The journey south was long and winding, stretching across plains unlike anything Leng Xue had ever known. Gone were the endless pines, the sharp air that gnawed at lungs. Here the earth rolled gently, green fields stretching wide with patches of farmland dotted by villages too rich in color for his northern eyes. The warmth pressed cloying at him, yet his Frost Veil shielded his group each noon, earning grateful murmurs from merchants traveling with them. Yan marveled at every flower dotting roads, sketching them hurriedly in her small diary, while Huan scoffed but secretly stuffed fruits in his pack, muttering about how juicy southern harvests tasted compared to pine roots.
When Suotuo City finally appeared at horizon, its walls seemed impressive at first glance. Tall, broad, lined with banners, guards in half-shiny armor. Yet compared to the Imperial capitals merchants had boasted of, this city bore wear of age, a faint mediocrity hidden beneath pomp. Caravans rolled in unchallenged, guards taking bribes more than swinging spears. The smell of spice and sweat filled streets.
Xue paused as they entered gates. He thought of Frostpine where every guard stood with proud frost etched in bone, and he shook head softly. These walls looked broad, yet spirit of their people seemed thinner. He already sensed the weakness of human institutions compared to endurance of clan. Still, this was soil where his frost would next take root.
Crowds jostled. Stalls clattered with wares. Barkers shouted, enticing with cheap spirit-imbued goods, herbs of uncertain quality, trinkets shining falsely. Foreign accents blended. Poverty and wealth danced side by side. Yan gasped more often than she breathed, clinging to Xue's sleeve to not get lost. Huan shouldered through proudly, scoffing, calling them "ants in a hive with gold dust."
But what mattered lay beyond ordinary city. They asked locals of schools, academies. Nobles flaunted a larger academy on east side, famous for pampered elites, halls gilded with coin. But what caught Xue's ears was hushed laughter by innkeeper: "There's shabby place south of city, called Shrek Academy. Only monsters accepted. Poor walls, poorer teachers, they say. But those who survive there… no one dares mock after."
Xue's heart tightened. Every whisper of Shrek stirred within him resonance of the Tome, faint pulse quiet but consistent. He felt as if wind itself pushed him toward that very south road. He exchanged glance with Huan who grinned, "Sounds like home," while Yan looked anxious but nodded softly. So it was decided. Not the golden academy, not halls that chased noble glory, but the broken gates where monsters gathered—that would be their path.