Real world, Frostwolf Fort.
Inside the tower room, Shen Luolin’s body trembled violently, and he snapped his eyes open.
Outside the window was still the familiar snow and wind of the northern lands, but the memories of those days he spent with Mo Yin in the mine were so clear in his mind, it was as if it had all just happened a second ago.
The bloody scent of the Icefield Wolves, the warmth of the campfire, and the stubborn look in the young girl’s eyes… everything was vivid and fresh.
In reality, less than an hour had passed.
【Target (Mo Yin) bloodline purity has increased to 1%】
【Simulation Instance: Oath of Embers, Phase Task Complete】
【Calculating rewards…】
【Congratulations to the host for completing the phase task. Reward: Junior Dragon Might】
【Synchronizing to real body…】
A cold and commanding power silently flowed within his body.
“Creak—”
The wooden door was gently pushed open. The maid, Leah, stepped in cautiously, her steps lighter and more hurried than before.
“Young Master Luolin… you should get up.” Her voice was tinged with an anxiety she couldn’t hide. “Second Young Master… Second Young Master has already sent people twice to urge you.”
Before she could finish, a series of heavy, unceremonious footsteps sounded from outside the door.
“Bang!”
The door was slammed open. A young man strode in, clad in silver-scale light armor with a gray wolfskin cloak draped over his shoulders.
The Frost Pattern Command Sword at his waist swayed with each movement, tapping against his leg armor with a crisp sound.
Behind him were two towering Ironclad Guards, their icy helmets revealing only a pair of indifferent eyes, making the already narrow room feel even more cramped.
The visitor was none other than the second son of the Frostwolf family, Lucius Frostwolf.
“Big Brother Luolin lives quite leisurely—waking at noon? Do you think the demonic beasts will wait to attack until you’ve had your fill of sleep?”
His sharp gaze swept the room, lingering on Shen Luolin for a moment, full of undisguised contempt.
Without waiting for Shen Luolin to reply, he turned sharply to the trembling Leah, his tone turning icy:
“Such audacity!”
“As a personal maid, you let your master laze in bed and delay military matters.”
“According to the Frostwolf Family Code, she should be flogged thirty times and expelled from the inner keep, as a warning to others!”
In the harsh northern winter, thirty floggings was almost a death sentence.
Even if she somehow survived, being driven from the inner keep in this bitter season would only mean becoming food for the beasts.
“Second Young Master! I…”
Leah’s face went pale, and she fell to her knees with a thud.
Sitting on the bed, Shen Luolin watched quietly, his expression as calm as still water.
Trouble.
Again, this kind of troublesome situation.
He saw through Lucius’s intent with a single glance.
Kill the chicken to warn the monkey.
He was using Leah to assert his dominance, giving him—this nominal heir—a show of force, warning him to behave and give up any thought of vying for family power.
Shen Luolin could, of course, choose to endure.
After all, the life or death of a maid was irrelevant to the greater picture. It was the simplest way out.
But some trouble simply can’t be avoided.
Moreover, to let a loyal person at his side be used and crushed so carelessly would only lead to even greater trouble—trouble he detested even more.
A master who cannot even protect his own people will only be deserted by all.
Seeing Leah too terrified to speak, Lucius waved his hand impatiently, as if shooing away a fly.
“Take her away! Thirty lashes! Let her learn her lesson and remember the rules of Frostwolf Fort!”
The two towering guards stepped forward at once, their fan-like hands grabbing Leah left and right, hoisting her up roughly.
“No… Second Young Master…” Leah’s plea was choked in her throat, her eyes filled with nothing but despair.
Just then, a light laugh suddenly echoed through the room.
“Rules?”
Shen Luolin laughed, a note of undisguised mockery in his voice.
“If I recall, aren’t the rules of Frostwolf Fort set by the Duke’s eldest son?”
Lucius’s face darkened, and at last he turned his gaze to his elder brother.
His eyes were full of that all-too-familiar hostility and disdain, but at this moment, Shen Luolin’s tone made him feel a pressure wholly unfamiliar.
Today, Shen Luolin seemed different from that hollow, decadent shell of a man from before.
Shen Luolin rose from the bed at a leisurely pace. He didn’t even bother to put on shoes; his bare feet stepped directly onto the freezing stone floor, making no sound at all, as if he felt no cold.
He walked forward, step by steady step, not rushed nor slow, straight toward Lucius.
In the room, cold wind seeped through the door crack. Lucius and the Ironclad Guards behind him stood like three steel fortresses, their armor gleaming with a cold, ghostly light.
And yet, barefoot and dressed in only a thin nightgown, Shen Luolin felt like a moving iceberg closing in, each step lowering the temperature of the room.
Lucius’s brow furrowed unconsciously.
He realized he could no longer see through this elder brother of his.
That calmness—it was not the dead, decadent calm of the past, but… the quiet before a blizzard.
Shen Luolin’s gaze was serene, yet as sharp as a blade, slicing past Lucius’s shoulder to fix on the ornate Frost Pattern Command Sword at his waist.
“This command sword was passed to me by Father. When did you become the master of Frostwolf Fort?”
That single sentence was like a hammer blow, striking directly at the sorest point—Lucius’s illegitimate claim to power.
Lucius’s face stiffened, then he forced a retort: “I’m in charge of the military for the safety of Frostwolf Fort! Unlike you, lost to wine and women, ignoring the fief. How dare you even speak of rules?”
“Wine and women?”
Shen Luolin remained unmoved, his tone growing colder and every word ringing clear, “I’m quite curious—in these years, who was it behind the scenes that embezzled the taxes, emptied the granaries, and hollowed out the military authority, all in an attempt to sideline the true heir of the Frostwolf family?”
Each word was like a needle, stabbing straight into Lucius’s ears.
Lucius’s face turned ashen.
He knew that if he argued further, he’d only lose ground.
He waved his hand fiercely and snapped, “Enough! Drag that wretch out! I want to see who dares to stop me today!”
The two guards braced themselves to act. Leah closed her eyes in despair.
At that very instant, Shen Luolin moved.
He didn’t raise a hand. Not even a finger.
His gaze simply sharpened, and deep in those jet-black pupils, a faint trace of gold flashed by.
A formless, icy, and majestic aura instantly filled the entire room!
—Junior Dragon Might!
The two Ironclad Guards trying to drag Leah away suddenly stiffened.
“Clang!”
One of them dropped his halberd with a jarring crash.
Sweat beaded instantly on both their foreheads, their legs trembling uncontrollably, unable to take another step forward.
A fear from the depths of their souls gripped their throats, making even breathing a struggle—let alone the thought of resistance.
Lucius too felt his heart seize. That sudden, kingly oppression—like a sovereign looking down on his subjects—made it hard to breathe.
He stared hard at Shen Luolin, searching that calm face for any hint or clue, his heart roiling with shock and disbelief.
What… what was this?
Since when did this useless brother possess such a terrifying presence?
Shen Luolin’s voice was still tranquil:
“Leah is my maid. Anyone who touches her is my enemy.”
“Today’s matter ends here.”
The atmosphere froze to its limit.
Lucius’s expression shifted uncertainly.
He indeed held most of the military power, but in name, Shen Luolin was still the legal heir.
The emperor might want to weaken the vassals, but as long as Frostwolf Fort hadn’t fallen, the facade had to be maintained.
If he moved against his elder brother now, it would not only enrage the remaining generals loyal to the old Duke, but also hand their scheming third brother a pretext for accusing him of fratricide.
Lucius clenched his fist in his sleeve but ultimately held back.
He knew that Shen Luolin wasn’t standing up for a maid.
This was a test.
A test to see whether Lucius dared to tear away the last veneer and act openly.
And he didn’t.
At least, not now.
“…Fine. Very well. Let this be the last time.”
Lucius gritted his teeth, forcing the words out, and left with his two nearly collapsing guards in tow, their retreat almost bordering on flight.
Once outside the tower, lashed by the cold wind, the two guards finally felt alive again.
One grumbled in a low voice, unable to accept it: “Second Young Master, just let it go like that? That useless—”
“Shut up!” Lucius snapped irritably, a trace of lingering fear and cold malice in his eyes.
Today’s events were too strange.
Another trusted aide leaned in, lowering his voice: “Young Master, don’t be angry. It’s just a lowly maid, not worth your rage.”
“We’ve already contacted those people. They promised to send a real ‘Dragonborn’ to help. When that time comes, no matter how tough that useless eldest son is, before the true might of a dragon, he’ll be nothing but an ant—easily crushed.”
At the mention of “Dragonborn,” the suspicion and anger on Lucius’s face finally eased, replaced by a cold calculation.
That’s right. He still had his trump card. One that could utterly crush everything at its source.
But… today’s events were absolutely not simple.
“Send someone to watch the tower closely,” Lucius said in a low, dangerous voice. “I want to know who he sees, what he does—don’t miss a single word! That aura… it’s not normal.”
His confidant bowed at once.
“Hmph, let him act arrogant for a few more days.” Lucius looked back at the solitary tower, sneering coldly, “I want to see if, when the ‘guest’ arrives, he can still act so tough!”