Yechen's voice resounded loudly as he answered, quickly checking the contents of his backpack. Once he confirmed that everything was in order, Yechen walked out of the church, heading straight towards the ruins of the village down the mountain.

In Yechen's memory, Lyle had never left the prayer hall of that church, almost always sitting there in silence facing the statue in the hall.

However, whether it was the signs of erosion from the Abyss in the border mountain area or the intelligence about the bandits fleeing from White Frost City, Lyle seemed to know everything about this eternal winter sanctuary as if he were all-knowing and all-powerful. Why was that?

Yechen had pondered this question many times, but Lyle never seemed inclined to enlighten him, always deflecting with "You'll understand later."

Over time, Yechen could only file it away as one of life's mysteries. Perhaps for this small world, his teacher was like an all-powerful deity.

The young man trudged through one snowy path after another, the hot breath visible in the frigid air.

The biting cold snow wind constantly blowing in his face spoke of the harsh weather in this land, but the young man was long accustomed to it.

The Eternal Winter Sanctuary, true to its name, is a small world of perpetual coldness. Here, there is no mild autumn, no warm spring, and certainly no scorching summer. Only the cold winter reigns eternal.

Though this place follows the basic laws of day and night, and the cycle of water vapor, each day's sunlight brings the same temperature, and each night's moon phase remains full, creating a palpable sense of discord. It's as if in this land, space and time have undergone a severe rupture.

However, for Yechen, who has grown up here for seventeen years, this is nothing out of the ordinary. Soon, he will bid farewell to this land of winter snowflakes once and for all, as long as he completes those three trials.

After less than an hour's journey, Yechen arrived at the gate of the village ruins as directed by Lyle.

Since Yechen could remember, this village has always been in a state of decay and ruin, as if it had been abandoned by its inhabitants for a century. Being remote and uninhabited, it was evidently a suitable hiding place for fugitives.

Yechen didn't rush into the village but instead observed the surroundings. On the main muddy road where the snow was least dense, he vaguely noticed several sets of large footprints.

Judging from the exaggerated size and depth of the footprints, Yechen immediately deduced that the fugitive was a giant-sized White Frost person, likely possessing formidable strength. Combined with Lyle's earlier reminder about the target's potential Aoling technique, it was clear that the opponent was not to be underestimated.

Yechen hid outside the gate, peering into the snow-covered winding paths and the remains of houses within the village. After not spotting any suspicious figures, he circled around the village's dilapidated walls and soon found a concealed hole in the wall.

Bending down, Yechen slipped through the hole, officially infiltrating the interior of the village. Familiar with the layout of the area, he understood that there was only one intact building where a fugitive could hide from the snow and seek warmth. If the target was indeed camped here, that location was the only possibility.

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With the specific destination in mind, the young man immediately moved stealthily. However, just as he reached a house with a roof still intact, something at the street corner made him stop in his tracks.

Yechen widened his eyes and carefully examined the scene, noticing a faintly suspended object in the air.

It was an almost imperceptible steel wire, anchored at both ends to the fences on either side of the intersection, blocking the path to the residential area.

Yechen then turned his head to look at the other passages on the left and right, finding that they all had the vague silver glow of steel wires. It seemed that these wires were interconnected, forming a ring with a radius of up to a hundred meters around the house.

As Yechen expected, this was likely some kind of warning device or lethal trap. Once triggered, it could lead to phenomena like shaking bells or incoming crossbow arrows.

"The vigilance on the other side is quite strong too," Yechen sighed inwardly. Then, he lifted his leg and carefully crossed over the steel wire, avoiding any potential trap locations on the road. With a few somersaults, he arrived near the old wooden house, which was still sturdy enough to withstand the wind and snow.

The wooden house was small, occupying only about ten square meters of space, with only a broken wooden door ajar. Yechen's gaze passed through the gap in the door and saw a huddled figure in the corner of the room.

The figure was wrapped in a blanket, only its silhouette visible without any specific facial features.

Yechen lurked in the snow, silently observing for a while. Then, he gently drew out his long knife and made a cut on his arm, infusing the tip of the blade with Aoling power.

First, he covered the blade with the flowing blood to forge the "Blood Blade." Then, he carefully dripped the remaining blood into the empty chamber of his revolver. With a faint glow, a crimson "Blood Bullet" was condensed.

With one "Blood Bullet" and five regular bronze bullets loaded into the revolver, Yechen confirmed that the revolver was properly loaded before pushing the chamber back into place.

At this moment, he had closed the distance to the figure inside the wooden house to thirty meters. Although the target was already within the range of his revolver, Yechen did not rush to act. Instead, he stealthily circled around the wooden house, checking the interior from different angles through the broken windows.

However, even with Yechen changing angles, there was still a corner inside the house that he couldn't see clearly. It happened to be a blind spot in the shared line of sight between the door crack and the window edge.

Yechen pondered that there might be other traps inside the house and didn't dare to rush in recklessly. He had no choice but to return to the vicinity of the wooden house door. At a concealed distance of fifteen meters, he aimed the barrel of his revolver at the figure wrapped in a blanket, curled up in the doorway's shadow.

Half a year ago, Goda was an ordinary miller at a small farm near the White Frost City.

He was short, weak, and timid, living a life of poverty and suffering without an ounce of dignity. He was bullied and extorted by thugs from the city during the day and verbally and physically abused by his wife at night.

It could be said that Goda was a failure to the extreme—a complete loser.

As everything should have been.

Until he experienced that nightmare.

In the dream, Goda stood in a wilderness, the entire expanse black, shrouded by a thick fog, with countless broken iron chains strewn across the land at his feet.

Initially, Goda was utterly bewildered, unable to make sense of the situation. However, when he realized that the ground beneath his shoes was not the familiar grass he knew, but a strange, twisted black silk, fear and panic instantly seized him.

On this peculiar land, endless black hair grew, interspersed with scattered remnants of broken iron chains.

What did all this mean?

Why was he in such a place?

What would happen next?

Just as Goda broke out in a cold sweat, pondering these questions, he suddenly heard a strange, intermittent, and vaguely blurry sound.

Whoosh... Whoosh... Whoosh...