The wind and snow are the gravestones of the Northern Frontier.
Ella stands between the tombstones, like a dutiful gravekeeper.
That deep blue dress, so out of place in the harsh environment, clings to her curving figure, boldly declaring that she pays this land of desolation no heed.
She is merely waiting.
When the giant boulder blocking the mine entrance is pushed aside from within, a figure bursts out from the smoke and dust, staggering several steps before dropping to one knee.
It is Shen Luolin.
At the moment he appears, Ella’s hand, hanging at her side, clenches into a fist so tightly that her bones nearly crack.
But that is only for an instant.
In the next second, the emotion about to overflow in her eyes freezes solid, replaced once again by the Chief of Staff’s sharp, scrutinizing gaze.
She steps forward, her gaze as sharp as a blade, scraping over his dust-streaked face and landing on his disheveled collar.
“Major.”
Ella’s voice is colder than the wind and snow. “An energy eruption, geological activity, and your perfectly-timed disappearance. Explain.”
She gives him no chance to argue, her chin tilting upward as she points to the dark entrance behind him, her tone brooking no denial.
This is not a question, but a sentence.
“The ‘Key’ His Majesty seeks is inside.”
Shen Luolin’s breath catches.
He slowly lifts his head, wipes the blood from the corner of his mouth, but the smile he pulls is wild and defiant.
He knows that playing tricks with someone as shrewd as Ella would only make him look like a fool.
So, he chooses to meet her with a madness even truer.
Shen Luolin simply steps aside, admitting without hesitation, “That’s right, I found it.”
His eyes change—from a battered survivor to a gambler in control of the table.
“But what you see before you is a defective product.”
He fixes his gaze on Ella, his voice tinged with mockery. “But right now, she’s just a bomb that can’t control her power—she could explode at any moment.”
“Ella, do you think that if we just bring back a defective product, His Majesty will reward us, or will he think we’re making a joke of His Highness?”
Ella’s beautiful brows twitch almost imperceptibly.
Shen Luolin presses forward, instantly closing the distance between them, his breath—white in the cold—almost brushing her face.
“An unstable ‘Key’ is worthless.”
“But a ‘Key’ that has been ‘refined’, one that can perfectly unlock the Dragon Temple and release endless power…”
“Ella, this achievement will not just be an achievement.”
He locks his gaze onto hers, enunciating every word, his tone laced with temptation.
“It will be our ladder to the heavens!”
For a fleeting moment, Ella’s breath is caught.
She is a pragmatic political animal, and the future Shen Luolin describes strikes precisely at the heart of her ambition.
Silence spreads in the wind and snow.
After a long pause, Ella finally spits out a few icy words: “Why should I trust you?”
“You don’t need to trust me.”
Shen Luolin opens his palm, revealing a fresh wound cut by the rubble, blood flowing freely.
He grins like a villain.
“You just need to trust the ‘result’.”
“Empty words—a three-year-old could say the same.” Ella cuts him off. “Luolin, trust is the cheapest thing in this world. What I want is ‘control’.”
She unhooks a small metallic case from her belt and tosses it over.
“Top-level supplies from the Knights, which I’ll reimburse you as ‘excess loss during exploration’.”
Shen Luolin catches it steadily, the metal’s chill stabbing into his wounded hand and sending a wave of pain through him.
“But,” Ella’s voice turns suddenly cold and commanding, “every vial inside is marked with an Alchemical Serial Number. From this day forward, every half month, I want to see a blood sample from that ‘Key’.”
“If the concentration of bloodline enhancement doesn’t match, or if I find out you’re playing games…”
She doesn’t finish the sentence.
But her eyes say it all. There’s only ever one end for betrayers of the Empire.
This is Ella.
Shen Luolin grips the cold metal case, blood seeping through the seams.
He nods, voice hoarse.
“Deal.”
This high-stakes gamble of deceiving the emperor has finally formed a fragile alliance.
Ella completes her official business but does not immediately leave.
Her gaze sweeps over Shen Luolin’s blood-soaked, tightly clenched hand holding the metal case, and finally lingers on his weary face.
She steps closer, close enough to see the frost clinging to his lashes.
The wind whips a stray lock of her jet-black hair loose, adding a sharp edge of beauty to her sculpted face.
Her voice drops even lower, losing the chill of officialdom and tinged with a complex, almost warning, private tone.
“Luolin,” she suddenly switches to his given name, staring straight at him, “I know you feel guilty about the fall of the Rheinside family. But that is not a reason to gamble your future on a dead end.”
“Don’t let feelings you shouldn’t have destroy us.”
Her words carry double meaning.
Shen Luolin’s fingers clamp down on the metal case, the cold seemingly burrowing into his bones.
He is about to say something when, suddenly, the sound of rocks being pried aside comes from behind.
Clatter!
A slender figure squeezes out from the narrow gap, using all her strength.
It’s Moyin.
She heard that woman’s voice, and she heard that name that made her heart clench—“Luolin”.
Not “Master”, but “Luolin”.
When she sees the two figures standing so close in the snow, a suffocating panic seizes her at once.
That woman—beautiful as a deity, proud as a queen.
And her Master is standing before her in a posture that belongs to another world, one Moyin has never seen before.
This is not the Master who would clumsily roast meat for her in the mine.
“Master!”
Moyin’s mind goes blank; her body moves before her thoughts catch up.
She almost stumbles as she throws herself forward, like a young beast whose territory has been invaded, clinging tightly, desperately, to the edge of Shen Luolin’s coat.
That rough fabric is the only thing she can grab onto at this moment.
Then, from behind Shen Luolin’s broad back, she peeks out half her small head, fixing Ella with a pair of silver eyes blazing with stubborn fire.
In her gaze is unconcealed hostility and a declaration of ownership.
The air freezes.
Ella’s gaze finally leaves Shen Luolin’s face and body, landing on the dirty, wild-eyed little girl behind him.
A glimmer of understanding flashes in her icy blue eyes, her lips curling in the faintest hint of amusement.
The wind and snow seem to grow fiercer.
Just as the tension peaks, Shen Luolin moves.
He reaches back and, with a gentleness that brooks no refusal, takes Moyin’s cold little hand, pulling her from behind him to stand at his side.
The action stuns Moyin and causes Ella’s gaze to flicker.
Shen Luolin does not even glance at Ella. He simply, calmly declares a fact to the Chief of Staff of the Empire.
“Her name is Moyin. From this day forth, she is my Student.”
After that, he lowers his head, his gaze settling on Moyin’s bloodless, anxious face, his tone softer than ever, with a hint of reassurance.
“Moyin, this is Ella. Call her ‘Sister Ella’.”