"No money?!"
Sampo's voice rose by an octave, but it lasted less than half a second.
His gaze flickered towards the silent, black-robed figure behind Stelle.
The surrounding air was distorting from the high temperature, and visible white steam was rising.
Sampo performed a Sichuan opera-like face-changing act.
"What am I saying!"
He enthusiastically slapped his forehead, his smile so bright it could melt ice and snow.
"So what if there's no money? I, Sampo Koski, love making friends above all else! How can money measure the great friendship that is about to be born between us!"
As he spoke, he very naturally gave Phainon a thumbs-up.
"To be able to travel with this big brother, that is truly... Sampo's greatest honor!"
Stelle and March 7th exchanged glances, both seeing four big words in the other's eyes — "We don't believe you."
Although this man was unreliable from the tips of his hair to his heels.
He was indeed the only guide in this vast snowy plain.
Instead of wandering aimlessly, it was better to let him lead the way.
So, under Sampo's enthusiastic guidance, the four embarked on a "secret path" to Belobog.
Along the way, Sampo's chatter almost never stopped.
From the history of Jarilo-VI's blizzards, to the urban legends of Belobog, and then to his archenemies — the Silvermane Guards.
March 7th and Stelle listened on and off, still clinging to Phainon's sides, drawing warmth to ward off the severe cold.
Dan Heng maintained a not-too-far, not-too-close distance, silently following ahead.
Just then.
"Wait." Dan Heng spoke abruptly, silencing even the garrulous Sampo.
In the wind and snow, the heavy, uniform footsteps of people treading on snow could be heard.
Soon, a line of guards in silver armor, holding gleaming spears, emerged like ghosts from behind the curtain of snow, blocking their path.
A fleeting hint of surprise flashed across Sampo's face, immediately replaced by an expression of panic.
He lowered his voice, his tone filled with just the right amount of fear and trembling.
"Oh my goodness... remember what I told you about the Silvermane Guards? It's... it's them..."
He looked at Phainon and Dan Heng with an almost pleading, desperate gaze.
"Help me out, buddies! I don't want to spend the rest of my life in jail!"
The Iron Guard captain at the front immediately locked onto Sampo, sharply stamping his spear, producing a crisp metallic clang.
"Wanted criminal found! And his accomplices! Arrest them immediately!"
"No, how did we become accomplices?" March 7thasked, her face full of confusion.
Just as the Iron Guards aggressively approached, Sampo's figure quietly slid backward.
"If not now, when will we run!"
Everyone looked in the direction of the voice, only to see Sampo already retreated more than ten meters away.
"Friends! I'll leave this to you!"
Sampo even waved at them, and the next moment, he pulled out a smoke bomb from his pocket, slammed it on the ground, and his figure completely disappeared into the swirling smoke and snow.
March 7th stomped her foot in anger, "Hey! You liar—"
Before she finished speaking, she felt the heat source beside her suddenly vanish.
Dan Heng's pupils slightly contracted; he only caught a lingering image that almost merged with the shadows.
Phainon was gone... At a secluded mountain hollow.
Sampo brushed the snowflakes from his body, leisurely and at ease, as if everything was under control.
"The protagonist has finally arrived..."
He hummed a tune, happily muttering to himself.
"But... who exactly is that masked fellow? I haven't seen anyone like him in 'The Tavern'..."
"My name is..."
A cold voice sounded right behind his ear.
"Flame Reaver..."
"Flame Reaver? Is that even a nam—" Sampo's voice abruptly cut off.
He composed himself, not turning around, not panicking, not even smiling.
A scorching temperature emanated from behind him, dispelling the cold.
At this moment, Sampo truly realized what kind of existence he had provoked!
He turned around, revealing an awkward yet polite smile, "...Buddy, how did you catch up?"
Phainon spoke in a deep voice, "Catching you is easier than catching a cat."
"Catching a cat?"
Sampo ignored Phainon's strange words.
He looked at the snow on the ground beneath his feet; there wasn't a single extra footprint.
It was as if the man behind him had literally grown out of his shadow.
"What exquisite skill! Truly a magnificent 'footsteps without a trace' technique!"
Sampo gave a thumbs-up, praising him sincerely, trying to close the distance between them.
"Judging by your attire and aura, you must be up to something earth-shattering, right? I wonder if I, your humble servant, have the honor to hear about it?"
The next moment, he changed his tone, "However... you must understand the rules of the road, right?"
"This Jarilo-VI is the stage I painstakingly set up."
"You can watch the show, but if you personally step onto the stage... that would break our rules of seeking entertainment."
[Current emotion: Joy (Laughter can soothe sorrow...)]
The will of destruction and the instinct of joy in his mind reached a bizarre balance, and the urge to collect entertainment once again took the high ground.
Phainon looked at Sampo calmly, the corners of his mouth slightly upturned.
He spoke unhurriedly, "Your stage... my protagonist..."
Sampo was stunned at first, then his pupils suddenly constricted.
This madman! He wasn't here to steal the show! He was here to steal the role!
"Are you talking about the grey-haired sister? I understand! I understand everything!"
He slapped his thigh, "So that's it! You're not here to cause trouble! We are kindred spirits!"
"You are also building a grand stage for her... for that born protagonist, right?!"
However, Phainon still stood in the wind and snow, like an unchanging ancient statue, neither affirming nor denying.
Seeing that he was unyielding, Sampo steeled himself.
As a follower of "Joy," he possessed means to peer into the essence of people's hearts.
He concentrated his mind, a faint light flashing in his eyes, piercing directly into the cold golden mask, wanting to see through everything behind it.
Just a glimpse!
Just a corner of the memories of eternal reincarnation!
In over thirty million fragmented images.
It was the same figure, wielding a sword again and again, and being crushed again and again, an endless wail!
"Ugh—"
Sampo suddenly covered his mouth with both hands, desperately suppressing the intense nausea that surged from deep within his chest!
That couldn't even be described as pain!
"You!"
His voice trembled.
"What exactly have you been through? Is this even considered living?"