The silver radiance of the full moon was slowly yielding to the crisp, violet hues of pre-dawn twilight. Across the vast, tranquil expanse of the Western Sea, the blue ice highway—carved by the absolute physical power of Li-Wen—finally met the rugged, snow-draped coastline of the Western Continent.
Where the frozen bridge touched the shoreline, massive ice shelves locked against colossal basalt cliffs that rose hundreds of feet into the freezing air. Jagged peaks of iron-gray stone, capped with ancient glaciers that had never melted since the primordial era, pierced the heavy morning clouds. The air here was sharp, thin, and bitterly cold, carrying the dry scent of pine resin, frozen slate, and ancient, untamed earth.
Li-Wen stepped off the smooth ice highway, his leather boot landing firmly upon the gravelly, snow-covered shore.
The moment his foot touched the western soil, a soft, dry crunch echoed through the quiet dawn. Behind him, the three-mile-wide highway of deep-blue ice that had spanned the dark ocean did not shatter violently. Instead, starting from the middle of the sea, it quietly sublimated into a breathtaking curtain of sparkling frost-dust, dissolving into the oceanic breeze like a million falling stars, leaving no trace of their crossing upon the waves.
Beside him, little Xiao-Yue took a short jump off the edge of the ice, landing snugly in a bank of soft powdery snow. The snow reached up to her shins, making a pleasant crunch-soft sound under her small boots.
"Woah!" Xiao-Yue gasped, her large, clear eyes sparkling with pure delight as she pulled her foot out of the snow, leaving a tiny, perfect boot-print behind. "Brother Li-Wen, look! The snow here is so fluffy! It's like stepping on cotton cake!"
She held her pink lotus lantern high, its ruby flame glowing with a warm, steady radiance that pushed back the biting morning chill. The soft light reflected off the surrounding snowbanks, casting a cozy, golden-pink hue over the frozen landscape.
Li-Wen stood still for a moment, his broad chest rising and falling in a slow, rhythmic breath.
Deep within his lower meridian junction, the dark-violet Void-Piercing Needle remained safely encased within its shell of absolute-zero ice. Though ninety percent of his internal spiritual Qi channels were locked to keep the void poison isolated, his physical senses were as razor-sharp as ever. He could feel the unique, heavy spiritual density of the Western Continent—a realm far older, more desolate, and deeply rooted in ancient elemental martial ways compared to the flashy imperial sects of the East.
He reached down with his broad hand, gently patting the top of Xiao-Yue's wool-lined cap, dusting off a few stray flakes of snow that had drifted onto her hair.
"The snow is deep here, Xiao-Yue," Li-Wen said softly, his voice calm, flat, and carrying that quiet, immovable resonance. "Keep your lantern close. The cold in these mountains does not like strangers."
"I'm not cold at all!" Xiao-Yue smiled brightly, cuddling her small gloved hands around the handle of her lantern. She looked back at his dark traveler's coat, noting the torn fabric on his shoulder where the dark spots of frozen blood had settled. "When we find a house with smoke coming out of the roof, we're going to rest, okay? You promised about the warm ginger soup!"
"I did," Li-Wen replied smoothly. "We will find a place."
He took her small hand into his broad palm, and together, they began their trek up the winding, snow-covered mountain path that led away from the jagged sea cliffs and into the heart of the ancient pine forests.
The mountain trail was narrow, carved centuries ago by wild beasts and solitary mountain hunters. Towering black pines, their heavy branches weighed down by thick cushions of white frost, lined both sides of the trail like silent, frozen sentinels. As the sun slowly peeked over the eastern ocean horizon, golden beams of light cut through the dense canopy, illuminating the drifting mist in shades of amber and rose.
For over two hours, the only sounds in the quiet forest were the rhythmic crunching of their boots against the snow and the occasional soft thud of snow falling from a high pine branch.
However, as they reached a high ridge overlooking a sweeping, snow-blanketed valley, Li-Wen's steps came to a quiet halt.
His dark, indifferent eyes drifted toward the valley floor below.
Nestled within the shelter of the towering crags was a small, ancient mountain village. A dozen timber cabins with steep, snow-laden roofs were scattered around a central stone plaza. Thin wisps of gray woodsmoke curled up from a few chimneys, drifting lazily into the cold morning sky.
Yet, despite the peaceful smoke, the atmosphere in the village was far from quiet.
Down in the central stone plaza, over fifty villagers—dressed in heavy furs and simple leather coats—were gathered in a tight, terrified circle. Women held crying children against their chests, while young men wielding simple iron hunting spears and wood-chopping axes stood at the front, their arms trembling violently against the biting wind.
Surrounding the terrified villagers were fifteen riders mounted on colossal, black-scaled beasts known as Iron-Claw Frost-Wolves. These Stage-3 demonic mounts were ten feet long, their crimson eyes burning with hungry malice, steam rising from their razor-filled jaws as they growled at the trembling mortals.
The riders atop the beasts were clad in heavy, spiked iron armor lined with dark red wolf fur. They wore iron masks shaped like snarling demons, and their hands gripped heavy, serrated iron cleavers that dripped with fresh, dark blood.
These were the Iron-Blood Marauders—a notorious guild of rogue cultivators who roamed the outer border mountain ranges of the Western Continent, preying on isolated mortal settlements and small trading caravans!
Standing in front of the village elder—an old man with a long white beard kneeling in the bloody snow—was the leader of the marauders. He was a massive, seven-foot-tall brute clad in black steel plates, wielding a two-handed jagged battleaxe that radiated the sinister, red aura of a Stage-4 Peak Cultivator!
"Old fool!" The marauder leader boomed, his raspy voice echoing off the surrounding mountain walls as he slammed the butt of his heavy battleaxe into the stone plaza, shattering the frozen granite beneath. "You dare tell me you have no Frost-Core Stones this month?! The Iron-Blood Guild does not accept excuses! If fifty refined stones are not produced by sunrise, we will butcher every male in this village and feed your children to our wolves!"
"Lord... Lord Leader!" The old village elder wept, pressing his forehead into the freezing snow. "The winter storms have been terrible! The deep mines were blocked by an avalanche three weeks ago! We haven't been able to dig out a single stone! Please... give us ten days! Just ten days to clear the shaft!"
"Ten days?!" The marauder leader laughed mockingly, a sound like grinding iron. "Do I look like a charitable monk to you?! Since you have no stones, we will take your blood as payment!"
He raised his massive battleaxe high into the air, the crimson aura on the blade flaring with lethal intent as he aimed straight for the old elder's neck! "Starting with you, old man—!"
The villagers shrieked in horror, many closing their eyes as the heavy axe began its swift, downward arc!
High on the ridge overlooking the valley, Xiao-Yue's small hand tightened violently around Li-Wen's fingers.
She saw the big axe falling toward the old man with the white beard. Her small face turned pale, her large eyes widening in shock.
"Brother Li-Wen...!" Xiao-Yue gasped, her voice trembling. "The bad men... they're going to hurt the old grandfather!"
Li-Wen did not speak.
His dark, void-like eyes remained flat and unreadable. He had seen thousands of villages burn across three centuries; he had witnessed empires collapse and gods fall into obscurity. To an absolute Northern Sovereign, the squabbles of mortal ants and minor pillagers were no more significant than the falling of dry leaves in autumn.
He had no interest in playing the savior of the world.
However, as Xiao-Yue looked up at his calm face, tears of worry welled in her eyes. "Brother Li-Wen... the old grandfather looks like the tea house owner who gave us warm water... Please..."
Li-Wen looked down at her small, tearful face.
He looked at her small, trembling hand clutching his fingers with absolute trust.
A quiet, soft sigh escaped his lips—a breath so faint it melted instantly into the freezing mountain air.
"Stay here, Xiao-Yue," Li-Wen murmured gently, his voice soft as a falling snowflake. "Hold your lantern. Do not move from this spot."
"Mmm!" Xiao-Yue nodded vigorously, wiping her tears with her sleeve and holding her pink lotus lantern firmly with both hands. "I'll wait right here!"
Down in the stone plaza of the village, the heavy battleaxe was mere inches from slicing through the old elder's neck!
The marauder leader's face was twisted in a sadistic, bloodthirsty grin, already anticipating the spray of hot blood upon the white snow!
However... the axe never fell.
SNAP.
A sound—tiny, crisp, yet reverberating through the entire valley like a crack of doom—echoed through the plaza.
The seven-foot marauder leader froze mid-swing. His massive arms, bulging with Stage-4 physical energy, locked in place as if welded to the sky.
A sudden, terrifying drop in temperature swept over the entire village!
It was not the natural, dry chill of the mountain air. It was a dense, absolute, suffocating cold that instantly froze the breath inside everyone's lungs! The roaring flames of the marauders' torches turned into solid, frozen spires of orange ice mid-flicker! The fifteen black-scaled frost-wolves—beasts born in northern hellscapes—instantly stopped growling, their crimson eyes wide with pure, instinctual terror as their legs buckled, slamming their heavy bodies onto the freezing stone floor!
"What... what is this?!" The marauder leader gasped, his voice cracking as he struggled frantically to turn his head. Cold sweat poured down his neck, freezing into jagged beads of ice against his collar!
Slowly... unhurriedly... a solitary figure stepped out from the shadow of the snow-covered pine trees at the edge of the plaza.
He wore a dark, traveler's coat that was visibly torn along the back, stained with faint spots of dark frost. A massive, unsheathed heavy blade rested quietly across his broad back. His hands were tucked casually into his pockets, and his stride was as calm, flat, and steady as an unyielding glacier.
Li-Wen walked into the center of the plaza, his dark, indifferent eyes sweeping over the fifteen armored marauders and their trembling mounts.
"Who... WHO ARE YOU?!" The marauder leader roared, trying frantically to channel his Stage-4 red aura to break free from the crushing atmospheric pressure locking his limbs. "Do you know who we are?! We are the vanguard of the Iron-Blood Guild! Our Grand Master is a Stage-5 High Sovereign of the Western Realm! If you interfere with our toll collection, our guild will erase your entire clan—!"
Li-Wen did not interrupt him. He did not even look at the screaming leader.
He stopped three paces in front of the kneeling old elder.
He looked down at the old man's snow-covered shoulders, then turned his head slightly toward the fifteen marauders.
"You are making too much noise," Li-Wen said flatly. His voice was quiet, lacking any inflection, yet it carried a weight that made the surrounding basalt cliffs groan. "The child is watching."
"YOU MADMAN! KILL HIM!" The marauder leader shrieked to his men!
The fourteen marauders, driven by sheer survival instinct, suppressed their horror and forced their black frost-wolves forward! They raised their heavy, serrated iron cleavers, unleashing their full Stage-3 and Stage-4 core energies, lunging at Li-Wen's flank from all directions in a desperate, lethal ambush!
Fourteen lethal blades and fourteen jaws of razor-sharp teeth descended upon him simultaneously!
Li-Wen did not draw the heavy blade on his back. He did not raise his hands from his pockets. He did not even channel a single thread of spiritual Qi through his sealed meridians.
He simply took one step forward with his boot.
TAP.
A single, hairline ring of sapphire-blue shockwave expanded outward from beneath his leather boot across the stone floor.
SNAP—! CHILL—!
The moment the sapphire ripple touched the fourteen marauders and their black frost-wolves, all motion, sound, and life ceased completely!
The bloodthirsty roars in their throats froze instantly into static, silent ice!
The red spiritual aura on their serrated cleavers snap-froze, turning into brittle blue glass!
The fourteen riders and their massive wolf mounts stopped dead mid-air, precisely three feet from Li-Wen's body, completely encased in solid, absolute-zero blue ice blocks!
Their wide, terrified eyes were frozen in expressions of pure, unadulterated horror. They could not move. They could not breathe. Their blood, their meridians, and their golden cores were completely frozen solid!
Li-Wen did not look at them. He took another calm step toward the marauder leader.
CRACK—! BOOOOM—!
The fourteen frozen blocks mid-air exploded simultaneously!
Fourteen Stage-3 and Stage-4 elite marauders, along with their demonic mounts, were completely atomized into a sparkling cloud of pale blue frost-dust that drifted gently onto the snow! Not a single drop of blood spilled; not a single piece of bone remained whole!
Silence—absolute, terrifying silence—fell over the village plaza.
The fifty villagers stood frozen like statues, their mouths wide open in complete, unbelievable shock. They looked at the dark-coated man, then at the empty air where fourteen terrifying killers had stood just a second ago, unable to comprehend what their eyes had just witnessed!
The seven-foot marauder leader was now the only one left standing—or rather, kneeling. His massive two-handed battleaxe had shattered into useless iron dust under the cold pressure. His legs trembled so violently that he collapsed onto his knees in the bloody snow, his iron mask slipping from his face, revealing a pale, sweat-soaked face filled with absolute, soul-shattering terror!
"Monster..." The leader whimpered, his voice shaking like a dying leaf in a hurricane. "No... no spiritual Qi... No technique stance... Who... WHAT ARE YOU?!"
Li-Wen stopped right in front of him. He looked down at the trembling brute with eyes as dark and empty as the primordial void.
"You mentioned a Grand Master," Li-Wen said softly, his raspy voice carrying an icy calm. "Tell him that the Northern Sovereign has arrived in the Western Continent."
"North... Northern..." The marauder leader's eyes dilated to the size of needle points. The legendary tales of the solitary demon who had atomized three hundred elite experts and four Stage-5 Sovereigns at the Sea-Mist Crags flashed through his mind! "You... YOU ARE THE—!"
Before he could finish the sentence, Li-Wen casually flicked his right index finger.
SWOOSH—!
A hairline arc of blue kinetic force passed through the leader's chest.
BOOOM—!
The marauder leader exploded into a cloud of blue frost-dust, vanishing into the cold morning wind without a trace!
The entire marauder force—wiped out in less than twenty seconds without Li-Wen even drawing his weapon or unsealing his poisoned meridians!
Li-Wen stood in the quiet plaza, his traveler's coat fluttering gently in the crisp mountain breeze. He turned his head slightly, looking toward the high ridge where Xiao-Yue was standing.
Down on the ridge, Xiao-Yue waved her lantern happily, her sweet voice carrying across the quiet snow, "Brother Li-Wen! You did it! The bad men are gone!"
The old village elder slowly raised his head from the snow, looking up at the solitary man standing before him in awe and reverence. Tears streamed down his wrinkled, weathered face as he bowed his head again, his voice trembling with deep gratitude.
"Exalted... Exalted Immortal!" The old man gasped, his voice echoed by the fifty villagers who immediately fell to their knees in deep reverence. "You... you have saved our lives! Our village has nothing to offer such a supreme lord... but please! Command us as you wish!"
Li-Wen looked down at the kneeling old elder. His dark eyes remained calm, indifferent, and devoid of any pride or desire.
He looked toward the small timber cabin near the edge of the plaza, where thin gray smoke was curling up into the sky.
"Do you have ginger?" Li-Wen asked flatly.
The old elder blinked, completely stunned by the unexpected question. "G-Ginger? Yes! Yes, Exalted Immortal! We have dried mountain ginger stored in the cellar!"
"And hot water?" Li-Wen added, his voice maintaining its quiet, unyielding weight.
"Yes! We have boiling spring water over the hearth right now!" The elder stammered, nodding frantically.
Li-Wen turned back toward the mountain trail, extending his broad palm as little Xiao-Yue came trotting down the snow-covered slope, her pink lotus lantern swinging happily in her hand.
"Prepare a bowl of warm ginger soup," Li-Wen said calmly, taking Xiao-Yue's small, warm hand into his once more. "The child promised.
See you in next chapter....