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Chapter Text

Sheng Fang Guild rises to the top!
Ice Emperor does it again — S-class dungeon cleared in one week!
HS Guild expands into biopharmaceuticals.
X-Holding spearheads dungeon research.

Sheng Shaoyou took a slow sip of iced Americano, the caffeine giving him a boost of energy. Work piled up during his absence. He skimmed the articles, pausing on anything related to dungeons—biochemical ventures, weaponry, new breakthroughs. His tongue clicked softly against his teeth as the HS Guild headline caught his attention. This guild has been a nuisance to him for a while. It started with Drunken Branch, and now they are taking over biopharmaceuticals, competing with Sheng Fang Guild.

Shaoyou was frustrated. 

Sheng Fang had been lying in a coma for a year now, wasting away from an unknown ailment. He had run dungeon after dungeon, pushed the research teams overtime, burned resources hunting for a cure—yet even S-Class potions from the rarest dungeons had done nothing.

Fatigue clawed at his bones. Clearing an S-Class dungeon in one week had taken its toll. His limbs ached, the cold settling deep into his joints. But when doctors warned that Sheng Fang’s condition had worsened right before he entered the dungeon, delaying hadn’t been an option. He needed to clear the dungeon fast and he had raced through monsters, sometimes alone, pushing past his limits.

The moment he’d returned, he’d gone straight to the hospital. Sheng Fang had still been alive—but the doctors weren’t optimistic.

“Pinming,” he called.

The door opened and the guild secretary entered, immaculate in his suit.

“Yes, President?”

“Did we find anything useful in the S-class dungeon loot?”

“We recovered A-class equipment and an S-class protective bracelet. But no recovery potions above A-class,” Chen Pinming replied carefully, he knew how much this mattered.

Shao You hid his disappointment. The wound on his back throbbed again. It had been three days since dungeon closure — normally he would’ve healed by now. He suspected the boss’s parting strike had been poisoned. Still, he’d taken a recovery potion and was alive, so it would likely heal with time. He made a mental note to see a doctor if it wasn’t better by next week.

“Guild President, you received an invitation to an auction today. The organiser is X-Holding, and surprisingly, this year it’s being held in Jiang Hu.” Chen Pin Ming presented a gold-embossed card.

You are cordially invited to the X Auction as VVIP
Sunday, 25th November 20XX
Venue: X Hotel, Jiang Hu

As an S-Class Alpha and one of Jiang Hu’s top Awakeners, invitations like this were nothing new. But X-Holding was different. They were rumoured to have underground networks and infamous for rare artifacts, and items that never reached the public market. They might have a cure or something close.

“Pinming, RSVP for me,” Shaoyou ordered. “And prepare the car. I’m going home.”

The Beta nodded. “Yes, sir.” He had expected the Guild President to work through the night as he usually pulled days of all-nighters after major dungeon runs — but tonight, he looked unusually drained.

An early night might help his fatigue.

_______________________________________

Shaoyou woke up feeling better than the night before. The wound on his back looked less inflamed. In the mirror, the long slash across his shoulder blade had faded to a half-healed mark. 

He reviewed the latest dungeon list released by the Hunter Association on one hand, while the other holding a cup of coffee. His brows furrowed. The list was longer than usual — dungeon appearances had been increasing, more than the yearly norm. Thankfully, there hadn’t been many breakouts yet.

“Pinming,” he called as he walked into the office. “Form a team. Analyse every dungeon in Jiang Hu from the past five years. Patterns, levels, break times—I want everything.”

Pin Ming immediately began noting it down.

Before he could respond, a shrill alarm blared from both their phones.

ALERT: B-CLASS DUNGEON BREAKTHROUGH AT HUAN SCHOOL
ALL B-CLASS AWAKENERS AND ABOVE TO RESPOND
HUNTER ASSOCIATION DISPATCHED FOR CONTAINMENT

Shao You’s blood chilled.

Huan School.

It was Shaoyue and Shaowan’s school, the youngests of the Sheng family. 

“Pin Ming.” His voice sharpened as he crossed the room, grabbing his sword and pressing a panel on the wall. “Mobilise the guild. Medical and evacuation teams to Huan School immediately. Ah Yue and Ah Wan are there.”

“Understood, President. We’ll meet you on site.”

He tried calling both siblings but there were no answers. 

A glass panel retracted, revealing the open sky—an emergency Sheng Fang had installed three years ago, precisely for urgent exit. 

Shao You stepped out. Ice unfurled beneath him, forming a crystalline path in the air. Snow swirled as he launched forward. His siblings could not afford any delay.

By the time he reached Huan School, chaos had swallowed the grounds.

Flames licked at the shattered windows, casting jagged orange light across the ruined buildings. Smoke curled upward, thick and suffocating as it bled into the night sky. The air was loud with chaos—hunters moving in frantic formations, voices raised as they shouted orders, their commands cutting through the shrill screams of terrified civilians. Fire lizards scattered across the courtyard, their scales glowing ember-red, heat rippling in shimmering waves around their bodies as they spat balls of fire toward the humans.

At the edge of the school gates, a thin layer of frost spread quietly across the asphalt. 

Hunters turned as a soft crunch sounded—ice forming under approaching footsteps.

Sheng Shaoyou walked through the smoke with calm strides, his three-piece suit immaculate despite the chaos around him. Cold air swirled at his back like a subdued storm, and faint snowflakes drifted in a slow spiral at his heels. The moment he stepped into the courtyard, his presence settled over the scene and the frantic noise seemed to dim as the temperature dropped.

“President Sheng—!”

“Ice Emperor is here!”

“He came himself—”

He ignored the exclamations.

His gaze swept the burning courtyard once, and headed towards the command center, where the Hunter Association had set up a safe zone. Shu Qin — an A-class barrier specialist — was coordinating rescue efforts with sharp orders. 

Shaowan and Shaoyue were in different years, and likely in different buildings. He didn’t even know their classroom numbers. He really should attach trackers to them… privacy invasion or not.

He approached Shu Qin. “Hunter Shu Qin.”

She turned, still maintaining her barrier — a translucent green dome over the safe zone.

“President Sheng,” she said crisply. “Good. We need you at the dungeon site — north of the school, near the gym. Possibly in an area no one ever checked.”

He made a note — but his priority was different. “Where are the junior and senior middle classes?”

Shu Qin frowned, uncertain why he wanted to know but answered regardless. “Senior classes are south while junior classes are north. Closest to the dungeon. I’ve dispatched an A-class tea—”

Shaoyou felt his heart dropped. Ah Wan is in the north building.

There was no time to waste. With a leap, he shot straight towards the buildings, frost blooming briefly mid-air under his boot before shattering into drifting crystals.

He entered through a broken classroom window, glasses crunching faintly under his heel. The hallway was dim, lit only by flickering emergency lights. 

Crunch, and crackles as a lizard crouched over a body, chewing. 

Shaoyou didn’t hesitate as he drew his sword. Frost burst outward the moment the blade cleared its sheath, and the creature froze, crystallizing in an instant. He stepped over what was left of a student, avoiding the blood and flesh. Heart is his throat. 

“Shaoyue!” His voice carried down the corridor.

He cleared the hallway with quiet precision, ice daggers orbiting around him in a deadly swirl. They shot forward one after another, piercing through enemies weakness with inhuman accuracy, killing them. 

On the fourth floor, cries cut through the thick air.

“Help! Please—!”

He followed the sound to a besieged classroom. Fire lizards slammed their flaming bodies against the door, spitting fireballs at the windows until the glass glowed and warped. They hissed and crackled but then faltered as they felt the temperature dropped the moment Shao You stepped into the corridor. Frost spread across the floor in a creeping wave, racing toward the cluster of monsters.

He lifted a hand and a surge of cold burst outward, engulfing the lizards in a sweeping arc. A thin white sheen coated their bodies, fire sputtering out as they froze mid-motion—jaws open, claws raised.

He didn’t stay to watch them shatter into a million glittering shards. He was already moving towards the classroom door. 

“Open the door. It’s Hunter Sheng.”

A small gasp. “Gege?”

The door cracked open and Shaoyue’s teary face appeared. She stumbled forward, soot and blood smeared across her cheeks. He caught her with one arm, steady and gentle.

“Let me see,” he said quietly.

He checked her injuries with measured motions and light touch—a gash at her forehead, bruises along her arms, but no life threatening wounds. Behind her, several students huddled, terrified.

“Where is Ah Wan?” he asked.

“I… I don’t know,” she whispered, voice breaking. “He had gym today…”

His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. The dungeon break was near the gym.

“Stay here.”

“No—Gege—please—”

Shaoyou stopped in his tracks. He shrugged off his coat and placed it over her shoulders, smoothing the collar with a familiar, unhurried gesture.

“I’ll return,” he said simply. “Trust me.” 

He guided her back into the classroom along with the other students and closed the door. He lifted his hand, mana gathering. 

Ice bloomed outward in silence, enveloping the room in thick, layered frost. Crystal walls formed, sealing the students inside a protective shell. A spire of ice rose beside the door—a  signal for the rescue teams.

__________________________________________

The school was simple in its layout: four buildings facing a wide central field, with a large hall at the back used for assemblies—and, when necessary, as a gym. The field lay eerily empty now. The east and west buildings, however, crawled with activity—hunters and monsters clashing in chaotic bursts of flame and ice.

Shaoyou stepped onto the frost-coated ground, snowflakes drifting around him in soft spirals. He headed towards the hall. A pack of fire lizards swarmed its entrance—the main door hanging off its hinges, another smashed into splinters.

He ducked a split second before a heavy tail swept through the air, close enough to ruffle his hair. He flipped backwards, hand brushing the pavement; ice spikes erupted in a perfect circle from the point of contact, growing larger the farther they spread. The monsters were impaled mid-charge, frozen in grotesque angles as blood dripped thickly down the spikes, coagulating in the cold. He landed lightly on the frosted ground and rushed into the hall. It was again filled with fire lizards. 

Another swarm lunged and Shaoyou moved. 

A clean swipe of his blade—
a sharp kick—
a lizard smashed through the wall in a burst of flame and scales.
Another pivot, another thrust—
a monster pinned through the throat.

The surrounding was cleared within minutes and the scene left was heart-wrenching.

Blood soaked the floor, freezing into dark streaks as snow drifted gently around him. The bodies of students and teachers lay scattered across the hall, many were missing limbs, while others burned beyond recognition. The heavy scent of scorched flesh and blood lingered in the air, settling like a thick blanket over the area.

Shaoyou forced himself not to look at the faces. Not yet. 

He prowled deeper into the hall, bootsteps cracking over frozen blood. Another fire lizard lunged from the shadows and the S-class hunter caught it with a swift kick, sending it crashing into the wall. He almost stomped on it again—anger coiling tight in his chest—when he felt it. A faint pulse of mana nearby.

His head snapped toward the stage. There was a weak barrier nearby, struggling to hold itself together. A small door—usually used for storing props—remained shut, faint mana flickering around its edges. Shaoyou reached for the doorknob and pulled, the barrier breaking the moment he touched it.

A translucent layer of light shattered into glittering fragments, scattering like tiny stars across the darkened room.

Screams and shouts burst out from inside—high, panicked, overlapping—then fell silent the instant they recognised who stood in the doorway.

“Shaowan?” Shaoyou called out, not daring to hope.  

A small voice answered, shaky. “Dage…”

Shaoyou felt a weight lift from his shoulders. In the middle of the huddled students, his youngest brother sat curled protectively around a fallen figure, holding the boy close.

“Shaowan, are you hurt?” he asked, kneeling beside him. The students shifted quietly, making room as he leaned in.

“No… but my friend is,” Shaowan murmured. “He saved us. He… awakened, I think.”

Shaoyou checked the boy’s pulse. Weak, but steady. “Mana overuse. He’ll be fine.” He glanced over his younger brother next, making sure.

Shaowan’s shoulders trembled. He leaned into the touch when Shao You’s hand settled lightly on his head.

“You did well,” the S-class Alpha said softly. 

Just quiet acknowledgement—and for Shaowan, that was enough.

Shaoyou sealed the students inside with another ice barrier, thicker and cleaner than the first, frost settling in a smooth, protective sheen. Then he rose and turned toward the gym entrance.

He still had a dungeon to end and his siblings were safe. That was all he needed.

He rolled his shoulder once, easing the dull ache along his back, and started walking towards the source of the calamity. 

More lizards skittered out from behind collapsed beams, snapping with crackling flames. He didn’t bother drawing out the fights. A flicker of frost marked each swing; monsters fell, ice creeping over their scales.

At the rafters, the portal pulsed overhead, green light flickering erratically. Breakthrough-stage portals were unstable, but that hardly mattered now.

He crouched, then pushed off lightly. His foot touched a rising sliver of ice mid-air, redirecting him upward as ice formed naturally under his step. 

The jungle dungeon greeted him with thick, humid air. Shadows layered between massive trees, vines glowing faintly. The sudden heat made him pause before he adjusted, letting the temperature around him drop several degrees.

A fire lizard lunged from a branch.

Shaoyou sidestepped without looking up.

One upward slice. The creature hit the ground frozen.

Two more emerged.

He breathed out. Frost drifted lazily from his fingertips, settling over the ground in a thin sheet. Their claws skidded as they advanced; one stumbled, the other hesitated.

Both fell just as quickly. None of the fights lasted more than a few seconds. 

He brushed leaves from his shoulder and continued.

_____________________________________________________________

An hour later, the bright green portal dimmed and dissolved.

Hunters gathered around the portal gave a cheer. The dungeon has been cleared!

The courtyard still crackled with heat and frost when Shaoyou emerged from the collapsing portal, looking immaculate in his waistcoat. Steam rose from the ground, swirling through smoke. Hunters moved around the perimeter with low voices and quick efficiency.

One section of ice had melted into a clean pool.

The culprit stood a short distance away.

Shen Wenlang.

Tall, sharply built, heat distorting the air around him, flames in his veins always a breath away. His white suit was immaculate despite the smoke, as if fire itself didn’t dare to cling. His secretary, Gao Tu, stood half a step behind. 

When Wen Lang noticed Shaoyou, he didn’t smile.

He sneered.

“You finally crawled out.”

Shaoyou didn’t slow. His gaze dipped past Wenlang, assessing damage, rescue layout, remaining hotspots—everything but the man talking.

He ignored him. 

“Tch.” Wen Lang’s gaze flicked to the shattered remains of ice. “Your barriers blocked half the exits. I had to melt them. Try making them less of a nuisance.”

“You should have arrived earlier, then.” Shaoyou replied, annoyance lacing his tone. This idiot.

Heat flared around Wen Lang, aura coiling in irritation. Nearby hunters flinched.

“You want to say that again?”

“Guild Leader, perhaps now is not—” Gao Tu began softly.

“Stay still,” Wenlang snapped without looking back. The harsh tone didn’t match the tight, restrained flicker in his aura. He didn’t want Gao Tu close to an S-Class frost aura.

Shao You didn’t bother responding. He adjusted his grip on his sword, expression unreadable.

“I’m leaving.”

He stepped past him.

Wenlang moved into his path, heat rising—not enough to be hostile, just enough to provoke.

HS Guild had a reputation: aggressive expansion, Drunken Branch, questionable pheromone extraction, monopolistic pricing, and Drunken Branch. Shaoyou avoided them whenever he could. Remembering how his own pheromones had ended up as cheap household perfumes made him want to punch the smug bastard responsible.

“We could be allies if you weren’t so arrogant,” said the responsible smug bastard.

“No.”

“You didn’t even listen.”

“The answer is still no.”

Wenlang’s aura spiked again. 

He stepped closer, voice dropping. “You’re turning down an opportunity that will matter very soon.”

Shaoyou finally looked at him.

“I don’t ally with unethical guilds.”

Shen Wenlang scoffed. “You don’t even know half of what we do.”

“Exactly.”

Temper flared—then leashed.

“…You really hate us.”

“No,” Shaoyou corrected. “I dislike your practices. Your people. And you.”

A single ember flickered above Wenlang’s shoulder. He snuffed it immediately, but his eyes burned hotter.

He leaned in slightly, civility thinning. “One day you’re going to regret turning me down.”

“Unlikely.”

The tension held—fire against frost.

Abruptly, Wenlang looked away.

“…Your siblings were taken to Heci Hospital,” he said, voice clipped. “Minor injuries. Stable.”

Shaoyou paused.

“Don’t get the wrong idea,” Wenlang added quickly. “My hunters told me. I’m just passing the message.”

“…Thank you,” Shaoyou said quietly.

Wenlang froze for half a breath before clicking his tongue, hard. “Tch. Annoying.”

He turned away, fire rippling under his skin.

“Guild Leader,” Gao Tu murmured, “your temperature is spiking. Should I—”

“I’m fine,” Wen Lang snapped, but his pace slowed just enough for Gao Tu to keep up comfortably. “Just stay close.”

Gao Tu nodded, unbothered.

As they walked, Wen Lang muttered under his breath, too low for most to catch.

“Idiot. What if his frost hit you…”

Gao Tu pretended not to hear.

Behind them, frost gathered under Shaoyou’s steps as he left.

He passed clusters of hunters, returning brief nods to their salutes. Chen Pinming appeared at his side, falling into step.

“Sir, the car is ready.”

“Good.”

As they approached the vehicle, Shao You rolled his shoulder. A dull ache radiated from his back—likely from the old wound.He didn’t comment, simply opened the door and sat.

As he settled into the seat, the tight line of his mouth eased. He let his head rest back against the cushion.

“Turn up the heat,” he murmured.

Warm air flowed through the vents, loosening the tension in his shoulders. His fingers relaxed against his knee.

“Hospital,” he said quietly.

“Yes, President.”

As the car pulled away from the ruined school, Shao You closed his eyes and exhaled slowly.

_______________________________________________________

Heci Hospital rose ahead, tall and bright against the night sky, its clean glass façade a sharp contrast to the chaos he’d left. When the car stopped at the entrance, Shao You straightened his waistcoat, smoothing an invisible crease.

He walked through the doors with a quiet purpose. Doctors and nurses glanced up, murmuring when they recognized him, but he offered only brief nods. His attention was elsewhere.

Pinming led. “They were placed in the same private room, President.”

“Mm.”

His pace stayed steady, but his stride gained a subtle urgency.

The corridor outside the room was crowded—his father’s mistresses and step-siblings. Voices rose at once.

“Where were you?!”

“How can you let this happen?”

“Useless—! If you hadn’t—”

“An S-Class Alpha and you still—”

He stopped.

He didn’t raise his voice or glare. He simply let his aura slip by a fraction and the hallway fell silent.

“Lower your voices,” he said. “This is a hospital. Act appropriately.”

Shaoqing, the second oldest, also the loudest, stepped forward, face flushed.

“You weren’t there when Father collapsed! And now Ah Wan and Ah Yue—”

“Enough.”

Shaoqing’s mouth shut.

Chen Pinming chose that moment to interject. “Second Young Master, Guild Leader Sheng headed to the school as soon as he received the alert. He cleared the dungeon breakthrough alone. Without that, casualties would have been far worse.”

Shaoqing bristled. “That doesn’t mean—”

His hand lifted as if to strike Pinming.

Shaoyou caught his wrist. “Shao Qing,” he said. “If you have time to shout at my subordinate, you have time to work at the guild.”

The younger man froze, reminded exactly who he was challenging—an S-Class Alpha, the man holding their family together.

He pulled his hand back, avoiding Shaoyou’s eyes, face red. 

“Go home,” Shaoyou said, turning away.

His tone wasn’t cold.

Just final.

The family stepped aside as he reached the door. When it opened, the corridor’s noise faded.

The room was quiet, softly lit.

Shaoyue lay on the bed near the window, head bandaged, tear marks down her cheeks, breathing steady while Shaowan laid on another bed near the door. Both were sleeping deeply. 

Shaoyou stayed standing near the door, hands in his pockets. Time passed as he just stood watching his siblings breath. Minute by minute, his face blank of emotion but his mind was racing. 

His thoughts were broken when Chen Pinming knocked softly on the door, his voice drifting in. “President… the Guild needs your input on the post-breakthrough report.”

Shaoyou glanced once more at the sleeping pair, then nodded. “Understood.”

He stepped out, closing the door gently.

_________________________________________________________

The meeting floors of Sheng Fang Guild occupied the top levels of a high-rise in Jiang Hu’s business district. At night, the city stretched beneath the windows in glittering lines—streetlamps, neon, traffic like streams of light.

When Shaoyou stepped out of the private elevator, cold met the warmer hallway air, thinning into a faint mist behind him. The corridor was minimalist: dark polished floors, white lighting, clean lines.

Pinming walked a step behind, tablet in hand. “The Hunter Association meeting started thirty minutes ago. They’ve prepared an initial crisis summary.”

“Mm.”

They entered his office—sleek, orderly, overlooking the sleepless skyline. Soft light cast neat shadows across the desk.

The Hunter Association platform activated, loading a conference grid.

Windows lit up one by one:

Hunter Association — Director Zhao
Sheng Fang Guild — Sheng Shaoyou
HS Guild — Shen Wenlang
Other Guild Representatives

Digital nameplates settled under each frame.

Director Zhao, severe and composed in her fifties, adjusted her glasses. The Association emblem—a silver shield crossed with spears—hung behind her.

“Good evening, Guild representatives. Thank you for joining the meeting on such short notice.”

She gave a small nod, fingers tapping once on the folder before her. “Let us proceed with the emergency debrief on the Huan School incident.” 

A holoscreen expanded, city map rotating, red dungeon markers glowing.

Shaoyou’s eyes narrowed. There were far more markers than before.

“Over the past three months,” Director Zhao said, tapping her stylus, “dungeon appearances in Jiang Hu have increased by two hundred seventy percent.”

Muted reactions rippled across the screen.

Pinming quietly opened supplementary data beside Shaoyou.

“Additionally,” the director continued, “premature dungeon breakouts have risen. Historically, B-Class dungeons remained stable for a month. The current average is fourteen days.”

Wenlang scoffed. “We saw the signs. It was obvious weeks ago.”

He wasn’t wrong, just abrasive.

Director Zhao gave a measured nod. “Affirmative. HS Guild’s reports were noted, and we have based our research on the data provided.”

“Patterns indicate instability across all levels. A-Class included,” Shaoyou added.

“Yes,” she replied. “Mana density is fluctuating and monster mutations are increasing. The warning windows are also shrinking.”

Another chart appeared—years of dungeon stability dropping in a gradual, unmistakable curve.

Wenlang leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “Has X-Holding been contacted?”

A quiet stir moved through the room. Everyone knew X-Holding led dungeon science and deep-zone exploration, but with their ties to the underground, few ever said the name aloud. Only Wenlang did, blunt as always.

“Not yet.” 

Wen Lang’s mouth twisted. “They’re the only ones who can confirm changes at the mana-root. We can’t afford to delay.”

Director Zhao lifted a new document. “Given the situation, the Hunter Association will request an emergency research collaboration with X-Holding.”

Movement swept the meeting.

“Furthermore,” she said, “all guilds must submit weekly dungeon data—mana readings, variant sightings, environmental irregularities.”

“And public protection?” Wenlang pressed. “If spikes continue—”

“We will enhance civilian defense measures and expand barrier coverage across all high-risk zones. However, operational manpower remains limited. Accordingly, all registered guilds will be mandated to participate in the coordinated defense of the city.”

Beside Wen Lang, Gao Tu spoke softly. The Alpha’s expression softened for a split second, then smoothed back into its usual edge.

“President Sheng,” Director Zhao addressed, “your analysis of the Huan School dungeon will be essential for X-Holding. Submit your full report by midnight.”

Shaoyou nodded.

“And Guild Leader Shen, HS Guild’s thermal data on the mutated fire lizards is required as well.”

“You’ll have it,” Wenlang said. He didn’t sound cooperative, but Gao Tu was already emailing the necessary files.

The meeting continued through logistics—patrol rotations, research allocations, defensive deployments. 

Finally, the meeting concluded with a final caution from the Director of the Hunter’s Association. “We may be entering an unpredictable phase. Prepare your hunters accordingly.”

Screens blinked off one by one.

Their window disappeared.

Pinming exhaled. “Sir… the patterns truly are concerning.”

Shaoyou leaned back. “Yes.”

“President, your next appointment is at ten tomorrow—X-Holding’s auction,” Pinming added. “Shall I adjust anything?”

“No. Let’s finish for tonight.”

“Yes, sir.”

Shaoyou walked to the elevator. The soft hum of ventilation matched his quiet steps. 

_________________________________________________________

Sheng Shaoyou’s penthouse was quiet when he returned—lights low, the city spread out beyond the windows in muted gold and blue. He loosened his tie as he walked in, draping it neatly over a chair and headed straight to the bathroom.

Warm light reflected off dark marble and brushed steel. Steam fogged the glass as he turned on the shower, adjusting the temperature automatically.

He stepped under the water.

Heat spread across his skin, softening the cold that lingered in him. Droplets slid down his shoulders, over the faint frost at his collar. He closed his eyes briefly, letting the warmth ease the tension in his neck and back.

The wound on his back gave a sharp sting.

He checked it in the fogged mirror.

A long diagonal line, edges red. Bleeding had slowed, but the skin was inflamed. His healing had already done half the work; the rest needed time.

He dabbed it dry with a towel, then applied medicated salve from the cabinet. The cool burn of ointment met the leftover warmth of the shower, settling into a manageable ache.

He wrapped the bandage himself with practiced efficiency. This wasn’t the first time—and wouldn’t be the last.

When he finished, he washed his hands and stepped into his bedroom.

The room was dim, lit only by city glow bleeding past the curtains. Clean lines, a large bed with charcoal sheets, neat stacks of books, a faint citrus and rum scent.

He shifted and lay back on the bed, careful not to irritate the bandage. The sheets were cool, the leftover warmth from the shower sinking into the mattress.

He reached for the bedside controls. The lights dimmed to soft shadow, leaving only the city’s reflection.

Images flickered through his mind—the school, flames, terrified students, Ah Yue’s shaking hands, Ah Wan’s exhausted face.

He drew in a slow breath, letting it fill his lungs before exhaling quietly.

They were safe.

That was enough.

His eyes closed.

Chapter Text

X-Hotel towered above Jiang Hu’s skyline, its glass façade reflecting the city’s nightscape in sharp, elegant lines. At the private entrance reserved for VVIPs, camera flashes burst in quick succession the moment Shao You stepped out of the black Lexus. Frost spread silently beneath his leather shoes, the cold radiating from his body cutting through the warm night air. Reporters called him “Ice Emperor,” a nickname he found unnecessarily tacky, and he ignored them with practiced ease. At his side, Shu Xin—an A-Class Omega with the rare Reprisal ability, capable of reflecting hostile aura pressure—slipped her arm around his, calm and composed in a deep emerald gown. She served as both assistant and protection; her presence softened aggressive energies around him, making her invaluable in settings filled with high-ranking hunters.

Chang Yu greeted them at the doors with his usual polished efficiency. As the public face of X-Holding, he was meticulous and reserved, bowing slightly. “President Sheng. Welcome. The VVIP hall is to your left; refreshments are prepared.” No one outside the uppermost circles had ever seen the true owner of X-Holding, and Chang Yu managed everything with a precision that kept it that way. Shao You gave a brief nod and followed the usher inside.

The moment the inner doors closed, the atmosphere shifted. Dense aura—refined, restrained, yet powerful—hung in the air like the quiet before a storm. The hall was wide with vaulted ceilings, its walls forged from dungeon materials designed to absorb mana pressure. Even so, the presence of so many A- and S-Class Awakeners made the air feel thicker, humming softly at the edges. Shu Xin wavered half a step before her Reprisal adapted, and Shao You steadied her with a light touch.

Guided to their private booth, Shao You immediately noticed the booth beside his. Its curtains were half-drawn, shadows obscuring the occupant except for a faint silhouette. From that direction drifted a subtle floral scent—cool, refined, unfamiliar yet arresting. It brushed against the senses like the whisper of a winter bloom, pleasant but layered with something deeper… a pressure so quiet and dense that even his S-Class instincts pricked with awareness. Someone very strong sat there. Someone unlike any hunter he recognized. Shu Xin swallowed softly, lowering her voice. “President… their presence—it’s… strange.” He didn’t answer, but his cold eyes lingered a moment longer.

Lights dimmed. Conversation faded. A man in a charcoal suit stepped onto the stage. “Esteemed guests, welcome to the X Auction. As usual, preliminary items will be presented first. The true treasures will appear at the end.” A soft murmur rippled through the hall.

The first item—a Froststeel dagger—drew quick bids. Shao You ignored them, his weapon was better. The second, monster hide armor, incited a brief scuffle before settling. None caught Shao You’s interest. The third, however—a mana-absorbing crystal—elicited more attention. Shu Xin leaned forward. “Genuine. High quality.” Bidding surged among several S-Class hunters and guilds.

By then, Shen Wen Lang had arrived at a far booth, unmistakable even from a distance—the sharp arrogance in his posture, heat shimmering. His secretary, Gao Tu followed closely beside him. Wen Lang’s eyes cut briefly toward the floral booth, but then slid away smoothly.

From Lots 4 to 9, rare potions, mana-infused ingredients, and mid-level artifacts passed hands quickly. Hunters flared their presence, restless with impatience. Their aura restrained only by the hall’s reinforced walls. 

Then the atmosphere shifted.

Lights dimmed again, narrowing into a focused spotlight. The air grew heavy, mana thickening in a way that made even the president of HS Guild straighten in his seat. Shu Xin braced herself instinctively, Reprisal shimmering faintly around her like a transparent shell.

The tenth item, an S-Class Physician’s Grimoire, floated above a pedestal, pages sealed with soft golden light. Healers gasped. Even Shao You’s hand stilled for a fraction. This could help his father—possibly slow his decline. But.. it was not enough to be a cure. They had tried an S-class restoration before, it only delayed his deterioration. What he needed was an impossibility.

Bidding erupted aggressively for the grimoire until, it was won by the owner of the booth next door. Wen Lang muttered something sharp under his breath, Gao Tu chiding him softly.

Then came the final item.

The stage lifted a reinforced black case—layered with runic seals, pulsing faintly from within. The hall seemed to inhale. Even the walls hummed with absorbed mana.
Recovered from a deep-zone dungeon. Identity unknown. Mana reading off the charts. Regenerative properties unlike anything currently classified.
Wen Lang’s expression sharpened, his gaze cutting immediately to the floral booth with a flicker of recognition mixed with irritation.

Shu Xin tensed, whispering, “President… this one…”

Shao You nodded, he knew. The impossibility. 

The auctioneer’s voice carried smoothly through the charged air. “Minimum bid, ten million.” The words had barely settled when the floral-scented silhouette finally moved. The figure lifted the bidding key with a slow, deliberate grace, fingers poised with an elegance that drew subtle attention even without revealing a single detail of their face. Their aura sharpened, quiet but immense—like a giant opening one eye after a long, patient slumber—and for the first time that night, Shao You felt it brush against his senses.

He placed a steady hand over Shu Xin’s. “We’re bidding.”

The energy in the hall shifted instantly. The atmosphere tightened as the devices across the vast room lit up one by one, blinking like scattered stars caught in a silent, suffocating storm. The combined auras of hunters clashed in invisible currents, making the act of breathing feel deliberate and heavy. Shu Xin gripped the transponder between both hands, knuckles pressed white against the polished metal.

“President…” she whispered, voice thin with strain.

Shao You did not look at her. His icy gaze remained fixed on the sealed black container positioned on the stage—the humming core that pulsed faintly with the promise of life. A hope for Sheng Fang. A cold steadiness settled over him, anchoring his thoughts. When he nodded, his voice was low and unwavering. “Bid.”

Shu Xin pressed the key. “Ten million,” the auctioneer announced.

The counter came immediately, smooth and unhurried.

“Twelve million,” someone called from behind them.

Another flare followed.

“Fifteen.”

“Twenty.”

Numbers climbed in rapid succession, abrupt and sharp, each one more aggressive than the last but still within what an ambitious S-Class hunter could justify. Shao You’s pulse remained steady even as the bids accelerated.

“Thirty-two million,” Shu Xin announced, breath tight and controlled.

“Fifty million credits,” another guild countered. 

Shu Xin’s breath hitched. “President…”

“Continue,” Shao You replied, eyes sharpening like tempered steel.

“Fifty-five million.”

“Eighty million," they countered. 

Even the seasoned S-Class hunters stiffened. The shift was palpable—the point where normal competition transformed into something far more crushing. Sheng Fang Guild’s ceiling was drawing dangerously close. Shao You gritted his teeth. Which guild is challenging Sheng Fang?

Shu Xin’s voice trembled. “Sir, our ceiling—”

“Continue.”

Her hands shook as she pressed the key again.

“Eighty-two.”

“Eighty-five.”

“Ninety."

“Ninety-two.”

She swallowed hard. “President… we still have room, but—”

“Continue.” Shao You said, the temperature surrounding him drops further. 

“Ninety-five million.”

Finally, there was movement behind the curtain. Long, slender fingers emerged first, reaching with slow, deliberate grace. The gesture was elegant enough to draw attention without effort. Their aura sharpened at the same moment—quiet but immense, like a giant opening one eye after a long, patient slumber—and for the first time that night, Shao You felt it brush against his senses. Silence rippled across the hall, thin and brittle. A crackle of pressure swept through the room, the kind of suffocating tension that made even the reinforced walls feel too tight. Then the figure pressed their key with effortless confidence. The curtain shifted faintly, and the floral scent deepened—soft, refined, unhurried.

“Five hundred million credits,” a voice as smooth as velvet announced.

The world stopped.

Not a whisper moved. Not a breath carried. The hall dropped into a stunned, heavy silence as hundreds of hunters processed the number. One collective thought swept through the room with identical disbelief—Who in the world had that kind of money?

Shu Xin went sheet-white. “Five hundred—Sir, we can’t. Even if we emptied every reserve—”

She broke off. She knew.

Sheng Fang Guild’s maximum acquisition budget was already exceptional for a private guild, overriding most of those who were present. However, the mysterious bidder had obliterated it effortlessly. As if half a billion credits were nothing more than a passing whim.

The floral scent drifted again—refined, decadent.

The auctioneer cleared his throat with visible effort. “Five hundred million… going once.”

Shu Xin’s eyes glossed over with helplessness. “We… we lost, President.”

Shao You lowered his gaze, frost gathering along his fingertips in a thin, trembling layer. The cold pulsed once before he forced it to still.

“Going twice…”

His breath was quiet, controlled, steeped in regret.

“Sold.” The gavel struck the podium with a dull, final sound that echoed through the hall. In that instant, the regeneration core slipped out of his grasp—not lost to skill, strategy, or competition, but taken by sheer overwhelming wealth.

Shao You stood slowly, adjusting his coat with deliberate calm. His face remained unreadable, every line composed, but the frost behind his eyes hardened into something sharper—an unyielding resolve that would not break simply because one door had closed. The core was lost, but his father’s life was not a thing he would abandon over a single defeat. If this path had been denied to him, he would carve another open. He had no choice but to continue forward. He would find another way. He always did.

_______________________________

Ghost orchid scent drifted faintly through the enclosed booth, lingering like a soft whisper beneath the heavy air. The moment Sheng Shao You stepped into the VVIP hall, the temperature inside Hua Yong’s booth shifted—not enough for anyone else to notice, but more than enough for him. A thin thread of cold brushed the edge of his senses, subtle and unmistakable. It was all the confirmation he needed. A small smile touched his mouth, drawing attention to the sharp line of his jaw. My Alpha is here, he thought, pleased in a way he kept carefully hidden.

He didn’t need to turn his head or peek through the curtain. Shao You’s aura always entered a room the same way—precise, restrained, slicing through the atmosphere with a cold clarity that felt like a blade passing close to the skin. Hua Yong let the ghost orchid pheromones curl lazily around him, their pale sweetness coiling like invisible silk. A thin thread slipped playfully through the gap between the booths, nothing intrusive, just a quiet brush of presence.

Soon, he thought, settling deeper into the shadows. He will meet his Alpha.

Not tonight.
But soon enough.

_______________________

The physician’s grimoire lay on the table between them, sealed in a soft halo of pale gold light. Its pages were bound with intricate runes that pulsed faintly whenever the ambient mana shifted, as if the book itself were quietly breathing. The lounge’s wide windows framed the city’s nightscape behind it; X-Holding’s upper floors sat so high above Jiang Hu that the streets below looked like veins of scattered starlight.

Wen Lang stared at the grimoire for a long moment before tearing his gaze away to stare at Hua Yong instead.

“Let me get this straight,” he said slowly. “You’re giving this to me?”

“Yes,” Hua Yong replied without looking up from the holographic report in his hand.

“Me. Personally. Not Sheng Fang Guild.”

“Yes.”

“Even when I have Gao Tu, an S-class healer?”

“That is correct.”

Wen Lang dragged a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “You. Are. Unhinged.”

Chang Yu, standing slightly behind Hua Yong’s chair with his usual calm composure, cleared his throat. “Guild Leader Shen, Chairman Hua simply wishes for the research to be in trusted hands.”

“You mean my hands?” Wen Lang jabbed a thumb at his own chest. “Since when am I trustworthy?”

“Since we were fifteen,” Hua Yong replied, finally closing the report. “When I helped you establish HS Guild.”

Wen Lang clicked his tongue and looked away, shoulders tensing. “Tch. Don’t bring up ancient history.”

Hua Yong raised his eyes then, and the shift was subtle but undeniable. The flat calm in his expression softened at the edges, a quiet warmth slipping in where there should have been nothing at all. Wen Lang’s stomach dropped. That softness only appeared for one person.

“The iceberg, huh,” Wen Lang muttered. “So this is for him?”

Hua Yong didn’t bother to deny it. His gaze slid briefly to the grimoire, then toward the window where the distant skyline glittered like a field of dim stars.

“I want Sheng Shao You to approach us,” he said quietly.

Wen Lang snorted. “He hates HS Guild. He definitely hates me. And he would hate you too if he knew who you are.”

A faint curve touched Hua Yong’s lips, a ghost of a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “He does not know me yet.”

“Exactly my point!” Wen Lang threw his hands up. “You’re trying to flirt with a man through medical manuscripts. Do you know how insane that sounds?”

Hua Yong blinked once, slowly. “Is that not appropriate?”

“No, it is not appropriate,” Wen Lang snapped—but his hand still hovered over the grimoire. The golden seal reflected in his eyes, casting small shards of light across his face. Eventually, he sighed and picked it up, weighing the book in both hands. “But I’ll deliver the offer. I’ll even make it sound nice.”

His fingers tightened on the cover, a hesitant crease forming between his brows. “He’s going to reject it, though.”

Hua Yong lowered his gaze, fingers idly tracing the rim of the empty teacup by his elbow. “He should not,” he murmured.

“That’s not the same as won’t,” Wen Lang said, rolling his eyes. 

Hua Yong didn’t reply. The silence that settled over him wasn’t explosive or icy; it was inward, dense, the kind of quiet that meant his mind was already moving several steps ahead. Chang Yu understood that silence, and straightened slightly, as if bracing.

Wen Lang exhaled. “Fine,” he muttered. “I’ll ask.”

Thirty minutes later, the door to X-Holding’s private lounge swung open with more force than necessary. Wen Lang stormed back in, the grimoire now stored in a secure case at his hand, phone in hand.

“He said no,” Wen Lang announced flatly, marching up to Hua Yong’s desk. “Immediate no. Iceberg no. Politely-go-die no.”

Hua Yong took the phone without a word. The message was brief and precise.

Sheng Fang Guild declines to collaborate.
— Sheng Shao You.

The words hung in the air between them.

For a heartbeat, nothing moved. Then ghost orchid pheromones unfolded slowly from Hua Yong’s skin, a cool, floral weight that settled over the room like silk-draped fog. The air grew thicker, scented and poised, as if waiting for something to break.

Wen Lang’s shoulders tensed. He had seen Hua Yong angry before—once was enough to never want a repeat. He held his breath, ready for the atmosphere to snap.

Instead, Hua Yong smiled. It was small. Almost delicate. Not a happy smile, not exactly, but something strangely pleased.

“He came close,” Hua Yong murmured.

Wen Lang gaped at him. “Close? He said no.”

“But he read it,” Hua Yong said, eyes fixed on the message. His voice softened further, almost fond. “He considered it. He thought of me.”

“That is not how normal people work,” Wen Lang groaned, dragging both hands over his face. “You need therapy.”

Hua Yong rose from his seat with unhurried grace, the movement smooth enough that even the room seemed to adjust around him. His aura folded inward as he stood, condensing until it felt like a dense star pressed behind a thin veil. The furniture, the lights, even the mana in the air seemed to respond, quieting.

“The grimoire was only the first path,” he said. “He has rejected that one.”

His gaze drifted past them, toward the deeper, secured levels of X-Holding—where, far below, the regeneration core had already been transferred to a specially reinforced chamber. Teams of researchers and healers were waiting, their workstations calibrated, their schedules adjusted around this one anomaly of an item.

“So,I will walk the second,” Hua Yong finished.

Wen Lang froze. “…Second path?”

“The core stays with me,” Hua Yong said. His tone remained soft, but there was something unshakeable beneath it. “I will take care of it.”

Realization hit Wen Lang like a physical blow. “Hua Yong, if this is about making him desperate—”

“It’s about giving him hope,” Hua Yong corrected, turning toward the door. 

Chang Yu inclined his head, already understanding more than Wen Lang liked. “I will adjust the clearance protocols and allocate a dedicated research team,” he said quietly.

Wen Lang let out a long, resigned breath. “You’re insane,” he muttered, though there wasn’t much heat left in it.

Hua Yong walked past them, the faint trace of ghost orchid lingering in his wake. His footsteps were nearly soundless on the polished floor, yet each one felt measured, deliberate, like he was walking along a path only he could see.

“Perhaps,” he admitted.

He stopped at the elevator and pressed the call button. The glass doors reflected his silhouette back at him—the calm curve of his mouth, the relaxed line of his shoulders, the eyes that held an unsettling patient light.

“But insanity,” he said softly, almost to himself, “is patient.”

The elevator doors slid open with a muted chime. Without looking back, Hua Yong stepped inside, the floral scent thinning as the doors began to close.

“And patience,” he murmured as the cabin descended, “is what brings people to me.”

Chapter Text

A crowd had already formed in front of the portal by the time Sheng Shao You arrived. About twenty newly registered hunters stood in loose rows, shifting with a mix of excitement and nerves. Their uniforms were standard-issue training gear, plain and sturdy—appropriate for recruits who hadn’t yet earned personalized equipment. The early morning air was cool, carrying the faint hum of the portal as it shimmered in mottled green light.

Every year, the Hunter’s Association held a beginner dungeon excursion. Newly minted hunters—from Class A down to Class F—received their first supervised exposure to dungeon environments. The purpose was simple: controlled experience and a chance for recruits to decide whether they wanted to pursue expedition work or settle into support roles instead.

As an incentive, guild leaders were required to attend as well, rotating the duty among themselves. Officially, they were listed as supervisory support. Unofficially, they were mascots—living symbols of prestige and success, used to convince recruits to stay in a career with high mortality and even higher rewards.

A representative from the Association stepped forward, adjusting the badge on his coat. Jing Huan, the leader of the expedition, an A-class hunter., specialising in earth manipulation. His voice carried clearly across the clearing. “Listen carefully. This will be a basic dungeon excursion. We will encounter low-level monsters only, all within the safety parameters of an E or F-class dungeon. Stay with your assigned groups at all times. Follow your group leader’s commands. You will be instructed on each monster’s weaknesses and proper points of attack.”

Some recruits straightened. Others exchanged quick glances. Families watched from behind the barricades, anxious but proud. Today marked their ceremonial first step into the life of a hunter.

Sheng Shao You positioned himself at the back of the formation, separated from the crowd by instinct more than intent. His presence drew occasional sidelong looks. The three-piece charcoal suit fitted him flawlessly, every line sharp and deliberate. A muted cold lingered in the air around him, adjusting the atmosphere with quiet authority. At his hip rested a sword he rarely drew outside of real combat, its dark scabbard accented with simple silver fittings.

He was the supervising guild leader for this year’s training cycle. Out of habit, he scanned the recruits—stance, breathing, the tension in how they gripped their weapons. Most were B- and C-class. Two stood out as A-class. One Omega stood among the Betas, head slightly bowed, hands neatly clasped.

Shao You’s inspection paused for a fraction of a second.

Not because of pheromones; class readings were suppressed during registration. Not because of aura; the Omega barely had enough to detect.

Just appearance.

Delicate features, a well-defined jawline, and a beauty mark under his left eye. His presence was calm and unassuming—soft expression, composed and unreadable.

Shao You’s gaze shifted away. He didn’t dwell on it. His assessment was complete and that was enough.

“President Sheng,” the Association representative approached him with a respectful nod. “Thank you again for joining this year’s excursion.”

Shao You returned a brief incline of his head. “Begin.”

“Yes, sir.”

The portal widened with a shimmer of green light. Group leaders called out numbers. Recruits checked their straps and adjusted their weapons. Under the Association’s direction, they stepped through the portal in orderly lines.

Shao You remained still until the last recruit disappeared into the light. Then he followed.

________________

The air changed the moment they stepped through. Humid and damp, the kind of heaviness that clung to the skin and soaked through fabric if left long enough. It was a typical swamp dungeon—waterlogged soil stretching in uneven patches, dense canopy overhead thick with mangrove branches. The leaves blocked most of the light, casting mottled shadows across the wet ground. Vines curled around the trunks and hung from above like ropes. The constant hum of insects mixed with the soft rustle of leaves as wind brushed the treetops.

Shao You lowered his body temperature immediately. Ice spread under his boots as he dropped his temperature, solidifying the ground enough to walk. Wet socks were not an option.  

Association officers moved ahead, gathering the first groups for instruction. They explained the swamp ecosystem, the common monsters in the area, and the best weapons to use against ground and water types. The recruits listened with varying degrees of focus, their boots squelching in the mud as they adjusted to the terrain. Some asked questions. Others looked around with cautious curiosity but stayed within visual range of their group leaders.

Shao You stayed at the back of the formation. His steps were silent over the thin layer of ice, his body temperature kept low to counter the swamp’s heavy humidity. His gaze remained down and forward, tracking recruits, footing, and any movement that didn’t belong. His senses stretched outward, quietly cataloguing nearby life signatures and monster activity. A small commotion ahead made him lift his gaze.

One of the recruits—the same Omega from earlier—misstepped where the shallow water hid a pocket of mud. The ground sank under his weight, and he had grabbed a tree root to keep upright. Several recruits reached for him immediately, too eager, but the Omega brushed them off as he regained his balance quickly. 

Shao You didn’t intervene. Training belonged to the Association. His role was only to step in during emergencies. He shifted his attention outward again.

A faint tremor moved under the ground. Barely there. Easy to miss.

Shao You paused, feeling the vibration travel through the thin layer of ice beneath his boots. The Association officer at the front kept talking about regional flora, completely unaware. None of the recruits reacted either.

Something was off. His instincts flared—subtle but insistent—yet nothing in the environment hinted at an immediate threat. The faint tremor had already faded. Maybe it was insignificant.

Shao You exhaled quietly and kept moving. It was probably nothing.

However, the deeper they went, the more the unease settled under his skin. Not enough to raise an alarm, but enough that his senses stayed sharp. His hand drifted closer to his sword, fingers resting lightly on the grip.

Up ahead, the recruits were growing more confident. They’d begun taking down small monsters on their own—large E-class insects that looked like warped beetles. Despite their size, their shells were soft and easy to cut through. Their attacks were weak, little more than spit-sized pellets even a civilian could dodge.

Shao You stayed at the rear, matching the formation’s pace without breaking stride.

Suddenly, the dungeon shuddered. A low ripple rolled through the ground, as if something deeper had shifted. The sun dimmed by a shade, darkening the swamp floor. Several recruits stumbled, confused by the sudden imbalance.

The Association officers froze. 

“…That’s not normal,” one muttered.

Another tremor hit—stronger this time, rolling through the waterlogged ground and up the moss-covered trees in a slow, heavy wave. Shao You froze mid-step as the dungeon’s mana signature spiked hard. Red lights flashed against the dim, swamp-filtered light while tablets beeped in alarm.

Officers scrambled, tapping at their monitors, but the numbers on the displays kept jumping—too fast to track. The mana readings were climbing at an impossible rate. Dungeon mana always fluctuated, but not like this. Not this quickly.

“President Sheng,” Jing Huan said quietly, a lace of concern threading through his voice, “if the readings continue like this—”

“Remain cautious,” Shao You replied, tone even and calm. His gaze swept across the forest, noting the shifting textures of the grounds, the faint distortion gathering above, and the increasingly erratic glow of the dungeon’s lamps. “Defensive formation until I give the order. Keep everyone close.”

The recruits crowded together under the Association’s direction, their earlier excitement gone. Several gripped their weapons too tightly; others kept darting glances over their shoulders, flinching at every distant rumble. Even the A-class recruits looked uneasy. This kind of fluctuation wasn’t something they were informed about.

A sharp gasp rose from somewhere near the middle of the formation. The Omega recruit from earlier had stumbled when the ground jolted again. He caught himself, but before he could fully steady his footing, mutated beasts—larger and more aggressive than anything expected at E-class—burst out of a foliage. Their eyes locked immediately onto the weakest target.

The Omega.

He crossed the distance in seconds, intercepting the first descending creature with a precise upward stroke. Frost spread across the monster midair before it shattered on impact with the ground. He pivoted to redirect another beast with the flat of his blade, sending it crashing into the tree where it lay stunned.

Behind him, the Omega had stumbled backward from the shockwave of his hit. His footing slipped on loose gravel.

Shao You reached out before he fell, one hand steadying him by the elbow.

“Are you injured?” he asked, concerned. 

The Omega shook his head quickly. “N-no. I’m alright.”

His voice was soft, almost too calm, but tinged with the unmistakable tremor of someone overwhelmed by unexpected danger. Instinctively, Shao You adjusted his stance, shifting so his body shielded the recruit without making it obvious.

“Stay behind the shield-bearers,” he instructed, releasing him once the footing was stable. “Don’t separate from the group.”

The Omega nodded obediently, retreating back to the center. Shao You turned away, returning his attention to the battlefield. He dispatched the last of the mutated wolves with a controlled burst of frost, lowering the temperature just enough to immobilize them without overexertion.

Only once he confirmed the immediate area was secure did Shao You look toward the recruits. Again, that delicate face drew his attention. The Omega’s breathing was slightly quickened, but he was unharmed. Wide eyes turned to him, their gazes locking. For a moment, Shao You’s heartbeat stuttered, a brief hitch he crushed down immediately. This was not the time. 

The party moved forward as the Association tried to guide the recruits toward a wider clearing—an area easier to defend if the dungeon continued to fluctuate. Under normal circumstances, an E-class swamp dungeon stayed stable for weeks. Fluctuations this severe, without any prior indicators, were unheard of. Yet every few steps, the ground pulsed faintly beneath their feet, as though the entire dungeon were breathing.

Shao You stayed at the rear, where he could monitor both the recruits and the shifting paths behind them. The dungeon’s layout was destabilizing—trees shifting, routes opening and closing as if deliberately trying to confuse the party. 

He dispatched two more mutated creatures with quick strikes. 

“Mana density up another twelve percent,” Jing Huan reported, brows drawn together. “At this rate, we’re looking at escalation to A-class levels.”

Shao You frowned, while dungeon escalation was not unheard of, the unprecedented raise was never recorded before. “Prepare the emergency portal,” Shao You said. “We need to find a stable ground.”

The officer nodded. “Understood.”

They pressed deeper into the dungeon, searching for stable ground to place an exit crystal. The swamp terrain shifted underfoot—waterlogged soil giving way to firmer patches where exposed tree roots curled over stone. Even the trees began to change: bark thinning and darkening until jagged stone trunks rose in their place, each one veined with faint crimson lines that pulsed like a heartbeat.

Vines draped over the trunks twitched, curling slowly as the party passed. A few tendrils stretched toward the hunters, reacting to movement or mana—hard to tell which.

The sound of running water grew louder.

The trees thinned, and the terrain sloped forward until a wide river came into view, expanding the horizon. Dark water pushed steadily downstream, its surface broken by drifting moss and the occasional ripple with no clear source. Crimson reflections from the mana-veined trunks shimmered across the water, staining the river with shifting, uneasy light.

The running water masked smaller sounds—shifting mud, snapping branches, the quiet scrape of movement beneath the surface. The river itself was wide, its dark green water hiding any sense of depth. The current looked calm from a distance, but the pull along the edges told a different story. It was too risky to cross.

Jing Huan, who was leading, called out. “Do not fall into the water.” 

They approached the riverbank cautiously, officers signaling the recruits to stay close. Shao You’s steps slowed as he neared the edge.

Something was wrong.

The hum of the dungeon’s mana changed near the river, a low vibration threading through the air like a warning. The mist rolling off the water wasn’t drifting naturally; it curled in slow spirals, rotating against the wind.

A faint pulse rippled through the ground.
Then another.

Not from the river.
From the left—within the thinning treeline.

He exhaled quietly.
Ambush.

“Hold,” he said, low enough that only the nearest officer heard.

The officer blinked, confusion flickering. “President Sheng?”

Shao You didn’t answer. His senses stretched outward—mana signatures, shifting weight, the faint displacement of water. He caught it: a cluster of presences lying flat in the mud to the left, their bodies pressed against the swamp floor, hidden beneath moss and shallow water.

Too still. Too deliberate.

A second presence moved beneath the river surface—a slow drift, circling toward the recruits like a shadow hunting by sound alone.

Shao You’s grip tightened.

“Shields up,” he ordered, voice cutting cleanly across the group. “Attack-class recruits to the back, support in the middle. Jing Huan, hold the left side.”

His gaze swept the treeline, then the river. “We have incoming.”

Shimmering green barriers formed around the recruits as the Association hunters spread out. Some guarded the rear, but most shifted left, where the cluster of ambushers waited. Shao You stepped toward the riverbank, bracing for the larger presence lurking in the water.

Thin flakes of snow drifted down around him as his body temperature dropped, melting instantly into the mud and river below.

Another ripple broke the surface—small, nearly silent, but wrong. The water pushed outward in a controlled ring, not from the current, but from something rising beneath it.

Then everything happened at once.

Something large surged upward from beneath the surface, splitting the dark water in a violent burst. A massive shape—scaled, ridged, and dripping river sludge—shot toward the bank with a roar that vibrated through the ground. Water slammed against the shore, drenching the front line.

At the same moment, the treeline exploded.

Mud and tangled roots erupted as several smaller creatures burst from the left—fast, low-bodied things with slick hides and elongated jaws. They moved like crooked shadows, sprinting straight for the recruits.

“Left side—engage!” Jing Huan shouted.

Shields flared. The shimmering green barrier wavered as the first wave hit, creatures clawing and snapping against the mana field. Support recruits screamed, backing into each other as officers stepped in front of them.

Shao You didn’t move as his attention stayed on the river. Fingers gripping his sword tight. The metal hummed faintly in response, frost gathering along the engraved spine. 

A massive Ghariel variant tore from the water, its skull elongated and serrated teeth flashing like rusted daggers. Talon-like forelimbs gouged into the riverbank, carving trenches through mud and stone as it hauled its enormous body forward. An A-class monster—an aberrant mutation of a saltwater crocodile. Known for their speed and overwhelming strength. Their armoured hide made them nearly impervious to most physical attacks.

But this one was larger than any variant he’d faced before.

It lunged, jaws wide, teeth glinting, water exploding around it.

Shao You stepped forward.

His sword slid free in a clean upward arc, slicing through the river spray and colliding with the snapping jaw. The impact rang like steel against stone, reverberating up his arm. Bracing his left hand against the flat of the blade, he pushed—

The creature skidded backward across the riverbank.

Shao You didn’t stop. He advanced with another strike, a downward slash that detonated a sheet of ice across the monster’s head. Frost surged over its eyesocket, sealing it completely and cutting off its vision.

Blinded, the Ghariel thrashed, movements erratic and violent, relying now only on scent and instinct.

Its massive tail whipped around—fast, brutal, impossibly strong.

Shao You dropped low, sliding across a patch of frost-slick mud as the tail roared over him. He rose in a smooth, fluid twist, mana sharpening along his sword’s length as ice bloomed beneath his feet.

Then he struck.

The frost-forged blade carved through the monster’s torso as effortlessly as if slicing through river mist. For a single suspended heartbeat, the swamp fell silent.

Then the creature split along the line of the attack, collapsing backwards into the river with a thunderous splash.

Shao You did not pause.

He turned toward the Association officers as they finished off the remaining beasts. With a flick of his hand, ice spikes erupted from the ground—piercing the last monsters cleanly.

Seeing the last monster fall, Jing Huan rushed toward the S-Class, tablet already open, red alerts flashing across the screen.

“President Sheng… this dungeon isn’t stabilizing. It’s escalating. Again.”

As if to punctuate his words, another pulse rippled through the riverbank—deeper this time—sending tremors across the riverbank as if something massive was shifting beneath the waterlogged earth.

The reading monitors spiked and Jing Huan’s face drained of color. “S-Class dungeon breakthrough imminent!”.

Shao You’s chest tightened. With twenty rookies and only a handful of Association hunters, they would be slaughtered. And if he didn’t stop the dungeon breakthrough, the monsters would spill into the real world. He had no choice. 

“Release the barriers and open the exit portal. I’ll stabilize the ground,” he ordered, driving his sword into the earth. Snow drifted around him as his body temperature dropped, frost racing outward from the blade. Ice crawled across the unstable riverbank, locking the shifting mud into solid ground.

Jing Huan sprang into action as the frost spread beneath their feet. He signaled for the outer barrier to be dropped—removing mana interference so the portal could form properly—then lifted a large yellow mana crystal from his kit.

An A-class Exit Crystal, extremely rare. They are capable of transporting an entire group rather than a single person. However, they were almost never used—partly because of how scarce they were, and partly because they required a completely stable area to function. And even then, they needed at least ten minutes to power up. 

Jing Huan gritted his teeth and began the activation sequence as golden runes blossomed across the crystal’s surface. The riverbank trembled again beneath the ice. Distant roar of monsters. 

They didn’t have ten minutes.

________________________________

Shao You flicked another monster away from the group, his strikes weaving seamlessly between the attacks of the other hunters. Jing Huan had raised an earth barrier to cover their rear while the remaining officers provided supporting fire. Shao You himself had been flickering left and right—appearing wherever a gap opened, wherever a recruit faltered, wherever a monster got too close.

Above them, the A-class Exit Crystal hovered in midair, spinning slowly, golden light sparking across its surface as the runes deepened.

A piercing shriek split the sky.

Shao You’s head snapped up.

Another A-class monster descended— a Garuda.

The Garuda folded its massive wings and dove.

Wind pressure slammed downward, ripping reeds from the ground and scattering loose stones across the riverbank. The recruits screamed and ducked, several losing their footing as the shockwave hit.

“DOWN!” Jing Huan shouted, throwing up another layer of earth just as the creature streaked toward them like a living spear.

Shao You was already moving.

He launched himself upward, frost bursting beneath his feet in a sharp, crystalline blast. The Garuda’s talons sliced through the space he’d been standing a second before—shredding the barrier instead.

The monster shrieked in fury, wings snapping wide as it banked sharply for another pass.

Shao You twisted mid-air, catching the edge of one wing with his free hand, and swung himself onto its back.

Gasps erupted below.

“P-President Sheng—?!”

“He’s ON it—he’s actually—!”

“Is he insane?!”

Probably, Shao You thought grimly as the Garuda bucked beneath him, trying to dislodge the weight now digging into its spine.

He drove his sword down.

The blade pierced between feathers and scale, frost detonating along the creature’s nerve line. The Garuda screamed, spiraling violently—its path veering away from the recruits by sheer force of Shao You’s sword.

Below, the A-class Exit Crystal spun faster—golden runes flickering from deep amber to bright, blinding white. The entire structure hummed intensely, nearing full activation.

“Two more minutes!” Jing Huan yelled, voice cracking with urgency.

The recruits huddled together, several trembling, eyes following the blur of wings and falling ice overhead.

The Garuda twisted again, rolling to crush him beneath its weight.

Shao You dug his heels into its back and yanked his sword free, frost trailing behind the blade like a tail of white fire. He sprinted along the creature’s spine—balance perfect, suit brushing against turbulent wind—then slashed downward in a diagonal arc.

Ice bloomed across the Garuda’s wing and its flight faltered.

Its scream tore through the air as it spiraled toward the ground.

Shao You leaped off at the last second, landing in a crouch as frost cushioned his impact.

Behind him, the Garuda crashed into the riverbank, wings snapping in a spray of mud and water.

The recruits yelped and stumbled backward.

“Stay near the crystal!” an officer barked.

The crystal above them pulsed again—brighter, louder—its activation sequence reaching its final stage.

Almost there.

Shao You straightened, frost slipped off the blade in thin flakes, melting as they hit the ground. Cold mist unfurled from the blade, condensation forming and evaporating in steady pulses, as if the weapon itself were breathing winter into the swamp air.

The ground trembled beneath his feet and the Exit Crystal flared. A sharp, rising hum filled the air as golden light expanded outward like a blooming sun.

“Portal opening!” Jing Huan shouted.

A dome of shimmering gold snapped into existence around the recruits. Space warped, light folding inward until a swirling gateway opened in the center—wide enough for thirty people, the frozen ground beneath them steady.

“MOVE! EVERYONE, MOVE!”

Officers shepherded the rookies inside, pushing them toward safety. Panic, relief, and shouted orders blended into a frantic blur.

Nearby, the Garuda twitched. Its remaining wing spasmed, feathers bristling like warning spikes.

Shao You sensed it a fraction of a second before it moved.

The Garuda’s head snapped up, blinded eyes burning with primal fury. With a ragged scream, it threw itself forward—wounded, but driven by instinct—to attack the fleeing cluster of recruits.

Shao You lunged after it—

But the monster was faster. Its wings scraped the ground, propelling it forward in a desperate burst. Wind blasted across the riverbank, knocking several rookies off-balance.

And one—

The delicate-faced Omega—

Stumbled and fell right outside the portal’s boundary.

“WAIT—!” Jing Huan shouted.

Too late.

The portal shuddered— pulsed— and closed with a metallic snap of collapsing mana.

The golden light vanished.

The Omega blinked, dazed, as the last sliver of warm portal light flickered out behind him.

The monster lunged straight for the Omega and Shao You didn’t hesitate as he threw his body forward, frost bursting beneath his feet as he raced across the unstable riverbank. His sword came up in a clean, deadly arc—

A sharp twinge seared across his back as his old injury flared up, stealing half a second from him.

It was a half a second too long as the Garuda’s talons raked the ground inches from the Omega—

Shao You slammed into its flank, forcing its attack off course.

The monster screeched and snapped at him with its beak, feathers bristling, wings twitching violently.

He gritted his teeth, breath sharpening as frost gathered along his blade. He twisted, channelling the strike downward—

ICE BREAK.

A thunderous burst of frost detonated point-blank, engulfing the Garuda’s entire head. The creature convulsed once, body locking in place—then shattered.

Feathers, ice, and chunks of mana-corrupted flesh spilled across the frozen mud.

The Omega stared, wide-eyed, chest heaving.

Shao You straightened slowly, the portal was gone. The recruits were gone. There were only him and the Omega remained.

And the dungeon beneath them continued to pulse—unsteady, rising toward catastrophe, sealing them inside.

Chapter Text

Across the city, Wen Lang nearly overturned his desk.

“You’re telling me,” he growled at X-Holding’s second-in-command, “that Hua Yong—HUA YONG—went on a beginner dungeon excursion with new recruits?!”

Chang Yu nodded gravely. “Yes, Wen Lang. He entered under his own name. E-class Omega registration. The Association confirmed—”

“E-class—?!” Wen Lang’s eye twitched violently. “He suppressed his aura again?!”

Chang Yu could only nod.

Wen Lang dragged both hands down his face.
“That idiot. That absolute maniac. Does he want to collapse the entire region?!”

Chang Yu simply looked at him.

Wen Lang stilled. “…What?”

“The dungeon mutated. It was recorded escalating to SS-class before collapse.”

His expression shifted from murderous to horrified in a single breath.

“…Sheng Shao You was supervising that excursion.”

“Yes.”

Wen Lang shut his eyes and exhaled through clenched teeth.
“Oh no.”

Gao Tu appeared at the doorway, calm as ever. “Guild Leader, should we rescue them?”

“And interrupt his date?! No!” Wen Lang snapped.
There was no question which “he” he meant.

“We’re not getting involved. If he wants to pretend he’s an E-class little flower, let him deal with the consequences. I’m not cleaning up after him again!”

Gao Tu blinked once. “But if President Sheng realises—”

“He won’t!” Wen Lang snapped. Then hesitated. “…Probably.”

Gao Tu wisely said nothing.

Wen Lang groaned into his hands. “This is going to become a disaster. I can feel it.”

“The dungeon already closed anyway,” Chang Yu added helpfully. “No one can breach it until it’s cleared.”

Wen Lang just slumped further into his chair. 

________________________________________________________

The ground steadied once they moved far enough from the river, though the dungeon’s pulse remained—low, dragging, steady as a heartbeat beneath the earth. Shao You adjusted his grip on the sword, muscles coiled, every sense tuned to the shifting mana around them.

His mind was a whirlwind. The last official reading marked this dungeon as S-class. But with the escalation so far—and the monsters they had already faced—it was likely higher now. The air carried too much pressure. The terrain was warping and the mana density felt wrong. There was someone to protect, and a dungeon to clear.

Last time, it took him a week to clear an S-class— and that was with a full team.

Now he had no backup. No exit crystal. And he doubted a newly minted hunter would be carrying one in his pocket.

Another tremor rippled through the air. Mana density rising.

The Omega swallowed, voice small but controlled. “Um… I should introduce myself properly. My name is… Hua Yong.”

Shao You glanced at him—quick, assessing. “Sheng Shao You.”

“I… I know,” Hua Yong said, eyes lowering.

“Stay close,” Shao You ordered. 

They kept moving.

Brush crackled behind them. Shao You turned just as a mutated wolf burst through the undergrowth, jaws open, froth dripping from its fangs. A B-class variant—but corrupted by the rising mana, moving faster than it should.

Hua Yong froze but Shao You didn’t.

He stepped forward, blade flashing once. Ice bloomed, and the wolf crumpled soundlessly.

Hua Yong exhaled shakily. “Sorry—I’m not very good with—”

“You don’t need to be,” Shao You cut in. His tone remained calm, but his eyes swept the trees, calculating angles, exits, threats. “Just stay alive. I’ll protect you.”

Hua Yong looked at him, startled. “But I—”

Another pulse and another monster.

This time a serpent-like creature shot down from the branches, long body twisting, venom glistening at its fangs. Hua Yong stumbled back instinctively, feet slipping on loose soil.

Shao You caught the serpent mid-lunge, twisting his wrist. Ice crawled across the creature’s scales, freezing it solid before it hit the ground.

Hua Yong stared at the corpse, chest rising too fast.

Shao You shifted to stand in front of him, forming a barrier with his presence more than the frost curling off his sword. “Stay behind me.”

The Omega nodded, small and quiet, pressing closer but careful not to touch him.

Another tremor shook the dungeon and mana flared—sharp.

Shao You gripped his sword tighter. He glanced at Hua Yong again and exhaled slowly, letting frost settle along his arms. The old wound twinged, a sharp line of pain cutting across his back, but he ignored it.

The forest floor erupted and a boar-like monster, tusks blackened with corruption, charged out of the undergrowth with enough force to crack stone. Shao You moved instinctively, grabbing Hua Yong’s waist and pulling him back as the creature thundered past.

The boar turned, preparing for another charge.

Shao You exhaled, frost building. 

He stepped forward, releasing the slender waist and guiding the Omega behind him. With a wide stroke, the blade descended—ice detonating along the line of the strike. The monster collapsed instantly, frozen solid from skull to hoof.

They moved deeper into the dungeon, the light fading into a muted grey-green haze. Shao You kept his sword ready, frost trailing in thin lines along the ground where he stepped. Each shift of his shoulders tugged at the old wound across his back.

Not now but he’ll deal with it later.

The dungeon pulsed again. This time the ground rippled, mud shifting like something underneath was breathing. The trees bent in slow, unnatural arcs. Mana curled low, thickening the air.

Shao You’s grip tightened around the sword. Frost gathered along the blade, stronger than before. 

They stepped over a fallen log, then across a shallow pool covered in swamp mist. The water trembled beneath their feet—the dungeon rearranging pathways, closing exits, pushing them deeper.

A sudden crack sounded and the ground beside the Omega collapsed.

Water surged upward, dragging the mud with it. Hua Yong slipped, body pitching sideways toward the dark pool.

Shao You reacted instantly.

His arm shot out, catching Hua Yong around the waist and pulling him back against his chest. Frost surged beneath their feet to stabilize the ground.

“Careful,” Shao You said, breath low beside Hua Yong’s ear.

Hua Yong’s heartbeat was a frantic flutter against him, hands gripping him tight. “S-sorry Mr Sheng… I didn’t see—”

“It’s fine.” Shao You set him upright, steadying him by the arm. “Watch the ground.”

Hua Yong nodded quickly, flushing.

Shao You stepped in front again, but the momentary closeness had left a faint, unwanted heat beneath his ribs, a reaction that hit harder than it should. Again, he buried it deep. 

A deep, resonant vibration rolled through the trees. Mana surged in a violent wave, scattering leaves and sending cracks spiderwebbing across the swamp floor. A foreboding weight settled over the air, and Shao You shifted into a defensive stance, ice spreading in a wide circle from his feet.

“Something’s coming,” he warned. “Hide behind the tree.” Hua Yong immediately stepped away, near the trees. 

Bushes exploded outward as a massive shape barreled out of the shadows

A Naiad Devourer—a mutated swamp predator with limbs like twisted roots, a jaw lined with spiraling fangs, and a body dripping with blackened water. Twice the size of the Ghariel, and faster.

Blood-red eyes locked onto them instantly, teeth curling in a snarl. A low growl vibrated through the swamp, and with a roar, it burst forward—tearing through the brush, water flying in sheets as its limbs clawed at the ground.

Shao You stepped in to meet it, blade angled low, snowflakes falling faster around him.

A shockwave erupted as the blade met claw, the impact reverberating up his arm. He dropped low, sliding beneath another sweeping limb, glacial ice slick beneath his feet. His sword arced upward, carving a line of ice along the Devourer’s arm.

The limb froze mid-motion— then shattered into jagged shards.

Another deafening roar ripped through the clearing, the Devourer howling in pain, blackened blood oozing from the amputated stump.

Weakened, it lunged. Twisted limbs scraped deep gouges into the mud as it launched itself straight at him—faster now, frantic with pain. But it wasn’t towards the S-class hunter. It was towards Hua Yong, who was standing half hidden behind a tree. 

Shao You moved. He crossed the distance in a breath, planting himself between Hua Yong and the incoming strike. Frost burst from his feet, snapping the ground solid beneath him as he lifted his sword—

Too late.

The Devourer’s remaining limb slammed into his side and pain exploded across Shao You’s torso. His boots slid back several meters, ice splintering under the force. The old wound on his back burns, heat spilling down his spine.

Hua Yong’s voice cracked. “Mr. Sheng!”

Shao You gritted his teeth, forcing his stance to hold. Better him, than the fragile E-class body. His body temperature further dropped, foggy mist exhaled with every breath. 

The Devourer reared again, blackened water dripping from its jaws. Its attention flicked between the two—Shao You injured, Hua Yong helpless.

It lunged a second time, past him. Toward the terrified Omega still half-hidden behind the tree. But mid-charge—its movement hitched. As if something unseen dragged at its limbs, gravity pulling it down for the first time.

Shao You took the opening.

A burst of frost detonated beneath his feet, propelling him forward in a blur of white. His blade drove straight into the monster’s chest, piercing deep into its heart. Ice tendrils erupted from the wound, spreading in sharp lines like a starburst—freezing tissue, bone, every vein.

The Devourer shrieked. Its whole body twisted violently, trying to tear itself free.

Shao You inhaled, breath cold and thin, pain flaring sharply through his side and back. He forced more power into the blade. Snowflakes spiraled around him in a tightening storm.

The frost answered.

It exploded through the Devourer’s chest— freezing the monster from the inside out. Its roar died in its throat as its body went rigid. Cracks webbed across its torso, thin at first, then splitting wide—

And the Devourer shattered.

It collapsed in a cascade of ice and black water, scattering across the frozen ground at Shao You’s feet.

Shao You remained still for a moment, breath uneven, lips pale—almost blue with cold.

Hua Yong rushed toward him, hands trembling as he reached out, then froze mid-air, unsure where to touch. “You—you’re hurt—”

“It’s nothing,” Shao You said. His voice was steady as he sheathed his sword slowly, every joint stiff from the cold.

Hua Yong stared at him—eyes wide, shaken, and something else flickering underneath. He caught Shao You’s hand in both of his, slender fingers tightening.
“You’re freezing.”

Shao You opened his mouth, ready to reassure him—tell him to step back, to keep distance—when warmth suddenly spread from their joined hands. Soft at first, then blooming steadily through his veins. The ache in his limbs eased. The biting frost receded from his skin.

He inhaled, startled.

Hua Yong watched him with dark, earnest eyes. “I can help, Mr Sheng,” he whispered, voice coaxing, almost shy. “I can manipulate mana… just a little. Let me help.”

The warmth deepened—gentle, controlled, nothing overwhelming, but enough to loosen the ice clinging to Shao You’s bones.

Shao You found himself nodding before he fully realized it, the Omega’s delicate face tilted up at him in quiet determination.

“…Alright.”

Hua Yong’s fingers tightened around his. And the cold, for the first time since the dungeon began collapsing, finally relented.

The dungeon pulsed again—low, and deep.It still hadn’t stabilised.

They needed shelter soon. 

“We need to move,” Shao You said, eyes lingering on Hua Yong’s worried face. “It’s not safe.”

Hua Yong nodded quickly, still holding onto his hand as though letting go might break something fragile between them.

They moved deeper into the dungeon, fingers intertwined— steady, warm, and unwilling to loosen.

______________________________________________

It had been five days— five days of nonstop fighting and by the end of the first day, Shao You had already realised it: they were being hunted. Monsters drove them from every direction, never giving enough space to rest or regroup.

He was exhausted. 

Days of continuous combat had worn thin the edges of his strength. His ribs creaked with every inhale, sharp pain radiating down his back with each movement. He had long since used the last of his mana potions. His joints ache from the cold and still he forced himself forward, keeping the monsters away, shielding the Omega at his side. 

Through all of it, Hua Yong remained a steady and quiet presence beside him. Warm hands easing the cold that tried to consume him, soft mana stabilising the cracks in his frost core. 

They were currently huddled inside a small cave, an uneven hollow carved into the rock. Shao You had frozen the entrance, layers of frost sealing them in, but it was only a brief respite—an hour, two at most—before monsters inevitably found them and tore through their shelter. He had only managed short naps between attacks, taking turns resting with Hua Yong.

Shao You tried to give Hua Yong more time to sleep, knowing the Omega’s constitution was poorer, but Hua Yong had argued fiercely against it—always waking before the next attack came. Even now, he refused to rest fully. 

Rations were tight, and neither of them knew how long they would be trapped inside the dungeon. With the mana instability fluctuating wildly, Shao You didn’t dare risk cooking the monsters they defeated. Besides—he was the eldest young master of an elite family. He barely knew how to boil water.

They shared a single protein bar between them. Shao You finished his half while watching Hua Yong nibble quietly on his. As if sensing the gaze, Hua Yong looked up, eyes soft.

“Mr. Sheng, have more. I’m not very hungry,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

Shao You didn’t think—he simply reached out. His thumb brushed a small crumb at the corner of Hua Yong’s mouth, slow and careful, the gesture almost instinctive.

“I’m fine,” he murmured. “Eat yours. You need the energy.”

Hua Yong’s lips parted just slightly, breath catching, then he smiled, soft and small, and something in Shao You eased—unwound, loosened in a way he hadn’t felt since the dungeon sealed them in. Hua Yong finished his bar and shifted closer, careful in his movements, arms slipping around him with a warmth that felt almost unreal.

“Then Mr Sheng, you’re cold. Let me warm you.” 

Shao You nodded. The delicate face in front of him scattered his thoughts far too easily. And Hua Yong’s warmth—steady, enveloping—was impossible to refuse.

Heat seeped into his bones, easing the ache, softening the tightness in his chest. His eyes grew heavy, drooping despite his effort to remain alert. He needed to stay awake—monsters could arrive any minute—but fatigue clung to him, dragging him under.

Another wave of warmth rolled through him, deeper this time. A faint ghost-orchid scent curled around him, gentle and soothing.

“Rest, Mr Sheng,” Hua Yong breathed against his ear. “I’ll protect you.”

Shao You exhaled, a soft sound slipping from him as the last of his resistance dissolved.

He drifted to sleep in Hua Yong’s arms.

_____________________________________________

Hua Yong smiled, arms wrapped securely around the slumbering S-class hunter. One hand rose to trace the lines of Shao You’s face—slow, gentle, almost reverent. Ghost-orchid pheromones thickened in the cave, soft and sweet, settling around them like warm mist.

His Alpha.
So strong.
So brave.

A being the world admired.
A being Hua Yong wanted to take and keep—
to hide away where no one else could touch him,
or look at what belonged to him.

Outside, the sound of monsters scraping against ice rattled the cave walls. Fractals of magenta crystal spread across the entrance in response, swallowing the creatures whole before shimmering away into dust.

Hua Yong leaned in, brushing the faintest kiss across Shao You’s forehead—soft, fleeting, careful not to wake him.

Rest, Mr. Sheng, he thought, thumb stroking his cheek.

Nothing will reach you. Not while you’re in my arms.

_______________________________________________________

Shaoyou woke up surprisingly well-rested. A faint trace of ghost orchid lingered in the air—warm, sweet, grounding. A calm heartbeat at his ear. He pushed himself upright and turned toward Hua Yong, who was already awake, watching him quietly.

“Did you rest?” Shao You asked.

Hua Yong nodded. “I did.”

Shaoyou stood. Judging by the dim shift of dungeon light, it had been a few hours since he’d fallen asleep. His ice barrier must have held longer than expected.

Fatigue still tugged at him, but his body felt lighter than it had in days. Breathing didn’t stab at his ribs, and the deep pull along his back had eased enough to ignore. His mana, though low, no longer scraped painfully at the edges of his core.

“Hua Yong,” Shao You called. 

Hua Yong was tidying their makeshift shelter, brushing frost from a blanket of packed leaves. When he lifted his head at Shao You’s call, the soft-eyed gaze hit him without warning. Shao You’s heartbeat stuttered—again.

Shao You cleared his throat, “We should go.”

Hua Yong straightened immediately. There was no hesitation or fear—just quiet acceptance.

“I understand,” he said.

They left the cave quietly, stepping back into the dim, grey-green haze of the dungeon. The ice barrier Shao You had formed was cracked in several places, claw marks deep and frantic along its surface. Something had come during the night. Many somethings.
But none had broken through.

Shao You said nothing as his hand reached out and neither did Hua Yong as he grasped his hand firmly.

They walked.

Two nights had passed before they finally found signs of the boss' lair.  

The path narrowed as they moved deeper, the dungeon growing darker, heavier—mana gathering like storm clouds pressing low against the ground. Mist curled along the floor, thin tendrils rising and dissolving into the grey-green air. Shao You led, Hua Yong a half step behind, their hands still joined. Monsters emerged from the shadows and fell just as quickly, cut down by swift strikes.

The dungeon pulsed—slow, deliberate—each thrum of mana stronger than the last. Trees twisted into shapes that barely resembled wood, trunks spiraling upward like carved stone. The ground hardened under their feet, the soft earth shifting into dark, slick stone interspersed with shallow pools of water.

Ahead, the forest opened.

The trees fell away, revealing a vast basin filled with dark water. The surface lay eerily still, broken only by the faint glimmer of bioluminescent algae drifting beneath. Ancient stone pillars jutted out at crooked angles, half-submerged, their runes long eroded by mana and time.

They stepped beneath a wide arch of stone—natural at first glance, but too symmetrical to be accidental. Mana swirled as they crossed the threshold, dense and pressurized, metallic on the tongue.

Shao You tightened his grip on the sword. His other hand remained in Hua Yong’s, warm and steady.

A ripple disturbed the still water.

Subtle at first—like something exhaling beneath the surface—then stronger, sending concentric waves across the basin. Shao You’s hold on his sword tightened. Frost curled down his wrist.

Another ripple.
Then another.

The water split.

A pale shape rose slowly from the depths, humanoid from the waist up, serpentine from the waist down. Scales shimmered in shifting blues and greens, each one reflecting faint mana light. Its eyes opened—slitted, luminous, ancient. A crown of bone-like fins flared behind its head, framing a face too sharp and too still to be called human.

A Naga Sovereign. An S-class, water-attuned dungeon boss. They were known for their intelligence. 

It coiled upward, towering over the waterline, arms resting atop the surface as if it were solid stone. The basin trembled beneath its aura.

Shao You stepped forward.

“Hua Yong,” he said quietly. “Hide.”

Hua Yong hesitated—just a breath—but stepped back into the shadows of the carved stone pillars.

“Stay hidden. No matter what happens.”

Hua Yong’s eyes lingered on him—wide, worried, reluctant—before he disappeared behind a collapsed altar, ghost-orchid scent thinning until it barely lingered.

The Naga hissed. A low, reverberating sound that vibrated the water. Its tail coiled, muscles rippling beneath liquid surface tension. The entire pool shifted with its movement.

Shao You exhaled once, sword ready, mana gathering and leaped. 

Water speared upward in a dozen sharp pillars—too fast for any ordinary hunter to track. Frost bloomed beneath Shao You’s feet, sliding him across the stone as the first pillar sliced cleanly through the space his head had just occupied. More followed. He twisted, evasive, each movement threaded with ice.

He countered—an arc of frost slicing toward the Naga.

The serpent dissolved into water and reformed behind him.

Shao You spun, blade rising just in time as a scaled arm slammed into his side. The impact ripped a sharp breath from him, boots carving a harsh line across the flooded stone as he slid back. His ribs protested. 

The Naga’s eyes narrowed—amused.

It struck again, angled perfectly toward his injured left side. A sphere of condensed water formed in its palm—high-pressure, razor-edged, deadly. It launched forward with enough force to punch a hole through bedrock.

Shao You dodged, the attack missing him by a hair’s breadth. The sphere tore through a stone pillar instead, carving a perfect tunnel straight through the center. He retaliated, slashing upward. Frost curved toward the Naga’s throat—

But again, it dissolved, reappearing on the far edge of the lake, summoning another tidal strike that rose like a wall.

Shao You’s breath misted sharply as he stepped back. His body temperature dropped another degree.

The Naga lifted both hands and the entire lake responded.

Water heaved upward in a massive swell, a wave towering high enough to swallow the basin and everything inside it. It crashed forward in a single violent surge, aiming straight for the hunter. 

Shao You dashed in, sword cutting a wide arc through the air. The pressure split a seam in the rising wall, just enough for him to push through. He burst forward in a blur of frost, appearing directly in front of the Naga. His left hand swung, an ice-dagger aimed at its chest.

The Naga reacted—faster than before.

Water coiled around its torso, forming an armored shield that absorbed most of the blow. Frost laced across the liquid barrier but didn’t hold—the water shattered it outward with a pulse, spraying shards across the ground. 

There was no time to gather himself as the Naga’s tail whipped forward—fast, heavy, aimed to crush. Shao You pivoted, blade raised, the impact reverberating down his arm as steel met scaled muscle. Before he could regain footing, the Naga twisted, a clawed hand slicing toward his throat and Shao You dropped low.

The claw tore through the air above him, scattering droplets that froze the moment they touched his coat. He retaliated, a sharp upward slash aimed at the Naga’s ribs—
only for it to dissolve again, reforming behind him in a swirl of water.

Shao You spun.

Tail slammed into his side and pain erupted across his ribs as he staggered back, boots skidding across slick stone. The Naga pressed forward—relentless—both arms swinging in a flurry of strikes meant to overwhelm.

Shao You blocked the first—
parried the second—
ducked the third—

But the fourth caught him across the shoulder, sending a jolt of pain down his arm. Frost bled from the wound on impact, snowflakes scattering in the air.

The Naga hissed, scenting his weakening aura, and lunged. Shao You met it with his free hand this time—his palm slamming into its jaw, a burst of frost freezing half its cheek. The creature recoiled, tail whipping around in retaliation, but Shao You vaulted over it, twisting mid-air as his sword carved down in a vertical strike the Naga narrowly avoided. 

Their next exchange blurred together: Shao You lunged first, blade cutting a clean line through the air only to crash against a sudden wall of water as the Naga summoned a shield to parry. It countered instantly, a clawed hand slicing toward his throat; he twisted back, the strike missing by inches before a whip-like tail lashed out. He vaulted over it, frost spiraling beneath his feet, and brought his heel down in a sharp, frozen kick that cracked against the Naga’s chin, snapping its head sideways. The creature hissed, forming a spear of compressed water that launched point-blank—Shao You caught it on his blade, shattering it into icy fragments even as he closed the distance again.

But Shao You was slowing.

The strain of the last three days made each movement grew a fraction heavier. His breath misted unevenly, his footing less sharp.

The Naga felt it.

Its pupils thinned, sensing the opening as predator instinct surged. It lunged—fast, precise, fangs bared—yet…

Its strike dragged.

As if moving through dense, syrup-thick air.

Shao You slipped aside just in time as the attack missed him by a hair.

The Naga hissed, confused. It lashed out again—another swipe, another tail crack—but its speed faltered, each motion lagging half a beat behind its intent.

Shao You’s eyes narrowed. He wasn’t doing that.

The creature’s gaze darted sideways—toward the shadows where Hua Yong hid.

Ghost-orchid pheromones lingered in the air, sinking into the battlefield like invisible threads. Mana shimmered faintly around the Omega’s position—subtle, delicate, but unmistakable to a creature as mana-sensitive as the Naga.

The Naga understood then. Its pupils dilated with fury as it shifted, preparing to strike past Shao You, straight toward Hua Yong—

Shao You moved. He intercepted the Naga mid-lunge, blade slashing upward, frost detonating along the creature’s scaled chest. The impact forced the boss back several meters, water spraying as it crashed against a broken pillar.

“Your enemy is me,” Shao You’s voice came out colder than his frost. 

The fight turned deadly.

A clawed arm tore through the air—Shao You parried, blade shrieking as water hardened around the Naga’s forearm like armor. Another blow slammed into his side, the impact rattling bone. Shao You feinted left, before pivoting again, sword flashed in a burst of frost, cutting a deep line across the Naga’s ribs, steam erupting as freezing mana met boiling water.

The Naga screamed. With its movements slowed, they were evenly matched—its overwhelming speed blunted and its strikes no longer impossible to dodge. Steel and water collided again, the chamber ringing with each impact. Shao You pressed forward, blade flashing in relentless arcs, frost detonating with every strike. Again and again he pushed, carving through scales, forcing the creature back step by step.

The Naga roared, enraged, its tail lashing so violently the waterline trembled. Its eyes bled into a deeper red, pupils narrowing to slits as the water beneath it began to churn violently. Mana surged in a chaotic spiral, the entire pool boiling as spires erupted upward, turning the arena into a battlefield of liquid blades.

Shao You braced, the cold in his limbs biting sharper now. 

The Naga lunged—faster now, movements wild and unpredictable. Water hardened along its limbs, forming natural blades. It struck downward with enough force to split stone.

Shao You blocked the first blow—

The second tore across his abdomen.

Pain exploded, sharp and blinding, ripping the breath from his lungs. The strike hurled him backward, boots skidding across the flooded stone as frost desperately struggled to form beneath his feet. He clamped a hand over the wound, ice spreading under his palm, slowing the bleeding by force of will alone. 

A tidal whip slammed into his side, sending him skidding across the slick stone. His back struck a pillar with a dull, sickening crack—bone or ice, he couldn’t tell. Pain flared white-hot along his ribs, stealing his breath. He coughed and blood hit the ground. Ribs, then. He wiped blood from his mouth, breath sharp. He couldn’t take another hit like that.

The Naga surged across the pool, body a blur of scales and water, a clawed arm rearing back and aiming straight for his throat—when ghost-orchid burst through the air, dense and suffocating before vanishing just as quickly. The creature faltered mid-strike, its attention snapping toward the source of the pheromone, and in that brief hesitation, Shao You moved.

Frost burst from his feet, propelling him into the Naga’s guard as he drove his sword upward, straight through the creature’s chest. The blade pierced scale, bone, and the glowing core nestled between its ribs. Ice detonated outward—starburst patterns racing across the Naga’s body as frost consumed muscle and vessels. 

He forced more mana through the blade, breath trembling as the monster froze solid. Snow gathered on his lashes, lips turning blue, his core temperature plummeting down. Still he pushed, feeding every last fragment of mana into the creature until it was wholly encased in ice. 

His pulse slowed. Blood pressure dropped. Vision dimmed at the edges. Shao You barely felt his hand slip from the sword as his body fell.

Soft arms caught him—lightly, easily—as if the air itself bent just to deliver him into a warm embrace.

“Rest, Mr. Sheng,” a quiet voice murmured against his ear. “It’s over.”

And Shao You let his eyes close.