Shen Luolin calmly clenched his palm into a fist, concealing the light beneath his hand.
He lowered his eyes to the young girl intently mending his socks, her silver hair glowing softly in the firelight.
Suddenly, he moved his feet.
“Master?” Moyin looked up, a bit confused.
Shen Luolin had already withdrawn his feet and stood up.
He picked up the blanket that had been drying by the fire and, without a word, draped it back over Moyin’s shoulders, pressing her down just as she tried to get up.
“Sit still. Don’t move.”
His actions were smooth, his tone calm. “I’m going to check the situation outside, in case the icefield wolves are tracking us.”
With that, he turned and walked towards the snow-sealed entrance, giving Moyin no chance to speak.
With a single step, warmth was left completely behind.
The raging blizzard swallowed him whole in an instant, the bone-piercing wind scraping his cheeks like countless tiny blades.
In this realm of pure cold, Shen Luolin loosened his clenched fist.
Light flickered on the back of his hand, and a cold, respectful female voice rang directly in his mind.
“Major Luolin, this is Aila. You’ve been out of contact for one standard hour.”
Aila.
His most capable adjutant—a talented woman whose loyalty to the crown ran bone-deep.
Aila was also painfully aware of Shen Luolin’s semi-isolated status within the Knight Order.
She sympathized with his plight, but only to that extent.
Now, she was the only “eyes” he had left in the order, temporarily overseeing his last vestige of power in name only.
Aila’s reports were always concise, but this time, the contents were enough to set off a storm.
“Reporting, Major. The main forces of the Knight Order have located the precise coordinates of the Dragon Temple in the Northern Snowfield.”
Dragon Temple.
Shen Luolin’s pupils contracted.
It wasn’t some shrine for worshiping dragons, but the legendary place where the ancient Dragonborn held their metamorphosis rituals and rose to power.
It was said that it could amplify the bloodline power of the Dragonborn to the utmost limit.
Aila’s voice remained utterly unruffled as she continued her icy analysis.
“According to multiple sources cross-referenced, we have reason to believe His Majesty’s ultimate objective is connected to the Dragon Temple.”
“All the Dragon Blood Crystals he’s gathered over the years have been secretly transported to the north. Major, while there is no direct evidence, all signs point to the most terrifying possibility—”
“His Majesty may be attempting, through some ancient ritual, to make the power of the Blood of the Dragon his own, and thus reach…the domain of the divine.”
Immortality.
That was the emperor’s true ambition.
“In addition,” Aila added, “activating the Dragon Temple ritual requires the purest Dragonborn blood as the ‘Key’. According to our intel, the last bloodline of ‘Rheinside’ is somewhere in these snowfields.”
“His Majesty has issued a highest-level order: capture the target alive.”
Rheinside.
The name exploded in Shen Luolin’s mind like a thunderbolt.
The howling wind and snow before him seemed to freeze instantly, replaced by the memory of that man’s resolute gaze by firelight, when he entrusted his sword to Shen Luolin years ago—
“Luolin, my daughter… I leave her to you.”
The weight of that promise now turned into a bone-piercing chill, colder than the blizzard outside.
He fell silent for a moment, forcibly suppressing the storm in his heart.
“Aila.” He spoke, his voice distorted by wind and snow. “Discovering the Dragon Temple is a huge merit. I’ll report it to the Military Department in your name, stating it was your independent investigation. This will benefit your standing in the Order.”
The other end of the communication was silent.
After a few seconds, Aila’s voice returned, still in that official tone.
“…Thank you, Major. But my duty is to serve His Majesty.”
A flawless answer.
She accepted his goodwill, but drew a clear boundary.
Her loyalty was to the crown, not to Shen Luolin himself.
Shen Luolin said no more and unilaterally cut the connection.
The glow on the back of his hand faded.
He knew Aila was a double-edged sword. Today, she could provide him with intelligence; tomorrow, on the emperor’s orders, she could plunge that sword into his heart.
Standing alone in the snow and wind, cold seeping into his very bones, his mind had never been clearer.
The emperor, the Dragon Temple, the Key, Moyin…
A vast net had already silently spread across these snowfields. And he and the ignorant girl beside him stood at its center.
This was a deadlock.
Shen Luolin instinctively calculated the odds of breaking out.
Based on Aila’s intel, the bulk of the Dragon-Slaying Knight Order’s main force was now on the snowfield.
As a major of the Dragon-Slaying Knight Order, Shen Luolin knew all too well what they were capable of.
They were no mere showpieces.
With so many personnel, it was only a matter of time before they found him and Moyin.
Time was running out for them both.
In his mind, Shen Luolin recalled the girl’s earnest profile as she warmed his feet, and her stubborn words: “This is the filial duty a disciple owes her master.”
Troublesome.
To stand against an entire empire… that was without doubt the most troublesome thing in the world.
Yet for some reason, this time, not a trace of retreat entered his heart.
When Shen Luolin, still chilled from the wind and snow, returned to the cave, Moyin was indeed waiting near the entrance.
Seeing his return, the girl immediately rushed to him, wrapping him up tightly in the blanket warmed by her body heat.
“Master, you look so pale.”
She lifted her head, hands holding a steaming bowl of rabbit soup, her clear eyes brimming with genuine, untainted concern.
“Is… is there some danger outside?”
She was completely unaware that she herself was the very center of the coming storm.
Shen Luolin looked at her.
At this girl who warmed his feet, mended his clothes, and worried for his safety.
And then, remembering she was the very “Key” that the emperor and the entire empire were frantically seeking, an indescribable tangle of emotions surged in his chest.
Shen Luolin’s gaze grew darker, deep and unfathomable.
He did not immediately take the soup.
His eyes settled on the girl before him—this warm, lively soul who trusted him completely, the very root of all his troubles.
He reached out and, with fingers still cold from the snow, gently brushed a bit of snowflake from the ends of her hair.
Moyin was startled by his sudden gesture, a blush rising on her cheeks.
Beneath his fingertips was the softness of her hair, and the vibrant heat radiating from her body.
That warmth formed a stark contrast with the icy resolve he’d just made.
At last, he took the bowl of soup, the warmth spreading from his fingertips.
He took a sip, letting the heat drive the chill from his chest. Only then did he look up at Moyin, his eyes calm, his voice lower and hoarser than usual:
“Moyin, tell me—have you ever heard of the ‘Dragon Temple’?”
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