Tess curiously circled the Dragon Egg, examining it from all sides, and even tapped it with her index finger, appearing quite interested.
“Is this the Dragon Egg you went to such great lengths to acquire? It doesn’t look like much. Can it really revive the Dragon God? For this egg, you even caused the death of our most beloved former Saintess, though in my opinion, she was useless anyway.”
At such a frivolous and blasphemous act, the other priests looked furious, but only the Red-robed Cardinal calmly raised his hand, quelling the commotion.
“Go find the token I mentioned just now,” the Red-robed Cardinal said, closing his eyes.
“No.”
The girl simply sat down on the steps, her fair, long legs crossed, facing the three thousand kneeling believers below.
Her gaze swept across the entire hall, and she noticed a few newcomers daring to look up at her.
The girl’s expression immediately turned cold and disdainful. She raised her right index finger, and a massive ice cone instantly crashed down from the air, turning those few people into a bloody pulp on the spot.
A crimson color began to spread across the floor below.
Most of the believers remained prostrate, reacting like wood and machinery, but some of the newly initiated showed signs of terror.
“Tess, that’s enough!” a priest angrily exclaimed.
“Ha? I’m just teaching them manners, that’s all. After all, I am the Saintess of the Witch Cult, wouldn’t you agree, Priest?”
Tess yawned again, not even glancing at the priest, just fiddling with her index finger.
The next second, a giant ice greatsword appeared suspended above the head of the priest who had just spoken!
The giant ice greatsword hovered three inches from the priest’s brow, and the chilling air dripping from its tip struck his forehead.
“Tess…!”
The priest was terrified, his face turning green. Now, not only him but also the other dozen robed priests stood up.
Only then did the girl smile beautifully, unhurriedly retracting her finger, and the giant ice greatsword dissipated moments later.
“Just kidding, just kidding, why so serious?”
The Red-robed Cardinal remained seated, “You only need to find the token before we officially depart.”
The girl immediately became interested, standing up and turning around: “So, you’ll be staying here for at least seven years for this Dragon Egg or whatever?!”
“Yes.”
“Then I can play outside for three or four years, right?”
“As you wish.”
“What if the Morning Dawn Church gets it first?”
“Steal it.”
“If there are other tasks in between, will you still call for me?”
“You are not required to manage anything beyond a three-day journey.”
The white-haired girl finally smiled, “A seven-year long vacation! Alright then, I’ll take this mission.”
“Take it.”
The white-haired girl looked at the prismatic necklace flying towards her, held it up to her eyes, and poked it curiously, but there was no reaction.
“This will help me find the Dragon God’s token? How do I use it?”
“Just maintain it with magic power.”
“Anything else to instruct?”
“Don’t alert the enemy.”
“Anything else?”
“None.”
“Anything else?”
“…” The Red-robed Cardinal stopped responding.
“Ugh, you old men are so boring! I’m leaving!”
The white-haired girl puffed out her cheeks, finally sighing.
Barefoot, with her hands behind her back, she gracefully descended the steps in front of everyone and walked straight out of the palace.
Soon, her light-footed figure transformed into a wisp of smoke and vanished at the entrance.
“Your Eminence—!”
The priest who had been threatened earlier still wanted to say something, but the Red-robed Cardinal merely glanced at him, and the priest obediently shut his mouth.
“I understand.”
The entire church returned to silence.
…
At almost the same time, in the northern reaches of the Empire, the Bone Ice Plains.
This place was the Empire’s place of exile, also known as the Land Abandoned by Gods.
The Human-Demon War three thousand years ago had turned this land into a barren swamp, and the Human-Dragon War over fourteen hundred years ago had completely shaped it into the most hostile extreme environment in the world.
A polar night lasting over a hundred days annually covered this area, with rampant demonic creatures and raging blizzards.
However, even with such a harsh environment, humans stubbornly continued to live here.
They sustained life by relying on a unique species called “Blind-Eyed Snowfish.” This fish was rich in fat but was a double-edged sword—long-term consumption would cause their pupils to fade to grayish-white, making them light-sensitive like bats.
Because of their characteristics, and because of their clan’s past history.
They were now contemptuously referred to as—the Duskmouth Clan.
But they called themselves—the Frostthroat Dragonkin.
The Frostthroat Dragonkin’s predecessors were the northern nomadic tribe, the “Frostthroat Clan.”
Legend has it that during a blizzard, they witnessed the Dragon God soaring through the sky and were protected by him from danger. Since then, they regarded the Dragon God as a divine being descended from heaven. They made an eternal covenant of service with the Dragon God in exchange for his protection, becoming loyal servants of the Dragon God.
In the first year of the Dragon Prosperity Era, they gradually moved south, following the dragons.
In the early Dragon Prosperity Era, the Dragon Cult emerged as the times demanded.
At that time, the Dragon Cult was revered as chosen by heaven, chosen by gods, the only legitimate faith in the world, and its power shook all directions.
Unfortunately, over fourteen hundred years ago, the Dragon God was slain by Emperor Iron Dome, and the dragons were subsequently annihilated in a continuous century-long war.
The Dragon Cult, once the greatest in the world, also began to decline and perish, eventually being replaced by the Empire’s Morning Dawn Church.
The Frostthroat Clan, which once boasted hundreds of millions of believers and a population of tens of millions, now numbered less than two thousand, gathered in the “Frostthroat Grotto.”
The old shaman of the Frostthroat Dragonkin was named Urga Frostthroat.
He was hunched, his skin shriveled, and his bones so thin he resembled a candle in the wind, ready to shatter with a puff.
However, his appearance could not conceal his legendary status.
In the setting of the magic codex, he was the only human to survive from the Dragon God era to the present.
Through secret arts and dragon blood bestowed by the Dragon God, he lived for over fifteen hundred years, half-frozen and half-conscious.
A true mythical legend.
Keep in mind, he was just a regular human.
…
Every evening at eight, it was time for the young hunters of the Frostthroat tribe to return.
According to their religious tradition, they would all kneel before the Dragon God’s ice sculpture, praying devoutly to thank the Dragon God for once again protecting their tribe.
It was rare for the old shaman Urga to awaken, so today, all eight hundred young people of the tribe knelt before the Dragon God’s statue.
“CRACKLE!!!”
But suddenly, the young hunters, who were kneeling, recoiled in terror, startled.
They saw Urga, usually solemn and steady, suddenly pounce on the altar like a madman, even dropping his prayer beads to the ground.
His face, like dried tree bark, pressed against the ice surface. He babbled incoherently, his grayish-white, cloudy pupils shrunk to pinpoints, and his face showed incomparable fanaticism and excitement.
The young people behind him were all bewildered.
Has Urga finally gone mad…?
Next, Urga spread his thin arms and embraced the giant claw of the Dragon God’s ice sculpture.
He looked up at the Dragon God’s portrait from below, howling with excited infatuation:
“Dragon God! Have you… have you finally heard the cries of your people?! Your old servant… your old servant greets you!”
As he spoke, he knelt before the Dragon God’s statue.
If Urga knelt, how could the young people behind him not kneel?
So they all knelt before the Dragon God’s statue.
Then they listened to Urga’s incoherent ramblings for over half an hour.
…
“What exactly is Urga saying?” a young man whispered, head bowed.
“I don’t know…” another replied.
“It sounds like… he’s saying the Dragon God still exists in the world?”
Someone began to get excited: “Really?!”
Another young man scoffed: “The Dragon God has been dead for a thousand years. If he were still alive, why would he let us suffer in this extremely cold land! Urga, you haven’t heard the elders say that every time he wakes up, here—”
The person pointed to his head, “—he’s not quite clear-headed.”
Soon, someone among this group of young people immediately stood up and cursed him for disrespecting the rules.
Of course, there were also those who silently agreed, not making a sound.
After all, the Dragon God had been dead for a thousand years.
Let alone the Dragon God, most people hadn’t even seen a dragon, only knowing that there were frozen corpses beneath the ice.
Urga rambled for an hour and finally stopped.
He regained his usual solemnity, leaned on his staff, and turned his head to call out:
“Weiya!”
Upon hearing Urga call out like that, a large group of young people felt a surge of excitement.
Because soon, a graceful and beautiful woman emerged from the ice cave and stood before everyone. The girl had long, gradient ice-blue hair, a sheer veil subtly covering her face, and her hair tips were adorned with what looked like never-melting ice crystals.
She took only two steps, yet she attracted the gaze of countless young men.
They wanted to look more, but they feared her aura and dared not stare directly.
She respectfully approached Urga, bowed, and said, “Grandfather.”
“I plan to hold a blood sacrifice once a month for the next three years, and you will preside over it.”
Weiya was surprised, to the point of being flustered: “Grandfather, monthly?!”
As soon as Urga said this, the young people became even more restless.
Blood sacrifice referred to a ritual for the Dragon God, requiring a large amount of fresh demonic creatures and food.
This kind of thing happened only once a year, but now it was changed to… once a month.
Wasn’t this a death sentence?!
But Urga’s attitude was unquestionable, “On the seventh day of each month, take twelve demonic creatures from the Ice Abyss and twenty-four Ice Demon Wolves.”
“Grandfather!” Weiya suddenly raised her voice.
The crowd began to stir. A young hunter named Blank pushed through the crowd, “Sir! Last year, to gather enough for the annual sacrifice, we lost six people, six people! But do you know that within thirty miles of the Ice Abyss, not even a snow rat—!”
Urga turned, leaning on his staff, his gaunt but sharp gaze sweeping over everyone, his voice like ice: “If there are none within thirty miles, then go three hundred miles out! If there are none at three hundred miles, then three thousand miles! Or else, go south to the Empire!”
He paused, his tone growing heavier.
“Or are you cubs, who grew up drinking the Dragon God’s blessed snowfish soup, forgetting how to be Dragonkin?”
The crowd fell silent. Some bowed their heads, others clenched their fists in indignation.
Urga looked at this group of dissenting young people, feeling genuinely disappointed. He sighed, shaking his head and saying:
“You don’t know what we were like in the Dragon God era, and how miserable we became in this world after losing the Dragon God.
“You are confined to this ice cave your whole lives, unaware of the vastness of the outside world, seeing no abundance of food, and not knowing how many people like us look down on us.
“You are also quickly forgetting the Empire’s past persecution of us…
“A thousand years ago, seven hundred years ago, five hundred years ago, when the Imperial cavalry crushed our tribe, did they ever show mercy to women and children?
“The Dragon God is our tribe’s only hope! It is our only chance to return to the fertile lands of the Central Plains!
“Or… would you rather eternally eat snowfish and lick moss here? Like those who ran out and then ran back, only to be mocked and contemptuously called the Duskmouth Clan by the Empire?”
The young people all lowered their heads, silent.
Their fathers had not failed to leave, but without exception, they all returned.
The young people who had intended to object fell silent, and Weiya, who had initially thought of opposing her grandfather, also bowed her head and said nothing.
“There will be no objections to this matter! Until we re-establish contact with the Dragon God!”
Seeing this, Urga closed his eyes and continued to lecture, “Remember, the day we re-establish contact with the Dragon God will be the day our tribe, after a millennium of dormancy, finally rises!”
No sooner had he finished speaking than a deep rumble came from the depths of the grotto, like cracking ice or some colossal creature rolling underground. The young hunters were startled, gripping their ice axes tightly, their eyes uneasily scanning their surroundings.
Weiya suddenly looked up, a strange glint in her eyes beneath her ice-blue hair, and whispered, “Grandfather, that sound…”
Urga, however, was unmoved. Instead, he threw his head back and laughed wildly, his gaunt body trembling slightly with his laughter:
“It’s here! It’s here! Do you hear it? This is the Dragon God’s response!”
Blank, who had spoken earlier, couldn’t help but step forward, urgently saying, “Sir, that’s just hot spring bubbles under the ice! Please don’t…”
“Silence!”
Urga’s eyes turned red with impatience, looking as if he wouldn’t listen to reason at all. He waved his arms to drive away the young people and began to worship the Dragon God’s ice sculpture again, muttering delirious nonsense.
At this moment, most of the young people in the tribe wore expressions of resentment.
With the Great Shaman like this, the Frostthroat Dragonkin were probably doomed to be completely finished…