The remains of the underground people would not go to waste. A vast number of vines surged out of the forest, coiling around the fissure in the ground. Like snakes and insects, they twisted and rolled, vying for the hardened fragments and absorbing the remaining nutrients. A profusion of mycelium emerged from the carapaced people’s camp. The mycelium grew at a visible pace; the stalks thickened, and petal-like caps unfurled at their tips. 

At first glance, they appeared vibrantly colorful, spreading out along the riverbed like a long, colorful chain. Beneath the caps, the carapaced people’s corpses rapidly shriveled. Flesh, bones, and even the hard armor they wore were broken down, turning into nourishment for the fungi, leaving not a single trace behind. 

Upon seeing these fungal caps, Juandan’s eyes lit up. She maneuvered the thorns through the cluster, picking the usable parts. These were precious materials, suitable for both medicine and poison; their growth required vast amounts of fresh flesh and blood, and whenever they hit the market, they were always snapped up in an instant. She had once kept a bag of them in her apothecary, but unfortunately, they had sat there too long and had all turned to ash, losing their medicinal properties. 

Having stumbled upon them by chance, she naturally wouldn’t let this opportunity pass.

“These can be used to make wound medicine; they’re extremely effective.” She plucked one from the thorns and carefully placed it in a specially made pouch. What wasn’t mentioned was that while this type of wound medicine was highly effective, applying it to a wound caused excruciating pain—so much so that few could endure it. 

The Black Knights were clearly victims of this. Seeing the maid’s high spirits, memories of the past flooded their minds. Thirty of them, including the most valiant and fearless captain, retreated in unison, politely declining such potions. The party rested briefly and set out again before dawn. 

The Wraiths maintained their pace, and the vampire clan quickened their steps. As the first rays of sunlight touched the earth, the group finally emerged from the Forbidden Forest and entered the vast snowfields of the Snow Domain. 

The climate in the Snow Domain was harsh; winter lasted for most of the year, with bitter cold that turned water to ice. The vast expanse of snow stretched endlessly; white waves rolled on the horizon, instantly forming snow walls several zhang high as they swept in on the cold wind. 

The worg pack ran against the wind, skillfully closing ranks as they moved, continuously tightening their formation. The strongest lead worg formed the spearhead, while the rest spread out behind, appearing from a bird’s-eye view like a sharp sword piercing the snowfield, cutting through the silver-white expanse. 

A giant owl soared through the sky, cutting through layers of gray clouds, matching the worgs’ speed and even briefly pulling ahead. The wraiths accelerated, one after another plunging into the gale, showing no sign of slowing down. 

The vampire clans were well aware of the dangers of the Snow Domain; if they failed to keep up with the group ahead, they would inevitably lose their way in the swirling blizzard.

“Speed up! We must catch up!”

Zax gave the order, and the knights spurred their horses into a frenzied gallop, racing forward at lightning speed. Tension ran high throughout the convoy, and a sense of urgency welled up. The coachman cracked his whip repeatedly and pulled hard on the reins. 

The heavy wheels crushed through the snow, their axles spinning so fast they nearly sparked. Though the Flame Horses could withstand the bitter cold, they were no match for the worgs, which were accustomed to extreme weather. 

Even as the coachman exerted all his strength, the vampire clan’s convoy gradually fell behind, growing ever farther from the wraith’s group. The vampire clan members were frantic with anxiety. 

They couldn’t help but suspect that the wraith intended to shake them off entirely, leaving them lost in the snowy plains to be buried by the freezing ice and snow.

“Tell everyone: if we can’t catch up, we’ll all be trapped here!” 

Zax decisively abandoned the carriage and mounted his warhorse once more alongside the knights. He wore no armor; his cloak billowed behind him, revealing a magnificent coat that stood out starkly against the sea of snow and clashed sharply with the knights around him. 

There was no time to dwell on it. He gripped the reins tightly, and the warhorse beneath him reared up, letting out a loud whinny.

“Speed up!”

Uncertain whether it was the Wraith’s malice or a sudden whim of mischief, the vampire clans dared not take any chances; they could only desperately pick up the pace. The knights galloped through the snow, one carriage after another plunging into the whirlwinds, navigating the tearing gales—it was nothing short of a desperate struggle for survival. 

Accidents were inevitable along the way. Riders frequently fell from their horses, swept away by the gale mid-journey. They were lucky not to have died, but their condition was far from good. 

When rescued by their companions, they were covered in wounds. Had it not been for their tenacious vitality, they would have long since been unable to move, left in the snow to become ice sculptures. 

In the sky, a giant owl flapped its wings overhead. The Wraith King stood atop the owl’s back, spreading his cloak to enfold his vampire beauty. His icy lips brushed against Cen Qing’s ear, biting down on her dangling earring as he whispered, “Do you like it?”

His words carried a hidden meaning. The vampire clan struggled on the ground as more knights fell from their horses; even Zax was nearly swept away by the wind, looking utterly bedraggled. 

Cen Qing’s ear felt slightly itchy; as his finger brushed his earlobe, it unsurprisingly grazed Wu Ying’s lower lip, which he gently bit down on.“Did you do that on purpose?” he asked.

“Since you don’t like them, they should stay here. The storm will bury them all, leaving not a trace.” Wu Ying’s tone was matter-of-fact, as if he were discussing the weather rather than the life-and-death fate of the vampire clan delegation. Cen Qing turned in his arms, resting her forehead against his shoulder. Her arms wrapped around Wu Ying’s waist, his fingers lightly hooking his belt, a suggestive hint of intimacy in the air: “You’re wrong.”

“I’m wrong?”

“I don’t just dislike them—I loathe them, and I hate them even more.” he lifted his lovely face, his jet-black eyes dark and still. Cen Qing curved his lips into a smile. “However, Zax cannot die yet.”

“Zax?”

“The Chief Envoy—the elder brother of the current Queen of the vampire clan.”

“I see.” Wu Ying lifted Cen Qing’s chin, his large hand brushing against his jaw before clasping the back of his neck, forcing him closer. “If you want him to live, he won’t die. But these lips belong to me, and I don’t want to hear anyone else’s name.”

Cen Qing was forced to tilt his head back, showing no intention of struggling, and leaned in even closer.

“I’m afraid I cannot do that, Your Majesty. I must still issue orders to my knights and servants.”

Blind obedience is not a wise course of action.

Occasionally going against the grain adds a touch of charm; it’s not a challenge to authority, and it does no harm.

Before Wu Ying could speak again, Cen Qing lightly kissed the corner of his lips and bit down on his lower lip. With an unbearable passion, he focused on wearing down the other’s will.

He greatly enjoyed being close to this ruler of the Snow Domain.

Every time he drew near him, the burning toxins within his body seemed to subside.

He was like an antidote.

This sensation captivated him deeply.

The wind continued to intensify, snow waves rolling in; the path ahead was blocked, making it difficult even for a worg to pass safely.

“Enter the canyon.” The wraiths made a timely adjustment; without warning, they vanished collectively from the vampire clan’s sight, disappearing in the blink of an eye.

“What’s going on?!”

Just as everyone was at a loss, several dark shadows swept overhead—a few giant owls had returned specifically to guide them, preventing the group from getting completely lost.

“Follow them!”

Realizing the urgency of the situation, the vampire clan dared not hesitate and immediately followed the giant owls’ lead, charging into the canyon.

The canyon lay at the mouth of the wind, like a long chain embedded beneath the snow.

Above, the snow was pristine and the wind bitingly cold, but inside the gorge, the temperature was pleasant. The rock walls on either side showed no signs of ice, and a hint of greenery even emerged from the ground beneath their feet.

The worgs arrived first. The Wraiths split up and ventured deeper into the gorge, clearing out anything that shouldn’t be there—such as hidden beasts or fleeing enemy troops.

The vampire clan members charged into the gorge; some tumbled down from the heights, making it difficult to maintain their composure. They simply cast aside their reserve, supporting one another to steady themselves.

No sooner had they steadied themselves than a deafening roar suddenly rang in their ears, followed by the ground shaking beneath them and a torrent of shards of ice tumbling from above, as if a snowstorm had descended.

“What’s happening?”

A vast cloud of white mist rose from the canyon, its touch bone-chilling enough to freeze the rock walls.

The worg, aware of the danger, dodged immediately.

The Flame Horse had no time to escape and was instantly swallowed by the white mist, turning into a series of ice sculptures within the fog—fragile to the touch, their life completely extinguished.

Large dark shadows appeared within the white mist, repeatedly crashing into the rock walls on either side, causing tremors and strange sounds.

The vampire clans felt a sense of dread.

“What is that?”

The Snow Domain and the Wraiths are equally mysterious.

The vampire clan had heard many tales of the mysterious, vicious beasts that dwelled here, yet opportunities to witness them firsthand were rare.

Unexpectedly, upon their first arrival in the Snow Domain, their eyes were opened wide.

A colony of ice worms inhabited the canyon.

Each could grow up to two meters long. They moved in packs, exhaling icy breath, and the flapping of their dorsal elytra produced eerie sounds resembling the roars of beasts.

Boom!

As the white mist drew near, the tremors suddenly intensified.

Another earth-shaking tremor sent large chunks of snow crashing down from above, striking the members of the vampire clan and obscuring their vision.

Their vision swayed violently, and within mere seconds, a massive shadow burst from the valley mouth.

Hundreds of ice worms formed a long chain, surging forward frantically. From the looks of it, they didn’t seem to be launching an attack, but rather fleeing for their lives.

Above the swarm of ice worms, the wraiths had gathered.

They did not draw their swords; instead, they formed ice spikes in their hands and hurled them at the swarm with the motion of javelin throwers, creating a terrifying whistling sound.

The ice spikes struck the swarm, pinning ice worms to the ground one after another. Their bodies twisted for a moment before stiffening; white liquid oozed from their wounds, freezing before it hit the ground and rolling into a carpet of white crystals, like pearls.

High above the canyon, the giant white owl showed no haste to descend.

It spread its wings and hovered mid-air, completely unaffected by the blizzard.

“What is that?” Cen Qing watched the battle between the Wraiths and the ice worms, a rare moment of curiosity stirring within him. “Are they species of the Snow Domain?”

Wu Ying ignored the battle in the canyon. Her finger slid down Cen Qing’s cheek as she said casually, “Ice Worms—mutations of the Wasteland Realm’s venomous insects. They can’t strictly be considered a species of the Snow Domain.”

“The Wasteland Realm?” Cen Qing looked slightly startled; he recalled Queen Yin’s diary.

In the diary, Queen Yin had mentioned the Wasteland Realm more than once.

During the vampire clan’s heyday, they held the majority of its territory and were the undisputed rulers of the continent.

After Gorod ascended to power, the vampire clan’s territory steadily shrank. The Wasteland Realm completely slipped from their control; they couldn’t even extend a finger there, let alone claim it.

Nowadays, the Wasteland Realm is controlled by the Snow Domain and the Flaming Realm.

The former is a kingdom founded by the Wraiths, while the latter is the territory of the Demon Clan, ruled by a Flame Demon—a savage and cruel being, renowned alongside the Wraith King.

Cen Qing fell deep in thought, his mind wandering.

Wu Ying gazed at him with an indulgent expression, wrapping an arm around him to shield him from the blizzard.

The battle in the canyon was drawing to a close.

The wraith was crushing their opponents, the ice worms were slaughtered to the last, the ground strewn with translucent white crystals, their surfaces shimmering with light—priceless treasures.

“During the wedding, I will personally hunt a strange beast and present it to you as a gift.” Wu Ying wrapped an arm around Cen Qing’s shoulder, her knuckles brushing against the corner of his mouth.

“Hunting?”

“A tradition of the wraiths.” Wu Ying tapped the sole of his boot lightly; the giant owl, receiving the signal, folded its wings and began its descent.

Midway through the descent into the canyon, he lifted his hood slightly, his silver eyes locking onto Cen Qing. His thin lips parted slightly, as if making a vow: “Only by paving the way with blood and life will I be worthy to enter your bedroom and truly possess you.”

His voice was soft, yet a deadly predatory intent settled within his words.

Wild, domineering—a brutality starkly at odds with his appearance—brewed into a unique allure that could easily tug at the heartstrings, nearly captivating the soul.

The blizzard raged for hours, during which the wraith and vampire clan forces remained in the canyon.

The thorn maids built a wooden hut at the bottom of the valley, but Cen Qing had no chance to step inside. He was held captive in the Wraith King’s embrace; hidden beneath his cloak, only the top of his head was visible.

The maids wanted to protest, but they were blocked by the wraiths and could do nothing about it.

“Please step aside,” Moli said, suppressing her impatience as much as possible to remain polite. “His Highness needs to take his medicine.”

“Medicine?”

The Wraith’s voice was very close. The next moment, the crystal vial in her hand was taken from her.

Fran raised the vial, swirled the liquid inside, and gave the rim a light sniff, easily identifying its contents.

“Has he been poisoned?”

The maids were astonished that he could discern the potion’s purpose at a glance.

Juandan tried to rush forward, but this time she was stopped by her own companion. Moli held out an arm across her path and said sternly, “We won’t say a word without His Highness’s permission. If you insist on blocking us, please do us a favor and deliver this vial to His Highness yourself.”

Moli’s demeanor was neither servile nor arrogant, but black mist swirled at her feet, revealing just how terrible her mood was—she was barely holding it in.

She wanted to kill someone.

Slaughter this meddlesome wraith!

Fran clearly sensed that the maid’s patience had reached its limit.

“I will.” He dropped his playful demeanor, nodded to Moli, then turned and walked away.

His arrival was timely; it coincided with the poison in Cen Qing’s body taking effect, causing him to cough violently.

Cen Qing remained with the Wraith King, while the giant owl spread its wings to envelop the two, creating a secluded space. Numerous wraiths stood guard on the periphery, ensuring no member of the vampire clan could approach.

“Your Majesty.” Fran pushed past the guards and approached the pair.

“What is it?” Wu Ying held Cen Qing in his arms, his fingers brushing against her neck. Through the gap in his collar, he saw the crawling runes; pressing his fingertips against them, he roughly deduced the cause of her symptoms.

It was poison.

Poison from the Realm of Flames.

“This is the Prince’s medicine,” Fran spoke without further ado, stepping forward to hand over a crystal vial.

Cen Qing immediately reached out to take it, uncorked the bottle, and drank half its contents. His symptoms were instantly relieved; his coughing subsided and was no longer as violent as before.

“You’ve been poisoned, and there’s a blood curse on you as well.” Wu Ying waved at Fran, signaling him to leave. With one hand, he lifted a strand of Cen Qing’s hair and turned his chin; he voiced his suspicions.

As he moved, the dragonblood stone in Cen Qing’s right ear swayed gently, casting a faint glow.

“My father poisoned me, and my mother was forced to place a blood curse on me to prolong my life.” He held nothing back, revealing his true situation. “The blood curse’s power is waning, but the poison continues to torment me. I need an antidote. Your Majesty, will you help me?”

Pale fingers gripped the ornate robe, knuckles white with tension, leaving creases in the fabric.

Cen Qing was pleading for help, but also testing the waters.

Wu Ying raised a hand to lift his hood, his thumb brushing the corner of Cen Qing’s eye as a light kiss landed on his forehead.

“I will.”

Those two brief words were a promise from the lord of the snow domain.

“If you wish for revenge, I can help you achieve it as well,” he continued.

Cen Qing wrapped his arms around Wu Ying’s neck, relaxed against his shoulder, and shook his head gently: “I want to do it myself.”

The thrill of revenge can only be savored by taking action oneself.

“You want to kill your father with your own hands?”

“Is that not allowed?”

Hearing this, Wu Ying gripped Cen Qing’s chin and gazed deeply into his eyes.

After a long moment, he suddenly smiled.

His fingers clasped the back of Cen Qing’s neck as he leaned down to kiss his eyes.

A cold breath trailed slowly downward, lingering briefly at the edge of his lips before pressing down completely, intent on robbing him of his reason and dragging him down with him.

“You truly fascinate me, my beauty.”

His words faded into the air, and a magnificent cloak enveloped them both.

For the first time, Wu Ying felt such restlessness.

He longed to take Cen Qing back to Storm City and hold a grand wedding.

Dark desires were brewing, and a frenzied possessiveness ran rampant.

He longed to treasure this beautiful golden rose, to have it bloom in his castle, forever blooming only for him.