Chapter 152: The Pale Witch Dorothea, Lucas Dies

The Northlands, the Everfrozen Forest.

Rustle, rustle, rustle.

Snow fell silently; the branches of pines and cedars bent under thick layers of snow, draped like heavy velvet robes, occasionally shedding chunks that slid down with a soft rustle, sending faint ripples through the stillness.

This was a vast forest named for its centuries-long burial under snow and its extreme cold.

Within the forest, demonic beasts roamed freely, and combined with the harsh climate, it rendered the place nearly uninhabited—even transcendent cultivators dared not enter lightly.

In a village deep within the Everfrozen Forest, houses were low, their roofs buried under thick snow, and not a wisp of smoke ever rose from any chimney.

Along the village paths, a few pedestrians wandered in small groups, but unlike normal humans, their entire bodies were covered in a translucent layer of thin ice, their skin glinting with a cold blue glaze under the weak sunlight, as if a single touch would shatter them.

Their eyes were pale blue, devoid of pupils, like ice-made dolls—yet the frost that formed in the air with each breath proved they were living beings.

Inside the most luxurious-looking house in the village.

The woman meditating on the bed slowly opened her eyes.

She appeared to be in her early twenties, her face delicate, her shoulder-length hair cascading like flowing frost mist—gray-white and chilling.

Her eyes were an uncommon pale white, their irises nearly transparent like a winter fog at dawn, with only a faint ring of pale blue-gray at the edges.

At this moment, those beautiful eyes gazed far off, as if piercing through wooden doors and layers upon layers of forest to see thousands of miles away—the countless streams of black energy surging wildly toward a certain castle.

“Another new believer has emerged in the Northlands,” the woman murmured.

“Born just now, yet already drawing so much suffering energy—his talent far surpasses that of the last believer.” Her gaze grew slightly colder, yet her lips curled upward.

“Then, as with the last believer, I shall grant him the coldness of death.”

The smile on her face bloomed like a frozen lake suddenly kissed open by spring wind—brilliant, yet her words dripped with icy malice.

Moments later, she pushed open the wooden door and stepped out of the house.

“Lady Dorothea.”

Along the way, every ice-being who saw her bowed deeply in reverence.

It was clear the woman held an exalted status in the hearts of the ice-beings.

Beside a frozen lake deep in the forest.

After leaving the village, Dorothea arrived here.

With her arrival, the previously mirror-still lake suddenly churned violently.

A pure white giant lion slowly emerged from the water.

Its size was extraordinary, standing nearly five meters at the shoulder, its entire body covered in long, snow-wave-like white fur, resembling a moving glacier.

Once, the man-eating beast Eury, feared by all, seemed childlike beside it.

Its lion face was majestic, with a natural ice-blue pattern on its forehead like a third eye half-open; its breath condensed into tiny ice crystals in the air, falling like a miniature blizzard.

The giant lion’s gaze was icy, its pale golden vertical pupils encircled by ring-shaped ice-blue irises—its stare could freeze a prey’s blood instantly.

Above its head floated a line of ice-blue script—Helmida.

“Claw of the Frost Winter,” the most renowned crowned demonic beast of the Northlands, famed for its majestic appearance and power to freeze all things.

It was said that whoever subdued the Claw of the Frost Winter would become King of the Northlands, ending the centuries-long scourge of polar winds and reviving life upon the land.

For this, the Lord of the Northlands, Mo Wen, had expended vast manpower and resources to capture the “Claw of the Frost Winter,” yet it always escaped, and eventually vanished without a trace.

“Helmida, I must temporarily leave the Everfrozen Forest. Can you guard my village for me?”

“In return, when you face danger, I will come to your aid once,” Dorothea said, gazing at the giant lion.

The lion made no move, only stared coldly at the woman before it.

“Don’t forget the Crescent Moon Knight who recently probed your whereabouts.”

After a moment of silence, Dorothea spoke again.

Roar!

At these words, the lion let out a furious roar, shaking loose the snow piled on surrounding trees.

Then it turned and stepped back into the frozen lake, its form disappearing.

Seeing this, Dorothea’s face broke into a smile.

She knew the beast had accepted the bargain.

Pale white mana erupted from her body; the next instant, her form dissolved into scattered snowflakes, drifting away into the distance.

If anyone else had witnessed this, they would have been stunned into silence.

How could a human flesh-and-blood body turn into snowflakes?

Iceborne Castle, the ramparts.

Lucas leaned on the battlement, watching black currents flow in from all directions of his domain.

According to the information in his mind, these were the forces born from the suffering of living beings—the Suffering Energy.

The reason so much had gathered was largely due to his earlier wise decisions on his land: raising taxes, requisitioning grain, and allowing Kelai merchants to trade slaves.

Each time these black currents surged into his body, Lucas felt himself growing stronger, and the once-immovable Crescent Shackles now trembled, as if ready to shatter at any moment.

“Hahaha!” Lucas burst into a joyous laugh.

What junk potions! Not even one percent as effective as Suffering Energy!

So all one needed to do was spread suffering—then one could grow stronger without limit, and once enough was accumulated, one could ascend to become a High Pontiff of Our God, receiving true Suffering Blessings!

“Heh, my subjects, rejoice! You are no longer useless. You are now my domain’s most precious treasures!”

He murmured with a smile, already imagining the endless flow of Suffering Energy his subjects would produce in the future.

In the afternoon, snowflakes drifted down.

In a village ravaged by famine.

“Here, everyone. Take some.”

Dorothea handed out sacks of wheat to the emaciated villagers; those who received the food nearly went mad with joy, bowing repeatedly with their children, thanking the girl endlessly.

“Thank you, kind knight! May the gods bless you!” The village elder was moved to tears.

He also begged her to leave her name so he could pray for her, but she refused again.

“How far is Iceborne Castle from here?” the girl asked simply.

“If you ride now, you’ll arrive by nightfall. If you walk, you’ll reach it by dawn tomorrow,” the elder replied after careful thought.

“Good.” Hearing the distance was so close, Dorothea’s eyes flashed with cold intent.

In the two days she had traveled through the Iceborne Domain, she had witnessed too many tragedies like Ice Deer Village—each time, her hatred for Lucas grew fiercer.

She must kill that bastard!

“Knight, won’t you rest for the night?”

The elder hurriedly called out as the girl prepared to leave.

How could he let his village’s savior venture out into the snowstorm? At least he should offer proper hospitality for one night!

“I have something I must do. Don’t worry—this land’s icy night will end in this age.”

With those words, Dorothea became a green streak of light and swiftly departed the village.

The elder silently memorized the girl’s face, planning to have a stone carver sculpt her likeness to honor her kindness.

As dusk fell.

Across the endless snowfields, a green streak flashed past.

Noticing the emerald gem in her earring suddenly glowing, Dorothea halted her journey, waiting expectantly.

Moments later, a black youth, the size of a doll, appeared.

“Your Highness, good evening,” the girl greeted cheerfully—but then, as if remembering something, her expression turned guilty.

“Your Highness, the food you stored in the Linking Space… I’ve used it all,” Dorothea said nervously.

Every time she encountered a famine-stricken village, she left behind some grain—until, in just two days, the hundreds of sacks stored in the space were completely gone.

She feared her Highness would be angry; even in the Southern Lands, where grain taxes were abolished, that amount was no small sum.

“No matter. I’ve added a few hundred more sacks today,” Xia Mingyu said casually.

With “Abundant Harvest,” grain—so precious in this world—was merely a number to him.

The only concern was how unpleasant it felt to drain his mana completely; tomorrow he’d ask Youde if he had any potions for rapid mana recovery.

Hearing this, the girl happily spun around, hugging Xia Mingyu.

Since spending time with Xia Mingyu, Dorothea had acquired more of the lively, youthful energy typical of girls her age.

“Your Highness, Iceborne Castle is just ahead. Would you like to watch my battle?”

“I’d be delighted. And remember—stab that lord twice more,” Xia Mingyu added thoughtfully.

“Yes!”

Only two more stabs? She’d originally planned to stab him dozens of times before killing him!

Dorothea thought with regret.

Evening, Iceborne Castle.

Thud! Thud!

With a few crisp impacts, Dorothea easily knocked out the castle gate guards.

The defenses were far looser than she’d expected; for a castle this size, the number of guards was laughably small.

She entered the castle, searched briefly, and noticed a window in the main tower still brightly lit.

From her past experience living in castles, she knew that location was typically the lord’s study.

Thus, she could be certain—that was where Lucas was.

“Should I sneak in?” Xia Mingyu asked, floating beside her.

His current state was strange—he could fly freely, but only Dorothea could perceive him; no one else could touch him, nor could he touch anyone else, and if he moved too far from her, he could no longer move at all.

Put simply, it looked like a giant pendant.

“No need for all that trouble,” Dolovei shook her head.

She raised her longsword high above her head; a surging tide of emerald magic erupted from her body and converged upon the blade.

One meter, two meters, three meters—the sword, wrapped in magic, gradually transformed into a colossal emerald blade piercing the sky.

This was the ability she gained after ascending to the rank of Crescent Knight: Emerald Giant Sword, capable of gathering magic to forge a blade of unimaginable length—theoretically, as long as magic is abundant, it can pierce the heavens.

The girl slammed both hands downward.

With a deafening sonic boom, the emerald giant sword slashed straight toward the main tower, its windows glowing with light.

BOOM!

In an instant, the tower split cleanly in two, revealing a terrifying fissure.

Xia Mingyu stared in astonishment; though both were Crescent Knights, Dolovei’s aura of oppression far surpassed that of the Luo Yi and Luo Lan brothers.

Soon, a figure leapt out from the fissure, sword in hand.

“Who! Who destroyed my castle!”

Lucas roared in fury.

He had just been practicing his breathing technique in the study when a colossal magic blade roared toward him.

Had it not been for years of combat instinct forcing him to duck in time, he would already be dead, meeting his father in the netherworld.

“So we finally meet, Lucas of the Ice Plain. I’ve been searching for you a long time,” Dolovei said coldly, her emerald eyes brimming with murderous intent.

This damned lord was the one who had turned the entire Ice Plain into a wasteland of starving peasants and sold slaves.

“Who are you? Why attack my castle at night?” Lucas asked cautiously.

Though enraged, he had not lost his reason.

Though he was moments away from ascending to Crescent rank, this female knight had cleaved his main tower with a single strike—her power must be at least at the Crescent tier.

Realizing this, Lucas suddenly understood a crucial truth—he had no chance of defeating her.

Damn it, damn it—I shouldn’t have jumped out. I should’ve run the moment I saw it.

The rage vanished; Lucas’s face instantly softened.

“I am merely a knight who saw injustice. Because of your absurd rule, the entire Ice Plain has fallen into famine. For this, I have sworn upon my honor to sever your head.” Dolovei said calmly.

The moment he heard the oath, Lucas knew she would never spare him.

No noble would ever risk shattering their divine protection by letting an enemy live.

“Quick! Attack her together!”

After ordering the guards who had gathered at the noise to assault the female knight, Lucas immediately fled toward the castle’s exit.

BOOM!

A torrent of emerald magic erupted—within an instant, the guards were blasted off their feet and lay motionless.

One man tried to rise, but a feigning comrade quietly pulled him back down.

“Is it really worth dying for a lord who doesn’t even pay his wages?” the comrade whispered.

The remaining guards who had been standing silently lay back down.

“Useless!”

Watching his guards fall before the knight in a single blow, Lucas cursed inwardly as he fled.

He turned, drew his sword, and prepared to fight—running now would only expose his fatal back; fighting still offered a sliver of hope.

“Secret Art: Icebound Slash!” Lucas roared, preparing to gather magic for his attack—when a flash of emerald light slashed toward him.

SWISH!

A blood-spraying arm flew into the air and crashed to the ground.

“Aaaah!” Lucas clutched his severed arm, his face twisted in agony.

But it wasn’t over—clang, clang, clang—more emerald sword flashes came.

The other arm, the left leg, the right leg—in the blink of an eye, Lucas lay on the ground as nothing but a head and torso.

“Any last words?”

Dolovei stepped forward, stabbing him with Lionheart Sword as she asked indifferently.

This sight made Xia Mingyu feel a pang of fear—the spot she stabbed was precisely the one men feared most.

“I I I—”

Despite unbearable pain, Lucas’s face wore a dazed expression.

It shouldn’t be like this—he had just been chosen by the Great God, he was moments from breaking through to Crescent rank, he hadn’t yet fulfilled his dream…

But why had it come to this?

CLANG!

Before he could make sense of it, another sword pierced his eyes.

In an instant, his vision plunged into darkness.

His life flashed before him like a lantern parade—he saw that day during the hunt, when he had secretly thrust his sword into his father as he fought the prey; his father’s expression must have been as bewildered as his own now.

“Why?” his father’s lips moved, silent yet audible to him.

“For my dream!” he answered through tears, his hands never stopping.

For the dream meant to rival the stars, family affection, honor, and all else were disposable in his eyes.

But after discarding everything, what had he gained?

Nothing.

I’m sorry, Father. I truly regret it.

Amidst resentment, regret, despair, and other dark emotions, Lucas gradually lost consciousness.

“This guy… he even ascended to Crescent just before dying,” Xia Mingyu said in surprise, staring at the text above the gruesome corpse—its color shifting from deep purple to deep blue, unnoticed by all.

(End of Chapter)