第1章 寒风如刃 寒风如同利刃，切割着他的盔甲 寒煜公握紧了缰绳，凝视着白色地平线，一片连寂静都已冻结的土地。 在那无尽狂风之外等候着一支军队，本不该由他来迎战，然而，命运向来残酷，早已将他 的名字书写於霜雪与鲜血之中. 煜，这个字是代表着炽盛之光，是焚尽暗夜的烈焰，是破晓时分最夺目的辉华 北斗皇家之子，从此刻起，将开始了新的征战，他不喜欢担任北斗七星，而是这个世界最 适合煜的＂北极星＂ 凛冬的寒风如同野兽的咆哮，无情地撕扯着这片大陆.在大陆历一四四四年元月，这寒意 尤为刺骨. 神圣霜息帝国与雪狼王国，这两个名字仿佛被命运的丝线紧紧缠绕，又像宿命的冤家般， 再度于这冰封的季节，被迫卷入了无休止的战火之中.这已是自建国以来，数不清的第几 百次武力抗争了. 这种无尽的战争最终导致的是疲劳，无尽的疲劳，没人想打下去又不得不打下去． 若是以千年後的目光冷眼旁观，或许会有人将这两国连年征战，轻描淡写地归咎於“好战 ”二字，并投以不屑的轻笑．然而，对於身处其中的每一个个体，无论是高高在上的君王 将相，还是命如草芥的雇佣兵，这场战争，都承载着无可回避的沉重与无奈． 这一次，战火重燃的导火索，竟是如此的荒诞可笑与无聊更是无奈——两国边境线上，那 条蜿蜒的界河，因严寒而凝结成了一面银色的镜子．河面冰封，阻隔不再，原本泾渭分明 的两国居民，为了争夺冰面之上那寥寥无几的渔场，爆发了激烈的冲突． 无关紧要的纷争，演变成了风暴般的对立，当第一滴血流下，第一个生命被收割，局面就 演变成为不可逆转的悲剧剧本． 这理由，对於那些不得不顶着凛冽寒风，踏上征途的两国士兵来说，无疑是一个黑色幽默 笑话．他们心中或许充满了困惑与不满，但军令如山，个人的情感，在冰冷的战争机器面 前，显得如此的微不足道． 帝国军的总司令官，是外界认为皇帝北斗晃备受宠爱的第三皇子北斗煜，年方二十六，便 已经受封＂寒公爵＂地位，执掌帝国兵权，虽然说北斗煜年纪轻轻，却已经是饱经战阵、 功勳卓着的沙场宿将． 这也要拜雪狼王国所赐，年年征战，让年少的皇子累积了大量的经验与战绩足以炫耀於世 ． 被尊称为寒煜公不仅战功彪炳，更兼具令人信服的领袖魅力．他目光如炬，洞察秋毫，眉 宇轩昂，英气逼人．身姿挺拔，气度雍容．凡目睹其风采者，都衷心信服． 在崇尚个人英雄时代，寒煜公英俊的外表，无疑是他统御军旅、凝聚人心的利器． 帅气的外貌永远是最好的标签． 然而，此刻帝国军却身处劣势． 他们被迫在地势低洼峡谷谷底布阵，犹如困兽於瓮中，形势极为不利．如此窘迫的战况， 令经验老道的幕僚们也忧心忡忡，频频发出不祥的叹息． 寒煜公依旧保持着异乎寻常镇定与冷静．他沉着地伫立於阵前，那双深邃的墨绿色眼眸， 凝视着四周连绵起伏的巍峨群山，仿佛在无声地推演着破敌之策，酝酿着反败为胜的惊天 之局． 「王国军．．．会采取怎样的攻势呢？」 寒煜公身边的幕僚群正在彼此讨论，但是共通点都是带着忧虑，毕竟这是兵法里面的死地 ，任何的局面都充满了变数． 「感到不安吗？」 寒煜公询问身後的幕僚群． 寒煜公嘴角扬起一抹浅笑．那笑容，并非轻蔑的嘲弄，也不是强作镇定的虚饰，而是一种 源於内心深处的笃定与自信，蕴含着安抚人心的力量． 这笑容，如冬日的暖阳，驱散了笼罩在幕僚心头的阴霾，令他那溢於言表的焦虑，也随之 消解了些许． 「吾等追随公爵殿下，纵横沙场，所向披靡，王国贼军，又有何所惧！此战断无战败之理 ！」 幕僚们都挺直了胸膛，铿锵有力地表达着无比信任与决心.这番话语，饱含着对寒煜公近 乎盲目的崇拜，也折射出帝国军高昂士气. 话刚说完，嘹亮的号角声响起，骤然划破山谷的宁静．那声音激昂高亢，如惊雷般震荡着 耳膜，瞬间点燃了战场气氛． 寒煜公脸庞上温和的笑容倏然褪去，取而代之的是凛冽如寒冰般的肃杀之气．他眼眸中精 芒暴涨，锐利的斗志如同破堤的洪流般奔涌而出，充斥着周身每一寸空间． 凛然无语，乾脆俐落地拨转马头，化作疾风，迅如闪电从严阵以待的士兵伫列前飞驰而过 ． 「寒煜公！寒煜公！寒煜公！」 士兵们震耳欲聋的欢呼声，如山呼海啸般，响彻冷井峡谷．那饱含狂热崇拜的激情，炽热 奔放，热烈程度，甚至远胜觐见帝国皇帝时的三呼万岁． 凛冽寒冬，险峻地势，危机四伏的环境，非但没有削弱士兵们的战意，反而激发出他们内 心深处勇气与斗志． 在这冰天雪地之中，无论前进後退，处处都有着雪崩威胁，无论敌我都是如此，所幸冷井 峡谷的位置在隘口，狂风呼啸过隘口，却也带走了大量的降雪，隘口这里的雪量比其他地 方少很多． 两峰交汇的哑口，是风的故乡，这里的风切也远比其他地方猛烈，这里的风是可以割断喉 咙的． 帝国军震天的欢呼浪潮，挟裹着极地般凛冽寒风，如脱缰野马般沿着峭壁嶙峋的峡谷陡坡 扶摇怒卷而上，穿透凛冬的肃杀寂静，清晰无比地传入了占据地势制高点的王国军队耳中 ． 然而，对寒煜公而言，另外的一场风暴已经形成，但是她必须要先打赢了眼前的这场战斗 ，才有资格回去，回去面对另外一场的生死搏斗． １－１完 寒煜帝望着那片重归死寂的湖面，良久，缓缓摇了摇头． 「不必了．这湖，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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