Shen Luolin’s consciousness drifted in an endless void. There was no up or down, no left or right—only absolute silence.
**[Mission settlement completed]**
**[Real-world synchronization countdown: 10, 9, 8…]**
The cold system voice was the only sound in this emptiness.
Shen Luolin’s conscious form let out a bitter laugh.
‘Though it was just a simulation, everything I experienced there was real. Now that it’s ending, I’m actually a bit reluctant to leave.’
Just as the thought passed, the void before his eyes began to warp and fold.
In the final ten seconds before returning to the real-world, time surged forward at an unprecedented, frantic speed.
—
Light and shadow reshaped themselves, and the scent of blood and fire rushed toward him.
Ella stood at the battlements of the city wall, her broken armor covered in bloodstains and mud.
Her once cold and pristine face was blackened by smoke, and the hand gripping her sword was covered in wounds. However, her orders were more precise than they had ever been.
“Third Squad, push thirty steps forward on the left wing and plug that gap!”
“Archers, provide indiscriminate cover! Don’t worry about friendly fire!”
Shen Luolin’s consciousness hovered high in the air, watching her transform from a strategist behind the scenes into a true, iron-blooded commander through countless bloody sieges.
Behind her no longer stood only the remnants of the Dragon Slayer Knights, but an army of thousands.
Their banner read: “Cleanse the Court, Execute the Traitors.”
Higher up in the vast firmament, Moyin’s massive silver wings blocked out the sun as she looked down at the tragic battlefield below.
An enemy Legendary Archmage tore through the defensive line, and a forbidden spell was about to detonate at Ella’s command post.
For just a moment, the light in the sky dimmed. That archmage, along with the violent mana surrounding him, silently dissipated into nothingness.
In a gap between the wars, they found a few children hidden in a cellar in a village destroyed by the fires of conflict.
Those children had pupils identical to Moyin’s.
They were the stray dragonkin survivors that the Major had once died to protect.
Moyin descended from the sky. She crouched down, wanting to touch the face of the smallest girl, but her finger stopped in mid-air.
The girl looked at her timidly before suddenly whispering, “Big sister… you are a good person… just like Brother Luolin.”
—
The Imperial Capital was reclaimed.
The coronation ceremony took place in the solemn Saint Temple.
Ella wore the black imperial robes she had once despised with all her heart.
Her face was pale, and the weariness in her eyes was impossible to hide, but her spine remained perfectly straight.
At the moment the heavy crown was placed upon her head, the royal herald loudly proclaimed the coronation oath. However, her final title caused a shock to ripple through every noble and general present.
“From this day forward, the sole monarch of the Empire is—Ella Frostwolf Empress!”
Frostwolf.
It was the surname of the man who had already died.
She had abandoned her birthright, the imperial surname, to take his name before the eyes of the world. It was a symbol of her complete break with the old Empire and a memorial to a wedding ceremony that was never completed.
The nobles and generals below recovered from their initial shock, and a fanatical cheer erupted: “Long live the Empress!”
But she did not look at anyone below.
She slowly raised her head, her gaze piercing through the towering dome of the Saint Temple to look at the sky outside, which was shrouded in shadow.
There, Moyin’s wings obscured the sun.
One was on earth, the other in the sky.
Their eyes met in silence.
That brief glance spoke of all the support and solace they had given one another over the years, as well as the shared depth of their loneliness.
—
Time jumped again; it was now late at night.
In the palace study, only a single lamp burned.
Ella was reviewing a mountain of reports. The wrinkles at the corners of her eyes were clearly visible under the lamplight.
After finishing the last document, she rubbed her aching temples. From the place in her clothes closest to her heart, she pulled out an object wrapped in high-quality silk.
She unwrapped it to reveal a semi-finished wooden carving that had been rubbed smooth and round.
It was something he had carved casually to pass the time and to provide cover for his prison break while she had him under house arrest.
Her fingertips traced the rough contours of the carving over and over again, as if she were trying to draw a trace of long-dissipated warmth from the cold wood.
—
The light and shadow shifted once more.
Shen Luolin’s consciousness watched the roses in the palace garden bloom and wither. He watched the light in Ella’s study burn until dawn, year after year.
He saw the Empire’s territory expand continuously on the map, its merchant routes covering the four seas. As he watched, the silver strands in Ella’s hair grew more numerous.
In the sky, Moyin’s wings still blocked the sun, but her gaze as she looked down at the mortal world grew increasingly calm and solitary.
Fifty years passed in the blink of an eye amidst this daily protection and toil.
Under the rule of the Iron-Blooded Queen Ella, the Empire entered an era of unprecedented prosperity. The Empire’s influence reached every corner of the continent, following the footsteps of merchants and pioneers.
At the Emperor’s summer palace, in a garden by the lakeside, Ella leaned against a lounge chair. Her hair at her temples was already white.
A shadow fell, and Moyin descended from the sky. She still looked like a young girl untainted by the dust of the world, her body wrapped in that faded gray blanket.
“Come to see this lonely ruler again?”
Ella didn’t open her eyes. She simply picked up her teacup, her voice carrying the hoarseness of old age. “Those old fogeys in the parliament are nagging me to name an heir again. They’re right; I’m dying soon.”
“Moyin, you should really change that blanket.”
“He is not dead.” Moyin did not get angry. She simply stroked the rough fabric of the blanket, her silver eyes quietly watching Ella.
Ella paused and finally opened her eyes to look at the blanket on Moyin’s shoulders, her gaze complex.
“Moyin, we have argued about this for decades.”
“Let it go. He is gone.”
“What about you, Ella?” Moyin asked in return, just as she had asked every time for the past few decades.
“The Empire needs an heir, but why are you just like me? Why are you alone?”
The hand Ella used to hold her teacup shook imperceptibly.
She subconsciously tightened her grip on the wooden carving hidden in her sleeve, feeling the familiar rough edges.
After a long silence, she merely let out a bitter laugh and changed the subject.
—
A few more years passed, and Ella reached the end of her life.
On her deathbed, she signed the final decree, fully transitioning the Empire to a parliamentary system.
She dismissed everyone, leaving only Moyin.
“Moyin… I am finally going to see him…” Ella’s voice was as thin as a thread, but a spark of light flickered in her clouded eyes.
“He is not dead.” Moyin’s voice remained cold, just as it had in every stubborn repetition over the decades.
Looking at her, Ella didn’t argue. She simply sighed softly, as if she had finally let go of some obsession.
Trembling, she reached under her pillow and pulled out a heavy metal box. Using her last ounce of strength, she pressed it into Moyin’s hands.
“I used my power as the Empress to do one final… very selfish thing.”
“I can’t search anymore… I’ll leave the rest to you.” Ella’s voice was barely a whisper, but a serene, satisfied smile—like that of a young girl—appeared on her face. “Don’t make him… wait too long.”
“It’s good. I can finally… have a good sleep.”
Under Moyin’s gaze, Ella passed away.
The entire Empire held a grand state funeral for her, and ten thousand people wept.
Before the coffin was closed, there were no luxurious burial items inside.
She simply held that semi-finished wooden carving, which bore her youthful likeness, tightly against her chest.
At that very moment, Shen Luolin’s consciousness was violently pulled away by a powerful force.
Ella’s funeral, the grieving Empire, and that lonely snowy plain all began to fade and crumble like a sand painting blown away by the wind.
The cold system voice rang out in the void of his consciousness one last time.
**[Causal observation ended. Simulated world permanently closed]**
**[Consciousness returning to real body]**
**[Welcome back, Host]**
—
In the ruins of the northern wasteland where everything had once been buried, long after the funeral was over, Moyin returned alone to the ruins of the Snowy Retreat.
Under the moonlight, she opened the metal box Ella had left behind.
Inside was nothing but a thick stack of ancient scrolls transcribed in various scripts and a meticulously drawn star map.
On the cover of the scrolls, written in Ella’s sharp handwriting, were four words: **[Soul Seeking Covenant]**. This box contained all the information Ella had gathered over the years by sending messengers to every corner of the continent.
Moyin’s hands trembled as she flipped through a page. It was filled with forbidden secrets regarding souls, reincarnation, and transmigration, along with dense notes and deductions written in red ink by Ella.
On the very last page, Ella had left a paragraph:
‘This is a secret art I found in the Elven Kingdom. I just… wanted to see him one more time. Even if it was just a glance from a distance.’
‘Moyin, go and see for me. If there really is a next life, and you really find him… tell him that in this life, I have no regrets.’
A hot tear fell onto the yellowed paper, creating a water stain.
Moyin looked up, her face covered in tears.
As it turned out, during those long years, she hadn’t been the only one stubbornly searching for him.
Holding the scrolls, she sat upon the ruins of the Snowy Retreat and wept aloud.