Chapter Bonanza (5/5)

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After resting at the border for two days, Wu Ying’s party set out on their journey north.

As agreed upon by both sides, the vampire clan delegation traveled alongside Wu Ying to Storm City to attend the wedding of Cen Qing and King Wu Ying.

On the eve of their departure, Zax wrote a secret letter and, along with the alliance covenant signed by both parties, entrusted them to the skeleton knight to carry back to the Royal Capital.

“Your mission is complete. Now, deliver this letter and the alliance covenant back to Golden Rock City and ensure they are handed over intact to His Majesty the King.” Zax repeated his instructions, his tone solemn and earnest.

Cen Qing’s actions had alarmed him; he had been unable to eat or sleep day or night and felt compelled to inform the king of everything.

However, when he entrusted the letters, he misjudged the skeleton knight’s attitude.

The skeleton knights were part of the King’s Guard, tasked exclusively with the king’s safety. Aside from Gorod, they took orders from no one.

The captain of the knights was haughty; even back in the Royal Capital, he had looked down on Zax, despising him as a greedy little man who had risen through the ranks via nepotism.

This time, at the border, they had suffered heavy losses; the battle against the rebel forces had dealt the skeleton knights a significant blow.

Even so, they have not bowed their proud heads.

When facing the border knights, they might show a modicum of courtesy, respecting the other’s combat credentials.

But when it comes to Zax, they show not a shred of humility, continuing to act as they please, practically looking down their noses at him.

Taking the wooden box containing the alliance covenant, and paying no heed to the expressions of those present, the captain of the knights inspected it right there on the spot, pulled out Zax’s letter and flung it at him: “You can find someone else to deliver this letter yourself; I have no obligation to help you.”

With that, he took the alliance covenant in one hand and strode off.

The iron helmet reflected a cold light, his cloak billowing behind him, its crimson lining stinging Zax’s eyes.

“Your Excellency, he is far too arrogant!” exclaimed a viscount indignantly.

“The King trusts him more than he trusts me.” Zax was equally furious, but he concealed his emotions perfectly, letting nothing show on his face.

Watching the skeleton knight ride off into the distance, he made a mental note to remember this.

He would never forget this humiliation; one day he would exact his revenge, a hundredfold, a thousandfold, ten thousandfold!

“Gather everyone. Inspect the vehicles and supplies, and tend to the horses and mules. We must cross the frozen snowfields and keep pace with the wraiths. If any problems arise along the way, I will show no leniency. There will be severe punishment, and I will pursue the matter to the very end!” Zax turned to the nobles beside him, his gaze icy. “No matter who it is, no matter their status, no one will escape punishment. Is that clear?”

Sensing his resolve and realizing he had no intention of getting entangled with the captain of the knights, the members of the diplomatic mission abandoned their attempts at provocation and scattered like birds and beasts.

Each gathered their men, rushing to inspect the wagons, bundle the supplies, and feed the livestock, lest any mishap truly occur.

“Laird!”

Once the crowd had dispersed, Zax summoned his trusted bodyguard.

He handed the letter to the man and released the messenger hawk, intending to pursue a two-pronged approach to ensure Gorod received the news before he himself reached Storm City.

“The lord of the snow domain has agreed to an alliance, but the Prince’s intentions are uncertain, and his actions are hard to predict. He may prove detrimental to the Kingdom.”

Zax felt immense regret.

He shouldn’t have clung to a sliver of hope and insisted on sending Cen Qing to the Snow Domain.

Alas, one misstep led to a cascade of errors.

The matter was now set in stone; he could not possibly plot to kill the Wraith King’s wife in his presence, even if the wedding had not yet taken place.

For now, he could only hope that the kingdom would crush the rebel forces and swiftly quell the chaos on the northern border. Until then, Cen Qing was not yet fully grown; he lacked the power to turn against his homeland.

Zax raised his arm, and the messenger hawk flapped its wings toward the sky, vanishing in the blink of an eye as a black speck behind the layers of clouds.

“You must depart immediately,” he told his guard.

“As you command!”

The loyal family knight mounted his warhorse, clutching Zax’s secret letter, and galloped at full speed toward the vampire clan’s Royal Capital.

Shortly after the guard departed, the ranks of the Wraiths and the vampire clan were ready to march.

The worgs gathered to the sound of trumpets, a river of silver and gray flowing across the land.

The wraiths mounted the wolves, cloaks shrouding their bodies; slender hands grasped the reins—hands as delicate as works of art, yet possessing the strength to tear apart a giant beast.

The giant owl flapped its wings and soared into the sky, its back turned to the sunlight, casting a vast shadow across the ground.

The lead giant owl was pure white—the mount of the Wraith King. Gems hung from its neck, sparkling in the sunlight.

A long line of vampire clan carriages stretched out, laden with gifts bound for Storm City, piled high like small mountains.

A shadow swept overhead, causing the mules and horses in the procession to stamp their hooves restlessly and snap their necks repeatedly. Servants and slaves had to pull desperately on the reins to keep the carriages from careening out of control.

The Black Knights were fully armed. Thirty of them lowered their masks, their bodies radiating a terrifying aura of death, fully displaying their iron-willed ferocity. As they rode past, they rolled like dark clouds, their gloomy presence pressing down on the surroundings, placing immense pressure on the members of the diplomatic mission.

The goblins had prepared the carriages, and the porcupines pulling them were full of vigor. The quills on their bodies were even harder and sharper—perhaps because they were stained with blood.

“Your Highness, it is time to depart.” As the thorn maids spoke, the log cabin began to dismantle at a visible pace, vanishing from its spot.

The carriage had also been fully repaired; the roof was restored to its original state, showing no signs of damage. The interior was comfortably furnished, both warm and spacious, exuding a delicate fragrance.

However, just as Cen Qing had anticipated, he had no chance to step inside.

A snow-white giant owl descended from the sky, stirring up a gale.

The Wraith King stood atop the giant owl’s back. He lifted his hood and reached out to Cen Qing from mid-air.

His fingers were slender, his skin white to the point of transparency.

A long golden chain wound around his wrist, resembling shackles meant to bind evil spirits—luxurious and opulent. Though it shimmered with golden radiance, to the eye it evoked nothing but endless bloodshed.

“Come with me,” he said.

Cen Qing looked up at him and smiled brightly: “All right.”

He stepped away from the thorn maids and placed his hand in Wu Ying’s palm.

Slender fingers closed around him, and a gust of wind lifted Cen Qing, effortlessly carrying him onto the giant owl’s back.

The next moment, a chill swept over him, and he fell into a cold embrace. A terrifying force held him fast, leaving him unable to move.

The lord of the snow domain seemed to take great pleasure in restraining him. His demeanor was stern, as if he were holding a beautiful pet.

But he hadn’t been locked in a cage yet.

I wonder if that is his intention?

With this thought in mind, Cen Qing relaxed his body, showing no intention of resisting, and nestled against the wraith behind him.

Wu Ying lowered his head to gaze at him, his icy fingertips brushing over Cen Qing’s brow and eyes before suddenly lifting his chin.

The delicate features loomed large in his pupils. A chill breath brushed against Cen Qing’s brow, slid down his nose, and finally pressed against his lips.

“I want you.” his voice was low, yet clear in Cen Qing’s ears. “Once we return to Storm City, you will belong entirely to me.”

The hand on his waist was extremely cold, yet it conveyed endless heat.

Cen Qing narrowed his eyes, the corners drooping slightly, his expression languid and utterly alluring: “Your Majesty, can you make me happy?”

“I will.” Wu Ying clasped his hand, gently biting his fingertip, then parted his thin lips to take his knuckle into his mouth. “Whatever you desire, I will grant it.”

“I’ll tell you.” Cen Qing made no attempt to hide his wickedness. He bit down on a strand of the Wraith King’s hair, his voice filled with seduction, dripping with sweet poison. “What I want is child’s play for you.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he pressed his lips against Wu Ying’s Adam’s apple.

The golden-woven cloak was thrown open, enveloping him tightly. His world plunged into darkness, leaving only a terrifying, predatory aura.

A snow-white giant owl soared into the sky, its shrill cry tearing through the gale.

The wraiths blew their horns, and the worgs howled. One after another, they darted out like arrows, darting through the snow at such speed they left afterimages.

“Let’s go!”

The vampire clan boarded the carriages, and the procession accelerated in an instant.

The Black Knights galloped at the very front.

They kept their eyes fixed on the white giant owl, pursuing it relentlessly on the ground, never letting Cen Qing slip from their sight.

The thorn maids did not board the carriages; instead, they unleashed a vast thicket of thorns on the spot.

Thick thorn branches, like giant serpents, rolled forward through the snow, cleaving the vast sea of snow and propelling the maids’ pursuit of the wraith’s party.

The goblins drove the carriages, constantly cracking their whips.

The slaves followed close behind, their pace not a bit slower. Thanks to their thick coats and boots, they did not fear the trek through the snow at all.

The open wilderness unleashed their true nature; their restraints lifted, and some among them awakened their racial abilities as they pressed on in pursuit of the carriage.

It was hard to imagine that they had once been confined to a tiny space, their spirits broken, numbly awaiting death.

Now they resembled a band of warriors, willing to sacrifice everything for Cen Qing—whether soul or life.

The diplomatic mission’s contingent lagged slightly behind but was also striving to catch up.

The knights spurred their horses on, the carriages forming a torrent, their wheels rolling over the snow as they followed the worg’s tracks, racing northward.

The border knights left the dock-fortress, watching the massive procession fade into the distance.

Buyette and Origin stood side by side in the biting wind, both with grave expressions.

Only when the last vehicle had vanished from sight did the two turn their horses around and summon the knights back to the border dock-fortress.

“The border needs to be cleared—not just of the rebel forces, but also within the dock-fortress itself,” said Buyette.

“I understand,” Origin nodded.

They had chosen to accept Cen Qing’s invitation to rebuild the Border Knights, swearing allegiance to him as border nobles.

Before taking action, they must purge their surroundings and eliminate any suspicious elements.

They would unite with the remaining border nobles to fully fortify the northern frontier, leaving no hiding place for the king’s spies.

“Let’s go!”

The two exchanged a glance and simultaneously pulled tight on the reins.

The warhorses whinnied, then broke into a gallop, racing toward the dock-fortress.

To leave the borders of the vampire clan kingdom, they had to traverse a vast forest to enter the Snow Domain and set foot on the territory of the wraiths.

The forest stretched along the border, lying between the two nations.

The forest was home to towering ancient trees, dense thickets of low-growing shrubs, and a profusion of poisonous plants. Even in the depths of winter, it remained lush and vibrant, exuding a sense of vigorous vitality.

Though the forest appeared gloomy and forbidding, it was teeming with birds and beasts.

Primitive tribes migrate through it annually, a practice unchanged for tens of thousands of years. Over time, they have carved winding ancient trails through the woods, crisscrossing with waterways and stretching from north to south and east to west.

Giant owls soar above the forest, emitting piercing screeches.

The worg raced through the woods, swift as lightning. The wolf pack weaves through towering beech and oak trees, leaping over thickets, traversing the terrain as if it were level ground.

The vampire clan’s procession must ride at full speed to keep up with the worgs.

The members of the delegation are unfamiliar with the forest terrain, and the skeleton knights who had ventured deep into the woods were returning to the Royal Capital. The convoy encountered numerous difficulties along the way; carriages repeatedly crashed into tree trunks, and wheels became entangled in vines and fell off, slowing their progress.

“Watch out!”

“Stop dawdling, fix it quickly!”

The vampire clan knights rode past, waving their whips in frustration.

The slaves dared not flinch; while enduring the lashes and excruciating pain, they had to retrieve the lost wheels and repair the carriages as quickly as possible.

One man was accidentally entangled by vines and nearly dragged underground. He managed to break free, but his lower legs were already covered in blood, with large chunks of flesh torn away.

They did not have the good fortune of Tiemu and the others; they had neither thick clothing nor shoes, nor enough food. They received no protection whatsoever; even when injured, they had to work, and beatings were a constant threat.

By comparison, their plight seemed all the more dire.

“I really wish I’d been chosen back then…”

This was the greatest wish of every single one of them.

But it was impossible to fulfill.

The slaves seethed with resentment in their hearts, yet dared not voice it.

The knights in the delegation paid no heed to the slaves’ feelings or what they were thinking.

As long as they worked diligently and kept the caravan moving on schedule, whether these people harbored resentment or had other thoughts was of no consequence whatsoever.

Unable to resist, the slaves could only suppress their anger and work themselves to the bone.

Soon, the carriage was repaired, and the convoy set off once more.

The coachman kept cracking his whip, and finally, before sunset, they caught up with the main force, avoiding being left behind.

“Shall we rest a bit?”

“Should we keep going?”

“They say there are rogue troops lurking around here, and not long ago, it was a stronghold of the fallen treants.”

“Could there be a Mother Tree?”

“Who knows.”

No matter how much the delegation complained, the Spirit Horse did not slow down, and they had no choice but to keep up.

Whether it was good fortune or bad, as midnight approached, the worg ahead suddenly stopped running, coming to a halt beside a dried-up waterway and raising its head to howl.

The howl pierced the night and echoed through the forest.

The vampire clan could not understand the worg’s cry, but they could smell the lingering scent of blood.

Their instincts told them something was very amiss.

“Send someone to investigate.” Zax wasn’t riding in a carriage; he was on horseback. He consulted with Robert and the others, dispatching a squad of knights to investigate the direction from which the howl had come.

The knights rode off from the group and returned at a gallop a few minutes later.

They lifted their iron masks; their faces looked grim. They kept glancing back over their shoulders, their expressions anxious and clearly filled with dread.

“A tribe of carapaced people, numbering roughly five to seven hundred. They were ambushed; their camp was slaughtered—not a single one survived.”

Upon hearing this, Zax and the others frowned simultaneously.

The carapaced people are distant relatives of the Hunchbacks. They are not particularly intelligent, but they are exceptionally strong, with a layer of hard armor covering their backs that can withstand the slashes of heavy swords.

This race relies on nomadic herding for survival.

They are skilled at herding Blackhoof sheep and aurochs, roaming the borderlands year-round, and their presence is often seen in the North.

Their formidable combat prowess, combined with their simple-mindedness, makes them fight with reckless abandon. Under normal circumstances, few would dare provoke them, unless they were at their wits’ end and needed to risk a raid on their livestock.

“Could it be the Bandits?”

Zax and the others felt a chill run down their spines and immediately ordered the caravan to be on high alert.

Almost at the same moment, a strange sound erupted from the riverbank; the ground cracked, sending debris flying in all directions, the noise deafening.

Boom!

Amid the deafening roar, a vast number of trees toppled.

Two massive hands reached out from the fissure in the ground; their mud-like fingers clung to the edges of the crack, instantly eroding the permafrost. As if on cue, more giant hands emerged, pushing back in unison to widen the fissure further.

“Underground People!” Wu Ying recognized them and immediately blew his horn. The worgs began to gather, and the giant owl halted its advance, flying back to circle above the riverbed. The Wraith King stood atop the giant owl’s back, one arm wrapped around Cen Qing, gazing down at the forest below: “Goya, Fran, kill them.”

His voice was soft, as if guided by a thousand threads, resonating directly within the minds of the Wraiths.

“As you command, Your Majesty.”

The Wraiths let out shrill cries; their cloaks fluttered in the wind, and their hoods fell away, revealing their true faces. They were beautiful, as if carved from ice and snow—among the most striking races in the Four Kingdoms.

In this moment, beauty brought death. They stared at the monsters crawling out of the ground, dark currents surging in their eyes. Their lips curled into grimaces as they transformed into a horde of murderous spirits. 

The worgs leaped suddenly, their speed increasing as they charged straight at the underground people half-emerged from the fissure. 

As the underground people struggled to fend off the worg, the wraiths vanished onto its back. They transformed into shadows, striking the target from all directions. A sharp, icy glint flashed as blades sliced through the prey, taking its life in the blink of an eye. When the vampire clan arrived, they witnessed a horrifying scene. 

The underground people, standing tens of meters tall, were cut in half before they had fully crawled out of the fissure, then disintegrated into countless pieces, shattered beyond repair. 

Tentacles sprouted from some of the mud clumps, attempting to reassemble themselves, only to be shattered by the cold gleam the next moment. Their sludge-like bodies are the underground people’s natural ability; as long as they do not sustain fatal injuries, they can revive even after being torn apart. This makes them nearly impossible to kill, turning them into a nightmare for many races. 

The Wraiths, however, are their nemesis. They are cold, cruel, and show no mercy to their enemies. When they encounter the underground people, the latter are bound to hit a brick wall. A pack of wolves surrounds them, leaving the underground people no chance of escape. The Wraiths move through the darkness, their icy white blades crisscrossing and slicing. 

The underground people are powerless to fight back, instantly cut into countless pieces; their slime-like tentacles are severed before they can even grow, making the hope of reassembling their bodies a distant dream. 

The Wraiths revel in the slaughter. They venture deeper into the fissure, intent on finding more underground people. Unfortunately, aside from the first few to charge out, the rest had already fled at the first sign of trouble. They transformed their bodies into sludge, sinking deep beneath the permafrost, vanishing without a trace.

“They sure ran fast.” The wraiths returned empty-handed, their bodies solidifying atop the worgs’ backs. The fissure ceased expanding; the underground people’s corpses were trampled to pieces, their original forms completely unrecognizable.

Drawn by the scent of blood and flesh, tentacle-like vines burst from the forest, burrowing into the debris to voraciously absorb nutrients, stripping the underground people of their last chance of survival. The battle began suddenly and ended just as abruptly. 

Though this was merely the tip of the iceberg, Cen Qing had clearly witnessed the Wulings’ combat prowess—far more vividly than in the battles outside the dock-fortress. 

Terrifying. Powerful, ferocious, and awe-inspiring. 

No wonder they looked down on the current vampire clan and scorned Golden Rock City under Gorod’s rule. There was indeed nothing worthy of respect.

“What are you thinking about?” Wu Ying lifted Cen Qing’s chin, his fingertips grazing his throat, sending a tingling sensation through him. Cen Qing grasped that hand and tilted his head back to look at Wu Ying. “I was wondering if we could reach Storm City faster.”

“Is that so?”

Hidden beneath his hood, Wu Ying’s expression was unclear, but his voice betrayed his good spirits. The Wraith King lowered his head and gently kissed Cen Qing’s lips. His breath was icy, his voice soft: “You’re doing well, my beauty. I hope you’ll keep it up. ”

“I will.” Cen Qing placed his hand over the back of the Wraith King’s, rubbing his cheek against the palm like a lazy cat. “I belong to you, don’t I?”

“Not yet.”

A strong arm lifted Cen Qing, raising him effortlessly. Their perspectives shifted; Cen Qing now looked down at the Wraith King, yet he felt no sense of relief. Instead, he was bound by an even greater pressure, feeling uneasy all over.

“Only after the wedding will you belong to me completely.” Wu Ying cradled Cen Qing in one arm, his hand brushing against his cheek as his fingertips gently pressed against the corner of his mouth. “I’m looking forward to that day. ”

Cen Qing lowered his gaze, suddenly clasping Wu Ying’s fingers and biting his fingertip. The fangs of the vampire clan were sharp; he skillfully controlled his strength, gently grinding against the skin to leave a clear toothmark, yet never breaking the skin.

“So am I, Your Majesty.”His eyes crinkled in a smile, appearing gentle, calm, and harmless. His eyelids concealed a deep gaze; the surface was hazy, but within, endless darkness brewed.