A half-crescent blood moon hung in the night sky, like the eye of an ancient mythic realm, spilling eerie crimson light. Shana followed Feto toward the steep cliff face, their boots leaving a winding trail in the snow. Her breath frosted in the dark air, but she didn’t feel cold—she’d followed the guards’ instructions and worn a warm yet lightweight black leather coat.
“This part’s steep, watch your step!” Feto called over his shoulder.
“I’ve got it!” Shana spotted the broken rock outcrop and carefully stepped onto it.
Climbing felt novel and thrilling, an experience she’d never had on her southern island home. Though some spots looked dangerous, Feto’s warnings helped her navigate them safely.
The Wolf God Mountains stretched long and winding, their snow-covered peaks rolling endlessly. Wolfblade Peak was the most hostile to humans among them. The wind howled like a razor in the cold night, a sound as shrill as the dying cries of common folk; trees jutted like broken blades, huddled miserably in rock crevices and gullies, offering no handholds for climbers; the rocks were as smooth as wolf blades, rendering even the divine humans’ lightness of foot useless.
At first, Shana didn’t understand why the human legion would place an outpost in such a treacherous spot. Then Feto told her it was precisely because of the danger that werewolves would struggle to find it. She almost believed him—until after two hours of climbing, she realized his explanation might have been polite. The path was second nature to him; the only one struggling was her…
But even so, she didn’t regret coming to the outer lands. She’d seen wonders she’d never imagined before: she’d ridden across a wind-eroded stone bridge flanked by nothing but deep black chasms; before splitting from the rangers, she’d seen a mountain meadow covered in ice-blue tough grass; while climbing, she’d watched eagles nesting on sheer cliffs, and shadow bats spew purple smoke under the blood moon.
None of this existed on Mandala Island!
Even better than the sights was the fact that this was a journey just for her and him. Ever since taking the ranger mission, Shana had a hunch Feto would accompany her to the outer lands. Sure enough, on the morning she set off, fully armed Feto had been waiting for her by the stables. I was right about him—he’s on my side.
Over the past two days, the witch and the guard had been inseparable, talking more than ever. When the rangers reached the Wolf God Mountains, their six-person team split up: four would scout enemy movements near Wolf Fort, and two would deliver supplies to the outpost on Wolfblade Peak. Shana had chosen the second task without hesitation—simple reason: she wanted to create a chance to be alone with Feto. Do you want to climb a mountain?
After scaling the broken rocks, the path flattened out a bit. Shana and Feto crawled along the mountain’s flank, up, down, then up again… A wider path didn’t always mean safety. Twice, Shana stepped into snow holes that threatened to swallow her foot, but Feto pulled her up just in time. He’s so strong…
She caught a whiff of his scent—sweat mixed with faint tobacco—and her heart fluttered, her cheeks turning pink. Should I pretend to trip, give him a chance? Her eyes lingered on his broad back, and her thoughts began to wander.
Suddenly, Feto stopped, and Shana bumped straight into him.
“Oof.” She clung to his thick shoulders. What’s he doing? Did he do this on purpose…
“Why’d you stop all of a sudden…” Shana’s voice was tinged with playful irritation.
Then she saw it: beside a thick snow-covered rock stood a figure in black. Who is that?
The witch quickly pulled away from Feto, staring at the figure warily, her right hand slipping into her sleeve to grab a potion. He was gaunt, his left hand wrapped around a longsword, a faint scar slicing across his face, his eyes sharp as a hawk’s. Though he said nothing, an aura of quiet authority emanated from him. Could this be “Broken Sword” Sean?
Shana had a hunch. Over the past two days, she’d heard Feto talk about the Great Wall’s legendary chief ranger. Sean was a swordsman from the distant east. He’d once fought the Queen’s Iron Guard “Brown Man” for a full day and night at the capital’s tournament, shattering nine longswords and nine spears between them, ending in a draw. The Queen had declared them joint champions, and after that, Sean was promoted to the Queen’s Iron Guard, earning the title “Broken Sword”.
But not long after, Sean had offended the royal family over a trivial matter. The Queen dismissed him and exiled him to the Great Wall. After arriving, he’d briefly served as a scholar’s guard, then fell in love with the ranger role. Unlike most who feared the dangerous outer lands, Sean relished exploring and watching over the snowfields. Rangers weren’t a permanent position at the Great Wall, but Broken Sword had requested to stay at the outpost full-time, making it his sole duty.
So this was the legendary Broken Sword. Shana felt a flicker of disappointment. She’d imagined him as tall and handsome as Feto, but he was a short, middle-aged man.
“New girl?” the man spoke up.
New girl? I’m a ten-talented genius magical beauty! Shana retorted: “Call me Sister Na. I’m a witch. Are you Sean, the Great Wall’s chief ranger?”
The man shook his head. “No.”
Did I guess wrong? Shana froze, looking at Feto.
Feto tossed the pack off his back. “‘Chief ranger’ is just something we call him privately. The Great Wall doesn’t have that official title or position.”
“If there was a ‘chief ranger’ title, it’d belong to Camon. I’ve only been a ranger for less than three hundred days; he had over five hundred.” Sean caught the pack, patted it hard, then asked: “Got salty bean paste in there?”
“Yeah, but plain flavor. Camon had someone buy a pack from Awakening City like you asked. He was going to stir-fry it himself, but… he didn’t get the chance…”
“Ah, old Camon…” Sean strapped the pack to his back. “Still haven’t found the killer?”
“Everyone knows it was a werewolf, but…” Feto shook his head. “Now that Ray’s away from the wall, Lady Rae has the badge. She’s still looking for the real culprit…” His voice trailed off, suddenly lacking confidence.
“I’ll avenge him.” Sean’s voice was low.
Even the Prophet can’t find the killer, and you’re over here bragging! Shana curled her lip. She’d never met Camon, but she’d heard he was the Great Wall’s former quartermaster, killed just days before the witch coven arrived at Shield Fort. Feto had told her Camon was a commoner, but he’d earned great respect in the legion thanks to his careful, thoughtful nature and unmatched cooking skills.
But Sean would name him chief ranger? That was surprising! Does that mean a quartermaster who can’t cook isn’t a good ranger?
While the witch was lost in her silly thoughts, Sean suddenly said: “Little witch, you got any healing red potions?”
Little witch? Who’s little! Shana seethed. Even your boss Ray treats me with respect—who do you think you are? Don’t think I’m scared of you just because you’re a tournament champion and former Queen’s Iron Guard!
She shot him a glare. “My name is Sister Na, not ‘little witch’. And while I do have healing potions, I rarely use them to save people—I prefer to brew blind poisons instead! So watch your tone!”