arose, and even the worst possible thoughts began to surface.

“Are you sure it was the Wraith King? That he took the prince?”

“The wraith said it himself!” Moli spoke impatiently, pointing at the wraith not far away, giving none of them a friendly look.

The Black Knights had pursued them for some distance but lost their trail midway, forcing them to turn back and wait on the spot for news of Cen Qing.

Their expressions were grim.

Faced with the nobles’ incessant chatter, they could no longer contain their rage. More than one had a hand on their sword hilt, grinding their fangs with such force that they were ready to unleash a bloodbath right then and there.

The wraiths were keenly perceptive.

Some stood in the sky, others leaned against the backs of their worg mounts; even with their hoods pulled tight, the curves of their lips betrayed their amusement, as if they were eager to witness the vampire clan’s internal strife.

Buyette led the knights to arrive just in time, successfully separating the two sides and preventing a clash from erupting.

“Is that it?” a wraith leaning against the worg’s back remarked lazily.

“Don’t be so eager to see chaos.” Another worg approached him; his companion sat upon its broad back.

“The vampire clan’s combat prowess is cause for concern these days. A mere few tens of thousands of chaotic troops are enough to throw them into panic. A hundred years ago, they weren’t like this.” A third figure joined the conversation, guiding his worg closer. Around the worg’s neck was a chain made of bones—teeth from the Wasteland Realm— trophies from his adult years.

“Incompetent royalty, idle nobles, a decaying order of knights—it’s no wonder things have come to this.” The voice came from above; it was Fran, who was riding a giant owl.

The wraith on the worg raised his head; his hood slid down, its edges hugging his nose, highlighting his sharp, handsome features, as if carved by a knife or chisel.

As they spoke, a shadow appeared in the sky.

The wraiths abandoned their casual demeanor and immediately formed ranks.

Numerous giant owls flapped their wings and took to the sky, stirring up a bitterly cold gale. The worgs let out howls and gathered from all directions.

The commotion drew the attention of the vampire clan.

The crowd ceased their brawling and looked up in unison.

In the sky, a giant owl of snow-white color soared through the azure expanse, like a silver arrow piercing the heavens.

Two figures appeared on the owl’s back.

The Wraith King stood with his back to the light, his wide hood slightly lifted, a dazzling headdress resting on his brow, reflecting the color of his eyes and causing them to shimmer with radiant light for an instant.

In his arms, he held a dark-haired vampire clan member as if cradling a treasure—none other than Cen Qing, who had been taken away earlier.