Chapter 449: Chapter 449

Tʜe sourcᴇ of thɪs content ɪs 𝙣𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙡⁂𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔢⁂𝘯𝘦𝘵

Just as the Nine Flames Tribe teetered on the edge of chaos, Naran reappeared upon this land.

He rode astride a two-headed direwolf, and behind him surged a tide of thousands more.

Cradled in his arms, resting sideways along the great direwolf’s back, sat a girl draped in a silver veil, ethereal and serene.

As the tribespeople swarmed forward to greet him, Naran raised his golden axe high into the air, waving it triumphantly.

He declared in a thunderous voice, “We ventured deep into the frozen wilderness and met danger head-on. The brave warriors who followed me have now joined the ranks of the Divine Solar Empire and rest in the arms of the Sunmother.”

He paused, letting the words settle, then his voice rose again with fiery vigor, “But the Sunmother has not abandoned us. She has blessed our tribe with mighty new allies, the two-headed direwolves!”

Lifting both arms, his voice rang out with fervent devotion, “Praise be to the Sunmother!”

But in response, there was only silence.

The crowd stared, stunned, at the monstrous wolves with their dual snarling maws. These beasts made the once-feared direwolves seem like harmless pups by comparison.

“Praise the Sunmother!” Naran bellowed again.

And this time, the wolves behind him answered, not with growls, but with a low, coordinated chorus of deep howls. The air trembled. It was as if hundreds of elite warriors had released their killing intent at once. The surrounding area was blanketed with invisible pressure.

A chill ran through every barbarian present. But it wasn't fear that took root in their hearts, it was excitement and elation.

Such power…were these creatures truly a divine gift?

Regardless of the truth, one thing was certain. Any warrior who rode a two-headed wolf would be far more fearsome than ever before.

“Praise the Sun Mother!”

A voice finally shouted.

And that one spark set off an inferno.

“Praise the Sunmother!” “Praise the Sunmother!” “Praise the Sunmother!”

The chants erupted like a tidal wave, rolling across the crowd with unstoppable force.

Naran glanced at the girl in silver beside him. Her lower belly was already slightly rounded. She gently caressed the soft curve, a tender smile on her lips.

“All of this is thanks to my wife, Meng Xingxian! From this day forward, she shall be your Khatun, Empress among Wolfmothers!” His voice, like a golden lion’s roar, drowned out all other sound.

The warriors turned their gaze toward the young woman seated before them.

She wore garments reminiscent of the Wolfmother herself.

In response to their stares, Meng Xingxian clapped her hands lightly, then tilted her head back and let out a long, piercing howl, like a mother wolf calling her kin.

And from the distance, then further still, and further again, the earth began to shift.

White shadows surged forth in a great tide.

The two-headed wolves. Where before there were thousands, now there were tens of thousands.

The flood of beasts encircled Meng Xingxian and Naran in a living wall of fangs and fur.

The entire tribe stared in awe.

Only now did they realize that the two-headed wolves answered to the woman in silver. But what kind of person could command such monstrous power?

Just then, Naran’s voice cut through the air, violent and unrelenting, “You see your Khatun before you, and yet you do not kneel?”

His words struck like war drums in the hearts of the Ice Folk.

“We pay our respects to the Khatun!” “We pay our respects to the Khatun!” “We pay our respects to the Khatun!”

“With the Khagan and Khatun leading us, the rise of the Nine Flames is just around the corner!”

“Good, good!” Naran let out a booming laugh, chest heaving with pride. Beside him, Meng Xingxian leaned in softly, her smile warm and gentle as she nestled against his chest.

But then, something strange happened.

The cheers began to fade.

First from the distant edges of the crowd, then spreading quickly to those closer in. The noise died down like a fire starved of air, until all fell into an eerie silence. The gathered masses of Ice Folk instinctively parted, creating a clear path through their ranks.

From the far end of that path came a lone figure, regal and commanding.

She wore a robe sewn from finely worked wolf pelts, elegant and solemn. In her left hand, she carried an ancient leather-bound tome. Her slender frame swayed slightly as she walked, head held high, gaze piercing.

The figure walked the length of the cleared passage, coming to a stop at the very front of the crowd.

It was Jen’gal Snow, Mother of the Nine Flames Khagan.

She stood quietly, her eyes locked onto Naran atop the two-headed direwolf.

A strange unease stirred in Naran’s heart. Without fully knowing why, he called out, “Mother...”

He then made to dismount from his wolf. But before he could move, Meng Xingxian grabbed him firmly by the collar.

The tension in the air turned razor-sharp. Everything froze.

Meng Xingxian looked directly at Snow and smiled.

“Mother-in-law,” she said sweetly. The moment the word left her lips, the direwolves responded. Every two-headed direwolf, all ten thousand of them, threw back their heads and howled as one.

The sound was deafening. Terrifying.

Though Snow possessed extraordinary willpower, her cultivation was only at the sixth rank. Faced with the overwhelming bloodlust of so many powerful beasts, her face went pale. She instinctively staggered back two steps before forcing herself to steady.

Naran tried again to dismount, but Meng Xingxian tightened her grip on his collar, holding him fast.

That young woman, her belly now showing the early swell of pregnancy, turned to him, her voice low and sharp, “You are the Khagan, not just your mother’s child. Don’t forget the burden you carry!”

“Ngh…” Naran looked pained. But in the end, all he did was sigh softly. He had seen much on his journey with Meng Xingxian. He had learned the path of cultivating the Earth Soul, unlocking a deeper understanding of power, legacy, and fate.

His vision had shifted, from simply protecting the present to safeguarding the future. To shield his people. His family. His unborn child. He knew if he wanted to lead a successful campaign into the Central Plains, his mother would almost certainly never agree. But this, this was something he had to do.

Because he had already seen the future that awaited them if he didn’t act. Slavery. Chains. His child born into bondage. All his people crushed beneath someone else’s heel.

Forgive me, Mother, Naran thought. Then he smiled, and said aloud, “Mother, do you remember telling me the Sunmother would send a messenger to guide our tribe to glory? Your prophecy has come true. The messenger has arrived.”

He turned toward Meng Xingxian and declared, “She is both that messenger...and my wife!”

Snow stood motionless in the snow, clutching her copy of the Ancient Sun Canon. Ten thousand two-headed wolves locked their murderous gazes on her. The suffocating pressure crushed whatever courage remained in her chest.

She had never spoken of a messenger of the Sunmother. Not once. But now? Surrounded. Outnumbered. She couldn’t deny it, even if she wanted to. And even if she could...would that be wise?

Naran wasn’t done speaking.

“Mother… I truly want you to live the rest of your life in peace and happiness.” Naran raised his voice, earnest and clear. “Father is old now. You’ve often told me he still needs someone by his side. But instead of staying with him, you chose to sacrifice yourself for the Nine Flames, to chase divine messages from the Sunmother.”

He paused, then declared firmly, “You’ve done enough. You’ve carried this burden long enough. From now on, let my wife take over. We’ll carry it together. And we’ll make the Nine Flames stronger than ever!”

“...” Snow stood there, pale and speechless. The pressure crushing down on her chest was more than just fear. It was the weight of sheer, overwhelming power. Ten thousand fifth-rank two-headed wolves, their presence alone enough to smother any resistance.

It had all happened too fast.

Just moments ago, she’d been gathering wolf riders, preparing to go find her son. But now, Naran had returned. Not only returned, but with a woman at his side. A woman clearly here to take her place.

He’s been deceived, she thought. That was all she could think. He’s been tricked.

But though her lips parted, no sound came. Under the watchful eyes of all those wolves, she couldn’t speak.

And then Meng Xingxian moved. She stepped lightly off the direwolf’s back and approached Snow with graceful composure. With gentle hands, she supported Snow’s arm as if she were an obedient daughter-in-law.

Naran, visibly ashamed, hurried to Snow’s other side and said softly, “Please, Mother. Trust your son.”

Snow turned her head, looked at him, and sighed.

Surrounded by wolves and warriors, the three of them made their way back to the heart of the camp.

The camp now was nothing like what it had been 20 years ago. Its size had grown exponentially, dozens of times larger. The younger generation of Ice Folk had already replaced much of the old guard, and truth be told, many of them were nothing more than ordinary folk from Cloudpeak Province.

The old hatred between Cloudpeak Province and the Ice Folk had nearly faded into myth. In its place was something new, true integration.

And with that integration came growth, growth at a scale bordering on the absurd.