A Stranger in the Wind and Snow

"What the hell?!"

Bai Mo stood frozen in shock, his mind going blank for a moment.

But the next instant, boundless fury and viciousness swallowed him whole.

He sprang up from the ground and charged forward with a savage side kick.

"Bang!"

Amid a dull sound of flesh striking flesh, the headless corpse that had just regained its footing was sent flying out the door by his tremendous strength, crashing heavily into the snow-covered yard.

Bai Mo ignored the searing pain in his chest and the scorch marks left on his body by the flames.

He rushed back into the house, snatched up the cleaver that had fallen to the floor, then charged back into the wind and snow.

Like an enraged lion cub, he leaped onto the writhing headless corpse. The cleaver rose and fell, cleanly severing both its arms.

Then he straddled the One-Horned Demon's body as golden flames once more flared over his right fist.

He smashed it down hard at the half of its head that had begun to regain the outline of a mouth.

Another muffled explosion rang out. The newly formed head was blasted into fragments again, then instantly vaporized by the scorching golden flames.

"I refuse to believe this!"

Seeing its severed arms and head regenerate at an astonishing speed once more, a trace of madness flashed through Bai Mo's eyes.

With a low roar, he was completely enraged by the unkillable monster.

And so, on this howling night of wind and snow, a bizarre and horrifying scene unfolded.

A blood-covered, ragged six-year-old boy straddled a headless monster that constantly writhed and struggled beneath him.

Golden flames burned on his tiny fists as he struck down, punch after punch, like a tireless machine.

Every blow precisely shattered the monster's newly regenerated head.

The One-Horned Demon's body trembled and convulsed violently, enduring a torment worse than death as it was endlessly trapped between destruction and regeneration.

Yet because its head could never fully take shape, it could not even let out a single shriek of agony.

At the doorway, Na'er watched the scene with a pale face.

Instinctively, she wanted to turn and find the village chief and the others for help. But the instant she turned around, her body froze.

Countless chaotic, vast, ancient fragments of memory surged into her tiny mind without warning like a flood bursting through a dam.

Gradually, all emotion faded bit by bit from her originally clear, innocent purple eyes, which had been filled with anxiety and fear. They became deep and calm, like an icy pool frozen for ten thousand years.

The tear-streaked little face likewise returned to indifference.

"Fufu..."

As if sensing the drastic change in her aura, Fufu lightly leaped up from the ground and into her arms. It rubbed its little head against her chin and let out a soft, questioning cry.

"So it's you."

'Na'er' reached out and naturally stroked Fufu's smooth golden fur, her voice so soft it was nearly inaudible.

Just then, an anxious, childish voice sounded deep within her mind. "Go help Brother. He's hurt."

'Na'er' replied expressionlessly within her consciousness, "He isn't your brother."

"I don't care. He is. Are you going to help him or not?"

The voice carried a sharp edge of anger.

'Na'er' frowned almost imperceptibly as a piercing pain surged from the depths of her mind, making her instinctively clutch her forehead.

She fell silent for a moment. Finally, as though conceding, she said helplessly in her heart, "...Stop making trouble. Your brother doesn't need my help right now."

With that, her gaze fell upon the figure in the yard who was still tirelessly throwing punches. A faint trace of surprise appeared in those tranquil eyes.

Only six years old, without undergoing any ritual guidance, he had awakened his martial soul on his own through his will and bloodline.

He could even, driven by instinct, make preliminary use of his newly awakened soul power and the abilities attached to his martial soul, repeatedly "whipping the corpse" of an otherworldly monster with an immortal body in such a near-torturous manner.

Though... aside from its bizarre immortality, this monster was truly far too weak. It probably could not even defeat the most ordinary hundred-year soul beast.

But to an ordinary human child, it would still have been an absolutely unbeatable foe.

"So this was the person she mentioned? As expected... exceptionally gifted."

'Na'er' lowered her head to look at the quiet Fufu in her arms and murmured in a voice only she could hear.

While a bloody battle beyond mortal comprehension unfolded within Blackstone Village, several figures were braving the blizzard across the vast snowy plains outside, steadily making their way toward the village.

Their pace was not fast, yet it was exceptionally steady.

Strangely, the freezing gale and goose-feather snowflakes were silently blocked by an invisible barrier glowing faintly whenever they came within one meter of the group.

No matter how fiercely the wind and snow raged outside, not a single snowflake had touched their immaculate uniforms.

"Say... Senior Ji, why do we have to travel through such heavy snow in the middle of the night?"

A clear young girl's voice, tinged with frustration, broke the silence within the group. "Wouldn't it be better to leave tomorrow morning after the snow stops? It's cold and dark. I hate it."

The speaker was a girl who looked to be around eleven or twelve.

She had waist-length pink hair and a pair of eyes of the same color. Her features were as exquisite as a doll's, and she was adorable beyond measure.

Yet her attire was utterly out of place in this era, and even more so amid this frozen landscape.

She wore a well-fitted pure-white uniform, paired with white thigh-high stockings and small black leather shoes, as though she had walked straight out of a school from another world.

The "Senior Ji" she addressed was a sixteen- or seventeen-year-old boy walking at the front of the group.

He was likewise dressed in a white uniform. His features were ordinary, but his expression was as cold as ice that had never melted for ten thousand years.

A long sword wrapped in strips of cloth was slung diagonally across his back. His entire body radiated an undisguised sharpness, as though he himself were a drawn blade.

Even more astonishing and incongruous was the thin, faintly glowing device in his hand.

If Bai Mo had been there, he would have recognized it at a glance: it was a creation of the technological age—a smartphone.

Such a thing should never have existed in the world of Douluo Continent.

Hearing the girl's complaint, Ji Juechen did not even raise his eyelids. He merely continued onward in silence.

"Qiuqiu, now isn't the time to complain."

Another girl spoke. Her voice was calm and rational as she answered the question for the silent Ji Juechen.

She had neat short purple hair and wore a pair of refined glasses. Though she was also only sixteen or seventeen, she exuded a mature, elegant aura far beyond her years.

She raised a smartphone of the same model in her hand. A detailed map was displayed on its screen, and in one corner of the map, a conspicuous red dot remained motionless.