Among the Four Dukes, Mostofa was the eldest. He was the same age as the previous Wraith King, possessed extensive combat experience, and was an exceptionally capable ruler. Having defended the Isolated Island Marshes for thousands of years, his authority was as unshakable as Mount Tai.

Lovell was very young; his experience paled in comparison to Mostofa’s, and he was no match for his other two colleagues either. He guarded the Snow Domain using heavy-handed tactics, which at one point forced the savage tribes to flee and migrate, sparking widespread discontent in the Flaming Realm.

Mina is the only woman among the Four Dukes.

Her title was not inherited but earned through military might and battlefield achievements. She defeated the previous Duke of the South, seizing his lands and title, along with a vast fleet of Wraiths dedicated to guarding the lengthy coastline.

Even when facing her own father, Mina showed no mercy whatsoever.

These are the rules of survival for Wraiths: cold, ruthless, securing everything through strength, and upholding absolute fairness. The three led their forces to the outskirts of the city, where banners of different colors fluttered in the wind, rustling loudly.

The mounts galloped in silence, racing one another; not a single one let out a roar, yet their presence was all the more terrifying. Their Wraiths were formidable in battle—a nightmare for all enemies.

Goya and Fran had no time to rest.

To prepare for the massive procession, they had to work nonstop, kept utterly swamped.

It wasn’t until ten minutes before dawn, when everything was in order and they had confirmed there were no oversights, that they were finally able to catch their breath. The two sat on the ground back-to-back, glanced sideways at each other, and burst into laughter for no apparent reason.

“If it weren’t for His Majesty’s wedding, Storm City wouldn’t be this lively.” 

“More people are still on their way.”

“We are beings of the shadows; we shouldn’t be in such a commotion.”

“It’s hard to be in the shadows these days.”

“Indeed.”

The first rays of dawn pierced the darkness, and the ice storm that had raged all night came to an abrupt halt. The morning glow painted the sky, spreading vast swaths of gold and red.

In the morning light, a snow wolf raced across the wilderness, moving as fast as lightning. Riding on its back were the Wraith King and his queen.

Returning from their summer palace, the two rode toward Storm City, heading straight into the dawn’s glow.

“Until the day of the wedding, no more blizzards will arise in the Snow Domain.” Wu Ying lifted his cloak, letting the hood blow off in the wind. His voice was clear, tinged with a hint of laughter, revealing his cheerful mood.

Cen Qing leaned against him, cradling a handful of lotus blossoms in his arms.

Even out of the water, the petals remained fresh, reflecting the morning sunlight and appearing all the more crystalline and dazzling.

“I heard from the snow sprite that you are the embodiment of the Snow Domain,” said the dark-haired vampire clan member, plucking a petal and gently touching it to his lips. He then tilted his head back to look at Wu Ying, brushing the edge of the petal across the corner of his lips. Her eyes shone brightly, without a trace of shadow. “So, can you control the weather in the Snow Domain?”

“I can.” Wu Ying seized Cen Qing’s wrist, leaned down, and bit off the petal, gently crushing it between his teeth before swallowing it bit by bit. “But I must follow certain rules.”

“Rules?”

“Blizzards may occur in summer, but they cannot turn into a bitter winter. Winter may have warm sunshine, but it cannot be as warm as spring.” Wu Ying cupped Cen Qing’s chin, running his fingers through his hair, then leaned down to kiss his eyes lightly, his breath seeming to carry the scent of flowers. “If there’s anything else you want to know, you can ask me.”

“That’s all I can think of for now.” Cen Qing swept a strand of his silver hair from his face and wound it around his finger. His gaze glided over Wu Ying’s neck; the bite marks from last night had already vanished, and the cold blood flowing through his veins always stirred his desire. “I’m very much looking forward to our wedding, Your Majesty. I will belong entirely to you, and you will belong to me—I can be certain of that, can’t I?”

“Of course, my golden rose.”

Wu Ying chuckled softly, pressed his lips to the one in his arms, and held him even tighter.

The snow wolf suddenly accelerated; the earth and sky receded rapidly, and the vast snowy plains surged backward like a tide.

A majestic snow-capped mountain loomed over the horizon; the city atop its peak was bathed in the glow of the sunset, its walls reflecting white light, and rainbow bridges spanned the sky above the city. The scene was as dreamlike as a fantasy, resembling a paradise on earth.

While the Snow Domain basked in sunshine, the Vampire Kingdom remained shrouded in dark clouds.

In the distant Golden Rock City, a Messenger Eagle flew over the city walls, heading toward the complex of buildings situated in the city center. Shortly after the Eagle appeared, the knights dispatched by Zax also arrived outside the city gates.

Carrying Zax’s secret letter, he had traveled day and night, arriving utterly exhausted. Upon entering the city, he spurred his horse through the bustling marketplace, knocking over several roadside stalls.

“Watch out!”

“Can’t you see?!”

Ignoring the vendor’s complaints, the knight continued to crack his whip, quickly leaving the bustling streets behind and arriving at Golden Rock Fortress, the symbol of royal authority.

He dismounted in front of the palace, lifted his helmet slightly, revealing a pair of blood-red eyes: “By order of Count Zax, I have an important letter for His Majesty!”

The palace guards granted him passage, and Laird strode quickly toward the castle gates.

No sooner had he climbed two steps than he bumped into several figures—the Skeleton Knights who had returned ahead of him.

Dressed in blood-red armor, they strode down the steps, laughing and chatting as they brushed past him, completely ignoring the dust-covered knight.

Thinking of the Skeleton Knights’ humiliation of Zax, Laird’s body stiffened for a moment.

Only after they had walked far enough away did he unclench his fists, continue up the steps, and stride through the castle gates. Soon after, bells rang out from within the palace, summoning the kingdom’s high officials.

The nobles, not daring to delay, hurried to Golden Rock Fortress in their carriages.

As their carriages passed each other on the road, they exchanged glances through the windows—their eyes dark and inscrutable, their minds filled with various speculations, yet not a single one dared to voice them.

The Skeleton Knights had come and gone.

Summoned twice in a single day, the captain sensed that something was amiss. The nobles’ carriages arrived one after another, and the castle guards cleared the way.

The crowd ascended the steps and marched straight into the majestic ancient castle. Without needing a servant to guide them, they passed through the corridors to the council hall and stepped through the open doors.

On the third floor of the castle, on a terrace blooming with roses, Queen Zuona stood behind the railing. The hem of her magnificent gown spread out across the ground; her collar and cuffs were embroidered with large, vivid red roses, the patterns lifelike and vivid.

Her left hand rested on the stone ledge, while her right hand held the hand of a brown-haired boy.

The boy was still very young, his childish face still round with baby fat. His hair lay smoothly against his neck, the ends tucked beneath a lace collar, giving him a rather delicate appearance.

He was Dalton, Zuona’s son and the youngest legitimate child of King Gorod.

The little prince had inherited Zuona’s hair and eyes, bearing the distinctive features of the Zax family; in fact, he bore little resemblance to Gorod. He was always quiet—unusually so—and did not at all resemble a two-year-old child.

Rather than being described as composed, he was essentially timid, with an innate fear of violence and conflict—a trait that greatly disappointed Zuona.

“My Dalton, you need to be stronger.”

Looking down at the carriages arriving in single file, Zuona bent down to pick up the little prince, kissing his cheek tenderly, while a glimmer of resentment and ambition flickered deep in her eyes.

Just yesterday, the king had fathered another set of illegitimate children—twins, a boy and a girl.

Their birth pleased Gorod; he even announced publicly that he would hold a grand banquet for the two and allowed them to call him “father” once they came of age.

This was an unprecedented privilege.

As for the prince and princess who had been stripped of their titles, they could only address Gorod as “Your Majesty”! How ironic!

Zuona was furious.

Sitting in the queen’s seat, her fingertips trembled as she felt everyone was mocking her. She could not even publicly oppose the king’s decision or denounce it as a humiliation inflicted upon her by her husband.

Behind her anger lay a deep sense of unease.

Thinking of the fates of the previous queens—and what they had all endured when cast aside—Zuona sank into deep anxiety, fearing she too would follow in their footsteps.

Would she be stripped of everything, thrown into a dungeon with no light, falsely accused of crimes she didn’t commit, and ultimately meet a violent end?

Whenever these thoughts crossed Zuona’s mind, she couldn’t help but shiver all over.

She bit down on her thumb until a drop of blood appeared at the tip.

The pure noble blood was irresistible; the little prince instinctively leaned in, his expression filled with longing: “Mother…” Without hesitation, Zuona fed her blood to her son.

Dalton clung to his mother’s arm and nestled affectionately into her embrace.

Zuona gently patted his back. Catching a faint sound behind her, she whispered, “Habuke.” Her loyal Mixed-blood servant bowed low to the ground, quietly awaiting her orders.

“I want to know everything that happened at this meeting—including what the king said, what decisions he made, and all the ministers’ reactions.”

“As you command, Your Majesty.”

Habuke stepped off the terrace, his figure vanishing from the room as silently as he had arrived.

Zuona stood there for a moment longer, making sure no more carriages were arriving, then carried the little prince back to her room. The child in her arms was already dozing off.

“Your Majesty, please let me take the Prince.” The lady-in-waiting, Diya, stepped forward and carefully took Dalton from her arms, moving with caution and gentleness. Zuona trusted her implicitly and felt comfortable entrusting her own bloodline to her care.

“There’s no need to take him back. Let him rest in my bedchamber. Let him sleep a little longer,” she said.

“Yes, Your Majesty.” The lady-in-waiting carried Dalton away, pushed open a door leading to the inner chambers, and stepped inside. Zuona walked over to the fireplace, clasped her hands together, and clenched her knuckles until they turned white.

The firelight illuminated her face as she watched the dancing flames, and she couldn’t help but recall what Cen Qing had said. The king had a pathological thirst for power and a compulsive need for control.

He would not tolerate anyone challenging his authority—whether it be his wife, son, daughter, or his ministers.

When Cen Qing was in Golden Rock City, he was Gorod’s greatest threat. Now that he’s gone, Zuona and Dalton’s positions have become apparent—and that’s a dangerous sign.

He never hid his intentions; he openly stirred up trouble, driving a wedge between the couple at the pinnacle of power in the kingdom.

But it was all true.

The more Zuona thought about it, the more uneasy she felt. She paced back and forth in front of the fireplace, never having wanted Zax by her side more than at that moment.

“Zax, my brother, I need you.”

“I must take on everything—for the sake of my bloodline.”

She made a decision of some sort and came to an abrupt halt.

She raised her pale wrist; the bird perch by the window rattled, and the chain on the Blood Owl’s leg loosened. The dark bird flew toward Zuona and landed on her outstretched forearm.

“Go to the kingdom’s borderlands and wait for my brother.” Unwilling to rely on a written letter, Zuona chose to speak the message directly. This was a natural gift of the Zax family: their tamed blood owls could speak human language and convey secret messages among family members.

The blood owl’s eyes changed color as it committed every word she spoke to memory, then flapped its wings and flew out the window, vanishing into the biting cold wind.

“Gorod, you can’t blame me. I just want to protect myself and my son. I won’t let him become like his older brother—I absolutely won’t!” Zuona muttered to herself as she watched the Blood Owl fly away.

She wanted to live—she would never end up like the queens of past generations. She also had to protect her son.

Having witnessed what had happened to Cen Qing and the other princes, the mere thought of Dalton ending up in such a situation drove her to the brink of madness.

“My bloodline is just as capable of ascending to the throne.”

Anger, worry, ambition.

Different emotions churned within Zuona’s chest. She forced herself to make a decision: before Gorod abandoned her completely, she had to secure the power to strike back.

“Zax, don’t let me down.”

The Blood Owl soared out of Golden Rock Fortress, riding the wind to greater heights, and vanished from the Royal Capital as a streak of light. Inside the royal palace’s council hall, Gorod issued a series of decrees.

He ordered the nobles of the Royal Capital to muster knights, reorganize the army, and concentrate superior forces to advance on the borderlands.

“The alliance with the Snow Domain has been sealed; the treaty is right here in my hand.”

“In the name of the ruler of this kingdom, I command you all to muster your armies, gather the bravest knights, and crush the rebel forces in the borderlands—wipe them out completely!”

“Behead the rebels, rip out their hearts, and shatter their bodies—show no hesitation whatsoever. On the day of victory, I shall bestow generous rewards: land, gold coins, slaves, and titles of nobility!”

Gorod’s eyes blazed, and his voice boomed.

This left those familiar with him momentarily dazed, as they were suddenly transported back to the days when he led his knights into battle and achieved glorious victories. The ministers had long advocated for the eradication of the rebel forces, especially the faction led by Bashir.

“Your Majesty, this is a wise decision!”

They flattered Gorod and accepted the order without hesitation. The nobles of the Royal Capital had been in decline for far too long.

They desperately needed a resounding victory to solidify their prestige and status, lest they be overshadowed by the nobles of the borderlands and give their former rivals a chance to make a comeback.

Apart from preparing diplomatic missions, the nobles of the Royal Capital had never been so united.

On the very day the king’s decree was issued, messengers from each house rode out of the city on horseback, tasked with summoning the armed forces within their fiefs and ordering them to assemble as quickly as possible to prepare for the march to the borderlands.

As was customary, the nobles distributed gold coins and promised a share of the spoils after the war; the knights provided their own armor, warhorses, and weapons, and brought along their retinues and slaves.

To maintain sufficient stamina and ensure that they and their retinues would be well-fed before the battle, the knights needed to purchase barley and wheat, salted meat, and wine mixed with blood.

In addition, they had to pay for fodder for their warhorses.

When word spread, merchants pounced on the opportunity, and price gouging became rampant. The knights were forced to empty their pockets just to gather the supplies necessary for the campaign. Some, lacking enough gold coins, were compelled to borrow from loan sharks.

These greedy scoundrels were two-faced; as soon as the knights failed to pay the interest, they were thrown out onto the streets, left with nothing.

“Damn profiteers!”

“They’d better pray to the Dark God that they never fall into my hands!”

“The day will come when their prayers no longer work, and I’ll flay them with my own hands!”

Clutching their empty pockets, the knights cursed incessantly, their spirits at an all-time low.

The one consolation was that they could keep the spoils they took on the battlefield without having to hand them over. Furthermore, if they emerged victorious from the war, they would receive generous additional rewards.

Their desire for money and titles prevailed.

They stopped complaining, rallied at a faster pace, and joined the kingdom’s main army, ready at any moment to march toward the northern borderlands. As the vampire clan’s army gathered, the wedding in Storm City began.

On the eve of the wedding, the Wraith King did not visit Cen Qing’s bedchamber.

He had a ceremonial gown delivered, specially prepared for the occasion; it was encrusted with thousands of gems, jade, and pearls, and when worn, it shone like moonlight, rivaling the brilliance of the stars.

The Wraith King also sent a crown.

Forged from secret gold and set with the finest Dragon Blood Stones, it complemented Cen Qing’s black hair perfectly.

With the help of the thorn-vine maidservant, Cen Qing tried on the full ensemble, donned the crown, and stood before the full-length mirror. He felt as though he had become a display case for jewels.

“Is this also a tradition of the Wraiths?” He raised his hand to remove the crown; the red glow of the gemstones caught his eye, momentarily staining his pupils red. “I really didn’t expect that.”

“Your Highness, this is your wedding. You should show a little more enthusiasm.” Moli knelt halfway on the ground, adjusting the width of his sash. Her fingers moved deftly, positioning the gemstone clasp just right. “You’ve been looking forward to this wedding all along, haven’t you?”

“Yes, I’ve been looking forward to it.” Cen Qing lowered his gaze to look at Moli and smiled gently. Perhaps feeling the curve of his smile wasn’t quite perfect, he lifted the corners of his mouth with his fingertips. “I just find this wedding gown too heavy—and the crown as well. I don’t know where the Wraiths dug up this Dragon Blood Stone. Did they raid a dragon’s lair?”

Without looking up, Moli continued to smooth out the hem of Cen Qing’s coat: “Perhaps your guess is correct—after all, they are capable of it.” 

“Moli, I was just joking,” Cen Qing said.

“Me too, Your Highness,” the maid replied.

After a brief silence, laughter filled the room, washing away the tension and anxiety caused by the wedding.

Cen Qing finally relaxed.

He bent down to take the maid’s hand and smiled. “Moli, you’ve always taken care of me. I don’t think I could ever leave you—you’re like family to me, like a second mother.”

“It’s my honor, Your Highness,” the Thorn Maiden said as she lifted Cen Qing’s right hand and gently kissed the back of it. After straightening up, she added, “But you must be careful—it’s best not to use such words in front of the Wraith King.”

Although their time in Storm City had been brief, the Thorn Maids had made full use of their skills to establish the necessary intelligence networks.

Piecing together accounts from snow sprites, mountain people, and featherfolk, the maids were convinced that the Wraith King was far less reserved than he appeared; he possessed a terrifying possessiveness, especially toward Cen Qing.

“You will be the queen of the Snow Domain. Until you are absolutely certain, do not defy him.” The Thorn Maiden rarely spoke with such gravity. As she spoke, her expression was incredibly serious.

“I understand, Moli.”

Cen Qing understood the maid’s concern. She took her hand, her expression light, her voice steady and calm, without a hint of reluctance: “He is my husband, the one with whom I will spend my life. I will respect him, admire him, and love him with all my heart.”

Just a door away, the Wraith King stood in the hallway, clearly catching the voices drifting from inside.

Moonlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows into the hallway, kissing his profile and intertwining intimately with the gemstones adorning his sash, their radiance mirroring one another. After standing before the door for a moment, he finally withdrew his hand. Instead of pushing the door open, he turned and walked away.

His slender figure glided down the corridor, the hem of his robe fluttering gently like ripples on water. Golden light shimmered along its edges, casting a dazzling, winding radiance. The Wraith King’s eyes were illuminated by the crystal chandelier; he was smiling, revealing his current good spirits.

The vast palace came alive, with colorful light streaming down from the dome, illuminating the magnificent architecture. A soft melody reached his ears—the music played by the wind—bringing joy to the ruler of the Snow Domain.

That night, the ice storm outside the city intensified.

The biting cold wind pounded against the city walls, yet could not shake them even slightly. Eerie sounds swept across the mountaintops, wave after wave, as if buried enemies were raging in futility.

The Royal Capital was destined to stay awake tonight.

The next morning, as the first rays of sunlight pierced the darkness, the ice storm vanished without a trace.

The gates of Storm City swung wide open, and the melodious tolling of bells echoed throughout the city.

Ice flowers bloomed along both sides of the roads, their petals clustered together in a dazzling display of color, their fragrance wafting through the streets and alleys on the breeze. Before the royal palace, a snow wolf and a Silver Python stood guard on either side of the gate, flanking the entrance where the newlyweds were to appear.

A giant owl circled overhead, its shadow obscuring the sky, its screech drowning out the howling wind. Inside the room, Cen Qing had changed into his full ceremonial attire, though he wore no crown.

He stood before the full-length mirror, ensuring that not a single detail was amiss, before turning toward the door. Moli took a few quick steps and pushed the door open before he could.

In the hallway, thorn vines and snow sprites stood respectfully on either side; upon seeing him, they all bowed: “Congratulations, Your Highness.” At the end of the hallway, a slender figure was waiting.

The opulent robe trailed along the floor, its hem, cuffs, and lapels encrusted with numerous gemstones. Far from overshadowing the wearer, the jewels accentuated the garment’s refined elegance, adding a touch of splendor to the wearer.

Hearing footsteps, Wu Ying turned around.

Seeing Cen Qing approaching, he gazed at him for a moment, then extended his hand: “Come with me, my golden rose.” No sooner had Cen Qing placed his fingers in Wu Ying’s palm than he was swept up into a horizontal embrace.

“Ceremonies are always so slow.”

The Wraith King took long strides as he strode out of the palace. It was clear he could hardly wait.

Behind them, the maids stood frozen for a few seconds before suddenly remembering the crown in their hands; they immediately rushed after them, holding the jeweled casket aloft.

“Your Highness, your crown!”

A giant snow-white owl was waiting at the palace gates.

The two would circle the city once to receive everyone’s blessings.

“We’ll finish the ceremony, then leave the city to hunt, fulfilling the Wraiths’ tradition.” Wu Ying carried Cen Qing onto the giant owl; the crown shone brilliantly, and his long hair flowed like countless strands of silver.

Standing on the giant owl’s back, he set Cen Qing down and gently kissed the vampire clan member with black hair on his forehead: “If you’re satisfied with me, I hope you’ll allow me to possess you completely on our wedding night.”

Just before the giant owl took flight, the Thorn Maiden finally caught up.

She tried to hand him the crown, but the Wraith King was too impatient, and his outstretched hand missed it entirely.

“His Majesty will be heading to the ceremonial platform. You may go ahead and let the snow sprite lead the way,” Fran’s voice rang out, informing the Thorn Maids that they need not pursue him further and could proceed to the ceremony grounds to wait.

The snow-white giant owl had already taken flight, leaving the maids with no choice but to accept the Wraiths’ suggestion.

Guided by the snow sprite, they made their way through the city, witnessing the surging crowds and the giant owls flying overhead. It became crystal clear to them that, from this day forward, Cen Qing would no longer be merely a prince of the vampire clan—he would be the Queen of the Snow Domain.

His husband was the Wraith King, the notorious tyrant of the Snow Domain, a figure who struck terror into the hearts of his enemies and was consumed by possessiveness toward her.

“This should be a good thing for Your Highness.”

The maids stepped out of the crowd, exchanged glances, and thought this to themselves.