The crisp, golden sunlight of early afternoon spilled over the jagged teeth of the Black-Crag Pass, casting long, dramatic shadows across the snow-covered expanse beyond. The narrow, oppressive gorge was now far behind them, its shattered iron gates and atomized fortress reduced to mere whispers carried by the cold mountain wind.
Before them lay the vast, breathtaking panorama of the Great Western Steppe—a boundless sea of white snow and frosted wild grass that rolled toward the distant horizon like frozen waves. Towering pine forests lined the northern ridges, their needle-laden branches glistening like silver needles under the clear sky. Above, the sky was a deep, immaculate sapphire, broken only by the occasional soaring silhouette of an alpine snow-eagle.
The air here was remarkably clean and dry. Though the cold was absolute, it lacked the dark, humid poison of the Eastern Seas. It was the ancient, primordial chill of the Western Continent—a land built upon rugged mountains, ancient iron veins, and unyielding martial traditions.
Walking along the wide, frozen trading highway that cut through the center of the steppe were two solitary figures.
Li-Wen stepped with his usual calm, measured stride. His dark traveler's coat fluttered gently in the steady plains breeze, revealing the heavy black iron scabbard resting securely across his broad back. Beneath his charcoal tunic, his physical meridians remained quiet and silent, ninety percent of his spiritual Qi sealed away within the absolute-zero ice vault of his spine. Yet, his posture was as straight and immovable as an ancient pine rooted in solid granite.
Beside him, little Xiao-Yue was practically trotting, her small leather boots leaving a neat, rhythmic trail of tiny impressions in the shallow snow beside the packed road. Her pink lotus lantern hung comfortably from her wrist, its soft ruby flame flickering gently, creating a warm, protective bubble that kept the biting plains wind from touching her rosy cheeks.
"Brother Li-Wen! Look at how flat the ground is!" Xiao-Yue giggled, spinning around in a tiny circle before catching her balance. "It's so big! You could run for a whole hundred days and never hit a wall!"
Li-Wen did not slow his pace, but his dark, indifferent eyes swept across the vast, white horizon with a quiet, observant gaze.
"It is wide," Li-Wen said softly, his deep, raspy voice carrying an unhurried resonance into the cold air. "Clear roads make for quick traveling."
"Mmm!" Xiao-Yue nodded vigorously, catching up to his side and wrapping her small, gloved fingers securely around his broad hand. "And no big bad men with axes on this road! Only pretty white snow and big birds!"
Li-Wen's thumb gently pressed against her small fingers. His acute physical senses, far sharper than those of any ordinary cultivator, were constantly scanning the three-hundred-mile perimeter around them.
He could feel the subtle, underground vibrations of the Western Continent's spiritual veins. Deep beneath the frozen earth, thick channels of elemental earth and gold Qi flowed like ancient subterranean rivers. Unlike the fluid, water-heavy Qi of the Eastern Seas, the spiritual atmosphere here was heavy, rigid, and metallic. It was a domain where physical strength and solid elemental foundations reigned supreme.
As they walked further onto the plains, the wide trading highway began to show signs of life.
Deep wagon ruts, packed hard with frozen ice, cut into the road surface. In the distance ahead, the slow, rhythmic sound of heavy iron-shod hooves and wooden wheels creaking under heavy loads echoed across the quiet plains.
A long merchant caravan was traveling in the same direction, moving sluggishly toward the western interior.
The caravan consisted of over twenty massive wooden wagons, each as large as a small house, pulled by six-legged Frost-Draught Oxen—colossal beasts covered in thick white fur, steam billowing from their broad nostrils as they hauled tons of iron ore, monster furs, and dried mountain herbs.
Surrounding the caravan were nearly forty armed guards mounted on armored snow-horses. They wore heavy iron chainmail over thick sheepskin coats, gripping long steel lances and heavy crossbows. Their faces were weathered by years of cold winds, their eyes sharp and vigilant as they scanned the snowdrifts for mountain wolves or roaming bandits.
As Li-Wen and Xiao-Yue caught up to the rear of the slow-moving caravan, several mounted guards turned their heads, their hands instinctively tightening around the shafts of their lances.
In the Western Continent, a solitary man carrying a massive heavy blade on his back, traveling on foot through the wilderness with a small child, was an extraordinary sight. Furthermore, despite the freezing plains wind that made even seasoned guards shiver beneath three layers of fur, the dark-coated man wore no heavy cloak, and his face showed not the slightest trace of discomfort.
"Halt there, traveler!"
A tall, broad-shouldered man riding a massive bay horse slowed his mount, letting the rear wagons pass before turning to face Li-Wen. He was a middle-aged veteran with a thick, graying beard, a deep scar cutting through his left eyebrow, and a pair of sharp, experienced brown eyes. The spiritual energy radiating from his body was that of a Stage-3 Peak Cultivator—a solid, experienced mercenary captain.
"The Western Steppe is no place for a leisurely stroll with a child," the captain said, his voice gruff but lacking any immediate hostility. He looked down at Li-Wen's calm face, then glanced at the dark, heavy blade strapped to his back, his eyes narrowing slightly in professional assessment. "The Black-Crag Pass is just behind us. Did you cross the pass today?"
"We did," Li-Wen replied flatly, his dark eyes meeting the captain's gaze with absolute, unreadable indifference.
The captain blinked, a look of genuine surprise flashing across his scarred face. "You crossed the pass? But... we heard rumors this morning that the Iron-Blood Guild had mobilized their entire force at the citadel! They were setting up a blockade to catch some high-tier fugitive from the eastern sea! How did you get through?"
"The road was open," Li-Wen said simply.
The captain stared at Li-Wen for two long seconds, trying to discern if the man was lying or simply ignorant. But looking at the calm, unbothered posture of the traveler and the sweet, smiling face of the small girl holding the pink lantern, he couldn't detect a single grain of falsehood.
"Open?" The captain muttered, scratching his bearded chin in confusion. "Strange... those iron-eating hyenas usually don't let a fly pass without stripping its wings. Well, whatever happened back there, you're lucky to be alive."
He reined his horse closer to the side of the road, adjusting his heavy leather cloak. "I am Captain Zhao of the Silver-Wolf Escort Guild. We're hauling iron ore and herbs to the Winter-Frost City. The sun will set in two hours, and the night winds on these plains can freeze a man's blood solid in minutes. There's a roadside sanctuary tavern three miles ahead—the Frost-Pint Inn. If you're heading west, you'd better quicken your pace and seek shelter there before nightfall."
"Thank you, Captain," Li-Wen said softly, giving a brief, polite nod.
Captain Zhao looked down at Xiao-Yue, his hardened expression softening slightly into a rare, warm smile. He reached into a leather pouch attached to his saddle and tossed a small, wrapped piece of dried plum candy down toward her.
Xiao-Yue caught it deftly with her small gloved hands, her eyes lighting up like bright stars. "Thank you, Uncle Guard!"
"Keep that lantern burning bright, little girl," Captain Zhao chuckled, shaking his reins and galloping back toward the front of the caravan. "The nights out here are dark and long!"
Three miles ahead, sitting at the junction where the mountain road met the main continental highway, stood the Frost-Pint Inn.
It was a massive, three-story fortress-like structure built from heavy, rough-hewn basalt blocks and thick oak timber. Its slate roof was steep to shed the heavy winter snow, and thick iron bars reinforced every shuttered window. High above the heavy oak front door, a weathered wooden sign creaked in the wind, depicting a foaming mug of ale carved beneath a frozen mountain peak.
Warm, bright orange light poured from the narrow windows, casting a welcoming glow over the dozens of snow-horses and frost-oxen hitched to the long iron posts outside.
This was no ordinary tavern. In the wild borderlands of the Western Continent, the Frost-Pint Inn was an ancient Sanctuary Lodge—a neutral territory protected by the high-ranking Mercenary Guild Association. Under ancient continental law, no blood could be spilled within its stone walls, and no guild rivalries could be settled inside its doors. It was a haven where merchants, rogue cultivators, bounty hunters, and solitary travelers could find warm food, strong drink, and a hot hearth away from the deadly winter night.
Li-Wen pushed open the heavy double doors of the inn, stepping inside with Xiao-Yue close at his side.
The moment the doors swung open, a wave of thick, luxurious heat, mixed with the rich scents of roasting mutton, spiced ale, tobacco smoke, and melting snow, swept over them.
The grand hall of the tavern was packed to capacity. Over two hundred people sat around heavy oak tables, drinking from large iron tankards, eating thick slabs of seared meat, and shouting boisterously over the roar of three massive stone hearths that lined the back wall.
The patrons were a wild, diverse mix of the Western Continent's underbelly: heavy-armored mercenaries, fur-clad mountain hunters, sharp-eyed bounty hunters with long knives tucked into their belts, and traveling merchants counting their iron coins under the dim candlelight.
As the heavy oak doors shut behind Li-Wen, the loud chatter near the entrance dipped slightly.
A few dozen sharp, experienced eyes drifted toward the new arrivals. In a lawless border sanctuary, every newcomer was scrutinized.
They saw a tall, broad-shouldered man in a dark, torn traveler's coat, carrying a massive, pitch-black heavy blade on his back that lacked any decorative scabbard markings. Beside him stood a tiny girl holding a glowing lotus lantern that emitted a strange, soothing warmth.
However, sensing no visible spiritual Qi aura radiating from Li-Wen—owing to his sealed meridians—most of the hardened cultivators in the room dismissed him as an ordinary physical martial artist or a low-grade mercenary who had lost his squad in the mountains. The quiet noise quickly resumed, returning to its loud, chaotic rhythm.
"Over here, traveler!"
A cheerful, chubby man in a stained white apron waved from behind a heavy mahogany bar counter. It was the innkeeper—a merry old fellow with a bald head, a thick red nose, and sharp, twinkling eyes that had seen thousands of travelers pass through his doors.
Li-Wen walked over to the bar, his leather boots making quiet, steady sounds on the dry sawdust floorboards. Xiao-Yue climbed onto a low wooden stool beside him, resting her pink lotus lantern safely on the polished mahogany surface.
"Welcome to the Frost-Pint Inn!" The innkeeper grinned warmly, wiping down the bar with a damp rag. "You folks picked a good time to get off the road! The temperature outside is dropping fast! What can I get for you two?"
"A bowl of warm mutton stew, some fresh bread, and hot tea," Li-Wen said flatly, pulling two heavy silver coins from his pocket and placing them on the counter.
The innkeeper's eyes brightened upon seeing the pure, high-grade silver. He quickly swept the coins into his apron pocket with a practiced flick of his wrist. "Coming right up, sir! Best stew on the western border!"
Within minutes, two large steam-emitting clay bowls filled with thick mutton stew, chunks of yellow potatoes, and fragrant mountain herbs were placed before them, along with a basket of crusty, warm rye bread and a pot of steaming barley tea.
Xiao-Yue's eyes sparkled as she picked up her wooden spoon, blowing gently on the hot stew. "Brother Li-Wen! It has big meat chunks in it!"
"Eat slowly," Li-Wen said softly, sitting on the stool beside her, taking a cup of hot barley tea into his broad palm. He drank a slow, measured sip, letting the simple, earthy warmth settle into his stomach.
As they ate, the loud, boisterous conversations from the surrounding tables drifted clearly into Li-Wen's razor-sharp physical ears.
At a large table near the central hearth, a group of six fur-clad bounty hunters were drinking heavily from iron tankards, their faces flushed red from the strong ale. In the center of their table lay several rolled-up parchment sheets bearing official bounty posters stamped with red wax seals.
"I'm telling you, the Western Realm is going to be turned upside down by the end of the week!" One scar-faced bounty hunter slammed his tankard onto the table, leaning in close to his companions. "The news came through the Feather-Mail Eagle an hour ago! The Seven Great Sects of the Eastern Seas have issued a joint Absolute Heaven-Clearing Bounty!"
"Ten million high-grade spirit stones!" Another hunter gasped, his eyes burning with raw, intoxicating greed. "Ten million! That's enough to buy three small mountain cities or cultivate to the Sovereign Realm twice over! Who the hell is this guy?!"
The scar-faced hunter unrolled one of the parchment posters, slapping it flat onto the wood.
"He's called the Northern Sovereign!" The hunter hissed in a low, conspiratorial whisper. "Word is, he atomized three hundred elite experts at the Sea-Mist Crags single-handedly! But here's the catch—he was struck by Ancestor Shadow-Void's Void-Piercing Needle before he escaped into the Western Continent!"
The entire table of bounty hunters went dead silent, their breaths catching in their throats.
"The Void-Piercing Needle?!" A younger hunter stammered, his eyes wide with shock. "The lethal void poison that freezes spiritual meridians?! That means... that means his cultivation base is ninety percent locked right now!"
"EXACTLY!" The scar-faced hunter grinned maliciously, his fingers tracing the dark silhouette drawn on the bounty poster. "Without his spiritual Qi, he's just a walking corpse relying on pure physical body strength! The major guilds of the Western Continent—the Blood-Iron Guild, the Shadow-Blade Association, and the White-Frost Clan—are all mobilizing their trackers to hunt him down!"
He pointed his dirty fingernail at a small detail at the bottom of the poster. "And look here—the poster specifically mentions he travels with a small mortal child carrying a glowing lotus-shaped artifact! Anyone who brings back the child or the dark heavy blade on his back gets half the reward!"
Sitting at the quiet bar counter just twenty feet away, Xiao-Yue froze mid-bite, her wooden spoon hovering near her lips.
Her large, clear eyes blinked slowly as she looked down at the pink lotus lantern resting peacefully beside her clay bowl, then looked up at Li-Wen's calm profile. She reached out her small hand, gently tugging at the edge of his dark sleeve, her voice dropping into a tiny, worried whisper.
"Brother Li-Wen..." Xiao-Yue whimpered softly. "The noisy men over there... they're talking about a lotus lantern... and a big black sword..."
Li-Wen did not turn his head toward the bounty hunters. His expression remained as smooth, flat, and undisturbed as a frozen mountain lake under a winter moon.
He calmly took another small sip of his hot barley tea, placing the clay cup softly onto the wooden counter.
"Let them talk, Xiao-Yue," Li-Wen said softly, his deep, raspy voice carrying an unyielding, immovable calm that instantly washed away all the fear in her small heart. "Words cannot cut stone."
He picked up a piece of warm rye bread, broke it in half, and placed the softer center into her clay bowl.
"Finish your stew," Li-Wen murmured, his dark, void-like eyes reflecting the warm orange light of the tavern hearth. "Tomorrow, the road goes deeper into the mountains."
See you in next chapter....