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Days passed.
And though the rhythms of daily life slowly returned to the barbarian lands, the absence of the old Khagan left behind a void. It was a story turned legend, one that would forever be etched into the memory of this frozen tundra.
The wind howled endlessly. The snow never stopped falling. Darkness and cold would remain the eternal backdrop of this land.
One day, Meng Xingxian ordered the guards stationed outside the Deathless Tomb to stand down, then led thousands of direwolves toward its entrance.
The sight before them was strange and desolate. Gigantic, translucent ice pillars jutted from the ground at every angle, stabbing toward the sky like the fangs of some ancient beast. Two towering walls of ice rose ahead, forming a passageway that led deep into the unseen distance.
Meng Xingxian tilted her head upward and spotted them. Two eerie, pitch-black crows were perched atop the frozen wall, one on the left, one on the right, watching her silently.
She raised her voice slightly and called, “Sister-in-law.”
One crow tilted its head, glossy black eyes unblinking, and then spoke in a hoarse, rasping voice, “You…you’re Ranran’s wife.”
Meng Xingxian nodded slowly. “Father-in-law has passed away. Grand Matron Tang has taken his remains.” She hesitated, then softened her tone. “You don’t need to guard this place anymore.”
The crow fell silent.
She waited patiently, her posture calm and respectful. Then, gently, she tried again. “Come with me. It’s bitterly cold here. You shouldn’t suffer in this place any longer.”
The crow cocked its head, seeming to deliberate…then...
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