The cold wind whistled through cracks between ice blocks.
An ice giant, born of cold spirits, patrolled its domain.
Though a creature of pure element, it bore an almost obsessive territorial instinct.
When the demonkin had set out, their ranks were strong. Hu Yan had casually shattered this spirit’s ice-body with a single hammer strike. But now, on the return, the cold spirit had already reshaped its frozen form—while the once-proud warband was reduced to only two broken figures: Qiong and Shou.
So they chose to take a detour. Luckily, cold spirits held no grudges; as long as one skirted their lands from afar, they would not attack.
And indeed, this spirit ignored the two distant survivors. Instead, its attention fixed on the sky.
A barely visible scout Puji flapped through the icy wind, following the demonkin from far behind.
Huh? Detected?
Seeing the cold spirit’s gaze track toward the scout, Lin Jun urged the Puji higher into the air.
【Race: Cold Spirit】【Level: LV39】
【Racial Talent: Body of Element】
【Skills: Ice Element Control LV6, Mana Sense LV4…】
Mana sense—that explained how it noticed the scout Puji.
The second cold spirit they had seen on the way. Lin Jun made a mental note—he’d definitely catch one later for a taste.
He had let the two demonkin go easily for a reason: to follow them home. Though Shou had been vague about his tribe’s situation, Lin Jun had already found demonkin remains in the Qi’s territory—fresh enough to suggest they had recently suffered heavy losses. Now was the perfect chance to… strike while they were weakened and earn their goodwill!
For now—just observe.
Knowing this scout would be stationed outside for long periods, Lin Jun had given it [Photosynthesis].
But truth be told, conditions in the far north were far harsher than expected.
The sunlight here was pale and weak, its mana yield from photosynthesis pitiful—barely enough to keep the Puji moving.
That alone wouldn’t have been a problem.
But—the cold!
Even with [Cold Resistance LV7], survival outside the dungeon was difficult.
Lin Jun had to add [High-Heat Burrow LV6] so the Puji could occasionally warm itself.
But that drained mana faster.
Its reserves were steadily shrinking. At best, it could endure three or four days before needing another scout to switch shifts.
Fortunately, the demonkin tribe wasn’t far from the dungeon—just half a day’s journey.
—
As soon as they reached the tribe, clansfolk swarmed the two survivors.
“Shou! Qiong! What… what happened to you?” Senior warrior Xinghuo rushed over, eyes locking onto their mangled arms. His tone grew heavy. “The others… don’t tell me…”
“All dead,” Shou rasped. “Only us two remain. Xinghuo, you—?” He noticed the bulging hunting pack slung over the warrior’s back.
“You vanished without word. I was just preparing to search for you…” Xinghuo explained.
Relief and dread warred in Shou’s chest. At least… they had returned.
“Take us to the Elder,” he said.
“Elder…” Xinghuo hesitated, then silently led them to the largest tent in the center.
Behind them, whispers spread through the tribe—full of unease and dread.
—
Inside, behind heavy hides, lay the elder.
Once, he had been a beacon of wisdom—aged, but sharp-eyed and commanding. Now he was a husk.
His magic marks had dimmed to gray, his body shivering beneath thick furs. Even his once-keen eyes were now clouded.
“Elder?!” Shou’s voice cracked in disbelief.
“Shou, Qiong.” The elder looked at them with surprising calm. “My time has come. For a demonkin, I’ve already lived long enough.”
“But… but at a time like this…” Even Shou, usually composed, couldn’t hide his unease.
“Fate chooses no moment, child.” His gaze shifted to Shou’s arm, where mycelium crawled along the fading magic lines. “Tell me what happened.”
Shou recounted everything. The Qi’s deadly ambush. The grotesque meat-cluster. The mushroom-creatures who called themselves Pujis.
Xinghuo’s face turned iron dark, his fists clenched. The elder only listened quietly, nodding wearily at times.
“You’ve suffered,” he sighed weakly. “Perhaps… all fault lies with me.”
“Elder!” Xinghuo burst out. “It was Hu Yan’s false intelligence! How can it be your fault?”
“No…” The elder shook his head. His eyes carried deep fatigue and guilt. “It was I who refused the southern migration. I who rejected the Empire’s hand. I… who could not let go of the memory of our Demon King. If we had submitted earlier… perhaps those children would yet live…”
Xinghuo tried to argue, but the elder silenced him with a frail yet firm gesture.
“Take Qiong to rest. Soothe the people. I… must speak to Shou alone.”
“…Yes.” Xinghuo gave Shou a long, weighted look before leading Qiong out.
As soon as the tent closed, the elder’s withered hand clamped onto Shou’s arm.
From his clouded eyes flared a sudden, piercing sharpness. His voice dropped, each word hammered with force:
“Shou! This is fusion parasitism! Our whole tribe is likely already targeted by those Pujis!”
“Fusion… parasitism?” Shou stared at the living threads on his arm. He had suspected. Hearing it confirmed struck him with crushing regret. “Then… I shouldn’t have come back?”
“No! You were right to return!” The elder’s grip whitened his knuckles, his eyes blazing with certainty. “Xinghuo is strong, but he cannot shoulder the tribe alone. The tribe needs you! Parasites or not—we were lives forged by the Demon King’s own hand. We are no mere mortal flesh!”
A strange, resolute smile lit the elder’s worn face. “And I… can still give you… one last chance.”
His dim magic marks flared one last time, his mana surging inward to his core.
“But Shou… where lies the tribe’s future? After I’m gone… no need to cling to old rules. Whether you migrate south… decide for yourselves. It is I… who failed everyone…”
“Elder?!” Shou’s heart dropped.
—
When Xinghuo returned, the bed was empty.
On the heavy furs lay a single magic core, its glow already fading.
Shou knelt at its side, frozen like a statue.
“…The elder entrusted the tribe to you,” Xinghuo said, voice dry. There was no surprise—only weary acceptance.
He cast one deep look at the core, then at Shou’s back, before leaving with only one final line:
“…Rise quickly. The tribe waits for you.”
Shou slowly reached out with his ruined arm, lifting the core.
The elder had sacrificed his own life in advance—to grant him one chance.
One chance to rebuild his body, purge the parasite, even… regain his hands.
But only one. Only for him.
And the tribe’s future… remained shrouded in uncertainty.