Survival Queen of the Frozen Wastes novel Chapter 602

Chapter 602 The Cold Rules

Chapter 602 The Cold Rules

This place was nothing like the central halls on all previous floors.

No matter how big the earlier halls were, they were still just “halls”.

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They had rest zones, vendor stalls, countdown timers, and light gates. Everything revolved around dungeon rules. They were nothing more than temporary safe spaces for survivors to catch their breath.

The central hall on Floor 15 felt like a small town crammed forcefully inside the dungeon.

Wide stone roads stretched out. Rows of one- and two-story buildings lined both sides. Signs hung beneath the eaves. Some read Potions, some Forging, others Inn. A few only displayed symbols, giving no clue what goods they sold.

People moved back and forth along the street.

It was not a loud, rowdy market. There was only busy, cold order.

Almost everyone here bore wounds, yet their eyes were calm. Some dragged cracked shields toward the blacksmith shop. Others carried sacks of materials to exchange for Frost Tokens. A handful stood before the elixir shop, haggling grimly with the NPC behind the counter.

No one was truly relaxed.

At the same time, no one fought for their lives every second like they did outside.

The atmosphere was strange.

It was as if these people had crawled out of endless bloodshed and finally found a place to pause. Yet every single one knew this peace came with a price.

Riley’s gaze swept across both sides of the street.

The variety of NPCs here far exceeded anything she had seen on prior floors.

A middle-aged woman stood behind the elixir shop counter. Her gray hair was tied back tightly, her face blank. She restocked glass elixir bottles while rapidly tallying prices on a calculator-like tool. When a survivor questioned the high cost, she did not even lift her eyes.

“Pay the Frost Tokens or step aside.”

The survivor’s expression darkened, but they gritted their teeth and handed over the tokens

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Chapter 602 The Cold Rules

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anyway.

The blacksmith shop was manned by a dwarf NPC.

He was short in stature with broad shoulders, his long beard hanging down to his chest. He gripped a massive black hammer, with three people lined up before him. Each person held out damaged gear. He glanced at each piece and quoted a price instantly.

“Purple-tier bracers. Seventy percent durability restoration for 100 Frost Tokens. Full repair, 150 tokens.”

“That’s way too expensive,” the person in line blurted out.

The dwarf glanced up at him.

“Too pricey? Take it elsewhere then.”

The man’s jaw tightened, but he finally pushed his gear forward for repair.

Further down the street stood a shop marked with green vine patterns. An elf female NPC sat behind the counter, her ears pointed slightly upward, her skin pale and flawless. She flipped through a thick ledger. The shop sold herbs, seeds, and special timber, all priced ridiculously high.

An orc NPC stood guard outside the shop.

He towered over most survivors Riley had seen, with curved horns on his head and thick leather armor draped over his frame. He stood behind a meat stall, chopping meat with heavy, precise strokes that shook the wooden block with every swing.

TartKing stared, unable to look away.

“These NPCs… they look brutal.”

“They aren’t just intimidating,” Pineapple Beer murmured.

Riley nodded. “They’re all high-level.”

Riley made no move to test them. Their attitudes spoke volumes. They cared nothing for a survivor’s life or death-only whether they could pay the Frost Tokens.

Every merchant here shared the same cold demeanor.

No mockery, no sympathy, no scams, and no favors.

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Chapter 602 The Cold Rules

Pay, and receive your goods.

No pay, and get out.

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To Riley, these rigid rules felt far simpler than the brutal rules that governed the malicious survivor factions on the lower floors.

TartKing scanned the area and muttered, “I finally get why RedBean said not to waste tokens carelessly.”

High-grade healing potions had already cost a fortune on previous floors.

Here, the prices were even steeper.

Spirit restoration potions were outright outrageous.

TartKing frowned, staring at the listed prices on the shelves.

“This isn’t selling supplies. This is straight-up robbery.”

The middle-aged woman behind the counter looked up coldly.

“Robbery costs nothing.”

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