Chapter Four: Encounter with a Young Man in the Ice Cave

Thank you to Homebody Exclusive for the two recommendation tickets, and to Qianshang Yanhang for the four recommendation tickets.

Now, back to the story.

Suddenly, the sound of rustling came from outside. Muyang grabbed his Tang blade and stood at the entrance of the cave.

If it was a soul beast and could be killed with a single strike, he would do so; if not, he’d run. Ice caves could be found again, and though Muyang was undying and imperishable, he had no desire to experience pain.

Perhaps after healing hundreds of times, Muyang had developed a certain immunity to sound, but not wanting to feel pain and being immune to it were two different things. Muyang disliked the sensation of pain.

He had already considered what kind of soul beast it might be, but what caught him completely off guard was that the intruder was not a soul beast, but a youth.

The boy appeared to be around eleven or twelve years old, his figure well-proportioned, short black hair neat and tidy.

Muyang was momentarily stunned, then, without hesitation, he grabbed the scabbard of his Tang blade and swung it at the youth. In this desolate land of the Extreme North, the sudden appearance of a boy was highly suspicious.

Muyang’s intention was to knock the boy unconscious first, then interrogate him—if his presence related to Muyang’s mission, he might be useful. If not, he’d knock the boy out again and leave immediately.

But what Muyang didn’t expect was that the boy evaded his attack and, using unique footwork, quickly distanced himself from Muyang.

He looked at Muyang warily and asked, “Who are you?”

Muyang retorted, “I should be asking you that. Who are you, and why are you in my dwelling?”

“My dwelling? Are you a hundred-thousand-year soul beast in human form?” The boy stared intently at Muyang.

“Have you gone mad for soul rings? What nonsense! If I were a hundred-thousand-year soul beast, would I be this pathetic?”

Only then did the boy notice that Muyang’s clothing offered no protection against the cold, serving only to cover his modesty.

“I’ll leave now,” the boy said, turning to go, but would Muyang let him off so easily?

In the Extreme North, he couldn’t even light a fire, and every day he had to eat raw meat. If he didn’t extort something for his own comfort, Muyang felt he might lose his mind.

“What are you doing in the Extreme North?” Muyang asked, drawing his Tang blade.

The moment he unsheathed the blade, the boy’s gaze shifted from Muyang to the Tang blade.

“Where did you get that knife?” the boy asked.

“Why should I tell you?” Muyang replied, annoyed by the boy’s reaction. Besides, he couldn’t reveal anything the system had given him.

Suddenly, the boy darted toward the cave entrance, but Muyang wouldn’t let him escape.

He swung the Tang blade to block the exit, and the boy produced a dagger engraved with a white tiger pattern, slashing toward Muyang’s hand. If Muyang didn’t let go of the Tang blade, he would be injured.

But what the boy hadn’t accounted for was Muyang’s immortality—no matter how badly he was wounded, even if his hand was severed, it would heal within seconds.

From start to finish, Muyang had never intended to let the boy go; no matter how much damage he suffered, he was determined to extort something from the boy.

Slash.

The sound of Muyang’s tendons being cut, but with his other hand, he grabbed the scabbard and swung it at the boy.

The boy dodged, and Muyang’s severed tendons swiftly healed.

He charged at the boy again, utterly reckless, fighting as if trading life for life.

The boy was startled—not afraid of those who fear death, but those who disregard their own life…

(Guess who this boy is, which Douluo book he’s from, and what he’s here for. If you guess correctly, the author will add a plot for the first person to do so in the novel!)