Regarding the excuse her father had drummed up, Lin Yuxia didn't believe a single word of it. She didn't buy for a second that he was doing this just to maintain the family's face regarding etiquette.
However, she didn't say much. Her reason for coming back was simply to grab some clothes and head out to avoid the coming storm. After all, the situation between her mother and father had been... peculiar over the last two days. She had no desire to be collateral damage in their domestic spat.
"Planning to stay out?" Lin Gerui asked, watching his daughter pack a bundle and prepare to leave.
"Yes. Work has been busy lately, and I'll need to put in a few days of overtime. Besides, the tension between you and Mom is a bit high right now. I've decided to stay in the dorms for a couple of days," Lin Yuxia replied, turning to look at her father. "I really don't want to eat any more of the pineapple dishes Mom's been making. My teeth are starting to ache. And now there's that deadly pile of durians on top of it."
Clearly, while Lin Yuxia's sense of smell wasn't quite as acute as her father's, it was still incredibly powerful thanks to her racial heritage.
Despite his daughter's complaints, Lin Gerui didn't say anything like he usually would. Instead, he sat there, watching her in silence for a long moment before finally speaking.
"The dorms aren't a bad idea; the environment there is better than here anyway. Just... stay away from the Lower City for a while. Some things might be happening here soon." Lin Gerui's expression was serious, making it clear he wasn't joking or speaking out of irritation.
It had been a long time since Lin Yuxia had seen her father this way. It seemed he truly intended to make a major move this time.
"I understand. If nothing's going on, I'll just stay at the house in the Upper City. I'll come back once this blows over." With that, Lin Yuxia pushed open the door and left. Though she spoke as if she didn't care, she was secretly curious about what her father was planning.
He had never treated Lower City matters with such gravity before; he had even started handing off tasks to her while he acted as a simple shopkeeper at the candy store. She hadn't expected her father, who usually looked like he was on the verge of retirement, to personally intervene this time. And from the looks of it, the scale of his intervention wouldn't be small.
"Sigh... Kashchey. You really are a fellow who loves causing trouble for others. I wonder how much more misery you would have added to this world if you were still truly alive." Lin Gerui sighed, talking to the empty room. The worry in his eyes was palpable, and his tone was heavy, as if a great stone were pressing down on him.
Currently, the Rat King was genuinely worried about the future of the slums. For many years, he had managed this wretched place just enough so it wouldn't turn into a living hell and be abandoned by Lungmen. The problem was that Lungmen truly had no intention of governing this area. Rather than "letting" the Rat King run it, they were simply letting him suppress the unstable elements while they waited for the right opportunity to erase the place from the city entirely.
Furthermore, there was the issue of the Infected. He didn't know how many of them would stand against them; these people would sell their lives for a pittance. But the most important thing right now was that snake. If he didn't produce some results for Wei Yenwu to see, the next ones to enter the Lower City wouldn't be him—it would be the Black Cloaks.
What he didn't know, however, was that the Kashchey he believed was long dead had already taken a new shell and was currently walking across the snowy plains of the Ursus North.
"If it weren't for this special exception, I don't think I'd ever set foot in this hellhole in my entire life. I don't get along with the types who live here."
Kashchey had swapped into a new body—one belonging to a subordinate stationed near the northern border, kept as a spare. From a distance, the figure was still draped in black, looking much the same as always.
Beside him stood the Chief of the Emperor's Blades from Deity Grypherburg. He had been dispatched by the Emperor to the northern battlefield against the Demons to act as the Emperor's eyes and witness a specific event.
In the distance, the battlefield was a cacophony of exploding Originium shells, the roar of mobile warships advancing, and the spirit-shaking "Urah!" of the soldiers. These brave men were fighting against a terrifying, eldritch breed of creature. Their enemies were twisted masses of matter—neither gas nor solid. The largest among them were big enough to blot out the sky, waving limbs that were neither branches nor tentacles to lash out at the troops.
These were the Demons—creatures that gave many nations on Terra a headache. Feeding on fear, they were a disaster-level existence on the continent.
"If I had the choice, I wouldn't want to come back to this ghost of a place either! Every time I see these things, I feel sick to my core."
Even the Emperor's Guard beside Kashchey didn't hide his disgust. Perhaps only someone like him, who had fought on these snowfields, could truly know how vile this land was. He had once been a soldier who spilled blood here; now, under the influence of the Demons' power, he was gradually turning into something like them. Yet, even that couldn't change his loathing for the creatures. If possible, he would rather vanish from the continent alongside them, never to appear again.
To keep these monsters pinned to this land, Ursus sacrificed countless resources and soldiers every year, and the military budget funneled into it was no small sum.
Hearing his old friend's complaints, Kashchey simply stood by and observed the battlefield in silence. Unlike his usual talkative self, he said nothing. He knew the Emperor's Blade was in a foul mood and worried about the upcoming operation. It was best to stay quiet.
Suddenly, the sea of Demons seemed to be ripped open. A group of towering, monstrous beings appeared. Relying on their own strength and a shared Originium Art, they began tearing through the terrifying creatures. Under their weapons, the Demons were shredded like paper, their severed limbs turning into black smoke before being reabsorbed.
"I didn't expect there to still be Wendigos in the army here! I've rarely seen them in any division since Patriot declared his break with the Ursus Empire."
Indeed, these fierce, hulking men were the descendants of the ancient Sarkaz race—the man-eating Wendigos. However, compared to Patriot, they were significantly smaller. If Patriot stood among them, the difference would be like a normal human standing next to a dwarf. Even if Patriot sawed off his own legs, he would likely still be taller than them.
These were half-blood Wendigos—the only beings on earth besides Patriot with the right to call themselves Wendigos. From a certain perspective, pure-blood Wendigos were nearly extinct. On the entire continent of Terra, Buldrokkas'tee—Patriot—was the only one left.
"This is likely where the most of them remain. When Buldrokkas'tee broke with Ursus, most of the half-bloods left the army, unwilling to serve this country any longer," Number 25 noted, watching the squad of Wendigos fighting below.
They only cooperated with Ursus to stop the Demons; their only hope was to hold out until the end on this battlefield. Perhaps it was because their friends or family had been buried in this snow during the war against the Demons years ago, and they didn't want the peace of their fallen kin disturbed. Thus, with nowhere else to go, they returned here. They were no longer willing to fight for the endless ambition of Ursus.