Meanwhile, Extreme Cold Hell received two unusual guests, like snow blown into a silent cave.

In a crowded quarter, a whoosh of light pricked the air, then two peerless girls appeared, mirror-like twins save for clothes, hair, and eye color.

The crowd rippled like reeds in wind. Teleportation needs an SSS-grade Grand Magus, and silent arrival screams Sacred Realm or higher.

They looked sixteen, maybe seventeen, faces like fresh frost. Such young Sacred experts exist, but every name is a thunderclap.

Veteran adventurers frowned like stone owls. No one knew these two. That shouldn’t happen—unless they were from the Mizumi Clan of the Central Continent.

The guess died like a spark in snow. The Central Continent is a holy garden; why would the Mizumi Clan come suffer in this ice prison?

Eyes piled on the girls like falling hail—curious, wary, greedy, lovestruck—each gaze a different blade of cold.

“Oh? Such exquisite beauty!” A handsome, frivolous youth stepped out, his smile a slick sheen, an elder trailing behind like a shadow.

“Young master, don’t rush,” the elder murmured, worry like mist. “If they’re backed by a great peak, it’ll be trouble. They look Sacred Realm.”

“Hmph.” The youth’s pride bristled like a wolf’s fur. “Who in the Northern Abyss Continent stands above the Basiloth Empire?”

He lifted his chin like a banner. “I’m at Holy Peak, and I’ll step into Divine Novice soon. My talent’s not beneath theirs.”

On the Northern Abyss Continent, Basiloth is what Eastern Moon Empire is to Eastern Moon Continent, a sun that burns its map.

“Let’s hope this doesn’t spiral,” the elder sighed, his breath a thin cloud.

The youth was Diak Basiloth, Basiloth’s brightest prince, a storm favored by the Emperor. His arrogance walked like a blade.

The nearby crowd opened a path like a river under wind. Diak snorted, a cold note skipping across ice.

The two girls were Yugami Rexiao and Yugami Rexi, sisters who had left the Mizumi Clan to search for their brother in this frozen abyss.

Rexiao’s heart fluttered like a sparrow. It was her first time seeing so many people, a tide of faces in a white valley.

“Lingsaki, look! Humans!” she whispered, tugging Lingsaki’s hand, eyes shining like stars scattered on snow.

Her joy dimmed like dusk. Too many eyes crawled like ants; their stares felt dirty, a film of soot on skin.

“Lingxiao, calm down.” Lingsaki’s brow tightened like a drawn bow. The air tasted wrong, like ash and iron compared to the Central Continent.

Breath felt heavy, like wearing wet wool. Their mood slid from spring to sleet, excitement sinking under gray clouds.

Diak stopped before them like a peacock on ice. “Ladies, your names?” he purred. “Come to my humble place. I’ll treat you well.”

His words wore silk, but his eyes were knives. Lust and greed climbed like ivy, shameless under the pale sky.

“You’re disgusting. Get lost.” Rexiao yanked Lingsaki back, feet skimming the snow like swallows, putting cold space between them.

“Bug, scram. Don’t stain my sight.” Lingsaki’s voice chilled like nightfall, and the Book of Night rested in her hand like a crescent moon.

The crowd cracked into laughter, a brittle crash like breaking ice. Diak’s face went green, a mossy bruise under frost.

He swallowed a shard of pride, then hissed, “Good, good, good.” His tone dripped poison like pitch in snow.

“If you won’t drink the toast, you’ll drink the penalty,” he growled, eyes like winter daggers. “Let’s see if you still act arrogant.”

He drew a luxurious wand, its pressure pressing like a glacier’s weight. The aura screamed artifact, a star caged in gold.

“An insect below Sacred Realm dares raise a hand?” Rexiao’s tone cooled like a silent pond. Bad luck reeked like smoke.

“Later, I’ll raise both hands on you—in bed!” Diak laughed without shame, his cackle a cracked bell even the elder disliked.

“Lingsaki.” Rexiao’s voice was a lined blade, emotion first and sharp.

“Mm. I know.” Lingsaki’s reply fell like a dark petal. Both opened their Rule Books, pages whispering like snowflakes.

Diak layered himself in an SSS-grade defense, light wrapping him like frozen glass. He steadied, bolstered by the Emperor’s defensive artifact.

“Come on,” he sneered, doubt ringing like tin. “No way you’re Sacred Realm. That teleport was an artifact’s trick.”

Behind him, the elder gathered power like coals under ash, ready to flare if danger struck.

The sisters ignored his barking, flipping to sacred attack pages, fingers moving like clear water.

“Book of Day, page two hundred thirty—Divine Thunder.” Rexiao’s voice rang like a temple bell in sunlight.

“Book of Night, page two hundred twenty-five—Dark Flame.” Lingsaki’s tone flowed like ink spilling from midnight.

Boom.

White and black surged like twin dragons. The blast shredded Diak’s defense like paper, no resistance, no mercy.

“Ah—!” His scream tore the air like a pig dragged to slaughter, raw and ugly, a stain on the cold.

The twin energies exploded, a sun and a new moon colliding. Diak flew like a rag, slammed into an iceberg, then tumbled.

He hit the ground like a broken kite. Only the defensive artifact kept him from becoming ash on snow.

It was an instant kill, clean as a sword stroke, no suspense, just thunder and dark.

It happened too fast, like lightning over a frozen lake. The elder never even found time to move.

Someone in the crowd sighed, a breath like wind through reeds. “People only die when they court death.”