Morning light crept in as the maid, Lia, pushed open the creaking wooden door of the tower, placing a bowl of cold wheat porridge by the bedside.
She hesitated, softly calling, “Young Master Rowling… it’s time to get up.”
Shen Luolin opened his eyes, and the first thing he saw was the girl’s careful, gentle concern.
But that little warmth was not enough to change reality.
The cold wind and his memories surged together.
In his previous life, he was just an ordinary university student.
But that carriage of fate clearly didn’t want him to remain too ordinary.
When he opened his eyes again, he had become Rowling.
Eldest son of the Frostwolf Duke in the northern frontier of the Empire—a fallen heir who didn’t even have a proper winter coat.
Three years ago, his father had been gravely wounded while defending against the magical beasts and had been in a coma ever since.
The territory’s taxes were intercepted by the Royal Family under the pretext of wartime logistics; the granaries were so empty you could race horses inside.
His two younger brothers had each aligned themselves with different princes, stripping him of military power.
Even his youngest sister was selling off family assets, just waiting for the city to fall so she could escape south with the money.
Worst of all was the Emperor’s silence.
In previous years, when the magical beast blood tide surged south, the Empire would at least send the Imperial Guard Legion to assist.
But this year, the border had burned for seven days, and yet not a single soldier, not a single arrow, nor a single grain had come from the Imperial Capital.
The entire Empire was waiting for the Frostwolf Family to fall, so they could reclaim the Frostwolf Territory.
Shen Luolin sat up, rubbing his aching temples, and suddenly laughed.
Not bad—the game starts on hell difficulty.
But the real threat didn’t come from within the fortress.
Shen Luolin looked out the window.
On the northern wasteland, a dark mass of magical beasts was already within thirty li.
Frostwolf Fortress had fewer than five thousand defenders, half of them starving or poorly equipped.
The city walls had long gone unrepaired, with three cracks in the eastern section.
Without outside help, they wouldn’t last five days.
His two brothers naturally understood this as well; when the city fell, the Emperor would never forgive them for losing the land. They were all just grasshoppers tied to the same rope.
That’s why Shen Luolin was still alive.
Not out of mercy, but calculation.
But this fragile “unity” was far from enough. Five thousand tattered soldiers against tens of thousands of magical beasts—like eggs thrown at a stone wall.
Unless… there was a miracle.
Just then, a cold, emotionless voice sounded deep in his consciousness:
[Host detected in a desperate situation]
[Simulator activated]
[Simulation instance time flow is 100 times faster than reality]
[When the host’s consciousness leaves the simulation, time within the simulation will not flow]
[Enter the Simulation Instance? Complete the mission to synchronize rewards to your real body]
Good news: there’s a cheat; bad news: the city’s about to explode.
Shen Luolin didn’t hesitate for a second, silently saying in his heart, “Enter.”
His vision twisted, the wind and snow vanished.
The cold was still bone-deep, but it was no longer the Frostwolf Fortress in the north.
When he opened his eyes again, Shen Luolin stood at the edge of a barren snowfield.
[Host has entered the Simulation Instance]
[Simulation Instance: Ashen Oath]
[Host identity: Rowling, former member of the Frostwolf Knight Order, now a Major in the Dragon-Slaying Knight Order]
[Background: In the 387th year of the Empire, the Emperor ordered the extermination of the Dragonborn. You were once saved by Rhine Side, a Dragonborn, and went to persuade him to flee. But Rhine Side, knowing all was lost, chose to end his life with his family, entrusting his daughter to you. The Emperor mistook you for a dragon-slaying hero and promoted you rapidly. However, your quick rise made you the target of jealousy within the Knight Order, and you were even slandered as having betrayed your benefactor. Taking advantage of your solitary reputation, you began searching for Rhine Side’s daughter, Moyin.]
[Mission objective: Purify the Dragonborn bloodline (Moyin). The purity of the bloodline will directly affect your final rating—the higher the purity, the greater the rewards.]
The system’s voice faded.
A biting wind swept past, leaving only an icy clarity within his chest.
This was the northern snowfield—a land cursed by perpetual winter.
Deep within a mine, damp and cold intermingled.
Shen Luolin’s military boots tread silently on the rubble.
He followed a faint warm current tinged with the scent of sulphur.
Turning a corner, a flicker of orange light danced ahead.
The light came from behind a pile of rocks, casting the shadow of a curled-up figure onto the cave wall.
The shadow was small, trembling with the flickering firelight, so lonely it seemed it might be snuffed out at any moment.
Shen Luolin concealed all traces of himself, hiding deeper in the shadows.
He saw the girl.
Her hair, almost blending into the snow, hung messily over half her face.
She hugged herself tightly, her thin frame shivering under tattered clothes.
In her open palm, a tiny flame clumsily danced—flaring and fading, giving off sporadic heat.
Rowling recognized at a glance that this was no ordinary flame.
It was the most primitive, and the most impure, Dragonfire.
And the one wielding it was Moyin, daughter of Rhine Side.
The very target of Rowling’s mission.
After a moment’s observation, Shen Luolin deliberately made his footsteps heavier, crushing the thin ice beneath his boot.
“Crack.”
The crisp sound shattered the deathly silence of the mine.
The unstable Dragonfire instantly extinguished.
The girl’s body went rigid, springing from her curled posture, eyes warily locking onto the source of the sound.
Her hand went to her waist, where a rusty dagger hung.
“Who’s there?”
Her voice trembled, but she forced herself to sound fierce.
Shen Luolin stepped from the shadows, his tall figure making the narrow mine tunnel suddenly feel cramped, his silhouette swallowing up the girl entirely.
He raised his hands, palms open, to show he was unarmed.
“A passing treasure hunter, just looking for shelter from the storm.”
Rowling’s voice was calm, edged with travel-weary fatigue.
He wore simple, dust-stained leather armor—nothing like the shining silver armor of the Dragon-Slaying Knight Order.
Moyin didn’t relax, her eyes behind the silver hair locked on him, gripping the dagger even tighter.
“Treasure hunter? What could possibly bring you to a place like this? There’s nothing here but rocks and ice!”
“That’s not always true.” Shen Luolin lowered his hands, stepping two paces closer.
He stopped just as the girl’s body tensed to the point of attack.
“Sometimes, it’s the places that seem worthless that hide the most precious things.”
His gaze fell on her hand—the one that had just conjured the flame.
“Warming yourself with Dragonfire? Interesting.”
Moyin instantly hid her hand behind her back, her eyes darting away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Spare me.” Shen Luolin let out a short laugh. “I smelled that sulphur stench at the entrance. If there are pursuers outside, you’re practically giving them a beacon.”
Moyin’s cheeks flushed red—part anger, part embarrassment at being exposed.
“Mind your own business! What happens to me has nothing to do with you!”
“Of course it does,” Shen Luolin replied matter-of-factly. “It’s the first time I’ve seen such an interesting trick.”
“If you do it again, this piece of meat is yours.”
He pulled out a chunk of smoked meat and half a black loaf from his pack, waving them before her.
The rich aroma of meat instantly filled the air.
Moyin’s stomach let out a loud, involuntary growl. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d had a proper meal.
She swallowed, but her wariness did not lessen in the slightest.
“I… I’m not going to do it. It’s a secret.”
“Really? What a shame.”
Shen Luolin feigned disappointment, about to withdraw the food.
“I thought you’d be interested in learning how to make your Dragonfire burn hotter and warmer.”
That hit Moyin’s sore spot dead-on.
She clutched the rags barely worthy of being called clothing even tighter.
On the run, she’d relied on her feeble Dragonfire for warmth, waking every night from the cold.
If she could just sleep warm through the night…
Her defenses finally cracked.
She looked up, her voice hoarse.
“How… how do you know about that?”
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