On the Dahuá border.

“Report, Your Excellency. The thirteen nations’ strike force totaled 301 elite fighters, including thirteen senior warlords. All targets have been neutralized. Zero casualties on our side. Please advise!”

“Clean up the field. Pull the team back.”

Under the burning sun, Amadeus Frost, the Northern Warden and one of Dahuá’s Four Heavenly Kings, gave a slight nod. His face was unreadable as usual. He was just about to board the helicopter when another shout cut through the air.

“Your Excellency, urgent dispatch from Hanjiang City!”

“Read it!”

The moment the name Hanjiang City came out, something in Amadeus’s steady, emotionless expression wavered.

Hanjiang City—his roots.

And his only remaining family, his elder brother Lysander Frost, was still there.

“Urgent dispatch from Hanjiang City. Lysander Frost… fell from a building. Confirmed dead.”

“What did you just say?”

The message wasn’t even fully read when Amadeus abruptly shot to his feet.

A chilling wave of killing intent exploded across the battlefield.

The vast jungle seemed to turn into a frozen hell, and the communications soldier standing closest to Amadeus went weak in the knees and collapsed on the spot.

Amadeus snatched the report from the soldier’s trembling hands. The moment his eyes caught that line, his aura sank into an even deeper cold. His nose stung, and before he realized it, his vision blurred.

Tears—something long forgotten by a man who had crawled his way out of mountains of corpses—silently welled up.

Frustration. Grief. Pain.

Amadeus Frost, who had witnessed more life and death than most could imagine, had almost forgotten what those words felt like.

Amadeus Frost never expected that the moment news of his brother’s death reached him, all those emotions he had buried so deep would slam back into his chest like a tidal wave.

Men don’t cry unless it truly breaks them—turns out this was that moment.

“L‑Lord… Your Excellency… there’s also a scanned copy of a final letter.”

The communications soldier didn’t even dare lift his head. After hesitating again and again, he finally raised Lysander Frost’s suicide note above his head with trembling hands.

Amadeus didn’t say a word. He snatched the letter straight from him.

“Brother, it’s been ten years since you left home. You vanished without a trace. I don’t even know if this letter will ever reach you.”

“Eight years ago, I married your sister‑in‑law, Yvette Grayson. She never looked down on me for being poor. She fought past all the gossip in her family and still chose to be with me. She even gave me a daughter—your niece, Sabrina Frost.”

“Brother, ever since you left to join the army at sixteen, we haven’t seen each other for a full decade. I really want to see what you look like in uniform now. You’re my little brother—Amadeus Frost could never turn out wrong.”

“My only regret in this life… is your sister‑in‑law and your niece. If you ever read this letter, take care of them for me. That’s my last wish.”

“Brother, I’m useless. I’m leaving. Help me look after them—Lysander Frost.”

When he finished the last line, the document slipped from Amadeus’s fingers and drifted silently to the ground. His vision blurred completely.

He could never forget how, after their parents died, Lysander carried the weight of raising him alone. How Lysander once stole a loaf of bread just so Amadeus could eat, almost beaten to death for it.

He could never forget the time he fell seriously ill, and Lysander carried him down the street, kneeling to every passerby, begging for help to save his little brother.

He could never, ever forget the day he boarded the train to join the military—how Lysander’s eyes shone with tears and pride all at once.

His departure back then… had drained every drop of life from Lysander.

“Your Excellency, please… accept my condolences.”

Fletcher Buffett, Amadeus’s personal guard, knew better than anyone that the colder Amadeus looked, the more terrifying he actually became.

He didn’t dare say much. He just stood at attention beside him, tears in his eyes, silently sharing in his grief.

“Fletcher.”

“Yes, sir!”

"Get me a private military jet to Hanjiang. I need to be there tonight."

"Yes, sir!"

Fletcher Buffett snapped a crisp salute, then hesitated for a second. "Heavenly Sovereign… are you going back to honor your brother? Should I prepare anything?"

To Fletcher, Amadeus Frost wasn’t just his commander—he was the man who had pulled him back from the edge of death. And if Amadeus’s brother had fallen, then to Fletcher, that was his brother too.

The name Amadeus Frost alone was enough to shake the entire world. People used to say that as long as the Northern King stood guard, Dahua would never fear chaos.

But now? The Heavenly Sovereign was still out there fighting for the borders, keeping millions safe… and someone dared lay a hand on his family.

It was beyond outrageous.

Forget Fletcher—any soldier of Dahua who heard this would be furious.

"No need. My brother would never take his own life. Something about this reeks. I’m going to get to the bottom of it."

A cold gleam sliced through Amadeus’s eyes as he spoke, each word firm as steel.

"Understood! I’ll get everything ready immediately!"

Fletcher answered without hesitation and rushed out.

In his mind, it didn’t matter who the enemy was. If Amadeus wanted someone gone, he could wipe them out with a flick of his hand.

For ten years, Amadeus had stayed out of local affairs. Now that he was breaking that rule… the consequences would shake the heavens.

Three hours later.

At Hanjiang Airport, a military aircraft touched down quietly. When the cabin door opened, a man stepped out—his face strong and sharp as always, but shadowed by unmistakable grief.

This time, Amadeus returned with no entourage. Only Fletcher followed behind him.

He had already given strict orders: no alarm, no attention, and absolutely no interference from the local authorities.

This vengeance… he would take with his own hands.

After they got off the plane, the two of them grabbed a cab and headed straight for Lysander Frost’s place.

Sitting in the backseat, Amadeus Frost stared out at the city—familiar outlines wrapped in a layer of strangeness—his face calm as stone, but his heart was already crashing like a storm tide.

Brother, I’m back.

I came too late… please don’t blame me.

And don’t worry. I’ll look after Yvette and little Sabrina. I won’t let anything happen to them again.

As for the people who hurt you… whoever they are, I’ll make them pay.

Half an hour later.

The taxi rolled to a stop beside an old, run‑down siheyuan.

Fletcher Buffett paid the fare, then followed Amadeus as they headed toward Lysander’s home.

They finally halted in front of a faded red metal gate—the kind that creaked when touched—but today it was firmly shut, a lock dangling on the latch.

Amadeus’s brows tightened. Where were Yvette and Sabrina? His brother had just died—how could they not be home?

Noticing his confusion, Fletcher didn’t bother asking. He sprang up, landing neatly on the wall, and peeked into the courtyard.

“Sir, it’s dark inside. No one’s there.”

“What are you two doing? Climbing walls in the middle of the night—planning to rob someone?”

Before Fletcher could even jump down, an angry shout cut through the quiet.

An old man in a white tank top burst out from the courtyard across the way, gripping a shovel like he was ready to swing. His face was flushed with rage.

“Do you people have any decency left? The Frosts are already going through hell, and you still want to rob them?”

“Sir, wait—misunderstanding, total misunderstanding!” Fletcher scrambled down from the wall and gave a dry laugh. “We’re friends of Lysander Frost. We heard something happened to him, so we came to check on his family.”

“Pay them a visit?”

The old man froze for a second, lowering his shovel. He gave a slow shake of his head before letting out a long, tired sigh. “No need anymore. The Frost family… they’re gone. All of ’em.”

“What did you just say?”

Amadeus Frost’s voice dropped, sharp as a blade. A violent flicker flashed through his eyes, his whole presence tightening like a volcano about to blow.

“I said the Frost family is gone. Lysander Frost jumped off a building this afternoon… and about an hour ago, his wife, Yvette Grayson, hanged herself. Heaven help… what a tragedy.”

Amadeus narrowed his eyes. A cold, suffocating aura burst out of him, climbing straight to the sky.

The air shifted. Clouds rolled like they were being stirred by a storm brewing from his rage.