Chapter 151: You Have Been Chosen as a Devotee of Suffering

Northern Frontier, Ice Deer Village.

When the village chief hurried over upon hearing the news, he saw the kind young lady who had previously donated grain distributing steaming hot porridge to the children on the verge of starvation.

Thud.

The tearful old man immediately dropped to his knees.

“Respected my lord, your generosity and kindness rival the sun in heaven; thank you for saving us once again. Please allow us to know your name, so the entire village may pray to the gods for you day and night.”

Dolove did not answer; she silently infused magic into her emerald earring, and moments later, a green portal opened downward.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Sacks of wheat tumbled out of the portal, piling into a small mountain on the snow within moments.

“No need to pray for me. Just strive to live, and take care of these children.”

Dolove whispered. She had no intention of leaving her name, for Dolove—her name—was still too conspicuous, having once been honored in the Infant Honor Ceremony hosted by Duke Mason.

After saying this, she set down the ladle and hurried toward the village’s edge.

She still had to fulfill her vow to kill Lukas within three days; she could not afford to waste more time here.

Watching the girl’s figure fade into the snow, the old man etched her face into his memory, then pulled the children to their knees, bowing deeply in her direction.

He remained kneeling until her silhouette vanished completely, then slowly rose.

“Children, eat!” the old man called out, his voice brimming with joy.

Amid the children’s laughter, the once lifeless village stirred back to life.

Evening.

Across the snow-blanketed wasteland, the wind cut like a blade, tearing through the silent night.

Dolove surged forward at full speed, wrapped in emerald magic, flashing across the snow like an aurora.

Her boots crushed the snow, spraying fine ice crystals.

Her breath crystallized into mist in the frigid air, then shattered by the oncoming wind.

Xia Mingyu, no larger than a puppet, sat on her shoulder like a Pikachu, leaning drowsily against her silken, ice-blue hair.

After leaving Ice Deer Village, Dolove had run nonstop for hours.

No wonder she’s a New Moon-rank knight— even the towering black steed chosen by the Iron Horse Lord couldn’t match her speed on foot.

“Your Highness, I plan to travel through the night. Please rest now.”

Noticing he was nearly asleep on his feet, Dolove halted, her expression filled with concern.

“Then, see you tomorrow.”

Xia Mingyu did not refuse. He murmured goodnight, and his small form dissolved into a flickering flame, fading away.

Gazing at her empty shoulder, Dolove felt an unexpected pang of sorrow.

She looked around: above, a black void of night; all around, endless snow, so silent she could hear each heartbeat.

One. Two. Three.

A wave of loneliness rose, but Dolove quickly crushed it deep within.

“If only His Highness could always stay on my shoulder, visible only to me…”

A ridiculous thought flashed through the girl’s mind; she quickly scooped up snow and washed her face, forcing herself awake, banishing idle fantasies.

“Onward!”

After washing her face—paler than snow—with snow, Dolove rallied and shot forward again, a green aurora racing across the endless white expanse.

Red Fox Castle, guest bedroom.

When Xia Mingyu regained consciousness, he found himself lying on the castle’s soft bed, and…

Beside him, on his right, lay a golden-haired girl in a pure white nightgown—Anelia.

Her eyes were half-closed, sunk into a fluffy down pillow; the white silk nightgown wrinkled gently at her waist, outlining soft curves.

Beneath the hem, a slender calf was exposed, glowing like pearl under moonlight filtering through the gauze curtains.

Her cherry-pink lips parted slightly, exhaling even breaths; a faint body scent mingled with the incense from the bedside table, drifting slowly through the still air.

Most importantly, Anelia’s arms clung tightly to his right arm, allowing Xia Mingyu to clearly feel the exquisite softness.

Hiss!

Xia Mingyu sucked in a breath, wanting to pull his arm free—but feared waking the sleeping girl.

In the end, he could only endure the warmth and fragrance of her body, gradually drifting into sleep.

Once he was asleep and breathing softly, the sleeping girl slowly opened her eyes, a trace of sorrow flickering in her blue gaze.

Then, she shifted slightly upward, resting her head on Xia Mingyu’s chest.

Listening to his heartbeat and feeling the solidity beside her, her lips curled into a satisfied smile before she fell asleep.

A solitary night is long, but a night shared with two hearts remembers only his warmth.

Meanwhile.

Northern Frontier, Ice Plain Castle.

Deep into the night, yet the study in the main tower remained brightly lit.

The young lord reclined comfortably on a leather sofa before his desk, idly turning a vial filled with radiant golden liquid in the candlelight.

“Excellent. Excellent.” He murmured, impressed.

It was a high-quality strength-enhancing potion he had ordered at great cost—ten gold sols—from the Slave Capital.

Said to be distilled from the essence of the man-eating lion Eury, a name-bearing beast, it greatly boosts physical power—an invaluable resource for any knight seeking advancement.

“They say Hagekes killed that man-eating lion bare-handed, earned glory, and rose to New Moon-rank Death Fighter—and he’s only twenty-one!”

Lukas gently spun the vial, watching the golden liquid swirl, imagining the figure of that slave-born man who shattered fate with his fists in the Bloodfang Arena.

How mighty. How diligent. How admirable!

Unlike other lords, Lukas despised his peers who drowned in pleasure and lay on women’s thighs—he saw such things as fleeting illusions, vanishing after a moment’s pleasure, utterly worthless.

Lukas devoted his entire life and every ounce of energy to what he believed the greatest, most magnificent endeavor in the world—the elevation of his own rank.

As a child, when he first read the Creation Myth, his body and soul were profoundly shaken.

He learned that everything he knew—even himself—was built upon the body of a great being.

Was the sun, radiating endless light and warmth across the Northern Frontier, truly alive?

Could there truly be beings who stood beside the stars, living eternally?

From that moment, a blasphemous thought took root in Lukas’s mind—he too wished to stand beside the stars, to become that unspeakable greatness.

Since then, he had sacrificed nearly all leisure, spending every day in nothing but cultivation.

Among the pleasure-seeking noble youths, he stood out brilliantly, even earning the title “Ice Plain Bee”—for his tireless diligence.

His father, the former Ice Plain Viscount, who had risen to prominence among Northern Frontier lords, praised him lavishly and, at his pleading, spent vast sums on potions to aid his training.

Yet his talent remained too poor. At twenty-four, his strength remained stuck at Dawn Star Peak, forever one step away from the true pinnacle—the New Moon rank, where one is granted noble title by sheer power.

Thinking of this, Lukas sighed softly—but as he gazed at the golden potion in his hand, hope flickered in his eyes.

If he drank this high-quality strength potion, he would surely ascend to New Moon rank!

Knock. Knock.

Just as Lukas prepared to head to the secret chamber to consume the potion, someone gently knocked on the study door.

“Enter,” Lukas said, frowning slightly, irritation in his tone.

He already knew who it was.

An elderly man in a tailcoat, with white hair and beard, cautiously opened the door and bowed deeply before Lukas.

It was Holt, the steward of Ice Plain Castle, who had served two generations of lords; even young Lukas had been cared for by this man.

“Coming this late? What is it?” Lukas’s voice was calm, yet edged with reprimand.

“My lord, I apologize for disturbing your peace.”

Holt immediately offered a sincere apology.

“But the matter is urgent—I must seek your immediate decision.”

“Speak,” Lukas said flatly.

“Lately, too many villagers in our territory have starved to death. A kind wealthy merchant in town is willing to sell us grain at low prices to relieve the famine—for only…”

“Enough. How much?” Lukas interrupted impatiently.

“My lord, only four gold sols are needed to buy enough grain to temporarily ease the famine,” Holt carefully replied.

In truth, six gold sols were required—but after decades of diligent service, he had saved two gold sols for his retirement, and could now use them to aid Ice Plain.

He knew the new lord spent lavishly on cultivation resources but was miserly in every other matter—even withholding servants’ wages.

“Four gold sols?!”

Lukas, previously calm, now sprang up like a cat with its tail stepped on, glaring at the old steward.

“Four gold sols—that’s enough to buy nearly half a vial of strength potion! You want me to waste it on useless peasants?!” the young lord hissed, barely containing his rage.

“My lord, peasants are not useless—they till the land, produce next year’s harvest, and pay taxes…”

Holt tried to argue further, but Lukas waved him off in annoyance.

“My lord, if this continues, in five years not a single living soul will remain in our villages!”

Helpless, Holt spoke the grim truth he had uncovered through days of on-site investigation and calculation.

The bloated children, the villagers emaciated like locusts, dragged away by Clay merchants to the Slave Capital—these images had shaken him to his core.

He even feared he would burn in hell for it.

And the lord, who could change it all, had opened the gates wide—allowing his people to be bought and sold—simply because Clay merchants had pooled together slave-head taxes for him.

Now, buying that cheap grain to relieve the famine was the last chance to save Ice Plain.

Under Holt’s hopeful gaze, Lucas heard this devastating truth.

“What? Five more years?” the young lord exclaimed in shock.

Holt: “.”

“Looks like I still haven’t been aggressive enough,” Lucas mused, stroking his chin.

To him, the family’s ancestral lands, passed down for a century on this ice plain, served only one purpose: helping him break through to the New Moon Realm.

Once he broke through to the New Moon Realm, the resources produced here would be far too meager to support his further advancement—he would inevitably leave to travel the world.

Before leaving, he would surely sell every soul on this land for the highest price possible—that was why he had exhausted every resource.

Five years? Ha! Still too long!

The old steward, who had guessed Lucas’s thoughts from his expression, left in utter despair.

At this moment, he finally confirmed: the lord once hailed by all of Iceborne Keep as the greatest heir in Northern Region history had not an ounce of noble honor.

He was a monster—a monster who cared only for advancement and would sacrifice everything for it.

“My late lord, can you tell me what I should do?”

Holt thought desperately; his lord had been Lucas’s father, the former Lord of the Ice Plain, who had perished years ago during a joint hunt with Lucas, his body lost to a demonic beast.

The secret chamber.

Crack!

With a sharp shattering sound, Lucas glared at the shards of the potion bottle he had smashed on the floor.

He had just ingested and absorbed the Strength-Enhancing Potion; though his strength had increased further, the New Moon Realm remained impossibly distant.

“Damn it. Spent ten full gold thalers for this? I should’ve tried another potion,” he cursed inwardly.

At the same time, a flicker of despair crept into his heart.

His talent was simply too poor—so many potions, and still no breakthrough to New Moon. He likely didn’t even possess half the talent of Hagekex.

If things continued like this, he wouldn’t just fail to realize his dream—he wouldn’t even escape the Northern Region.

“Great Being, if you hear my prayer, grant me the power to break through to the New Moon Realm. I offer everything I am in exchange.”

With no other options left, Lucas clasped his hands together and prayed devoutly.

He believed that if a Being was great enough, it would hear any prayer spoken in this world.

This Great Being might be the Seven Gods, or the Creator, or even a being beyond the crystal wall formed from the Creator’s skin in the Creation Myth.

Whoever it was—god or devil—he didn’t care, as long as it helped him!

In his prayer, slowly, an immeasurably grand presence turned its gaze upon him.

“Aaaahhh!” Just one glance sent Lucas’s soul into frantic trembling.

After what might have been an instant—or an eternity—Lucas slowly regained his awareness.

He vaguely remembered seeing an eye, vast beyond the entire world; in that moment of meeting its gaze, he tasted all the suffering of existence—hunger, fear, numbness, cold.

At the same time, a message remained in his mind.

“You have been chosen as a Devotee of Suffering.”

(End of Chapter)