Shadowmire Wraith’s face turned grim as he spoke.
Ethan Stone was the disciple he valued the most, the one he had hoped would one day bear the responsibility of reviving the Bloodspire Sect. Yet now, Ethan Stone had been rendered powerless.
For a Solstice-level master, damage to the Solstice was akin to becoming a cripple.
Ethan Stone’s face was pale, his voice full of despair as he shouted, “Chris, I will kill you!”
He turned to Shadowmire Wraith, his expression filled with grief and fury. “Master, you must kill Chris! Avenge me!”
Shadowmire Wraith gritted his teeth and replied, “Rest assured, I will kill Chris! Right now, I will issue a bounty-five hundred thousand Essence Stones. Chris must die!”
The moment the bounty was announced, it sent shockwaves throughout Great Lyria.
Countless Aetherbinding practitioners across the land lost themselves in a frenzy, scouring every corner for Chris. Killing him would not only earn the ten thousand Essence Stones already offered by the Great Lyria High Sovereign but also the fifty thousand from Shadowmire Wraith-a total of sixty thousand Essence Stones.
For an ordinary Aetherbinding practitioner, such a fortune was beyond imagination, a wealth they could hardly dream of earning in a lifetime.
By then, Great Lyria had already plunged into winter. Snow fell almost daily, covering the land in a blanket of white.
Chris and Lindsay Windson huddled in a mountain cave, warming themselves by a fire.
Chris retrieved some rations and water from his storage ring, handing them to Lindsay Windson. Supplies were running low, and in a few days, they would run out completely. When that happened, Chris would have no choice but to search for food.
Lindsay Windson looked at him curiously. “Mr. Shelby, where do you think we are in Great Lyria?”
Since arriving in Aethelgard, Lindsay Windson had faced one danger after another. Yet now, she felt little fear. As long as Chris was with her, she felt safe. She couldn’t quite explain why she had such unwavering trust in him.
“Let me check,” Chris replied, pulling out a map and studying it carefully.
Meanwhile, countless Aetherbinding practitioners were hunting for Chris. Among them were dozens of Solstice-level masters, not to mention an uncountable number of Pinnacle and Aether-level practitioners. They all had one goal: to find and kill Chris.
And it wasn’t just human pursuers. A Skyclaw Tiger, furious after Chris had stolen its treasures, was also on his trail. The beast had already slain hundreds of Great Lyria practitioners in its pursuit and was now closing in. Its sole purpose was to kill Chris and reclaim what was stolen.
Far from the icy wilderness, atop a towering peak in Great Lyria, stood a sprawling complex of magnificent buildings. This was none other than the Artisans’ Guild, one of Aethelgard’s four great Aetherbinding sects.
The Artisans’ Guild was powerful yet shrouded in mystery, maintaining a low profile over the years. Surrounding the guild was an enormous illusionary formation that spanned hundreds of miles, making it nearly impossible for outsiders to locate.
In stark contrast to Great Lyria’s frigid winter, the Artisans’ Guild was a haven of perpetual spring, filled with blooming flowers and birdsong.
Inside a grand hall of the guild sat a woman of unparalleled beauty, poised gracefully upon a lotus throne.
If Chris were here, he would instantly recognize her. She was Faeryheart, the very woman who had saved his life not long ago.
“Who could have imagined,” Faeryheart mused with a look of amazement, “that this Chris would stir such chaos across Great Lyria all on his own.”
Not far from her stood a young maiden in the bloom of youth.
Chris would also recognize her immediately. She was Emily, the person he had been searching for all this time.
Before Emily lay a beast resembling a leopard, its body still and motionless.
This creature was none other than Stripes, the Thunder Leopard that had fallen from a cliff.
Though it appeared lifeless, Stripes was merely in a deep slumber.
“Master,” Emily asked curiously, “why hasn’t this Thunder Leopard woken up after so many days?”
It turned out that after arriving in Aethelgard, Emily had crossed paths with Faeryheart, the Hall Master of the Artisans’ Guild. Recognizing Emily’s exceptional talent, Faeryheart had taken her as a disciple and brought her to the guild.
Faeryheart responded calmly, “It suffered severe injuries and needs time to recover.”
“But Master,” Emily pressed, her brows furrowing, “doesn’t the Artisans’ Guild have plenty of healing elixirs? Why not give it one?”
Faeryheart patiently explained, “This Thunder Leopard isn’t like ordinary ones. It doesn’t need elixirs because it’s evolving into a higher form of itself.”
“What? Evolving?” Emily exclaimed, her face filled with disbelief.
Most beasts were born with a fixed level of power, their potential determined at birth. Only a rare few possessed the ability to evolve.
Faeryheart smiled kindly at her. “Go practice now. Strive to reach the Solstice level as soon as possible.”
Emily nodded. “Alright!”
With that, the two left the hall, leaving Stripes alone in the vast chamber.
The Thunder Leopard lay motionless, save for the faint sound of its heartbeat, which was the only sign it was still alive.
Chris, trudging through the snowy wilderness, could never have imagined that Stripes was at the Artisans’ Guild, let alone undergoing a second evolution.
The following day, Chris and Lindsay Windson emerged from their cave.
Thanks to Chris’s guidance, Lindsay had advanced to the mid-Pinnacle level. While not particularly remarkable by Aethelgard’s standards, it was enough to give her a measure of self-defense.
However, Chris realized something troubling: they were lost.
He was certain they were far from Great Lyria’s capital, Silver Crown. The vast, frozen landscape stretched endlessly around them.
Based on the map, Chris deduced that they were in Great Lyria’s northern frontier. Beyond this region lay the arctic zones of Aethelgard, an unforgiving land of glaciers and extreme cold.
The two pressed on through the snow, their progress slow and arduous. Only their Aetherbinding abilities kept them alive; ordinary people would have perished long ago.
Suddenly, Chris stopped in his tracks.
“Mr. Shelby, what’s wrong?” Lindsay Windson asked, her voice tinged with concern.
Chris frowned. “Lindsay, something feels off here.”