Millennium Witch

Book 3: Chapter 265: The Snow Priestess

The adventurers were a four-person party, made up of three humans and one dwarf. Aside from the only woman, who was an apothecary, the remaining two humans and the dwarf were all magic warriors—a lineup that was a bit unbalanced.They were being chased by five Icefield Wolves, all at the mid-tier magical beast level, and were clearly in bad shape. The dwarf warrior’s axe blade already had several jagged chips in it, and the human captain’s shield was twisted out of shape, on the verge of total collapse. Without some stroke of fate, given how isolated and helpless they were out on the Snowfields, the ending would almost certainly be death.

Very soon, Yvette’s figure emerged from the shadows, appearing not far from the four-person party.

Then she released a blue runic ring, and a gigantic yet paper-thin ice blade—at least fifty meters across—swept out along the ground, instantly slicing cleanly through the tightly packed formation of five Icefield Wolves.

From the Icefang Party’s point of view, they saw only a faint blue gleam sweep past, so fast it might as well have been an illusion. Then, in the next instant, the upper halves of the five Icefield Wolves suddenly slid apart like stacks of bowls collapsing, their bodies neatly bisected. Their lower halves—bellies and legs together—tumbled to the ground, while their upper backs and ferocious heads continued to lunge forward under inertia, sliding more than ten meters along the glassy ice at the cut, smearing out five blinding streaks of scarlet.

A deathly silence settled over the Snowfields, broken only by the faint keening sound the wind made as it skimmed across the ice-smooth cut surfaces. All four members of the Icefang Party froze on the spot, the blood draining from their faces.

One moment, they’d been trapped in a desperate situation, about to be taken down by a terrifying Snowfield wolf pack. The next, the wolves had all dropped dead, and in such a horribly gruesome way at that. It was enough to make their skin crawl.

What in the world had just happened?

Had some even more terrifying monster set its sights on them?

Only then did they abruptly focus their gazes on the gray figure standing atop a snowdrift.

Though her hood hid her features, the smooth skin of the lower half of her exposed face and her somewhat slender frame both suggested that this was a very young woman.

The four of them exchanged looks at once. Amid their fear and uncertainty, a faint glimmer of hope appeared. The methods she’d shown were terrifying, yes, but she was clearly human, and she’d only killed the beasts—not them. That ought to mean she bore them no ill will.

One of them, a burly middle-aged man, was the first to snap back to his senses.

He tossed aside his nearly ruined shield, staggered forward, and bent deeply toward Yvette. “Thank you, honored one, for saving our lives! We’re the Icefang Party. I’m Leif, the captain. May we ask who you are?”

The other three hurried to bow as well, offering their thanks even as their eyes were drawn, almost against their will, to the shadow beneath her hood, trying to catch a glimpse of this mysterious powerhouse’s face.

Yvette didn’t react much to this. She simply inclined her head a little, then reached under her cloak, took out a small wooden carving, and tossed it to the Icefang Party’s captain, the big man called Leif.

Leif caught the figurine on reflex and saw that it was carved in the shape of a young girl. Her face was indistinct, but her posture was elegant. Though it was made of wood, its surface seemed to carry a gentle luster under the reflection of the snow, marking it as no ordinary trinket.

He blinked, not quite understanding what this mysterious savior meant by this, and then heard Yvette’s voice cut through the cold wind, calm and chilled. “Give thanks to the God of Serendipity. It was Her guidance that led me this way to save you. This is a holy statue of the Silver Witch. It may bring you some measure of protection.”

With that said, she turned into a gust of wind and snow and vanished from where she stood.

“The God of Serendipity… the Silver Witch…” Captain Leif muttered, repeating the two true names under his breath.

He was a native of the Snow Country—in other words, one of the so-called Snowfield barbarians who lived long-term in Winterwolf City under the Winterwolf Clan. Naturally, he wasn’t unfamiliar with the God of Serendipity, the Silver Witch.

But normally, his faith in Her was the casual kind at best. He had never imagined that one day he would receive an oracle in the flesh and be saved by a god’s intervention.

It was like something out of a dream—utterly unbelievable.

The three companions beside him were just as stunned. Once they were sure the mysterious girl had really left, the apothecary asked, “Captain, could you tell who she was? To kill five Icefield Wolves in a single strike—that’s ridiculous! Could she really have been sent by the God of Serendipity?”

As she spoke, the apothecary glanced at the gruesome remains of the Icefield Wolves. All five beasts had been mid-tier magical beasts, and the alpha was nearly high-tier. Their four-person party, each of them a silver- to gold-ranked adventurer, had still been no match for the pack.

To kill five mid-tier magical beasts in one blow… that had to be at least near Archmage level, right? How could someone like that just happen to show up nearby and step in to save them? Was it really divine will?

The dwarf warrior suddenly seemed to remember something. He lowered his voice and said, “What if she was… that one from the legends?”

“Which one?” asked the last member of the party, a relatively lean barbarian magic swordsman.

The dwarf warrior drew a breath, the freezing air filling his lungs and calming him a little. In a hushed tone, he said, “The guardian of the Snowfields, the guide in the blizzards, who appears now and then to save the lost—the Snow Priestess.”

“The Snow Priestess?!” the apothecary cried out.

“Yeah. It’s gotta be her!” Leif said, slapping his thigh in excitement. “The stories say the Snow Priestess comes and goes like a ghost, wielding unbelievable power. She always shows up at the moment of crisis to save travelers shrouded in misfortune, and she vanishes without a trace afterward. Doesn’t that match what we just saw perfectly?”

This guess spread through the four of them like wildfire. Compared to some completely unknown, unfathomable powerhouse, the long-circulating legend of the “Snow Priestess” was far easier to accept as an explanation for what had just happened—and far better at soothing their shaken hearts. In past tales, the Snow Priestess was always described as a servant or avatar of the Snow Emperor. But now, for the first time, they truly understood—so that was it. The one the Snow Priestess really served was the God of Serendipity, the Silver Witch who ruled over good fortune!

This was earth-shattering news!

While Yvette, without knowing it, had accidentally piggybacked on the legend of the Snow Priestess, somewhere else—in the Snow Emperor Temple of Icehammer City—the real Snow Priestess, Shuanghua, was sitting in a meditation chamber reserved only for high-ranking clergy, facing an old man with snow-white hair and beard clad in a white robe embroidered with snowflake patterns.

The old man’s face was kindly, his wrinkles like the growth rings of a thousand-year-old tree, etched with the weight of time. Yet his eyes were clear and deep, not clouded in the least, as if they could see straight into a person’s heart.

He was the Great Prophet of the Snow Country, Esvia Solomon.

“How are things going with what I asked you to do?” Shuanghua’s voice sounded in the quiet meditation chamber, as calmly as ever—but if one listened carefully, one could catch the faintest thread of expectation in it. That sort of girlish sentiment hadn’t appeared on her for at least a hundred years.

Esvia listened quietly, the gentle smile on his face unchanged. What Shuanghua had asked of him was to use the Snow Emperor Temple’s influence in Icehammer City to try to establish shrines or small sanctums for the Silver Witch, guiding the people to learn about and believe in this goddess.

But aside from Shuanghua herself, anyone with the slightest bit of common sense would probably find this idea utterly incomprehensible. After all, the Snow Emperor Temple was meant to serve the Snow Emperor. Its clergy were devout in their faith in Him. How could they suddenly switch to spreading the faith of another god?

Esvia let out a soft sigh and said patiently, “Your Highness, I’m afraid your wish will be very difficult to carry out.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ve forgotten,” Esvia said slowly, “that many years ago it was you, personally, who expressed the wish that the Snow Emperor Temple not be overly tainted by worldly disputes. And so all these years, including myself as this so-called Great Prophet, what we have done in the Snow Country is merely to convey the Snow Emperor’s mercy and soothe the believers’ hearts. We have never taken the initiative to involve ourselves in any concrete struggles for power.”

He paused, then went on. “The real power lies in the ritual councils of the four great clans. Those shamans and ritual priests pledge their loyalty first and foremost to their own clan elders. Unless you personally descend an oracle, neither I nor this temple can compare to a single word from one of those elders who truly hold power. Do you understand, Your Highness?”

The meditation chamber fell into a long silence, broken only by the faint crackle of snow-pine incense burning in the censer.

Only after a long while did Shuanghua answer, barely audibly, “Very well, then.”

Her voice was still as calm and level as ever, but after so many years dealing with the Snow Emperor, Esvia could easily hear the faint disappointment hidden within it.

“Thank you for your understanding, Your Highness,” he said with a smile, then watched as Shuanghua turned into a flurry of wind and snow and vanished to who knew where.

He silently gazed at the spot where she had just been sitting. Given what he knew of Her Highness’s usual temperament, a strange thought rose suddenly in his mind.

Though she seemed to have changed her mind, he knew the Snow Emperor had always been a very stubborn god. It was just that this personality was hidden beneath an exterior that rarely showed emotion, making it hard to notice.

So would She really give up that easily?

Esvia was almost certain the answer was no.

But without the help of the Snow Emperor Temple, what would She do?

Would She actually set aside her divine dignity and personally go out to preach for another god? Like some ordinary missionary?

As that absurd scene played out in his mind, the Great Prophet’s expression gradually grew odd. He hurriedly closed his eyes, trying to enter a meditative state and drive out those messy, irreverent thoughts.