The war raged on for several days.

The rebel army, of staggering size, swept forward, putting the entire northern borderlands of the Vampire Kingdom on high alert.

Wave after wave of fierce attacks crashed down like giant waves pounding against rocky cliffs, devastating the land as if intent on destroying everything in their path.

The borderlands nobles and knights erected a sturdy defense; everyone fought tenaciously. Blood stained the fortress red, and a crimson mist hung in the air. Though the borderline seemed precariously close to collapse, it remained unbreached.

Fallen treants, snow giants, and rock giants led the charge.

Rocks rained down, and shards of ice flew through the air, howling as they crashed into the stronghold. While the stronghold itself was protected by fortifications, the surrounding villages, farms, and stables were utterly destroyed; not even one in ten buildings remained standing.

Under the relentless assault, sections of the stronghold’s outer walls began to collapse one after another, creating massive breaches.

Slaves hauled timber, and the auxiliary troops risked their lives to patch the walls, only to be instantly engulfed by the freezing mist; their legs froze solid, turning them into ice sculptures on the spot.

“It’s a snow giant!”

“Help!”

“Save me!”

Before being sealed by the ice, someone desperately stretched out an arm and let out a piercing scream.

Thunder roared, and torrential rain fell without cease; the cries were drowned out by the storm and vanished completely in the blink of an eye.

Thousands upon thousands of colossal figures stormed across the borderlands, pressing relentlessly toward the stronghold, seizing every opportunity to breach the defenses. They applied extreme pressure, attempting to break the defenders’ resolve.

Behind this horde of giants, countless disorderly troops swarmed like ants.

They had no orderly formation; they charged across the mountains and fields, appearing like a chaotic swarm.

The beastmen pushed large carts laden with crude siege engines—made from freshly felled trees—that would fall apart after just a few uses. Relying on their sheer numbers, they didn’t care about the losses at all.

As long as they can smash open the fortress gates, they’ll be able to storm inside and kill everyone inside!

“Charge!”

“Charge!”

Hundreds of Featherfolk soared through the sky, letting out piercing screams. They unleashed a hail of arrows from midair, attempting to breach the fortress’s defenses. The garrison blew their whistles, and the powerful archers on the ramparts drew their bows simultaneously.

Arrows as thick as a man’s arm rained down from the sky, piercing the Featherfolk through the chest and abdomen. Struck by the arrows, they plummeted to the ground, trampled by their own chaotic ranks, and were instantly reduced to a pulp.

The wandering vampires and the fallen treants stayed together.

Hidden in the treetops, they targeted the archers on the ramparts, carrying out a massive sniping assault.

Soon, the hail of arrows from the ramparts was suppressed, giving the Featherfolks an opening. They lunged toward the top of the bastion and used their spears to hurl the soldiers off the ramparts. They also grabbed the wounded, flew high into the air, and hurled them to the ground.

Seeing the soldiers’ expressions of terror and hearing their screams, the Featherfolk laughed wildly.

“Die, all of you!”

The savage tribes, originally intent on taking advantage of the chaos to slip through unnoticed, were so stirred by the bloody spectacle that their savage instincts were unleashed, and they rushed to join the bloody slaughter.

Inside a fortified stronghold, Origin and Buyete led their knights as they raced along the ramparts.

“To the west!”

“Northwest! We need reinforcements here!”

“Use the battering ram! Ignore those beastmen—smash that treant to death! He’s about to ram the gate!” “Hurry!”

Seeing the situation at the city gate, Buyete let out a roar.

Unfortunately, the fighting on the ramparts was too fierce; the knights were all tied up in combat, and no one could spare the time to go there.

With his men falling one after another, and no reinforcements available, Buyete steeled his resolve. Clenching the hilt of his sword, he pushed off with one hand, leaping over the city wall. He unfurled his bat wings mid-air and charged toward the fallen treants blocking the city gate.

Treesprites were rooted at the base, their gnarled roots extending like giant serpents as they relentlessly pounded the fortress gates. The city walls trembled, and a torrent of rubble and bricks rained down; the structure was on the verge of collapse.

Buyete soared above the treetop, dodging arrows flying from the canopy, and swung his sword downward with both hands. A flash of sharp light erupted, slicing the treant in two from top to bottom.

The massive canopy was shattered, the thick trunk was split open, and the face protruding from the trunk was torn to pieces, letting out a piercing howl in the moment before its destruction.

The fallen treants crashed to the ground with a thunderous thud, spewing a viscous liquid that gave off a foul, fishy stench.

The wandering vampires hiding in the treetop scattered in all directions; a few who failed to dodge the attack were sliced to pieces along with the fallen treants, reduced to a pool of shredded flesh.

The sound of a rush of wind came from behind her; Buyete’s heart sank, and she instinctively leaped out of the way.

A spear grazed her neck and sliced across her shoulder, leaving a gash deep enough to expose bone. It was the Featherfolk.

Several Featherfolk surrounded her.

To eliminate the threat at the city gates, Buyete had risked leaving the stronghold. This had separated her from her comrades, leaving her isolated on the outside and suddenly surrounded.

“A noble?”

“A noble!”

“I’ve never tasted a vampire clan noble before.”

The Featherfolk let out sinister laughter; twisted lines distorted their features, making them look exceptionally evil.

Buyete showed no panic. Holding her sword in both hands, she pressed forward rather than retreat, unleashing a chill white light through the air as she engaged the Featherfolks in a fierce battle.

“You won’t kill me that easily!”

Similar scenes unfolded at various fortresses.

The nobles of the borderlands were personally on the battlefield, leading their knights and retinues in a fierce battle against the rebel forces.

The slaves took up arms of their own accord—not out of any great sense of duty, but because they knew full well that once the rebels breached the defenses, the nobles and knights would have no chance of survival, and they, too, would have nowhere to flee.

Facing death anyway, they preferred to die with a sense of dignity.

The fighting raged from day into night, and from night into dawn, for countless days and nights. Blood flowed like rivers along the borderlands, and corpses lay strewn haphazardly in every direction, turning the area into a veritable meat grinder—a living hell on earth.

The chaotic enemy forces pressed their attacks relentlessly, while the garrison inside the fort was limited in number. With no reinforcements or rest, their losses multiplied, and their ranks thinned alarmingly. The long, dark nights bred gloom, and a thick mist of blood rose in the borderlands.

The defenders, exhausted and unable to regain their strength, simply seized the enemy soldiers before them—regardless of race or whether they were alive or dead—slit their throats, and buried their faces in their blood to drink.

The defenders descended into madness amid the carnage.

Their bodies were drenched in blood, and their eyes were even more terrifying than the blood itself. No one knew which dawn it was, yet the slaughter continued.

The torrential rain had not ceased for a single moment; as time passed, the sky seemed to have torn open, and the downpour grew ever heavier, hanging like a gray curtain from the city walls. Rainwater pooled on the ground, forming streams and puddles of varying sizes, stained a deep crimson.

Inside the fortress, the corpses lay piled in disarray, trampled underfoot by both sides of the battle.

Few defenders remained within the fortifications. Buyete and Origin stood back-to-back, while Migelin and a handful of surviving knights gathered around them.

Every one of them was wounded; some were so severely injured that they were on their last legs, barely able to hold their weapons steady. Everyone else was already dead.

Among them was Migelin’s companion, Fanna—also a noble from the Royal Capital, also abandoned by his family. The two had spent countless days and nights bantering with one another and fighting side by side against enemies, yet now they were forever parted.

Migelin had no time to grieve; the enemy’s attack had begun again. He sensed his own death approaching.

The hand gripping his sword felt incredibly heavy, his fingers trembling slightly—not from fear, but because his body was nearing its limit.

Even the weakest beastman could easily kill him now—chop off his head and rip out his heart. Wuuu—

A desolate horn blast suddenly rang out, piercing the gray curtain of rain and echoing in everyone’s ears.

“That’s not the horn of the rebel army!”

A glimmer of hope emerged from the despair; the surviving defenders rushed toward the city walls, where countless knights could be seen galloping toward them.

They skillfully handled the reins, with shields slung over their horses’ backs, banners held aloft, and sharp weapons in hand; their gleaming armor, washed by the rain, reflected a cold light.

“Reinforcements! It’s reinforcements!” 

“Reinforcements from the Royal Capital!”

The borderlands garrison erupted in cheers, while the rebels’ offensive faltered momentarily.

After a long and grueling battle, the defenders were utterly exhausted and could collapse at any moment—and the rebel forces were no better off. The vampire clan’s northern border garrison proved too tenacious, shattering the rebels’ plans for a swift victory.

They had fully witnessed the ferocity of the vampire clan; even outnumbered and lacking supplies, they remained a formidable foe. The arrival of the reinforcements from the Royal Capital threw them into even greater panic.

Fresh forces burst onto the battlefield, bypassing the battered fortifications, slicing through the rebel ranks like a blade, sweeping all before them without encountering any effective resistance.

“Charge!”

The banners of the Royal Capital’s great nobles, the new nobility, and the imperial in-laws appeared simultaneously on the battlefield. Led by the nobles, the knights charged forward, slicing through the disorganized ranks like a knife through butter. Wherever they passed, corpses littered the ground, flesh and blood flew everywhere, and the scene descended into a sea of blood.

One moment they had glimpsed the hope of victory; the next, they were plunged into hell.

The rebel forces fell into disarray, lacking unified command and unable to mount an effective attack. Seeing the situation turn dire, the savage tribes attempted to flee.

They snapped out of their frenzy; their blood ran cold, and they had no intention of going down with the disorganized troops. The chieftain acted decisively, changing course and leading his tribe in a fighting retreat, seeking an opportunity to escape the battlefield.

Their maneuver tore open a gap in the disorganized army’s rear, causing the chaos to escalate further; the breach could no longer be sealed. More of the disorganized troops began to flee.

They were never the type to fight to the death; in the past, they’d always run when they couldn’t win. No one would fight to the bitter end, much less sacrifice their own lives to pave the way for others.

Because the Snow Domain had allied with the vampire clan and the Wraiths had sealed off the northern canyon, they had lost their stronghold and were forced to make a last-ditch effort. Little did they expect that the vampire clan had the same idea.

Annihilation!

The vampire clan intended to wipe them out—a strategy completely different from their previous patterns of warfare!

Realizing that disaster was imminent, the morale of the panicked troops plummeted, and they turned and fled the battlefield in droves. Abandoning any thought of seizing land, they wanted only to run as far away as possible.

The Royal Capital Knights spurred their horses to chase after the fleeing troops.

No formation was needed; simply following the fleeing column would yield a bountiful haul.

“His Majesty’s command: annihilate the rebel forces—leave not a single one alive!”

The knight commander issued the order, and the vampire clan riders spurred their horses and swung their swords without a moment’s pause, determined to slaughter every last one of their targets. Amid the melee, small groups of soldiers gradually broke away from the battlefield and entered the blood-stained fortress.

They encountered no resistance and entered the fortifications unhindered, only to find the ground littered with corpses and the few remaining nobles and knights from the borderlands. Origin and Buyete descended from the ramparts, accompanied by five or six knights.

Though still alive, they were completely drained of strength, appearing on the verge of collapse, and had absolutely no energy left to pursue the enemy outside the city. Upon seeing them, the noble leading the group from the Royal Capital dismounted.

He was a viscount, clad in gleaming silver armor; his helmet featured protruding horns crafted of gold, giving it a very distinctive appearance. Upon seeing the group, he raised his visor, revealing a handsome face.

“Sir Buyete, Sir Origin, and your two knights. Are these all the survivors?” he asked. His words seemed concerned, yet carried an air of something unusual.

The group came to a halt and looked at him warily, making no move to approach further.

Noticing their reaction, the nobleman took a step forward, gripped the hilt of his sword with one hand, and drew it sharply, pointing the blade at them: “By order of His Majesty the King, execute the nobles of the borderlands who have colluded with the rebel forces!”

“What?!”

The group was taken aback, realizing they were already surrounded by the Royal Capital’s knights.

“My name is Muget, a Viscount personally appointed by His Majesty the King. This territory has been bestowed upon me; rebels are unworthy of possessing the kingdom’s land!”

As soon as he finished speaking, Mu Gait raised his arm, and the Royal Capital Knights launched their attack in unison.

The remaining borderlands knights fell one after another. They did not die at the hands of the rebel forces, but under the swords of the Royal Capital reinforcements. Origin and Buyete held out until the very end.

Muget lost his patience and ordered his men to draw their bows: “Shoot them down.”

“Forgive me for reminding you, my lord, but this goes against the honor of a noble. You ought to face them in single combat yourself,” a knight warned with a frown.

“Any means are permissible against rebels. They are unworthy of honor,” Muget sneered, insisting that the knights fire their arrows. The men obeyed the order, and a hail of arrows rained down upon them.

Origin leapt to shield Buyete, allowing the arrows to pierce his body. With a roar, he closed in on Muget at astonishing speed, driving his sword through the man’s chest while simultaneously biting through his neck.

Muget’s sword also pierced his heart.

The two stood face to face, each gripping the hilt of their sword, the blades embedded in the other’s chest.

Origin gritted his teeth fiercely, his face covered in blood, while Muget, overcome with disbelief, turned pale in an instant.

“Origin!”

“Run!”

Before the flame of life was extinguished, Origin’s entire body erupted in a blaze of bloodlight.

The blinding light engulfed him and Mu Gait; a violent shockwave rippled out, sending the Knights of the Royal Capital flying backward—none could get close. The valiant noble of the borderlands burned away his life to clear a bloody path for his friend, granting her the only chance of escape.

“Go find His Royal Highness, Buyete!”

The voice faded into the sea of blood.

The fallen Royal Capital Knights scrambled to their feet and closed in once more.

Buyete’s eyes were bloodshot. She tried to stand, but an arrow piercing her right leg caused her to stagger.

Just then, Migelin suddenly leaped out of the shadows, killed a Royal Capital knight, seized his warhorse, and, as he galloped away, reached out to Buyete: “Captain, grab me!”

Buyete grabbed his wrist just in time, leaped into the air, and was smoothly pulled onto the horse’s back. The two of them, mounted on a single horse, charged out through the fortress gates.

To evade their pursuers, Migelin put his natural talent to use, hiding their tracks in the shadows as they cut through the blood-soaked battlefield. Using the rain and thunder to throw off their pursuers, they galloped off toward the Wasteland Forest.

“To the Snow Domain! Let’s find His Highness the Prince!”

Buyete had no other choice.

She wanted to avenge Origin and seek justice for her fallen comrades.

She was willing to prostrate herself at Cen Qing’s feet, touching his boots with her forehead, just so he would help her—so she could return to the Royal Capital with her sword in hand, kill Gorod with her own hands, and tear him to pieces!

Bloody betrayals and conspiracies unfolded in every fortress across the North.

On this day, Gorod fulfilled his lifelong ambition: he crushed the rebel forces and eliminated the borderlands nobles, that thorn in his side. The borderlands nobles had risked life and limb, only to be stabbed in the back.

Gorod not only intended to kill them, but also to slander them as collaborators with the rebels, twisting the truth to nail them permanently to the pillar of shame. The rain fell ceaselessly, as if mourning the fallen heroes.

In this war, where bloodshed and intrigue intertwined, more than half of the nobility from the borderlands never made it out of their strongholds.

Their foreboding came true: they failed to reorganize the Borderlands Knights, and they did not live to see Cen Qing ascend the throne and don the crown that rightfully belonged to him.

Their lives came to an end today.

They fell upon the very land they had spent their lives defending, struck down from behind. Thunder roared, and the earth seemed to sigh.

A warhorse galloped through the rain, finally exhausted, and knelt at the edge of the Wasteland Forest.

The two riders tumbled from the horse, rolling in mud from head to toe, yet too weak to wipe it off. They struggled to move their limbs and helped each other to their feet. Ahead lay the Wasteland Forest, teeming with unknown dangers.

Having lost their horse, the two had to press on foot. With their injuries left untreated, their situation grew dire. To make matters worse, a group of fleeing Savage beastmen spotted them.

These beastmen were tall and burly, wearing no armor—only thick animal hides. The weapons in their hands weren’t sharp; they looked somewhat dull, yet they were more than enough to kill the two men.

“Look what we’ve found—two vampire clans!”

They had fled the battlefield, become separated from their tribe along the way, and were searching aimlessly when they happened upon the two stranded men. The warhorses could serve as food, and the armor and weapons looked quite valuable.

They themselves were valuable, too.

“Pretty faces—they should fetch a good number of gold coins if we sell them.” A bull-beastman grabbed Buyete’s hair and yanked her up roughly. Migelin tried to intervene but was immediately shoved aside.

Before he could get back to his feet, a massive foot landed on his back, crushing down with such force it nearly snapped his bones. Buyete’s eyes turned bloodshot.

Sharp fangs pierced her gums. Fighting through the excruciating pain, she clawed at the beastman’s abdomen with both hands, then lunged forward, her sharp nails ripping open his intestines.

As excruciating pain surged through him, the beastman looked down to see nothing but spurting blood and the vampire clan’s vicious, grim expression.

“Rockhorn!”

Watching the bull-beastman fall right before their eyes, the other beastmen present were beside themselves with rage. They charged forward furiously, intent on tearing Buyete to pieces.

“Damn vampire clan scum!” 

“Die!”

At the last possible moment, a swarm of black thorn vines burst from the woods. The spiked vines entangled the beastmen, their sharp thorns piercing their skin and injecting poisonous sap, leaving them immobilized.

Several warhorses emerged from behind the thorn vines.

The knights on horseback wore black armor and iron masks, their entire bodies shrouded in an ominous aura that, at first glance, resembled a dark cloud. But Buyete let out a sigh of relief.

They weren’t knights from the Royal Capital—they were the First Prince’s Black Knights. They were saved.

Migelin shook off the heavy foot on his back and immediately rushed toward her, grabbing her arm before she hit the ground. Unfortunately, he had misjudged his strength; not only did he fail to steady Buyete, but he fell down with her.

From atop his warhorse, Penorte pushed up his iron mask and exclaimed in surprise, “Sir Buyete?”

“Rebels have attacked the borderlands, yet the Royal Capital army stands by while we and the rebels fight to a standstill,” Buyete said with difficulty. She pushed away Migelin’s supporting hand and staggered toward Penorte.

“What?”

“Gorod—he issued a shameless order, slandering us as colluding with the rebels, and took the opportunity to kill the nobles and knights of the borderlands. He is determined to seize the lands of the North.”

She gripped the iron ring on the warhorse’s bit, tilted her head back, and said, word by word, “I am ashamed that I failed to fulfill His Highness the Prince’s command to reorganize the Knights of the Borderlands. But please take me to see His Highness the Prince—I will seek revenge, no matter the cost!”

Having voiced her demand, she exhausted all her strength, closed her eyes, and collapsed forward. Just as she was about to hit the ground, a strong arm caught her.

Penorte lifted her onto the horse’s back, then summoned a knight, pointing at Migelin on the ground and saying, “Victor, take him.”    

“What do you intend to do?” Ribella rode up and asked.

“Take her back to Storm City. I must present her to His Majesty.” Penorte unfastened a pouch from his belt and tossed it to Ribella. “Here are the seeds of the thorn vines and some potions. Ribella, I’m leaving matters here in your hands. Use your best judgment.”

After the wedding, they no longer addressed Cen Qing as “Your Highness,” but instead, in keeping with his new status, referred to him as “Your Majesty.”

“Don’t worry,” said Ribella as she took the pouch and slung it around her waist. Once the two had reached an agreement, the group immediately split up.

Ribella continued to lead her men in searching the borderlands to carry out Cen Qing’s orders. Penorte and Victor, meanwhile, turned back and raced through the night toward Storm City.

After they left, the sound of birdsong echoed through the forest.

A Blood Owl soared into the air, clutching a terrified gray sparrow in its talons. It rose to great heights before suddenly dropping the bird, which shattered into pieces on impact. The Blood Owl dove down, feeding only on the sparrow’s entrails.

Its hooked beak tore at the flesh, and it swallowed the remains whole. Midway through, it seemed to sense something, immediately flapped its wings, and flew away, vanishing without a trace in an instant. Storm City, inside the Royal Palace.

Led by the snow sprite, Cen Qing entered the library and couldn’t help but marvel at the vast collection of books inside.

“These are the collections amassed by past kings, as well as the dowry brought by the queens. One queen came from the ocean; she brought many interesting books that you should enjoy.” The snow sprite navigated the shelves with ease, introducing each row of volumes to Cen Qing.

As the two ventured deeper into the room, Cen Qing roughly estimated that the collection contained over ten thousand volumes. And this was not even the entire collection.

There were a total of five such libraries within the castle.

As the snow sprite chattered away to Cen Qing about the collection, the door swung open once more, and a slender figure stepped inside.

The visitor held a golden box in his hands; the box was inlaid with colorful gemstones that sparkled under the light, exquisitely crafted and of inestimable value. Cen Qing heard the sound, peered out from between the bookshelves, and happened to catch sight of the Wraith King walking toward him.

“Your Majesty, aren’t you supposed to be in the Council Chamber?” He closed the book in his hands and returned it to the bookshelf.

Wu Ying didn’t pause; he walked straight up to him, opened the lid of the box with one hand, revealing a silver bracelet inside—exquisitely crafted and set with several red gemstones.

“Do you like it?” He took the bracelet and slipped it onto Cen Qing’s right wrist. As he spoke, he tilted his head slightly downward, and his delicate forehead ornament glinted faintly—it was set with a silver crystal, the very one Cen Qing had given him before their wedding.

“You gave this to me? I love it.” Cen Qing twirled his wrist, watching the bracelet glow softly, then looked up and kissed Wu Ying’s chin. “You still haven’t answered my earlier question.”

“It’s over.” Wu Ying spoke succinctly, grasping Cen Qing’s wrist and lightly brushing his lips against the knuckles. “You need a mount. I’ll take you to choose one. How about it?”

“Today?”

“Yes.” Wu Ying wrapped his arm around Cen Qing’s waist and led him out of the library. “Unrest in the Wasteland Realm is growing more frequent. This year’s beast tide will likely arrive early. When that happens, I’ll need to leave. Whether you choose to stay in the city or accompany me, you’ll need a giant owl or a worg.”

The two stepped out of the room, their voices fading behind the door. The snow sprite remained where it was and did not follow them.

He began reorganizing the bookshelves, placing each book in its proper spot.

Spotting the golden box left on the shelf, he picked it up, snapped the lid shut, and carried it out with him, making sure to close the library door behind him. Given His Majesty’s obsession with the Queen, he wouldn’t have a moment to himself until tomorrow.

“I should remind those fellows in the kitchen to stop adding stimulants to His Majesty’s wine.”

With that thought in mind, the snow sprite crossed the hallway, hurried down the stairs, and walked with determined steps toward the kitchen located in the castle’s basement.