One week passed.

The sea no longer hummed with the echo of divine battle.

The shoreline breathed quietly, tides rolling in slow rhythm over smooth sand.

What was once a battlefield of shattered spirit and roaring fate

now rested as a cradle of peace.

Shaurya still slept — body long mended, spirit still gathering light.

Inside the grand tent, his breathing was calm, chest rising and falling like a resting lion. Beside him, Lin Shu sat in silence. She hadn't left him since the moment he fell — the entire sect knew it.

Seven days of sleepless devotion.

Her eyelids drooped. Her fingers stroked Shaurya's hand gently, as though afraid it might vanish if she loosened her hold.

Outside — it was evening.

Soft amber glow spread across the coast. Spirit-shells embedded in the rocks shone faintly, lighting the camp like tiny lanterns of nature. The sea breeze brushed against tents, carrying scents of brine, spirit-grass, and the crisp air of cultivation land.

Voices gathered.

Laughter. Footsteps. The ordinary warmth of disciples living without fear for the first time in many days.

Elder Feng Yu stood before ten disciples — his eyes sharp, arms behind his back. His aura controlled, not aggressive, but beneath it existed that steel hardness only a battlefield cultivator held.

In front of him stood:

Yan Chen.

Xiao Rui.

Xiao Lian.

Wei Lao.

Shen Hang.

Cheng Fang.

Lee Bie.

Zong Bu.

Lu Fang.

Jun Hua.

All straight.

All silent.

All focused.

They were the chosen.

Elder Feng Yu's voice cut the still air, steady and commanding.

"Listen well. Elder Hua has detected something from the northern wind currents and spirit fluctuations of this realm."

Behind him Elder Hua nodded, face calm, eyes observing as if reading the air itself.

Feng Yu continued, tone low, weighty:

"There exists a rare herb in this secret realm—Nine-Frost Snow Lotus. Pure ice essence. Among the highest grade in frigid spiritual flora."

Xiao Lian's eyes flickered — like instinct had stirred inside her veins.

"It will help Master recover faster."

Elder Feng Yu's voice softened a fraction — like a soldier speaking the name of his king.

"And… for cultivators with ice affinity, its value is immeasurable."

His gaze shifted to Xiao Lian.

Her fingers curled slightly. Resolve bloomed quietly, like frost forming over lotus petals.

Xiao Rui stepped half-forward, fists clenched.

"So we bring it back."

Not a question — an oath.

Elder Feng Yu nodded once.

"Exactly."

Space stilled for a heartbeat, then he raised a hand.

"We move now. Light feet. Sharp minds. No arrogance. No hesitation."

His gaze swept them like a blade.

"Sanatan Flame Sect does not stumble twice in a world filled with ambition."

Every disciple straightened, fire in their eyes.

Shen Hang: "We will not fail."

Yan Chen: "Master protected us. Now it is our time."

Xiao Rui clenched his fist, smiling slightly, excitement bubbling.

Cheng Fang stretched his neck like a cat ready for hunt, lazy grin on his lips.

Lu Fang adjusted his scabbard, expression calm, a quiet storm inside him.

Jun Hua inhaled deeply, eyes shining like moonlit steel.

Xiao Lian's fingers tightened around her sleeve — a quiet prayer.

Elder Feng Yu turned.

"We move now. Are you all ready."

They all shouted in unison.

Voices filled with will. It came like a vow — low, firm, unshakable.

"We are."

Elder Feng Yu nodded in approval.

"Move."

With a shift of aura, ten figures leapt into motion.

Aerial Steps activated —

their bodies flashed across the sand like streaks of wind, lifting dust in crescents. Waves sprayed as qi pushed air aside, and footprints formed glowing trails before fading into spirit light.

They vanished northward—swift, silent, lightning across the sea breeze.

Camp — Watching Them Leave

The remaining disciples stood behind, watching their silhouettes disappear like arrows shot toward purpose.

Wang Tian, half bandaged, spear resting beside him, puffed cheeks like an angry squirrel.

"I also wanted to go!"

Next to him Luo Chen nodded stubbornly, arms crossed, equally miserable.

Muo Qian and Su Quan stood behind them, hands on hips like twin storms of unspoken authority.

"You can't walk straight without groaning," Muo Qian said, voice cool like a mountain spring.

"And your ribs still shift when you breathe hard," Su Quan added, expression calm but eyes firm.

Wang Tian held his chest like a tragic hero.

"I am a warrior. Pain is my companion."

"Then let pain accompany you here," Muo Qian replied sweetly, patting his bandaged ribs with a bit too much affection.

"GAH— gentle! Mercy, mercy! I'm already dying!"

Luo Chen tried to stand to protest his fate — his leg buckled instantly.

Su Quan caught him with one hand, smooth and silent.

"…You are not going anywhere."

He lowered his gaze, defeated, but she gently straightened his collar.

Not mockery — care.

Lin Shu peeked from the tent flap, hair falling around her cheeks, tired but warm gaze on the departing group.

"Come back safely," she whispered.

Elder Liya approached her and tapped her shoulder lightly.

"You have looked over him for seven days. Go rest. A body that cares must remain strong to protect."

Lin Shu opened her mouth to refuse, but Elder Liya raised an eyebrow — gentle yet unyielding.

Lin Shu gave in with a small nod, returning inside. She settled beside Shaurya, laying down quietly. Her eyes lingered on him a final moment before drifting shut.

Outside, Elder Liya exhaled softly. "Rest well, my friend."

Then she turned — back straight — and walked to Elder Wan, who sat cross-legged beside his Heavenly Cauldron. Spirit flames danced orange beneath the cauldron as pill fragrance spread like sacred incense.

"You're preparing advanced recovery pills?"

Elder Wan nodded slowly. "Yes, master had given me this recipe. And seems like we really need them. Who knows what we are going to face."

"I will assist." She knelt beside him, sleeve brushing gently against his. He looked startled for a second, then smiled — small, genuine.

Their energies blended with quiet harmony.

Xiao Lian's absence made Elder Hua sit quietly, fingers clasped — not worried, but… watching fate with knowing eyes.

Disciples trained.

Weapons shifted.

Resolve sharpened.

The camp breathed determination — not mourning, not fear — but quiet strength.

They rested like tigers whose wounds were healing.

Waiting.

Preparing.

Alive.

Northern Region — Their Journey

Cold swept across air like invisible needles as the group flew across shifting terrain — from sand, to stone, to frosted soil.

Wind howled; spirit crystals shimmered under snow patches; ground turned pale as breaths misted in air.

An hour passed.

Then two.

Then three.

Frost dusted their robes. Branches hung frozen. Snow crystals glimmered like suspended stars — but muted, not celestial, simply nature untouched by mankind.

Xiao Rui exhaled softly. "Cold…"

Jun Hua smiled faintly. "Strange. It feels peaceful."

Lu Fang's gaze scanned terrain. "Peaceful never lasts long."

"Wise man," Cheng Fang muttered, rubbing arms.

Xiao Lian's steps slowed — not from weakness, but sensation. Ice qi inside her veins resonated. Her eyes softened.

"…It's calling."

Xiao Rui smirked. "Of course it is. If ice itself was alive, it would stand up and salute you."

She glared quietly. He grinned wider. The warmth under the cold air felt real.

Yan Chen stepped forward, sensing qi currents. "We're close."

Elder Feng Yu stopped.

"We descend here."

They landed on crisp snow — powder rising in gentle waves as boots touched ground.

Ahead — a valley layered in white.

Spirit ice crystals grew from rock like frozen flowers.

And at its center—

A small hill of snow.

Silent.

Holy-looking.

And atop it — glowing like a moon frozen into lotus form —

Nine-Frost Snow Lotus

Its petals transparent blue, veins pulsing silver frost.

Air around it chilled breath into crystals instantly.

Xiao Lian whispered, awe-struck:

"…Beautiful."

Xiao Rui murmured, "It's like fate carved that flower for you."

Before they could move further—

Crack…

Ground trembled beneath their feet.

Snow split.

A roar shook the valley, scattering frost into a storm.

From beneath ice and earth, a colossal form erupted — tearing snow apart as if it were cloth.

A blue-black mountain of fur — muscles like boulders, breath freezing the air into shards.

Two tusk-like icicles jutted from its jaw. Its eyes burned glacial-white, veins glowing beneath skin like frozen lightning.

Ice-Veined Frost Ape

Nascent Soul — Stage 1

20 meters tall — towering, primal, ancient hunger in its roar.

"RRRRAAAAAHHHH!"

Shockwave blasted snow outward.

Disciples staggered — qi flaring to remain steady.

Elder Feng Yu's aura exploded around him, repelling the beast's spiritual pressure like a vengeful tide.

"Stand firm!"

His voice cut through fear, grounding every disciple back into formation.

The ape stomped once — earth cracked, frost spreading like poison across stone.

Its gaze locked onto Elder Feng Yu.

Warrior to warrior.

Predator to predator.

Their wills collided like mountains.

Elder Feng Yu cracked his neck — eyes cold as steel dipped in winter river.

"Step back. Guard each other."

His hand slid to sword.

The frost ape roared — shaking mountains.

Feng Yu's aura sharpened — like blizzard wind sliding across a blade.

"Do not break formation," he murmured.

For a heartbeat, silence.

Then — eruption.

Ice wind howled.

Sword qi stirred like winter storm.

Ten disciples braced themselves.

And the first true clash of this northern trial—

began to breathe.

To Be Continued…

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