Chapter 177 Let It Pass

Four magical hours of sleep passed swiftly. When Shaoke awoke, the two mages who had been discussing spells nearby were still there—though they were no longer debating arcane theory but conversing about other matters. Shaoke also noticed that the female mage’s hand was now tightly clasped by the male mage.

His awakening immediately drew the two mages’ attention. Though the female mage attempted several times to withdraw her hand, the male mage refused each time to release it. She soon realized Shaoke was staring intently at her.

“Honorable Mage, do you know me?” The female mage couldn’t clearly discern the face of the figure shrouded in dark gray mist, yet his unwavering gaze made her feel he recognized her.

“From the Blizzard Legion?” Shaoke hesitated briefly, then let the mist veiling his cloak dissipate, revealing his silhouette—though he promptly lowered his hood to obscure most of his features. “You’re from the Blizzard Legion, aren’t you?” he asked, picking up his glass and gently swirling it.

“Yes.” The female mage wasn’t startled that this unfamiliar mage knew her affiliation. Instead, she frowned, scrutinizing the cloaked figure closely, hoping to identify him quickly. After a long pause, she finally murmured, “I just have the feeling I’ve seen you somewhere before.”

“Could you tell me about Mage Roman?” Seeing the female mage’s discomfort at failing to recall his identity, Shaoke strained to lift the corners of his mouth into what he intended as a friendly expression—though the resulting smile appeared distinctly unpleasing. “I mean, what happened to her in the Blizzard Legion after she left here,” he added. “She should have corresponded with you.”

“May I ask your identity, Honorable Mage?” The female mage gently twirled her staff. “Until I can confirm who you are, I’m afraid I cannot share information about Mage Roman. I trust you understand.” With that, she mimicked Shaoke’s gesture, lifting the transparent glass and slowly swirling it, watching the red wine swirl softly within.

“Shaoke Snow Night.” He stated his name without delay. “You may call me Mage Xueye. I believe we met here when you first arrived—don’t you recall?”

No sooner had Shaoke spoken than the female mage let out a soft, startled gasp. She had never imagined this seemingly gaunt mage was the third-tier mage she’d encountered over a decade ago upon her arrival. She’d heard he’d joined the Death Mage Corps back then! But the Death Mage Corps… Realizing her rudeness, she quickly stood and offered Shaoke a formal salute, thanking him for his guidance all those years ago.

Of course, Shaoke paid little heed to such formalities. His sole concern was learning Mage Roman’s current situation from someone else.

“Now, I trust you’ll tell me about Mage Roman.” Shaoke slowly stroked his staff, waiting quietly for her to begin. He believed she would withhold nothing on this matter.

At the fourth-tier mage’s insistence, the third-tier female mage complied and recounted in detail everything she knew—though, admittedly, she knew little. All her knowledge came from Mage Roman’s letters; after all, they hadn’t been close at the time. For this female mage, merely maintaining correspondence had already been commendable—especially since she’d only been a second-tier mage then, while Mage Roman had been on the verge of promotion to the fourth rank.

It turned out that what Mage Roman had written in her letters aligned almost entirely with what this mage had said—except that Shaoke possessed even more information. Once the female mage finished speaking, Shaoke thanked her. Then, after answering several questions posed by both her and the other second-rank male mage regarding spellcasting, he paid the tavern sufficient common gold coins and, under the female mage’s envious gaze, turned and departed.

After leaving the tavern, Shaoke paused momentarily, unsure where to go next. Standing at the entrance, he reflected briefly before deciding to head to the local military headquarters—to declare his identity and obtain new identification documents, ensuring he’d encounter no unnecessary complications upon later arriving at the Blizzard Legion.

After informing the soldiers guarding the camp’s perimeter of his purpose, they promptly summoned the fourth-tier mage resting inside. The mage carefully examined the certification issued to Shaoke by the Death Corps, then—with an unnatural expression—carefully rolled up the scroll and returned it to its owner. He immediately reported the matter to the military headquarters.

Upon receiving authorization from headquarters, Shaoke entered the large compound alone and, relying solely on memory, successfully located the grand house.

After gently knocking several times on the wooden door, he was quickly granted permission to enter by the occupant within. The interior furnishings remained nearly unchanged. So too did the seventh-tier mage seated at the center of the long table. The mage nodded to Shaoke, gesturing toward an adjacent chair, and their conversation commenced.

“Mage Xueye? I hadn’t expected you to choose departure after attaining the fourth tier.” The seventh-tier mage felt a tinge of regret over Shaoke’s decision—but also genuine satisfaction, not only because another mage capable of resisting temptation had emerged. Of course, he kept that thought to himself. “Welcome back,” he added, offering his warmest congratulations on Shaoke’s promotion.

After repeatedly expressing his gratitude, Shaoke stated his primary reason for visiting. Naturally, the seventh-tier mage swiftly drafted new certification for him—this being a trivial matter for one of his stature.

Once he handed the document to Shaoke, the seventh-tier mage suggested, “Mage Xueye, if you wish to remain here temporarily, I recommend you do so. After all, conditions in the Blizzard Legion aren’t as favorable as here, and your duties here would be comparatively light.” Having spoken, he fell silent, awaiting Shaoke’s reply—and hoping, inwardly, for the answer he desired.

Not every wish can be fulfilled. Without hesitation, Shaoke declined the suggestion and reaffirmed his intention to return to the Blizzard Legion—as he had done previously at the Death Corps outpost. Nor was he concerned that the other party might take offense at his refusal; after all, recruitment among mages was never compulsory.

Faced with Shaoke’s refusal, the seventh-tier mage simply nodded calmly, extended his blessings once more, and permitted him to depart. Before doing so, however, he patiently and thoroughly answered several of Shaoke’s questions concerning the Blizzard Legion.

After listening to the seventh-tier mage’s overview of the Blizzard Legion, Shaoke thanked him again and departed as requested.

By the time he left the military camp, it was already late. Shaoke returned to the tavern, ate a meal, then made his way to the city wall. Once again inhaling the familiar, thick scent of blood, he took a deep breath and ascended the platform where he often stood before—quietly savoring the biting assault of the cold wind.

And so, Shaoke stood atop the city wall throughout the entire night. There, memories of his past with Mage Roman resurfaced. He was now uncertain of her current circumstances—she hadn’t replied to his letters for over a year. The same silence had occurred with the third-tier female mage at the tavern.

“Moxier Roman.” At dawn, Shaoke whispered the female mage’s name softly. Under the astonished gazes of the duty-bound soldiers, he swiftly departed, boarding a carriage provided by the military headquarters bound for the imperial capital—where he would report to headquarters and search for Mage Roman within the Blizzard Legion. Of course, he also needed to locate certain essential mages, though he was only somewhat acquainted with them.

Shaoke accepted the escort arranged by the military headquarters. Thus, accompanied by nearly one hundred cavalrymen, he advanced rapidly toward the imperial capital.

That day marked exactly one month since Shaoke had departed Bloody Fortress. Upon reaching a city, another blizzard descended. Large snowflakes fell heavily from the sky, further impeding his progress along an already arduous road. The cavalry captain suggested pausing for several days before continuing—but Shaoke refused without hesitation.

“I don’t believe this wind and snow can halt our advance. If merchants persist under such conditions, why can’t you?”

Though Shaoke rejected the proposal, he still asked the captain for his reasoning.

“Mage, under these conditions, bandits won’t respect our military status—they’ll attack us without hesitation.” Though hesitant, the captain shared part of his rationale. Yet Shaoke dismissed such concerns and held firm to his original stance. *Perhaps I should have explained more earlier*, the captain thought with mild chagrin, slapping his horse and shouting loudly, “Everyone—prepare! We continue onward!”

Over one hundred cavalrymen surrounded the carriage and set off once more. Perhaps due to the storm, few travelers were on the road—most heading toward the city. Even the small merchant caravans Shaoke had glimpsed earlier, which had departed not long before, were now returning toward the city. Yet Shaoke paid them no mind. He had no doubt that these cavalrymen—seasoned veterans of years spent defending Bloody Fortress—feared no bandits.