"Is that so?" The swirling mass of black mist beneath the hood of the figure in black robes resonated, "Then I shall be the one to test your mettle."

Whoosh—

The air around the tree trunks was suddenly shredded by countless streaks of light resembling black carving plumes. Innumerable trees snapped into dust, and the ground within a thousand-mile radius deeply cratered downwards. The black-robed figure slowly raised a hand, extending it from the sleeve to reveal a churning mass of black energy.

"Ghost Heaven, Patricide!"

From the surrounding trees, tendrils of black mist erupted, and even the ground beneath surged with a dark radiance that gathered in the sky above, condensing into countless fine black needles that suddenly rained down upon True Man Shige in an overwhelming deluge.

Swish, swish, swish...

The very air seemed torn into countless fragments as the black light swarmed in.

True Man Shige slowly lifted his head.

...

The Ice and Snow Empire, the remote frontier, the small town of Willman.

The howling blizzard roared outside the tattered curtain of the tavern. The woman in the silver-white robe returned to her senses, sitting down beside the thin boy. In the lamplight, she looked at his pale expression, her slender brows knitting together slightly. "Drink some hot water; are you feeling any better?"

"M-much better." A faint flush of color returned to the thin boy's face. He struggled to sit up, then raised his bright, piercing eyes to gaze intently at the woman in the silver-white robe. "Thank you, Sister, you saved me. I am willing to become your slave!"

"A slave?" The silver-white-robed woman looked at him with a strange, amused expression. "What could you possibly do? I have no need for slaves."

The thin boy looked at her with utter seriousness, saying solemnly, "I can give you back massages, rub your shoulders, fetch water for your feet, and I can also make your bed, sweep the floor, carry your luggage. Anything you need that is within my power, I will do it for you, and..."

"And what?"

He looked into her eyes and stated firmly, "And even if you needed me to lure the spirit beasts out of the valley, I would go."

The woman in the silver-white robe was slightly moved, and she frowned. "Did you used to be a slave?"

"Yes."

"If I sent you into the valley, with your constitution, you would be killed instantly."

"Yes."

"Then why would you still go?"

"Because you saved me, so my life is yours. My previous master made me go into the valley to lure out spirit beasts for him so he could sneak into their nests to steal newly hatched eggs. Unfortunately, the information he received was wrong, and he was swallowed whole by the returning male spirit beast," the thin boy recounted with a touch of sorrow.

The woman in the silver-white robe looked at him and sighed. "If that is the case, then why were you able to return alive?"

"I was lucky." The thin boy's gaze flickered with the memory of the blizzard, as if recalling the scene, and his expression shifted to one of terror. "That spirit beast chased me, and it caught up quickly. I grew anxious, my footing slipped, and I tumbled down the slope. I passed out afterward. When I woke up, I saw the spirit beast's corpse lying beside me; its head had been severed by something incredibly sharp—the cut was clean, and the blood was frozen solid by the swirling snow."

The woman in the silver-white robe frowned. "To kill that spirit beast so swiftly, it seems you were saved by someone passing by."

"Yes." The thin boy snapped back to the present, his expression laced with relief. "Afterward, I left that place, fearing the smell of blood would attract other beasts. I kept walking until I arrived here, where I accidentally collapsed in the snow outside. It was only thanks to you, Big Sister, that I managed to survive."

The woman in the silver-white robe looked at his genuine, brilliant smile, and for some unknown reason, a sudden wave of melancholy washed over her. She sighed softly and reached out to stroke the boy's hair. His hair was somewhat messy and coarse, not smooth at all. She frowned briefly, drew her hand back, and then said, "Eat something first, then find a place for yourself, find some work, support yourself. Don't follow me anymore."

The thin boy froze for a moment, then his eyes widened, his clear, bright gaze filled with grievance, nearly brimming with tears of sorrow. "Big Sister, you don't want me anymore?"

The words struck her heart like lightning, hitting the softest part. Her body trembled slightly. She turned her back to the thin boy, her face shrouded in the shadow cast by her brow. The tavern instantly fell silent, save for the howling wind and snow outside the curtain.

After a moment, her voice, cold and sharp like a knife, cut through the air, piercing the thin boy's heart. "This is the last warning I will give you: do not follow me, and do not use that pitiful look to try and move others to pity you. Otherwise... I will certainly kill you!"

The thin boy froze, feeling a chilling ache deep in his bones, colder than the snow blowing outside. He stared blankly at the tall, retreating figure of the woman in the silver-white robe, who appeared almost ethereally beautiful silhouetted by the lamplight.

The woman in the silver-white robe did not look back. She walked straight ahead, passing a table and casually picking up the silver-white hood resting there, preparing to ascend the stairs. Just then, her body suddenly stiffened. A warm chest pressed against her back, and two slender arms encircled her lower abdomen. Her pupils constricted violently, and then her body flashed away in an instant, releasing a fierce burst of power that flung the thin boy who had embraced her flying backward, crashing into several tables, collapsing them and the chairs beneath them.

The woman in the silver-white robe turned back, looking down at the thin boy with icy coldness. Her exquisite features seemed covered in a layer of frost. "If you touch me one more time... I will kill you!"

"Cough, cough..." The thin boy pushed himself up on his hands from the splintered tabletop, coughing out two mouthfuls of blood that stained his tunic a vivid red. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, and his gaze was distant and lonely, filled with a deep, deep sadness.

The woman in the silver-white robe observed him, a light flickering in her eyes. Finally, she coldly turned her back, as if she would never look again, and walked toward the stairs.

However, after only a few steps, she suddenly spun around. In her hand, which had not been visible before, was a slender, sharp white longsword, pointed directly behind her. Held close to his bronze-toned skin, the needle-sharp tip was pressed against the thin boy’s throat—a slight forward push would pierce his windpipe.

The thin boy’s body halted abruptly; his limbs were ice-cold. Feeling the sharp sting of the blade, his throat convulsed as he swallowed, the motion of his Adam's apple scraping against the tip of the sword, drawing a thin line of blood.

"I told you, if you follow me again, I will kill you!" the woman in the silver-white robe said icily.

The thin boy stared at her with wide eyes, a mixture of grievance and misery, his mouth slightly open, afraid that speaking would cause the sword tip to pierce him.

The woman in the silver-white robe stared at him for a moment. A soft spot in her heart stirred slightly. A gleam flashed in her eyes, and then she retracted the white sword, hiding it within her voluminous silver robes, turned, swung her garment, and headed for the stairs.

After a few steps, her expression suddenly chilled, and she spun around, unleashing a swift kick that struck the thin boy’s chest from behind. Her exquisite silver boot connected with his chest, eliciting the sound of cracking bone. His frail and slender body shot backward like a cannonball, crushing a large swath of tables and chairs.

"Did you not hear what I said?" The woman in the silver-white robe stared down at the thin boy, her eyes like sharp, cold light. "Do you think I won't kill you?"

Blood gurgled from the thin boy's mouth, spilling over his lips and down onto his earlobes and into his hair. His body convulsed slightly; the bones in his chest were clearly fractured, sunken inward, causing his clothes to depress into a concave shape. Splinters of wood had pierced the skin on his hands and feet; he was grievously injured.

Yet, supported by some unknown strength, his body trembled as he labored to sit up. Clenching his jaw, once he was fully upright, he gasped for air like a drowning man, sweat pouring from him. Then, he lifted his head, his eyes, clear as mist, fixed on the woman in the silver-white robe with sorrow and loneliness, an expression of pleading and attachment in his gaze.

The woman in the silver-white robe felt she could not look into his eyes anymore. She frowned slightly, then turned, walking toward the stairs.

After a few steps, a loud thud sounded from behind her, and a dark shadow was sent flying backward, crashing heavily onto the tavern floor. It was the thin boy, who had chased after her, thrown back by an invisible force. However, shortly after landing, he struggled up again and resumed the chase, only to be thrown back once more.

Again, and again.

The tavern owner watching from the side was dumbfounded. He could not believe what kind of strength resided within this thin, fragile boy to sustain him as he endured pain capable of killing an ordinary person, repeatedly, only to drag his exhausted body after the woman in the silver-white robe.

What made him so persistent?

What made him so unwilling to give up?

After more than ten attempts, the thin boy was covered in wounds. Blood coated his entire face and chin in a sticky layer of plasma. He used his fingers to grip the stairs, climbing one agonizing inch at a time, until he reached the back of the woman in the silver-white robe and clutched her delicate boot.

"Don't go..." As the woman in the silver-white robe frowned, he spoke weakly, a sound that was both a plea and heartbroken.

The body of the woman in the silver-white robe paused slightly. Then she turned to look at him. At this moment, there was not a single intact spot on the boy's body; he looked more wretched than when she had first rescued him.

Her gaze softened. Then she sighed lightly, crouched down, and the scent of Snow Orchid perfume drifted from her. Her soft, flowing hair hung down before the thin boy. Her eyes became gentle and filled with pity as she sighed softly and asked, "Why must you follow me so?"

The thin boy lay on the floor, looking up at her. The soft lamplight converged above her head, making her look like a divine goddess. His vision quickly blurred. The last thing he remembered was using every last bit of strength he possessed to whisper three words softly, a plea intertwined with sorrow: Don't go...

Then, he fell unconscious, enveloped by endless darkness.