Chapter Seventy-Nine: The Frost Dragon

"This is impossible!"

Li Pingyang’s face was a mask of shock as he stared at the object in Emperor Song’s hand—an object that had no place here. In truth, it did not belong to this era at all.

It was a snow globe. Its base was white, and inside the transparent glass dome, snowflakes drifted gently down. A tiny man, sword in hand, battled a massive frost dragon amidst the snow.

The dragon’s immense body filled most of the globe. It was swathed in blue-gray scales, which resembled armor forged from ice—impenetrable to the eye. Two enormous wings sprouted from its back, built for both flight and defense. It stood on two powerful legs, and its head was crowned with twin horns like shards of frozen crystal. Its maw spewed a deadly breath.

The sword-wielding figure wore a warrior’s cloak and a silver helm, both hands raised in a strike. He faced the dragon’s frost breath without flinching, sword drawn for battle.

What Li Pingyang did not know was that this was no ordinary snow globe; it was laden with meaning. The scene inside depicted a battle that had truly taken place.

And the swordsman was none other than Emperor Song himself.

...

At that time, Emperor Song had not yet ascended the throne, but lived as the second prince. He harbored no desire for power, but as long as he bore the title of prince, he remained a threat to the ambitions of others.

Moreover, the old emperor seemed to favor him as crown prince. Despite his caution and restraint, he was inevitably drawn into the vortex of palace intrigue, regarded by rival factions as a thorn in their side.

Eventually, the third prince rebelled, conspiring with the northern Liao Kingdom. He purchased a horde of monstrous beasts from them, among which was the so-called King of Beasts—the Frost Dragon.

His aim was regicide and fratricide, to usurp the throne by force. With his hidden followers, he stormed the capital.

When the Frost Dragon appeared, the city’s defenders broke ranks in terror, abandoning their posts, and the city gates fell without resistance. The rebels advanced, unchallenged, right up to the palace.

At that time, Emperor Song had just returned from a campaign. On hearing the news, rage consumed him. He drew his sword, spurred his horse, and galloped toward the city to save his father.

He was already close to the capital’s border, and without delay, rode hard into the city. He arrived just as the dragon prepared to lay waste to the main hall.

Generals who had sworn to defend the emperor formed a line at the platform before the hall, swords drawn and ready to lay down their lives in bloody combat.

At a glance, he saw the third prince—his sword stained with the blood of Song soldiers, his face twisted and red, a manic smile upon his lips.

Emperor Song had no time to confront him directly. Gripping his sword, he leapt onto the platform and stood shoulder to shoulder with the loyal generals.

At the sight of their prince’s return, morale soared; hearts steeled with new resolve. The third prince spotted him as well, called him by name—not “second brother”—for in his eyes, all present were already dead men.

With another thrust, the third prince skewered a soldier. He smiled, wild and unhinged. Emperor Song cursed him mad and called his name, trying to persuade him to surrender.

But from the moment he unleashed the Frost Dragon, stormed the city, and plotted his coup, there was no turning back—it was too late. He had already killed the eldest prince and, in his madness, even the youngest, a mere child ignorant of the world, was not spared. He was irredeemable.

Inside the main hall, the fourth prince stood guard before the emperor, sword drawn, with the remaining bodyguards arrayed in a shielded line to protect both prince and sovereign. Even if attacked, they could hold their ground for a time.

The emperor, seeing his son’s rebellion, was chilled to the bone, forced at last to witness the scene he had most dreaded.

Outside, the third prince raised his sword and shouted, "Kill!"—and battle erupted.

The ground trembled as the Frost Dragon beat its wings and unleashed its breath: a storm of snow-laden wind that froze everything in its path.

Some soldiers barely had time to raise their weapons before frost crept from their feet, swiftly engulfing their bodies—first the legs, then racing up to freeze them entirely, even their faces locked in the expressions they wore at the moment of death.

This was the monster’s skill: "Absolute Zero."

Emperor Song, frowning, quickly ordered a retreat.

Whoosh!

The dragon swept its wings, launching a barrage of ice spikes. Several soldiers were pierced through the chest before they could react.

Emperor Song raised his sword and unleashed a wave of sword energy, shattering every ice spike that came his way. Shards crashed to the ground, releasing a chill that crept out in all directions.

Seizing the moment, a row of soldiers dashed beneath the dragon, firing flaming crossbow bolts upward. Yet their power was all but useless—only a few managed to pierce the dragon’s hide, and those seemed to do little more than tickle.

The dragon’s gaze dropped. With a mighty swipe of its claw, it slammed down, casting several men into darkness before flinging them aside like dolls.

Next, the dragon let out a roar that lasted a full minute. The ones it had frozen moments earlier were instantly shattered by the force of its bellow.

Landing heavily, the dragon raked its claws at the enemy line, effortlessly killing those who had dared to provoke it. Then it beat its wings again, whipping up a violent gale.

Emperor Song charged, sword raised, to halt the beast’s rampage. With a flick of his blade, he sheared off a scale. The dragon bellowed in pain and knocked the sword from his hand with one swipe.

The sword spun in the air and struck the ground, quivering. As the dragon’s claw came crashing down, Emperor Song closed his eyes, his expression serene, prepared for death.

But in that instant, a thunderous crash sounded above. Something struck the dragon, shattering one of its claws.

Looking up, he saw a woman sprawled on the palace roof, cradling a weapon unlike any he had seen.

Its power was astonishing.

She caught his gaze, raised her head, and waved in greeting. Then she ducked down, one eye to a sight, finger on the trigger.

Bang!

Another deafening shot. One of the dragon’s horns was blasted clean off. Emperor Song dashed aside, retrieved his fallen sword, and unleashed a wave of sword energy at the dragon’s head.

The woman fired again. Their attacks struck almost simultaneously—bullet and sword energy whistling together toward the dragon’s skull. The beast raised its wing in defense, but both attacks punched through.

The third prince stared, dumbfounded, as the dragon’s head was blown apart. He kept repeating, "This is impossible!"

Emperor Song pressed his blade to the third prince’s neck. Seeing the dragon slain, his followers knew the situation and promptly surrendered, dropping their weapons and ceasing all futile resistance.

Turning back, Emperor Song meant to thank the mysterious woman who had saved his life—but she was already gone.