The dress code was enforced with swift, uncompromising efficiency under the strict supervision of the Dragon Soul Guards and Yiq soldiers. In less than a single day, not one woman dared appear on the streets of Qarth wearing the traditional Qarth long dress, while men hurried to seek out Yi Ti fabrics and tailors.
Even a few sharp-nosed merchants from the Spice Guild somehow managed to procure Yi Ti–style "monkey-tail hats." Wearing them proudly, they showed up at Lo Quen's residence, bowing with clumsy Yi Ti etiquette as they offered their greetings and invitations, acting as though they had always been Yi Ti natives.
Lo Quen found the Spice Guild's sense of timing agreeable and accepted their banquet invitation.
At the feast, cups clinked and wine flowed as the merchants spared no effort in flattering him.
During casual conversation, Lo Quen offhandedly asked about major events in Qarth over the past few years. An elderly member of the Spice Guild brought up a disturbance that had taken place roughly a year earlier.
A local man named Urrathon had rallied a band of thugs and stormed the city's Warlock settlement. Many warlocks met brutal ends.
Urrathon seized a vast amount of treasure along with several surviving warlocks, then vanished by ship in the direction of The Summer Sea.
Lo Quen's hand paused slightly as he held his wine cup.
Urrathon?
He recalled the plot of the original story. If his memory was correct, Urrathon was merely an alias used by Euron Greyjoy.
It seemed that after returning from the Jade Sea, Euron had not only set his sights on Oldtown's Black Stone, but had already paid a visit to Qarth, plundering both the knowledge and wealth of the Warlocks.
After the banquet ended, Lo Quen went alone to the House of the Undying.
Fortunately, Euron appeared to have little interest in this place. The House of the Undying still stood intact, entrenched within the Shade of the Evening grove where deep blue leaves flourished.
It was a long, low, gray structure without windows. Much of its black-tiled roof had fallen into disrepair, giving off an aura of ancient, deathly stillness.
According to ancient decree, those who sought the wisdom of the Undying Ones had to drink a brew made from the leaves of the Shade of the Evening to glimpse the truth.
Lo Quen, however, felt little regard for such rituals.
The purity of his true Dragonblood was already high, granting him a sensitivity to Magic far beyond that of ordinary men. He had no need for external aids.
He stepped straight into the dim portico of the House of the Undying.
Inside, the light was faint and the air bitterly cold.
Following his instincts, he turned down the passage to the right and stopped before the first chamber door.
When he pushed open the heavy stone door, the scene before him changed in an instant.
He seemed to be standing in an endless desert.
The sky was a murky yellow, and scorching winds whipped sand into his face. In the distance, the outline of a grand city flickered among the dunes, but it was already ablaze.
Flames devoured towering stone pillars and palaces. The yellow sands flowed like living creatures, slowly swallowing the burning city whole.
A wave of desolation washed over him.
Lo Quen frowned. The vision seemed to foretell the end of some ancient civilization. But which empire from history did it belong to?
Unable to find an answer, he withdrew from the room.
The moment he stepped into the second chamber, the surroundings shifted once more.
He now stood on a dark, lightless ridge, with a bottomless valley yawning beneath his feet.
Within the depths below, a broad river flowed in silence, its surface lit by faint green flames. The fire burned without sound, yet radiated a chilling, ominous presence.
Across the river of green fire rose an immense city.
Its architecture was bizarre, filled with jagged angles and twisted towers, yet the entire city lay in absolute stillness. There were no lights, no signs of life, like a vast, frozen tomb.
The unsettling sight put Lo Quen on guard. Where was this place?
He withdrew once more and pushed open the door to the third stone chamber.
The salty scent of sea air rushed toward him.
He stood on a jagged, rocky island beneath a gloomy sky, waves crashing violently against the reefs.
In the open space ahead, a dense crowd had gathered. Their clothing varied, but every face was twisted with rage and hatred.
At the center of the crowd stood a crude cage forged from rough black iron.
Inside the cage was a single figure.
It was a dwarf, curled into a corner. His shoulders trembled as he let out suppressed, despairing sobs.
The surrounding crowd showed not the slightest trace of pity. Instead, they hurled the most vicious, piercing curses and mockery at him.
"Monster!"
"Die!"
"You have no right to live here!"
Lo Quen's pupils contracted slightly. Who was this dwarf?
What did this vision foretell?
Was it a replay of the past, or a fragment of the future?
Just as he was about to look more closely, the illusion before him shattered like a reflection in water struck by a stone, blurring and breaking apart until it vanished completely.
He found himself once again standing in an empty, dim stone chamber. Only faint, indistinct murmurs drifted from somewhere far away, as though the Undying Ones were whispering among themselves.
Lo Quen stood in the silent darkness of the House of the Undying, his brows tightly drawn.
The three visions had been far too vague and obscure, offering almost no tangible clues.
With questions weighing heavily on his mind, he stepped deeper into the hall of the Undying Ones.
The chamber was vast and hollow, containing nothing but a massive stone table at its center. Above the table, defying all reason, floated a human heart.
It was swollen and decayed, tinged with the bruised, purplish hue of something on the brink of death. Veins bulged across its surface, pulsing like twisted earthworms.
Yet it was beating.
Thump… thump… thump…
Each beat landed like a muffled drum, sending deep, heavy reverberations through the deathly still chamber.
With each pulse, a ring of deep blue light spread outward from the heart. In an instant, it illuminated the surroundings, washing the stone walls and every face present in a ghostly hue, before swiftly fading away, only to return again and again.
In the flickering light, Lo Quen finally made out the figures seated around the stone table. They were the so-called Undying Ones.
Their flesh had long since withered and shrunk, clinging tightly to their bones. Their skin bore a strangely full blue-purple color, as though steeped in an eternal twilight.
The moment Lo Quen stepped inside, all the Undying Ones turned toward him in unison.
Their bodies did not move, yet countless ghostly hands formed from shadow and blue radiance lunged at him from every direction. The air filled with overlapping, shrill, vicious laughter, stabbing at his ears and unsettling his mind.
"Fresh… flesh…"
"Souls… ours…"
As those eerie voices echoed, the stone beneath Lo Quen's feet began to soften, transforming into writhing flesh. Countless prying eyes opened along the walls, threatening to swallow him whole.
Yet Lo Quen's gaze held nothing but disdain.
"Cheap tricks."
He drew in a deep breath.
"Roar—!"
Dragonfire burst from his mouth, tearing through the darkness and dispersing the deep blue gloom. The mocking illusions and shadowy ghostly hands were vaporized in an instant.
Where the dragonfire passed, the withered bodies of the Undying Ones burned like dry paper thrown into a blaze. They twisted and ignited under the overwhelming light and heat, turning into drifting black ash before even a scream could escape them.
The deep, sinister laughter was drowned out by the thunderous roar of flames, bathing the entire stone chamber in brilliant gold.
Moments later, the fire died down.
The grotesque scene vanished, reverting to the original corridors of the House of the Undying.
Lo Quen sensed a slight increase in the Dragon's Soul within his system panel after slaying the Undying Ones.
Without lingering any longer, he turned and left the House of the Undying.