“Very well… In light of the fact that you might soon save my father’s life, I will overlook your rudeness… As for your question just now…”
Snow Hill paused for a moment, then ultimately shook her head. “Aside from the True Ancestor, there are many insurmountable beings in this world. I am indeed strong, yet there are still countless existences above me.”
Hearing this, Sang was momentarily stunned. Was this what a true peak powerhouse looked like?
She seemed so cool… On one hand, she openly acknowledged her own strength without that irritating false humility. On the other, she showed no sign of halting her pursuit of even greater power.
Huh… It’s odd—in every transmigration tale, the male lead brainwashes everyone around him into idolizing his mindset, but here I am, the one getting converted.
Well… It’s not exactly brainwashing, at least. Snow Hill has truly earned her reputation, unlike the likes of Mr. Satan or King…
Tsk tsk tsk. Snow Hill really was a terrifying woman.
Before departing the Central area, the trio stocked up on a massive haul of supplies for their long journey at the market in the Second District. Snow Hill and Aisha Hodhua, being of the Blood Race, could get by with just a few pouches of blood, but Sang was human. His needs were far more extensive.
After all, he was a delicate little piggy boy. Life had to be lived with refinement.
While browsing the market stalls, Sang spotted Yilin from a distance—the very female physician who had escorted him from Kaen Town to the Central. She carried a crossbody bag across her shoulder, apparently rushing to a house call, and didn’t notice the youth standing nearby.
Sang had no plans to call out to her. His identity was special and sensitive; even casual contact with an ordinary human like her could spell trouble.
Sang and Aisha Hodhua thoroughly enjoyed their time wandering the Second District market. Snow Hill, however, showed zero interest in shopping. She trailed behind them with a blank expression the whole time, like a bodyguard.
Even so—whether because of Snow Hill’s peerless beauty or because passersby recognized her as the Ice Princess—the trio drew stares everywhere they went.
The Central really was enormous.
By the time Sang had truly left the Central behind in a geographical sense, the sun was dipping toward the western horizon. Night hadn’t fully fallen, yet the moon had already risen high in eager anticipation.
The Blood Race did require rest, but nothing like humans. A human without a full night’s sleep felt wretched all day, whereas the Blood Race could go days without slumber and suffer no ill effects. In fact, they grew more alert as night deepened.
And so, the journey pressed on through the darkness.
Sang remained his usual excitable self. It was only their first day out of [Heavenly Key] and into the wider world, so he was reluctant to retreat to the carriage. Late into the night—though he had no idea of the exact hour—a warm spring breeze finally lulled him. He toppled gently onto Snow Hill’s thigh and promptly fell into a deep sleep.
Aisha Hodhua’s eyes widened at the sight. Sang was taking liberties with Lady Ice! She quickly said, “My apologies, Lady Snow. Let me take him back to the carriage.”
Unlike Sang, Aisha Hodhua was merely a lowly maidservant—a discarded scion of her family—with none of his unique standing. She adopted a fully servile demeanor toward Snow Hill.
To her surprise,
Snow Hill gazed down at the youth on her thigh and shook her head. “Let him lie there a while…”
“Ah…” Aisha Hodhua blinked in astonishment.
“There’s no need for surprise. He’s on this trip to help save my father. I’m prepared to treat him as an honored guest and forgive a bit of unintentional rudeness… He’s only just dozed off. Once he’s in deeper sleep, I’ll carry him back to the carriage. The same goes for you—don’t abase yourself so much. If you’re tired, go rest… I’ve got it all handled.”
I’ve got it all handled…?
Aisha Hodhua had long heard tales of the Ice Princess, but interacting with her in person still stirred deep emotion.
She seemed like an impenetrable, untouchable wall of ice. Yet beneath it all, she steadfastly guarded everything—the Northern Monument.
“Mm, then I’ll head back first.”
…
The following morning,
When Sang stirred from sleep, he realized he was back inside the carriage. The Pink-Haired Little Lolita slumbered beside him, her arm looped around his. They’d known each other for quite some time, but this was their first night sharing a bed like this. There was no hint of romance to it—just the comforting feeling of bunking down with a little sister.
Who could harbor wicked thoughts toward a 1.4-meter-tall bundle of cuteness?
Only a pedophile.
Ruffling her cheeks was perfectly innocent, but ogling her body? That would be downright creepy.
A short while later, Sang quietly extricated himself from the Pink-Haired Little Lolita’s grasp and crept out of the carriage on tiptoe.
The sight that met his eyes sent a shiver down his spine. They had stopped in a wooded riverside clearing on the outskirts. All around stood frozen Blood Race sculptures, with scattered corpse remnants on the ground—likewise encased in ice to stave off rot and stench.
Raising his gaze, Sang spotted Snow Hill standing firm in the river’s center, the current rushing over her. Naked? No, no—she was fully clad in her customary knight’s garb.
“What happened?” Sang asked.
Snow Hill waded slowly toward the shore. With each step, the water clinging to her body—especially the droplets on her ice-blue hair tips—froze solid, then shattered into glittering ice crystals that danced away on the breeze. It was a mesmerizing display.
As she approached, she said, “Nothing happened…”
Good lord.
Dozens of Blood Race corpses littering the area behind her, and she claimed nothing had happened!?
Was this woman mocking his intelligence?
Later, from Aisha Hodhua’s account, Sang learned the truth. These were likely elite assassins dispatched by a rival family, targeting either him, Snow Hill, or perhaps both.
Why target Sang? It had been explained before—no need to belabor the point.
Why target Snow Hill?
Just as Samuel Cape had declared the day prior: Snow Hill, one day your arrogance and your eternally neutral family will meet their end together.
The key word was “neutral.”
In a world roiling with hidden currents, neutrality was no virtue. To certain powers, the Hill Family was a thorn in the flesh, a nail in the eye. They had assumed the family was fading—doomed to dissolve into the northern chaos and blizzards, generation after feeble generation. Yet this latest one had produced a figure straight out of legend.
That was precisely why someone wanted Snow Hill dead. This journey presented the perfect opening. Slay Snow Hill, dispose of Sang as a bonus, and the Hill Family’s current Family Head would perish untended. A clean triple strike.
Mulling it over, Sang suspected the Cape Family was the prime suspect. They were the only ones privy to the details—after all, they had only recently tried to block Snow Hill from meeting the True Ancestor. The other two Grand Duke families might not even know of the Family Head’s dire condition.
Whatever the case,
This month-long trek was proving far less peaceful than imagined.
