She reasoned carefully: If I strike a living being using a fusion of Ice Law and Poison Law, the initial blast of ice will pierce their defenses, creating entry wounds. Through these wounds, the latent poison within the ice will seep into their nervous system, spreading like invisible tendrils, corroding tissue and disrupting their energy flow. Their strength would wane, their coordination falter. And if they lack resistance to poison... they may even perish.
This realization stirred something within Iram Rai. The potential lethality of such a technique was undeniable. She resolved then and there to craft a Domain Skill—a signature power—melding the two laws into a singular force. In all her years of cultivation, she had never encountered another who had dared to combine Ice and Poison Laws. The reason was clear: it was an immensely complex process, one that demanded a Heaven and Earth Treasure of dual nature to even begin the fusion. Such treasures were exceedingly rare, appearing in the world perhaps once every few millennia.
Fortunately, the Pill Sect possessed secret alchemical formulas capable of producing artificial Heaven and Earth Pills, created to mimic natural treasures. That knowledge, however, was tightly guarded and not easily obtained. Still, a memory tugged at her attention—a small but vital clue.
The soul-bonded child residing in her Soul World had once crafted a Heaven and Earth Pill with only a sliver of divine power. The feat had astonished her. His divine soul was still in its infancy, fragile and recently formed. And yet, he had done what seasoned alchemists with centuries of experience struggled to achieve. What sort of origin did this child possess? What divine treasure had allowed such a miraculous soul to be born?
Even now, Iram Rai could not find a satisfactory answer. That treasure, whatever it was, had been unable to fully support the child's soul, leading to his reincarnation. And yet, even in this diminished state, the soul's potential was boundless. The mere thought sent a chill down her spine. What kind of power will he wield once he matures?
Yet for all her uncertainty, a deep joy bloomed in her chest. Every mother longed for her child to be strong, wise, and destined for greatness. Her pride battled her unease, and the pride always won. She continued to pour her energy into developing the Poison-Ice Domain Skill, maintaining her health, and striving to keep her emotions in balance. Negative emotions, especially during pregnancy, could disrupt the flow of qi and harm the child's development. She made a conscious effort to stay calm, to smile more, to breathe deeply and live with lightness in her heart.
Time moved on. Three more months passed, bringing her to the halfway point of her pregnancy.
One crisp morning, while meditating and testing new formations for her Domain Skill, Iram Rai stumbled upon an unusual interaction. When she guided the fused Ice-Poison Law through her Divine Jade Body, the energy was absorbed—but only in infinitesimal amounts. Intrigued, she channeled a focused strand of it into her right index finger.
The results were both promising and alarming.
Her finger began to crystallize, transforming into a gleaming shard of ice—not the typical translucent white of Ice Law, but a shimmering light-blue shade with a deadly beauty. However, within seconds, thin cracks formed across the surface, dark spots blooming like bruises beneath the ice. Her finger trembled, on the brink of shattering.
She quickly severed the energy flow and reversed the transformation, watching the ice melt away, leaving behind tender, chilled skin.
The cause was clear. Her Poison Law power had grown disproportionately strong, enhanced by her evolving soul connection with the unborn child. Even with her Divine Jade Body—an enhancement a hundred times stronger than the average cultivator's physique—her body was no longer sufficient to safely house the new fusion law. It was unstable, volatile.
To master this new Domain Skill, she would need a far more resilient vessel—perhaps even a complete rebirth of the body through ancient refinement techniques. But with her pregnancy advancing, she had neither the time nor freedom to undertake such drastic measures.
Reluctantly, she set the project aside.
Two more months slipped by. With no pressing cultivation or tasks, her days became quiet, marked by routine. She focused on eating well, meditating gently, and allowing her body to rest. Time, once swift and chaotic, now crawled at a serene pace. To stave off boredom, she turned to her collection of fantasy novels—carefully stored in her storage bracelet.
The novels had been a parting gift from her closest friend, left behind in her cave residence before she departed the sect. Iram Rai often wondered about her friend's fate. If she had been present during my life-and-death struggle, she would have surely stood by me. The thought lingered like the last note of a melancholic song.
She vowed that once her child was born and strong enough to travel, she would seek her friend out—even if it meant crossing realms. But that was no simple feat.
The distance between realms defied ordinary measurement. Ancient texts offered only vague comparisons. One even claimed that a Primordial Soul cultivator, moving at full speed, would need ten thousand years to cross a realm—despite their lifespans barely reaching a thousand years. What nonsense, she thought wryly. Who even came up with that figure?
Thankfully, Teleportation Platforms bridged the vast divides. With sufficient spirit stones and coordinates, she could one day reach her friend's realm.
Another three months drifted by.
She had now read nearly every genre within her collection—save one. Romance. She avoided love stories entirely, her heart still wounded by past betrayals. She preferred to keep her emotions stable, her mind focused. Melodrama had no place in her sanctuary.
Nine months had passed since the day her journey as a mother began.
Her belly, once slender and toned from years of cultivation, now rounded like a rising moon. She placed a gentle hand over it, feeling the faint stirrings of the child within. Each movement sent warmth rushing through her.
Her hunger had intensified in recent weeks, bordering on insatiable. At last, she understood why: the child was drawing deeply from her energy reserves, requiring more spiritual nutrition than she had anticipated. Her once-generous stockpile of spirit fruits and rice—enough to last two years—had dwindled alarmingly.
She sighed, inspecting the nearly empty compartments of her storage bracelet.
Fortunately, she wasn't entirely without resources. A small number of spirit beasts roamed the icy landscape of her secluded Ice World. They would provide both nourishment and spiritual energy to sustain her and the child through the final weeks.
With determination, she prepared for the days to come. The birth was near. And with it, the dawn of something extraordinary.