In an underground storage room north of the Frost Snow Wasteland, winter grain stockpiled for relief had once been stored here.
Now it was completely abandoned, moldy burlap sacks slumped in the corners, and grain husks gnawed hollow by rats lay scattered on the floor.
Xue Yin stood at the entrance of the storage room, her Strings of Silence spreading without a sound.
Only after confirming there was no danger around did she relax.
Ailia gently set Vera down and brushed the lingering snow from her shoulders and fox ears.
“Thank you for saving me.”
Vera’s fiery red fox ears drooped softly as she suddenly spoke.
“My name is Vera Brino. I am the lord of the Sixth Ring’s Frost Snow Wasteland, though I have not formally succeeded to the title yet.”
Xue Yin crouched down to be at eye level with her, silver hair spilling over her shoulders.
“We know. Can you give us a detailed introduction to the Frost Snow Wasteland?”
Vera nodded.
Though only eleven years old, the years of private aristocratic tutoring at the Marquis’s mansion had not been in vain.
Etiquette, politics, geography, law—the Old Marquis had naturally hired the best teachers.
Vera took a deep breath.
Those familiar lesson topics helped her momentarily forget her fear, and she began to speak with clear logic:
“The Frost Snow Wasteland is divided into three regions: the Northern Tundra, snow-covered year-round, where people survive by mining the local ice crystal ore; the Central Farmlands, growing cold-resistant black rye, but the granary keys are still in the hands of the regent Claudius—he hasn’t opened the storehouses since this autumn’s harvest; and the Southern Vale Mining Town, with black iron ore veins buried deep underground, most of the miners being bankrupt farmers and debt slaves.”
She paused, her fingers unconsciously tracing the ice crystal family crest embroidered on her cuff, her voice dropping lower:
“My grandfather governed for over forty years. His heart held only affairs of state, never family. He didn’t attend noble banquets, and on official documents he only wrote ‘Approved’ or ‘Denied.’”
Vera gave a bitter smile and continued about her only remaining relative:
“He always said, ‘Order above mercy.’ The little wooden horse I carved for him, he stored it away in the warehouse and never displayed it. I think—probably because he felt I hadn’t done well enough yet.”
Ailia reached out and gently smoothed Vera’s tangled brown hair, her fingertips tenderly stroking the trembling fox ears.
“You’ve already done very well,” she said softly.
“At such a young age, you know more than many adults. Have a little more confidence in yourself.”
Just then, Jin returned from outside, striding quickly to Xue Yin’s side.
“The Frost Snow Wasteland is under total lockdown. The Blackscale Guard has set up several checkpoints.”
The news Jin brought weighed the atmosphere down another notch.
Xue Yin’s brow furrowed slightly—the situation was not optimistic.
After listening, she stood up.
“Jin and I will go out to gather more information. Ailia, please take care of Vera.”
“Wait!” Vera suddenly called out to Xue Yin, her voice trembling but stubborn.
“If Claudius has already declared me dead, then shouldn’t I really stop living and dragging many people down?”
Xue Yin turned back, silver hair swaying over her shoulder.
“The ‘little lord Vera’ of before can die. But the ‘Vera who will personally take back her territory’ cannot die. The former was his puppet; the latter is yourself.”
Xue Yin and Jin infiltrated the small tavern at the Frost Snow Wasteland relay station.
Inside the tavern, the fireplace crackled loudly, smoke swirling in the air.
A few miners wrapped in worn leather jackets huddled in a corner, the cheap liquor in their wooden cups already running dry.
“Did you hear? After attending the meeting, little lord Vera was killed by bandits on her way back from the Magic Capital!”
A scruffy mercenary lowered his voice, but couldn’t hide the hint of schadenfreude in his tone.
“Poor thing… only eleven years old…”
An elderly woman next to him clasped her hands, her eyes reddening.
“Shh! Don’t talk nonsense!”
A miner in the corner suddenly straightened up, glancing left and right, his voice dropping to the barest whisper.
“Lord Claudius has taken over the territory and is currently sending men to purge the ‘remnants’! The Blackscale Guard has sealed all entrances and exits, and they’ve issued a wanted notice for ‘bandits impersonating the lord.’ Do you have a death wish?”
The tavern fell silent for a moment.
The mercenary shrugged, took a gulp of his drink, and didn’t say another word.
After a short pause, another young miner timidly spoke up: “Will taxes go up from now on? This year’s harvest was already bad…”
“More than just taxes?”
The hunchbacked traveling peddler sneered.
“If my guess is right, the ice crystal mines in the north will probably be recruiting child labor directly this year.”
No one answered.
The resentment that had been building up for too long clogged their throats, but they found no outlet.
Claudius’s Blackscale Guard was everywhere.
One wrong word and they might never see the sun again.
They remained silent, enduring, like withered trees bent by the wind and snow, no longer daring to stand straight.
Xue Yin and Jin sat to the side, quietly drinking fruit wine, their cloaks covering half their faces, taking it all in.
They didn’t exchange words.
Xue Yin’s fingers tapped twice beneath the table—their prearranged signal: time to leave.
Back at the underground storage room, Xue Yin laid out all the information she had gathered and analyzed it point by point.
“Claudius is too eager for success. In his haste, he made two fatal mistakes.”
Her voice wasn’t loud, but every word was clear.
Jin stood in the shadows, leaning slightly forward.
“Master, what are they?”
Xue Yin raised two fingers.
“First, he falsely fabricated the news of Lord Vera’s death and spread disinformation. This act already constitutes the serious crime of usurpation.”
“Second, he privately deployed the Blackscale Guard to massacre the personal guard without cause. The personal guard are the direct troops of House Brino—no outsider has the authority to discipline them. By doing this, he is equivalent to committing rebellion.”
Ailia’s voice carried a rare edge of anger:
“So he’s not just ‘acting as regent’ now—this is outright ‘usurpation.’ But for Claudius to be so blatant, it’s hard to imagine he hasn’t coordinated with the Magic Capital’s central authority.”
“Correct. We have to assume Claudius has someone behind him tacitly supporting his current actions.”
Xue Yin nodded.
“But in the Demon Realm, only two things are recognized: bloodline and strength. Vera has the bloodline. Now we need to help her prove she has the strength and the value.”
“Listen carefully,” Xue Yin said with decisive finality.
“What we need to do is to have Vera, as the legitimate lord, personally suppress an ‘internal rebellion.’”
Ailia immediately understood.
“That way, the whole matter is confined within the Frost Snow Wasteland, and the central authority won’t intervene.”
Vera suddenly lifted her head, her amber eyes glinting faintly in the firelight.
Her voice, though soft, carried a trace of long-lost determination:
“My grandfather left behind remnants of the Frost Snow Wasteland Garrison Army. The Northern Tundra Outpost Chief, the Central Farmlands Granary Superintendent, and the Southern Vale Mining Town Sergeant have all sworn loyalty to House Brino. But I am young and have had little contact with them. I’m afraid they may not be willing to trust me…”
She paused, as if recalling something.
“However, above them is an old fox general named Luo En. He was my grandfather’s deputy. He retired five years ago due to injury and lives at Eagle’s Beak Cliff in the north. If we can secure his support, the garrison forces of the three regions of the Frost Snow Wasteland will surely return to my command.”
A glint of approval for Vera flickered in Xue Yin’s eyes, but she didn’t interrupt.
“So,” Jin picked up the thread, his voice low, “Claudius has loudly announced your death and taken over as acting lord—everyone knows it. If we can present a living lord before them, that will be the sharpest testimony.”
“And then?”
Vera asked, her back straight, her fiery red fox ears no longer drooping.
Xue Yin stood up.
“You will lead the garrison army straight into the Frostsnow Castle Council Hall. If Claudius dares to resist, execute him on the spot. Traitors don’t deserve to live until trial day.”
Ailia stroked Vera’s head.
“You stand at the center of the council hall and announce to all the officials: ‘The rebellion has been quelled. The Frost Snow Wasteland returns to House Brino.’ Then send a fast rider to the Magic Capital with a brief report that the situation is under control: ‘Regent Count Claudius executed for treason. Lord Vera Brino restored to her position.’”
After hearing all this, Vera was filled with resolve.
“My grandfather’s rules cannot be broken under my watch.”
Xue Yin nodded.
“The key point is that we only deal with Claudius and purge his faction. The smaller the matter, the less the central authority will care.”
“Why?” Vera didn’t quite understand the relationship.
“Because in the Demon Realm,” Jin explained in time for Xue Yin, “bloodline determines whether you have the right to sit on the throne. Strength determines whether others dare to pull you down. If Claudius lacks real strength and couldn’t even get his hands on your corpse before rushing to center stage, he’s nothing but a jumping clown in everyone’s eyes.”
“The Demon Realm’s central authority will recognize you,” Xue Yin continued, pausing for a moment before glancing at Jin and then resuming as if unconcerned.
“Not because they pity your plight, but simply because you are the ultimate victor—and you won cleanly, legally, and properly.”
Just as everyone was discussing their next steps, in a corner unknown to all from years ago—
Inside the Frostsnow Castle Council Hall, the Old Marquis Brino dismissed his attendants.
Alone, he faced the worn map of the Frost Snow Wasteland on the wall.
His deputy Luo En stood by the door and heard him mutter softly:
“If she grows up hating me… then let her hate. As long as she can stay far from the center of political struggle, that’s enough.”
Over the years, the new policies he had implemented had touched too many interests.
Most of his former allies had left him.
He was truly alone now.
“Don’t tell her how much I fear seeing her cry in front of me.”
Mountains may not speak, but they always stand against the wind and snow.