第1章 寒風如刃 寒風如同利刃，切割著他的盔甲 寒煜公握緊了韁繩，凝視著白色地平線，一片連寂靜都已凍結的土地。 在那無盡狂風之外等候著一支軍隊，本不該由他來迎戰，然而，命運向來殘酷，早已將他 的名字書寫於霜雪與鮮血之中. 煜，這個字是代表著熾盛之光，是焚盡暗夜的烈焰，是破曉時分最奪目的輝華 北斗皇家之子，從此刻起，將開始了新的征戰，他不喜歡擔任北斗七星，而是這個世界最 適合煜的＂北極星＂ 凜冬的寒風如同野獸的咆哮，無情地撕扯著這片大陸.在大陸曆一四四四年元月，這寒意 尤為刺骨. 神聖霜息帝國與雪狼王國，這兩個名字仿佛被命運的絲線緊緊纏繞，又像宿命的冤家般， 再度于這冰封的季節，被迫捲入了無休止的戰火之中.這已是自建國以來，數不清的第幾 百次武力抗爭了. 這種無盡的戰爭最終導致的是疲勞，無盡的疲勞，沒人想打下去又不得不打下去． 若是以千年後的目光冷眼旁觀，或許會有人將這兩國連年征戰，輕描淡寫地歸咎於“好戰 ”二字，並投以不屑的輕笑．然而，對於身處其中的每一個個體，無論是高高在上的君王 將相，還是命如草芥的雇傭兵，這場戰爭，都承載著無可回避的沉重與無奈． 這一次，戰火重燃的導火索，竟是如此的荒誕可笑與無聊更是無奈——兩國邊境線上，那 條蜿蜒的界河，因嚴寒而凝結成了一面銀色的鏡子．河面冰封，阻隔不再，原本涇渭分明 的兩國居民，為了爭奪冰面之上那寥寥無幾的漁場，爆發了激烈的衝突． 無關緊要的紛爭，演變成了風暴般的對立，當第一滴血流下，第一個生命被收割，局面就 演變成為不可逆轉的悲劇劇本． 這理由，對於那些不得不頂著凜冽寒風，踏上征途的兩國士兵來說，無疑是一個黑色幽默 笑話．他們心中或許充滿了困惑與不滿，但軍令如山，個人的情感，在冰冷的戰爭機器面 前，顯得如此的微不足道． 帝國軍的總司令官，是外界認為皇帝北斗晃備受寵愛的第三皇子北斗煜，年方二十六，便 已經受封＂寒公爵＂地位，執掌帝國兵權，雖然說北斗煜年紀輕輕，卻已經是飽經戰陣、 功勳卓著的沙場宿將． 這也要拜雪狼王國所賜，年年征戰，讓年少的皇子累積了大量的經驗與戰績足以炫耀於世 ． 被尊稱為寒煜公不僅戰功彪炳，更兼具令人信服的領袖魅力．他目光如炬，洞察秋毫，眉 宇軒昂，英氣逼人．身姿挺拔，氣度雍容．凡目睹其風采者，都衷心信服． 在崇尚個人英雄時代，寒煜公英俊的外表，無疑是他統禦軍旅、凝聚人心的利器． 帥氣的外貌永遠是最好的標籤． 然而，此刻帝國軍卻身處劣勢． 他們被迫在地勢低窪峽谷穀底佈陣，猶如困獸於甕中，形勢極為不利．如此窘迫的戰況， 令經驗老道的幕僚們也憂心忡忡，頻頻發出不祥的歎息． 寒煜公依舊保持著異乎尋常鎮定與冷靜．他沉著地佇立於陣前，那雙深邃的墨綠色眼眸， 凝視著四周連綿起伏的巍峨群山，仿佛在無聲地推演著破敵之策，醞釀著反敗為勝的驚天 之局． 「王國軍．．．會採取怎樣的攻勢呢？」 寒煜公身邊的幕僚群正在彼此討論，但是共通點都是帶著憂慮，畢竟這是兵法裡面的死地 ，任何的局面都充滿了變數． 「感到不安嗎？」 寒煜公詢問身後的幕僚群． 寒煜公嘴角揚起一抹淺笑．那笑容，並非輕蔑的嘲弄，也不是強作鎮定的虛飾，而是一種 源於內心深處的篤定與自信，蘊含著安撫人心的力量． 這笑容，如冬日的暖陽，驅散了籠罩在幕僚心頭的陰霾，令他那溢於言表的焦慮，也隨之 消解了些許． 「吾等追隨公爵殿下，縱橫沙場，所向披靡，王國賊軍，又有何所懼！此戰斷無戰敗之理 ！」 幕僚們都挺直了胸膛，鏗鏘有力地表達著無比信任與決心.這番話語，飽含著對寒煜公近 乎盲目的崇拜，也折射出帝國軍高昂士氣. 話剛說完，嘹亮的號角聲響起，驟然劃破山谷的寧靜．那聲音激昂高亢，如驚雷般震盪著 耳膜，瞬間點燃了戰場氣氛． 寒煜公臉龐上溫和的笑容倏然褪去，取而代之的是凜冽如寒冰般的肅殺之氣．他眼眸中精 芒暴漲，銳利的鬥志如同破堤的洪流般奔湧而出，充斥著周身每一寸空間． 凜然無語，乾脆俐落地撥轉馬頭，化作疾風，迅如閃電從嚴陣以待的士兵佇列前飛馳而過 ． 「寒煜公！寒煜公！寒煜公！」 士兵們震耳欲聾的歡呼聲，如山呼海嘯般，響徹冷井峽谷．那飽含狂熱崇拜的激情，熾熱 奔放，熱烈程度，甚至遠勝覲見帝國皇帝時的三呼萬歲． 凜冽寒冬，險峻地勢，危機四伏的環境，非但沒有削弱士兵們的戰意，反而激發出他們內 心深處勇氣與鬥志． 在這冰天雪地之中，無論前進後退，處處都有著雪崩威脅，無論敵我都是如此，所幸冷井 峽谷的位置在隘口，狂風呼嘯過隘口，卻也帶走了大量的降雪，隘口這裡的雪量比其他地 方少很多． 兩峰交匯的啞口，是風的故鄉，這裡的風切也遠比其他地方猛烈，這裡的風是可以割斷喉 嚨的． 帝國軍震天的歡呼浪潮，挾裹著極地般凜冽寒風，如脫韁野馬般沿著峭壁嶙峋的峽谷陡坡 扶搖怒卷而上，穿透凜冬的肅殺寂靜，清晰無比地傳入了佔據地勢制高點的王國軍隊耳中 ． 然而，對寒煜公而言，另外的一場風暴已經形成，但是她必須要先打贏了眼前的這場戰鬥 ，才有資格回去，回去面對另外一場的生死搏鬥． １－１完 寒煜帝望著那片重歸死寂的湖面，良久，緩緩搖了搖頭． 「不必了．這湖，便是他的墓碑．」 hapter 1: Wind Like Blades The wind sliced against his armor like sharpened steel. Duke Aureus tightened his grip on the reins and fixed his gaze upon the white horizon—a land where even silence had frozen solid. Beyond the howling gale waited an army he should never have needed to face. Fate， however， had always been merciless. His name had long been etched into frost and blood. Aureus—the name signified a blazing radiance， the fire that devoured the night， the brilliance that crowned the first light of dawn. The son of House Polaris， he was meant to be one of the Seven Stars. Yet he had long rejected that mantle. In this world， the star he embodied was not any of the Seven—it was the North Star itself. The winter winds roared like beasts， tearing mercilessly across the continent. In the first month of Imperial Year 1444， the cold was particularly vicious. The Holy Frost Empire and the Kingdom of the Snow Wolf—two names bound by threads of destiny， two ancient foes shackled together by history—were once again dragged into a war that neither side desired. No one could recall how many hundreds of conflicts had already stained the centuries between them. War， repeated without end， inevitably curdles into exhaustion. Everyone wished for it to stop. Yet no one could halt it. A millennium later， distant scholars might dismiss these endless campaigns with two effortless words—“warmongering nations”. They might even sneer. But for the people living through it—kings， generals， mercenaries， men whose lives flickered like kindling—this war carried a weight no detached observer could ever comprehend. This time， the spark that reignited the flames was almost farcical. Along the border， the river that divided the two nations had frozen into a silver mirror. With the barrier gone， people from both sides crossed onto the ice to claim the meager fishing grounds. A trivial dispute turned violent. The first drop of blood fell. The first life was taken. And the script of tragedy became irreversible. For the soldiers driven through the cutting wind， the cause of this war was nothing short of a dark joke—a mockery of reason. Their confusion and resentment mattered little. Orders were absolute， and personal emotions were dust before the machinery of war. The Empire’s supreme commander was believed by many to be Emperor Polaris Dawn’s favored son—the Third Prince， Aureus Polaris. He was twenty-six. Already ennobled as Duke of Winter， already entrusted with command of the Imperial host. Despite his youth， he was a veteran of countless campaigns—a hardened general whose achievements gleamed across the realm. This， too， was the Snow Wolf Kingdom’s gift to him. Their yearly incursions had forged him into a creature of the battlefield. The Duke of Winter was famed not only for his victories， but for the commanding presence he bore. Piercing eyes， keen as falcons. A resolute brow， a sculpted bearing. A charisma that compelled loyalty from all who met him. In an age that worshipped personal heroism， his beauty was no small advantage. A handsome face was often the strongest banner one could carry. Yet today， the Empire’s army was at a disadvantage. Forced to deploy in the valley’s lowest basin， they were trapped in terrain akin to a sealed urn—any misstep could spell ruin. Even the most seasoned strategists could not hide their unease. Aureus alone remained steady. He stood at the front lines， unmoving. In his deep green eyes， a silent calculation unfolded—an invisible map of the battlefield， a path to turn defeat into triumph. “What offensive will the Kingdom attempt…?” The murmurs behind him trembled with anxiety. No one denied they were in a deathtrap—terrain where any scenario could twist without warning. “Are you afraid?” Aureus asked them gently. A faint smile touched his lips—not mockery， not forced bravado， but a calm born from certainty. It soothed rather than provoked. The warmth of that smile felt like sunlight in winter. Breaths steadied. Shoulders lowered. Worry thawed. “To follow the Duke of Winter across the battlefield is to know victory，” one officer declared， spine straightening.“What threat is the Snow Wolf rabble? Defeat is impossible!” Their confidence was not strategy—it was devotion. A horn blast cleaved the air. Sharp， thunderous， echoing through the canyon like the cry of a storm breaking free. The atmosphere ignited. Aureus’ smile vanished. In its place rose a killing intent sharp enough to freeze the very wind. His gaze blazed， his presence expanded， the pressure rolling off him like a bursting dam. Without a word， he pivoted， swung onto his mount， and streaked forward— cutting through the Imperial ranks like a bolt of winter lightning. “DUKE AUREUS! DUKE AUREUS! DUKE AUREUS!” The soldiers roared his name. Their voices surged up the canyon walls， shaking the cliffs， more fervent than the three cries of“Long live the Emperor” uttered in court. The harsh winter， the deadly cliffs， the lurking threat of avalanches—none of it dampened their resolve. Coldwell Gorge was dangerous， yes—but its narrow pass meant that the relentless winds stripped away much of the snow. The threat of collapse was lessened， if only slightly. Two mountains met at this choked pass—the birthplace of the wind. Here， the gusts were blades. Winds that could cut a throat. The Empire’s cheers merged with the raging air currents， sweeping upward toward the Kingdom troops who held the high ground. Far above， the enemy commanders stiffened at the ferocity of the sound. But Aureus heard none of it. Another storm had already formed—one not of snow or steel， but of fate. He would have to win this battle before he had any right to return… To face the other life-and-death struggle waiting for him. 1-1 End Emperor Aureus stared at the lake’s glassy， death-still surface. After a long silence， he shook his head. “No need. This lake… is his tombstone.” --

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