The biting wind howled along the banks of the frozen Han River, swirling snowflakes all around. Visibility was extremely poor, with only vague silhouettes visible beyond a hundred meters.

The thick snow covering the frozen river surface exploded continuously as rotting corpses clawed their way out one after another. These undead shared a common trait - their heads and faces were caked with wet mud, eyes burning with ghostly gray flames. They wore tattered, muck-stained clothing, revealing pallid skin, though the muscle lines beneath seemed quite robust. This showed the bodies were fresh and recently deceased.

Seeing the undead's appearance, Lillith was shocked. "Cyrus! You've slaughtered defenseless villagers!"

Cyrus cackled loudly. "Mindless fools, wasting food just by living. Better they serve me in death, giving their shallow lives some meaning."

He didn't deny the accusation of massacre, even looking amused, as if he'd merely butchered livestock, not people.

Even Shambala was taken aback. "Cyrus, you're truly mad!"

"Mad I may be," Cyrus said.

"My servants, rise!"

Thump, thump, thump! The undead climbed from the snow, quite a horde, at least thirty visible. But rather than attack, they raced to Cyrus, surrounding him protectively.

Naturally Shambala wouldn't sit idle. As one sprinted past, he drew his blade with a ringing flourish and bifurcated it with a lightning slash.

Then the unexpected happened!

Boom! The severed corpse exploded violently, spraying dark blood in all directions. Before it even hit the ground, the blood ignited into ghostly gray flames.

Death magic - Bloodburst!

One of the most terrifying spells in a necromancer's arsenal. With just a bit of mana, the sorcerer could detonate the residual life essence within the undead. This burst released a hundred times more power than was used to trigger it, with devastating effect.

Shambala took the brunt of the undirected blast. Facing the bizarre flames, he didn't dare be careless. Instantly sheathing his sword to shield himself, he curled into a ball, skin shimmering with silvery light - the Silver Moon Fortress's secret Moon Halo technique.

The next moment, the grey fire slammed his silver aura.

Hiss... The gray flames and silver glow clashed violently, billowing thick mist and emitting a sound like acid corroding limestone. The fire's intensity swiftly weakened, while the silver light remained largely undamaged, testament to the warrior's might.

But the bloodburst wasn't the only threat - its aftermath was just as dire.

Crack...crack...whoosh! This was the frozen Han River. With the surface snow and ice melted, the frigid water below surged forth.

Shambala lost his footing on the unstable ice. Falling into the water itself wasn't dangerous, but he'd be a sitting duck for spells. If more undead dove in and bloodburst around him, would he survive?

At this critical juncture Shambala bellowed and flared his silver aura, concentrating intensely on his feet.

Poom...poom...poom! Three deafening splashes as he kicked off the surface. Using the recoil, his stocky frame leapt three steps across the water. He was about to escape the terrifying pit.

Boom boom boom! The snow before him exploded - the blasts widened the icy crater five or six fold!

Shambala's heart jolted. "More undead lie buried in the snow!"

He finally realized this riverbank was the enemy's prepared killzone. Victory here was unlikely. Wasting not another moment on the treacherous ice, he kicked off with a roar, silver light blazing around him. With a spray of water, his squat body twisted and rocketed for the shore.

This time, no mishaps occurred. Setting foot on solid ground, Shambala breathed a sigh of relief.

The exchange had seemed complicated, yet transpired in mere moments, less than three breaths. Yet in that short span, he'd expended nearly a third of his strength!

Safely ashore, Shambala watched Cyrus warily and slowly retreated toward Rosen and Lillith. Soon, the three regrouped.

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"What are you two doing here?" Shambala asked.

"An undead disguised as Cyrus attacked us at the inn. We didn't dare linger and came looking for you," Lillith answered.

Shambala's eyes twitched upon hearing this. Gazing at Cyrus again, his contempt was gone, replaced by wariness. "Tricky thief!"

On the frozen river, Cyrus stood leisurely, surrounded protectively by the undead horde as if they were his loyal guards. His fiery eyes looked over each of the three on shore before settling on Rosen.

"Rosen, my dear pupil, today I'll teach you one final lesson in magic!"

As he spoke, twenty undead broke formation, slowly advancing on the trio in a semicircle.

"Listen closely, boy."

"For a mage facing unavoidable combat, carefully prepare the battlefield to maximize your advantages and minimize the enemy's. Instill fear in them, for terror is a sorcerer's greatest ally."

The undead began sprinting across the ice, moving unnaturally fast. Soon they exceeded human limits, nearly matching Lillith's speed even untransformed.

Without hesitation Lillith shifted into her arachnid form. "They've set a trap to corner us. We can't win. Run!"

She turned and fled town-ward, but after a few steps halted - more young undead, over forty in number, had emerged behind, cutting off their escape!

Lillith's body trembled violently, her voice quivering. "How can there be so many? All young folk, at least two villages' worth!"

A typical northern hamlet had only a hundred-odd people. Gathering eighty youths required more than one village.

Shambala said nothing, only pulling Rosen protectively behind himself.

Cyrus's voice carried over on the wind. "Three villages, in fact."

"Second lesson, Rosen - never reveal your full hand, for the unknown brings fear. And fear defeats courage. So terror is a mage's ally."

The undead closed in quickly. Shambala murmured, "We break through separately. I'll take Rosen south, you go east."

Alone, he'd fight to the death, but with Rosen to protect, retreat was the only option.

Lillith nodded. "Those bloodbursts are too dangerous to block directly!"

Cyrus's bloodburst was stronger than normal, possessing both fire and death aspects, reaching low-level pinnacle grade. And by expending all the corpse's vitality in one blow, it was like a dozen pinnacle-grade Ash Barrages at once. The power was terrifying. In their brief clash, blocking a few had greatly drained Shambala. Lillith, a low-level warrior, would be one-shotted!

"Got it!"

"Go!"

Before he finished speaking, Shambala scooped up Rosen like a rabbit tucked underarm. The hulking man charged through the snow like a black bear, barely slowing even carrying someone.

Meanwhile Lillith sprinted at full speed, though her arachnid form was still a bit slower than Shambala.

Cyrus wouldn't idly watch, of course. His sole focus was Rosen, weak now but limitless potential - the greatest threat who had to die!

So only about ten undead went for Lillith, while over fifty targeted Shambala.

And Cyrus himself recklessly rushed to the bank, condensing three gray fireballs before him and launching them silently at Rosen!

This brazen act made Shambala's heart stir. "A chance!"

Seeing the missiles approach, he bellowed and double kicked, blasting up a thick snow barrier that blocked the fireballs.

Using the screen as cover, he suddenly pivoted and planted his feet, pouring at least thirty percent of his strength into his sword and slashing wildly at Cyrus!

Silver Moon Style - Crescent Moon Blade!

Silvery light coalesced into a three meter wide, blinding arc that shredded through the snow veil and rocketed at Cyrus dozens of meters away.

"Die, Thief!" Shambala roared.

The Crescent Blade flew unhindered, bisecting three undead enroute without slowing. It then sliced across the frozen river, shattering the ice as it went.

Too late to dodge, the distance Cyrus was struck head-on by the silver crescent and cleaved cleanly in half!

Shambala sighed in relief, chuckling. "Superior skill prevails."

Before the thought finished, Rosen cried, "Uncle! The undead!"

Shambala started. "What? He's dead, isn't he?"

By all logic, killing the necromancer should've freed the undead.

But explanations would have to wait, as over a dozen undead surrounded Shambala and recklessly charged him, bodies swelling and bloating - they were going to bloodburst!

A seemingly inescapable crisis! But Shambala was a high-level warrior. At this life-or-death moment he yelled, "Go!"

Grabbing Rosen's collar, he hurled the boy skyward, out of the blast zone. At the same time, Shambala stomped the ground, stirring up a snow barrier with his kick. Though a normal person could only blow up some loose snow, Shambala's kick blasted a storm, forcefully knocking the undead back several meters.

But they were just the opening act for Cyrus's real attack.

In the air over the river, space distorted as a figure faded into view, arm outstretched toward the airborne Rosen.

"Die, my dear pupil!"

The real Cyrus had been invisible! With the deception revealed, three gray fireballs silently shot forth at Rosen.

Shambala finally understood the ruse, fury boiling to new heights.

"Damn you, Thief!"

Seeing the missiles speeding toward Rosen, he roared, "I won't let you!"

His sword flashed rapidly, sending multiple silver blade projections that flew freely and precisely destroyed all three fireballs.

Cyrus cackled madly. "Hahaha! Well done, but how many can you fire?"

At this critical point he wouldn't ease up. Another missile barrage flew at Rosen. At the same time, more undead recklessly charged Shambala.

Grinding his teeth, Shambala endured the bloodbursts and swung his sword desperately, each projection picking off a fireball.

Boom boom boom! Three undead exploded around him, the tremendous force shaking his body violently. With strength rapidly waning, his blade projections lost some accuracy.

Puff puff! He intercepted two fireballs, but the third slipped past and caught Rosen's falling body before detonating.

Boom! Though weakened, the mutated ash barrage still blasted Rosen five or six meters away. More terrifying were the spreading gray flames, which even Shambala had to exert great effort to resist. How could Rosen, a novice mage with just over twenty days of meditation, withstand this strike?

Splash! Rosen hit the deep snow and was instantly engulfed in gray fire.

"Ah!" A short, shrill scream rang out. He had clearly been burned alive.

"Raaahhh!" Shambala was berserk with rage. Roaring skyward, he abandoned his escape and charged madly back toward Cyrus on the icy river.

"Despicable thief! I'll have your life today or stop calling myself Shambala!"