On the eastern slope of the Alps, snow blankets the landscape. Eighty Electronic Books (txt02.com). Due to the steep terrain, this area has not developed into a major ski destination—only a few ski resorts exist, and their performance is clearly less than that on the western side. In a sheltered, wind-protected valley stands a tree house. From the outside, it has long been vacant; yet, Blood Saint resides within. All windows are covered with thick black drapes, leaving only a small skylight on the roof; the chimney has been sealed, and the chimney's smoke is channeled through a hidden pipe to the outside; the basement of the tree house stores enough supplies to sustain one person for two years. Blood Saint has his own reasons for choosing this location: it is typically sparsely populated, and even when visitors arrive, he can easily conceal himself as a hunter, ensuring his identity remains protected. Once the wind outside settles a bit, he'll step back out, gather a team, and rebuild the Blood Shadow Killers. Since moving in, he's been prepared to live an isolated life—every door and window is firmly secured, with only a secret passage in the basement allowing him to enter and exit. For the past week, he hasn't left the tree house a single step. His only connection to the outside world is a satellite phone, which he never uses to make calls—instead, he only receives and sends encrypted digital messages. Just now, he received a message; after decrypting the digital code, the content reads: Chris's mission has failed—he fell from the 60th-floor building and is confirmed dead. He struck one punch onto the table, removed his golden mask, and exclaimed, "Even Chris has failed! What divine force have I summoned? He has been relentlessly striving to eliminate the Blood Shadow. Now that Chris is dead, the only remaining high-tier mutated humanoid is one. With one key ally gone, rebuilding the Blood Shadow will become even more difficult!" Qin Feng flew past the tree house three times in succession. The thermal imaging clearly showed heat sources inside. On his final pass, he even spotted through the skylight a glowing golden mask. Indeed, it was the Blood Saint's stronghold. Initially, he had planned to launch rocket salvos to blow the tree house apart and kill the Blood Saint inside. But when his gaze settled upon the nearby cliff face, he decided on a new strategy. He retrieved his double-barreled hunting rifle from his previous hunting trip, loaded it with two bullets, and fired at the cliff. Boom. Boom. Two sharp shots rang out, and dozens of birds took flight from the surrounding pine forest, scattering in panic. Inside the tree house, the Blood Saint frowned and murmured, "It's so cold—how can anyone still be hunting? Don't they find it cold enough?" He could easily distinguish the sound of the hunting rifle from other guns, and since it was a hunting rifle, he didn't give it much thought. He poured himself a rich, aromatic cup of coffee. Before he had even taken the time to savor it, he heard a deep, resonant roar. Roar... roar... roar... The sound grew closer, sounding remarkably like the rumble of a snow avalanche. His eyes widened as he grabbed the ladder placed beside him, quickly climbed up, and peered out through the roof opening—only to be stunned. Snow blocks surged forward, burying every tree and stone in their path without exception. It seemed only a matter of seconds before they reached him. He was furious with the person who had just fired the gun—the gunshot had triggered the collapse of snow at a higher elevation, initiating the avalanche. Staying indoors was definitely a dead end—the tree house couldn't withstand the impact of snow blocks; in just a moment, it would be torn apart, and anyone caught inside would have no chance of survival. He jumped down from the ladder and plunged into the secret passage. Just a few steps in, he heard the loud crash of the tree house collapsing behind him, followed by the sound of the entire structure breaking apart. He felt deeply relieved by his choice—at least, the tunnel was below ground level and should be able to endure the vibrations from the snow avalanche. Yet, he quickly grew puzzled—his exit was completely blocked not only by a heavy accumulation of snow blocks but also by scattered stones and soil. And here he was, completely without tools, with not even a spade in hand. He tried lifting the largest stone blocking the exit—it weighed several hundred pounds—and realized, with just his own strength, he simply couldn't move it. Was he going to die right here? He wasn't ready to give up. At that moment, a green glow flashed from his waist—this filled him with exhilaration. When had he finally decided to clip the satellite phone to his belt? It truly felt like a miracle. As long as he could make the emergency call, the rescue team could pinpoint his location precisely and pull him out from the snowdrift. Upon checking, there was indeed a signal. With hands trembling from excitement, he dialed the emergency number. Qin Feng stepped on his flying sword, hovering precisely above the foundation of the tree house, holding a satellite phone identical to the one in his hand, and smiled. "What do you think I am? Let me tell you the truth—this snow avalanche was entirely my creation!" "You... you're Qin Feng!" "Haha, not quite a fool," Qin the young noble continued with a mocking tone. "You're lucky to have ended up in my hands. Honestly, I'll be frank—your chances of survival are absolutely nil. So, while you're still alive, make your arrangements—tell me where you've hidden valuable assets. After all, no matter how hard you try, you won't be able to take them with you. Why not hand them over to me as a form of atonement?" Blood Saint gritted his teeth. "Even if I can't take them with me, I won't let you off easy. Give up now!" With that, he hung up the phone. Now, he couldn't make another call—because Qin Feng had established a signal-blocking zone in this area. The Blood Saint's hopes began to dwindle, inch by inch, until he was on the verge of complete despair—when suddenly he realized he could communicate with his subordinates. Immediately, he composed and sent a message. Yet this ability to send messages was only a facade; the messages were not received by the recipients but intercepted word for word by Qin, the young magnate. He forwarded this message to Su Wu, a tech-savvy expert, asking her to decrypt it. If his assessment was correct, it likely contained a major secret of the Blood Shadow Organization—or perhaps the location of hidden treasure. Shortly thereafter, the Blood Saint sent several more messages, all of which he forwarded to Su Wu. Under extremely cold conditions, the human body struggles to maintain normal body temperature, resulting in a slowed heartbeat and survival for only a few hours at most. Although the Blood Saint was not buried in snow, he certainly did not survive beyond twenty hours. By the end, his messages were no longer encrypted and contained numerous misspellings.