Village Ruins

Ye Chen answered loudly, opened his backpack, and quickly checked its contents. Once he had confirmed that nothing was amiss, he left the church with taut nerves and headed straight toward the village ruins at the foot of the mountain.

In Ye Chen's memory, Lyle had never left the church's prayer hall. He was almost always seated silently before the Statue of God in the center of the hall.

Yet whether it was the signs of Abyssal erosion in the Boundary Mountain region, intelligence on fugitives from Frost White City, or any other information regarding the Eternal Winter Hidden Domain, Lyle seemed to know everything as if he were omniscient. Why was that?

Ye Chen had pondered that question many times, but Lyle had never intended to explain it. He always brushed him off with, "You'll understand naturally in the future."

Over time, Ye Chen could only accept it as common sense. Perhaps in this little world, his teacher was like an omnipotent god.

The boy exhaled warm breath as he crossed one snowy downhill path after another.

The icy snow winds blowing constantly against him spoke of the land's harsh climate, but Ye Chen had long since grown accustomed to it.

The Eternal Winter Hidden Domain, just as its name implied, was a little world frozen throughout the year. There was no cool autumn, no warm spring, and no scorching summer. Only cold winter remained forever.

Although this place followed the fundamental laws of changing days and nights and the circulation of water vapor, every day held the same temperature, and every night brought a perfectly full moon. It gave off an unmistakable sense of dissonance, as though space and time had been severely torn apart in this land.

But to Ye Chen, who had grown up here for seventeen years, this was already an ordinary sight. Before long, he would bid farewell to this Eternal Winter Hidden Domain of drifting snow forever—as long as he completed the three trials.

After less than an hour of travel, Ye Chen arrived at the entrance to the village ruins Lyle had indicated.

Ever since Ye Chen had been old enough to remember, this village had always been dilapidated and decayed, as if its original residents had abandoned it a century ago. Empty and remote, it was clearly an ideal hiding place for a fugitive.

Ye Chen did not rush into the village. Instead, he first surveyed the surroundings. On the main muddy road, where the snow was thinnest, he faintly spotted several broad footprints.

Judging by their exaggerated size and depth, Ye Chen immediately determined that the fugitive was a huge Frost White Person, most likely possessed of formidable strength. Combined with Lyle's earlier warning that the target could also use Spirit Arts, it was clear that this was no enemy to underestimate.

Ye Chen hid outside the entrance and peered into the village's winding, intersecting snow paths and the wreckage of houses of all sizes. After finding no suspicious figures, he circled half the village along its old perimeter wall and soon found a concealed hole in it.

Ye Chen bent down and crawled through the hole, officially infiltrating the village. Familiar with the layout, he knew there was only one intact building here where a fugitive could shelter from the snow and keep warm. If the target had truly made camp here, it could only be there.

Having determined his destination, the boy immediately began moving lightly and quietly. However, when he came within fifty meters of the one house that still had a roof, something at the street corner made him stop dead.

Ye Chen widened his eyes and stared carefully, discovering a slender object faintly suspended in the air.

It was an extremely difficult-to-spot steel wire, its ends nailed to the fences on either side of the road, stretching across and blocking the path to the house.

Ye Chen then looked toward the other passages on either side and found the vague silver glint of steel wire in all of them. It seemed that the wires were connected, forming a circle with a radius of fifty meters centered on the house.

If Ye Chen was not mistaken, this was some sort of warning device or deadly trap. Touching it would trigger something like ringing bells or incoming crossbow bolts.

"The other side is pretty vigilant too."

Ye Chen inwardly marveled, then lifted his leg and carefully stepped over the wire. Avoiding every spot along the road where traps might have been placed, he made several nimble turns and reached the vicinity of the old wooden house, which was shabby but still sufficient to keep out the wind and snow.

The cabin was tiny, covering only around ten square meters. Its only entrance was a broken wooden door left slightly ajar. Through the gap in the door, Ye Chen saw a figure huddled in one corner of the room.

The figure was wrapped in a blanket. Only its outline was visible; its face could not be seen.

Ye Chen lay concealed in the snow and observed silently for a while. Then he quietly drew his long blade and used its tip, infused with Auling Power, to cut his arm.

He first coated the blade's tip with the flowing blood to forge a "Blood Blade," then carefully dripped the rest into the revolver's one remaining empty chamber. As a faint light bloomed, a crimson "Blood Bullet" was condensed.

One "Blood Bullet," five ordinary bronze bullets. After confirming that the revolver was properly loaded, Ye Chen pushed the cylinder back into place.

By now, he was only thirty meters from the huddled figure inside the cabin. Although the target was already within the revolver's range, Ye Chen did not hurry to attack. Instead, he stealthily circled half the cabin and checked the room again from different angles through the broken windows.

However, even after changing angles, there was still one corner inside the cabin that Ye Chen could not see clearly. It happened to be the shared blind spot of both the door crack and the windows.

Ye Chen considered the possibility of other traps inside and did not dare barge in rashly. He could only return near the cabin door and, from a concealed distance of fifteen meters, aim his revolver through the door crack at the blanket-wrapped shadow curled into a ball.

Half a year earlier, Goda had been an ordinary miller at a small farm near Frost White City.

He was short and frail, cowardly and ignorant. During the day, he was bullied and extorted by thugs from the city. At night, he was cursed at and beaten by his wife. He lived a poor, miserable life without a shred of dignity.

It could be said that Goda was a complete and utter loser.

Everything should have remained that way.

Until he experienced that Nightmare.

In the dream, Goda stood in a field. The field was pitch-black, its edges shrouded in thick fog. Countless broken iron chains lay scattered across the ground at Goda's feet.

At first, Goda was completely bewildered and had no idea what was happening. But when he realized that what he was stepping on was not grass as he understood it, but strange, twisted black threads, terror and panic instantly seized his heart.

Endless black hair grew from that strange earth, while shattered remnants of iron chains lay scattered everywhere.

What did all this mean?

Why had he come to such a place?

What would happen next?

Just as Goda broke into a cold sweat and began pondering these questions, he suddenly heard a strange sound—a broken, indistinct, hazy sound.

Splash. Splash. Splash.