Vaerik watched the Snow Swearers being dragged away for execution in the distance, while John chattered beside him.
This guy now had a face full of admiration, his eyes bright like a puppy seeing its master, circling around Vaerik, as if wagging his tail.
John smiled particularly ingratiatingly: "Boss! If it weren't for you this time, my life would probably have been lost to these desperadoes!
You're truly my second parents! Back in the imperial capital, I knew you were definitely not an ordinary person! Now you're indeed so impressive!"
"Stop flattering me." Vaerik glanced at him, frowning, "What are you doing here?"
"Huh? I'm here to be a pioneering lord, aren't I?" John replied righteously.
Vaerik stared at him somewhat puzzled: "With your conditions, you shouldn't have been sent to the Northern Province."
John pouted, answering matter-of-factly: "I volunteered to come."
"What?" Vaerik was choked by his words, doubting if he had heard correctly.
"Anyway, I wouldn't get any benefits from my family, so I might as well run away." John shrugged, saying casually.
"Besides, you're here too. I figured following the boss would be better than being a boring younger son at home."
"Your old man agreed?"
"Of course not! But I submitted the pioneering application on my own, and the emperor approved it quickly." John snorted proudly, "Now they can't stop me from coming."
Vaerik was silent for a moment: "..."
The Northern Province that others avoided, and he actually volunteered to come?
"I've already chosen my domain next to yours. In the future, we brothers will dominate the Northern Province together, making those who looked down on us unable to reach our level!" John patted his shoulder, smiling as he leaned in.
This made Vaerik laugh. He shook his head and asked: "Fine, how many resources and people did you bring?"
"You underestimate me, how could I not be prepared?" John patted his round belly, looking confident.
"Over six hundred people, including craftsmen, soldiers, and serfs, basically self-sufficient. The old man will send more later."
Then he looked around, moved closer to Vaerik, and lowered his voice: "And I have ten thousand gold coins."
Vaerik was stunned for a moment, instantly feeling like he had been struck by lightning.
Ten thousand? That's twenty times his current assets!
"No wonder you're a newly wealthy noble." Vaerik couldn't help but sigh.
John chuckled, obviously quite proud of his wealth.
He took out a heavy gold pouch and slapped it into Vaerik's hand with a thud: "This little token, boss, you must accept it, otherwise I won't feel right!"
Vaerik looked down at the huge bag of gold coins. He estimated it contained more than a hundred coins. His mouth twitched slightly as he looked up at John: "Do you take me for a mercenary?"
"Don't say that! This is my respect for the boss!" John waved his hands repeatedly, looking serious. "You saved my life, what are these few gold coins worth?"
Vaerik sighed helplessly, but still put away the gold coins, after all, he was indeed a bit poor right now.
"Why don't you come to my place first and have a good meal?"
John waved his hand: "Not yet, I need to settle my people first."
"Alright, come over when you're done."
Then Vaerik chatted with John for a while longer before preparing to lead his team back to the Crimson Tide Domain.
John stood in front of the camp, laughing and waving: "Take care, boss, I'll come find you for a drink once I'm settled!"
Vaerik looked back at him, smiled, and without saying anything more, led the knights away on horseback.
John watched them leave.
Only when the team's silhouettes disappeared into the mountain path did he withdraw his gaze and excitedly shout to his knights: "Full speed ahead to our domain! Let's begin our conquest!"
The knights looked at each other, and could only respond reluctantly.
...
The cold wind howled past, and the Snow Swearers' secret main camp was hidden among the mountains of the Northern Province.
Several Iron Blood Empire nobles were hung upside down on an eerie altar, writhing in pain.
Their mouths were stuffed with rags, and they could only widen their eyes in despair, with several prominent wounds on their bodies.
Blood seeped from the wounds, flowing slowly along their cheeks into the altar carved with strange runes.
"Ancient God of the Cold Abyss, please bestow upon us the blessing of revenge..." the priest chanted in a low voice.
Suddenly, a nauseating, deep slithering sound came from beneath the ground, as if responding to the priest's plea.
Then a chilling cold that made people tremble spread out from the cracks.
The bodies on the altar began to wither rapidly, as if the flesh and blood were being devoured by an invisible presence.
The nobles' eyes burst, blood flowing from all seven orifices, turning into withered remains.
Standing at a height, Heero coldly looked down at everything on the altar, expressionless.
His gaze fell on the pool of blood, as if through it, he saw the image of his mother lying in a pool of blood many years ago.
Forty years ago, the empire's iron cavalry trampled their homeland and burned their royal court.
Young as he was, curled up in the shadows, he could only watch as his mother was dragged away by soldiers, pierced by swords, her eyes full of unwillingness and pain.
Thinking of this, his fingertips slightly tightened, killing intent surging.
Elder Grom walked slowly over, wearing a heavy gray beast skin cloak, his cloudy eyes hiding deep worry.
"Heero, a team of men hasn't returned," his voice revealed unease.
Heero withdrew his gaze from the altar and said in a low voice: "I know."
Elder Grom was silent for a moment, but eventually spoke: "Going on like this, we will eventually get into trouble."
Heero coldly glanced at him: "Blood debt must be paid in blood."
Grom sighed, then said softly: "That northern barbarian witch has ill intentions. She's just using our hatred to pave the way for her tribe!"
Heero's gaze was ice-cold, his voice low: "If she can give us weapons, give us a chance for revenge, what does it matter?"
"And what have we gained? I only see our warriors slowly diminishing!" Grom suddenly struck his staff, his tone unusually sharp.
"Enough!" Heero's face darkened.
Grom wanted to say more, but Heero had already waved his hand, coldly saying: "Take him away."
Two Snow Swearer warriors immediately came forward, firmly grasping Grom's arms and dragging him away.
Grom didn't struggle, just looked deeply at Heero, finally smiling coldly: "You will regret this."
Heero didn't look at him again, turning back to gaze at the gradually extinguishing bonfire flames.
The scene of his mother's dying moments appeared before his eyes again: the pool of blood, the crying, the cold laughter of the imperial soldiers...
"Blood debt... blood repayment." He mumbled again, his voice as low as the cold wind.
The firelight was completely extinguished, and Heero's gaze also disappeared into the night.