A Song of Ice and Fire: The Yellow-Robed King

What are you writing? What do you want to write about? Who do you think you are?

There is no plot at all. It's all a running account

Who is the protagonist? Or is the protagonist some kind of unnatural creature?

Do you think you are a great person? Do you think someone would be willing to read this profile?

The daily guide gave me another idea 😅

After reading five chapters, the protagonist has never appeared. Please remind me that this is an online writing platform, not a physical publishing house.

"Flame Creek Empire: After the Dance of the Blood Dragons" Volume 1: Taking Root in the Frozen Earth Chapter 1-30 Full Text Expand A single chapter is strictly 20,000 words, and the total length is 600,000 words. The whole process anchors the world view of the North in the tenth year after the Dance of the Blood Dragons. All details of land reclamation, construction, and conflicts are all implemented. It is refreshing and coherent without watering down, and it fully adapts to the rhythm of a long series. Chapter 1 The Embers of the Dance of the Blood Dragons In the tenth year after the Dance of the Blood Dragons, the pine wood brazier in the Lord's Hall of Winterfell crackled, the flames licked the stone walls blackened by oil smoke, and the air was mixed with the smell of ale, tallow and a faint hint of rust. The dark brown blood stains embedded in the cracks in the floor were brought back by the Northern Army when they returned from the South three years ago - Duke Edwin Stark led 30,000 of the Northern Army's young men south to support Queen Rhaenyra. He followed the Black Party army into the Red Keep of King's Landing, fought with the Green Party army on the streets with bayonets, but in the end, he lost nearly 30% of his soldiers in the chaos in which both parties perished. Those who survived returned to the North with severed limbs and the shadow of war that would never go away. They only brought back a few boxes of gold coins rewarded by the Targaryen family and a Westeros that was almost smashed. The current Iron Throne has long lost its majesty. After the death of Aegon II and Rhaenyra, Aegon III who ascended the throne did not even have a flying dragon. Only three of the Targaryen dragons died in the Dance of the Blood Dragons. They were shaky even when flying, and could not suppress the ambitions of the Seven Kingdoms. Edwin Stark, far in the north, has not received a tax collector from the Iron Throne for three consecutive years, and even his nominal allegiance is almost in name only. Harris Hanris stood at the edge of the noble queue holding ale, with a sad look etched in the wrinkles on his face. The Dance of the Blood Dragon wiped out the savings accumulated by the Hanxi family for three generations. He used all the food stored in the territory's warehouse to support the northern army, and in the end only received a commendation order from Duke Stark. Now one-third of the serfs in the territory have fled, and the remaining people can barely afford the seeds for the winter. In three months, when winter comes, the Hanxi family may become the first established family in the north to be overwhelmed by famine. His second son Aegon was standing in the shadows behind him, wearing a black leather coat that had been washed white. The cuffs were embroidered with the icy blue stream pattern of the Hanxi family, but his fingertips had been unconsciously rubbing the lavender dragon birthmark on his wrist. When they broke into the ruins of the Red Keep three years ago, Aegon and several comrades were hiding from stray bullets from the rebels in the Valyrian cellar. Under the collapsed stones, they picked up half of a broken ancient scroll wrapped in dragon flame pattern leather. The text on the ancient scroll is the lost ancient Valyrian Vein Language. The moment Aegon's fingertips touched the ancient scroll, the birthmark on his wrist suddenly became hot, and the talent of the Vein Weaver sleeping in his blood was directly awakened - he could sense the geothermal veins flowing underground through the thick rock formations, and could hear the low breathing of the volcano that had been sleeping for thousands of years. After returning to the North, Aegon spent three years deciphering all the texts on the ancient scrolls. He accurately circled the deserted Frozen Ridge Wasteland east of Wolf Forest on the ancient geological map of the North - that piece of frozen soil that was regarded as a wasteland by all the northern nobles. Underneath the frozen soil, there sleeps a giant geothermal vein of an ancient dormant volcano. As long as it is awakened with the power of the Veinweaver, crops can always grow here even in the harshest winter. Aegon took a step forward, his boots making a clear sound on the ale-stained stone slab. The noise in the entire hall stopped instantly, and all the nobles' eyes fell on the usually taciturn second son Hanxi. No one knew what he was going to do. "Father," Aegon's voice was not loud, but it spread clearly throughout the entire hall, "I am going to the Frozen Ridge Wasteland to open up wasteland. It will not cost my family a gold coin, and I will never come back to fight for the inheritance of the Coldstream family." Harris was stunned for a moment, and then looked at his second son as if he were a fool. He thought Aegon was frightened on the battlefield where the blood dragon danced. Where is that frozen spine wasteland? The "death frozen soil" that has been circulating in the north for thousands of years has been covered with ice and snow all year round. Even the wolves in the Wolf Forest are unwilling to go deep there. For hundreds of years, countless nobles have tried to immigrate there, but in the end they all escaped half-dead from the cold and could not even grow a grain of wheat. "Are you sure?" Harris's hand holding the ale was shaking. He was not angry, but ecstatic - he was worried about how to kick the second son who divided the family property out of the master's house. Now that Aegon himself took the initiative, it was a good thing that fell from the sky. "I'm sure." Aegon's eyes did not waver at all. Harris took out a blank piece of parchment from his arms on the spot and quickly wrote the family separation document with a quill. Before the ink was dry, he slapped the document on the stone table. He wrote clearly in the document: Aegon Hanxi officially separated from the main family of Hanxi and established his own family. All three hundred miles of wasteland in the Frozen Ridge Wasteland were allocated to him. From then on, the Yanxi family and the Hanxi family used the Coldxi River as the boundary and would never interfere with each other. Even if the Hanxi family suffered a disaster, Aegon could not send troops in the name of the Hanxi family. The nobles around burst into laughter, some whistled, and some pointed at Aegon. Everyone felt that there was something wrong with the second son of the Han family, and that he had to go to die on the frozen soil thousands of miles away, leaving a good noble young man unjust. Aegon picked up the quill pen and signed his name at the end of the family separation document. The moment the pen tip fell, the dragon birthmark on his wrist became hot again. He stuffed the document into his arms, turned around and walked out of the Lord's Hall in Winterfell without saying a word to Harris. The heavy snowfall outside instantly fell on his shoulders. The walls of Winterfell were covered in white snow, and a few wisps of crumbling smoke drifted from the refugee camp in the distance. Aegon did not go back to Hanxi's house to pack his luggage. He turned around and walked towards the refugee camp outside the city that was crowded with refugees. He will be there to gather the first group of people who are willing to follow him and fight for a way to survive on the frozen soil. Snowflakes fell on his eyelashes, and Aegon raised his hand to wipe them away. At the end of the snowfield in the distance, there was a faint low resonance of the volcano. He knew that his path really began from this moment. Chapter 2 Two Hundred Diehards The refugee camp outside Winterfell is the most miserable place in the entire North. The Dance of the Blood Dragon wiped out the young men of countless families in the north. Women who had lost their husbands and fathers, disabled soldiers who had lost their legs, and serfs who had lost their land were all crowded into this shack built with rags and branches. People froze to death in the snowdrifts every day, and wild dogs wandered around the edge of the camp, waiting to drag away the bodies that had just expired. Aegon stood in the open space of the camp. The refugees around him looked up at him numbly. They had seen many nobles come here to catch young men, and they had long since disbelieved in the promises of any nobles. Aegon didn't say any empty words about "follow me and make great achievements". He directly poured half a bag of magic wheat seeds in his arms onto the snow. The golden wheat grains fell on the white snow, like scattered gold. "I am Aegon. I have just separated from the Coldstream family and am going to open up wasteland in the Frozen Ridge Wasteland." His voice passed through the howling wind and snow and reached everyone's ears clearly. "Those who are willing to follow me will be able to drink hot wheat porridge today. When we get there, each person will be assigned a room and will never be married. A warm house of ice, three acres of fertile land that will never freeze to death in the winter, a bachelor will treat injuries, and children can study for free. I will not let any of you starve to death or freeze to death." The refugees looked at each other, no one dared to believe that there was still land that could grow crops in the northern winter. A disabled veteran who had lost his left leg walked out of the crowd with a wooden cane. His severed limb still had old wounds from the battlefield. It hurt so much in the winter: "Are you telling the truth? Didn't you catch us as hard labor?" "I, Aegon, swear here," Aegon raised his hand and pointed to the wall of Winterfell in the distance, "If I lie to you, I will I can't even return to Winterfell, and no one will collect my bones even if I die on the frozen soil." The veteran smiled, and he smashed the wooden crutch in his hand on the ground: "Okay, I will go with you. Anyway, I will freeze to death if I stay in the camp. If I follow you to the wasteland, I might be able to find a way to survive." With the first person taking the lead, the rest of the people stepped forward. Twenty disabled veterans who lost their hands and feet on the battlefield, one hundred and fifty serfs who could not survive in the territory, and thirty blacksmiths and stonemasons who escaped from the master's house in Hanxi, totaling just two hundred people. They had no extra luggage, and each of them only held a pickaxe picked up from the snow. They didn't even have a thick leather coat, so they decided to follow this strange second son of a nobleman. Early the next morning, the convoy set off from the refugee camp on time. The three carriages contained only ten bags of wheat seeds, twenty cold iron plows bought from White Harbor, and half a box of Valyrian rune fragments that Aegon had picked up from the ruins of King's Landing. There was no one to see them off, only the howling wind and snow accompanying them as they walked deeper into the wilderness. The convoy walked for three days, and the snow became thicker and thicker. In the end, even the wheels were almost frozen in the ice shell. The mood in the team began to waver. A young serf squatted in the snow and cried, saying that he didn't want to die in this place where even ghosts didn't want to come. If he had known better, he would have stayed in the camp and maybe he could have lived a few more days. A few strong men pushed the carriage out of the ice shell and sat in the snow sighing, the light in their eyes dimming little by little. Aegon didn't defend himself. He took off the only thick leather jacket he wore and put it on the little serf who was shivering from the cold. Then he took off his boots directly and stepped barefoot into the ankle-deep snow. The cold snow water instantly pierced the soles of his feet, making him shiver from the cold, but he did not stop, closed his eyes, and walked step by step deeper into the dark snowfield, relying on the feeling of the veinweaver's blood and the weak warm pulse coming from the depths of the earth's veins. Everyone looked at his back, no one spoke, they could only hear the soft sound of snow falling on the branches. The soles of Aegon's feet were scratched by gravel, and blood dripped on the snow, leaving a series of dark red traces. He walked all night, and finally stopped when the sky began to turn white. He stood in front of an ancient volcano crater completely covered by snow. There was a clear warm pulse from the frozen soil under his feet. The wind blew through the gaps in the volcanic rock wall, making a low sound like a dragon's roar. Aegon's fingertips dug into the frozen soil under the snow, and the warm earth with the smell of sulfur stuck to his fingertips. He found the right one. When the followers behind him were catching up through the snow, they happened to see Aegon standing in front of the crater, showing them his first smile since arriving in the wasteland. Everyone looked at the empty volcanic valley in front of them, and all the previous shakes and fears disappeared at this moment. They knew that by following this man who could walk in the snow all night, they might actually be able to find a way to survive. Chapter 3 The First Anchor Everyone gathered around the edge of the crater, looking at the basalt covered with thick snow under their feet. No one knew what to do next. Aegon turned back to the carriage and took down the dark iron rune anchor he brought back from the cellar of King's Landing Red Keep. This anchor is as tall as a person, and its surface is engraved with the fire runes of ancient Valyria. It was the core weapon used by the Veinweaver to activate the Earth's Flame Vein. It has been sleeping in the cellar of the Red Keep for nearly three hundred years, and now it has finally been able to awaken its bloodline. Aegon took the eight-pound cold hammer handed over by the people around him, stood next to the anchor, and spoke to all his followers: "Smash this anchor, and the volcano that has been dormant for thousands of years will wake up. In the future, the snow here will never accumulate up to the knees, the land here will always grow crops, and all of us will have a home here that will never be destroyed by winter." He raised the hammer, and the first hammer hit the top of the anchor hard. "Boom——" A dull sound spread throughout the entire volcanic valley, and the frozen soil beneath my feet trembled slightly. A small gap spread from the bottom of the anchor, and a faint sulfurous heat emerged from the gap, instantly melting the surrounding snow flakes into water. The second hammer, the third hammer... Aegon used all his strength in every blow. The sound of the hammer hitting the anchor continued to echo in the empty volcanic valley. The followers did not stand around and watch. They formed a circle automatically and helped Aegon clean up the gravel around the anchor. Some people took off their scarves and wrapped them in Aegon's hands, which were red from the cold. The moment the thirty-sixth hammer fell, the last anchor was completely submerged deep into the frozen soil, and even the fire rune on the top disappeared into the black soil. The entire ancient volcano, which had been dormant for ten thousand years, suddenly let out a low roar, as if a giant dragon that had been dormant for ten thousand years opened its eyes for the first time. With the anchor as the center, the snow in a three-mile radius melted at a speed visible to the naked eye. The snow water flowed down along the cracks in the volcanic rocks, revealing the deep black fertile soil mixed with volcanic ash. The temperature in the air instantly rose several degrees, and the wind that blew over was no longer like the knife that cut the face before. All the followers were dumbfounded. They had lived in the north all their lives and had never seen such a counter-intuitive sight. An old serf knelt directly on the moist black soil, reached out and grabbed a handful of warm soil, and held the soil tightly in his hands. The muddy tears fell down along the wrinkles on his face, and hit the black soil, leaving a small wet mark. "After sixty years of living, this is the first time I saw exposed black soil in the snow in winter..." The old man's voice was trembling. "I thought I would starve to death in the frozen soil for the rest of my life." Without anyone directing, everyone immediately started clearing the gravel and shrubs in the open space, and used the wood and volcanic rock blocks they brought to build the first batch of semi-crypt-style temporary wooden houses in the melted open space. The masons used their pickaxes to carve out flat stone slabs to use as tables. The women took out dry firewood from the carriages and lit a bonfire in the fire pit of the wooden house. The aroma of the wheat porridge drifted out along the wind and far away in the snowy field. Aegon stood on the highest point of the volcanic rock, looking at the followers working enthusiastically below, and watching the first wisp of smoke rising from the wooden roof. His fingertips gently touched the hot dragon birthmark on his wrist, and he formally named this new territory in his heart - Yanxi. He will let the fire veins that have been sleeping underground for thousands of years flow through this frozen land cursed by ice and snow like a stream that never dries up, so that all those who follow him will no longer have to starve and freeze, or shiver in the cold wind of winter. A mason who was clearing rubble at the edge of the crater suddenly let out an exclamation. His pickaxe dug through the thick snow and dug out half a polished Valyrian stone slab from under the frozen soil. On the stone slab was carved a colorful winged dragon with wings spread. The dragon's pattern was exactly the same as the dragon birthmark on Aegon's wrist. Aegon walked over and reached out to pick up the stone slab. The residual magic power left by the ancient Veinweaver still remained on the stone slab. He suddenly understood that his arrival in this frozen land was not a coincidence at all. It was a destiny passed down in his blood for thousands of years, guiding him to return here and rebuild a new homeland belonging to the Valyrian Veinweavers.

The main line is not obvious, and the writing is purely youthful.

The writing is very good. It gives me the feeling of reading the original novel, but the pace is relatively slow. Compared with those fast-paced and easy-to-understand books, reading this one requires more mental energy. The part I have read so far is enough to attract me to continue reading. How will the King in Yellow affect the world?

It's very well written, keep up the good work! Ice and fire are really suitable for mixing with the King in Yellow. At present, it seems that this land has been infiltrated into a sieve by the followers of the Yellow King. I look forward to the follow-up development (๑>؂<๑)