When Lin Yan opened his eyes, it felt like waking from a centuries-long nightmare.
The first thing he noticed was the silence. No howls. No laughter. No breathing on his skin or burning marks carved by cruel fingers.
Just silence… and warmth.
He sat up suddenly, gasping. His body flinched instinctively, expecting pain—but there was none. His wounds were gone. His skin was smooth, his breathing stable. He looked around in confusion.
He was lying on a bed of white furs, in a cave lit softly by spirit crystals embedded in the walls. The air smelled of lotus and mountain herbs. It was peaceful—too peaceful.
Then, she stepped into the light.
Tall, graceful, clad in a flowing black robe with silver embroidery, the woman moved like drifting snow—quiet, precise, and elegant. A sword rested at her hip, though she didn't seem to need it. Her face was beautiful, but it was her eyes that struck him: cold as moonlight, deep as oceans, and unreadable.
"You're awake," she said simply.
Lin Yan pushed himself back against the wall, heart racing. "Who... who are you?"
She didn't answer immediately. She approached and knelt beside him, placing a small bowl in his hands. "Eat."
It was congee—warm and fragrant, made with spirit rice and bitter ginseng. Lin Yan stared at it, unsure whether to trust it.
"Do you think I saved you just to poison you?" she asked flatly.
He lowered his gaze and ate slowly, still trembling.
Minutes passed. Then he spoke. "Why… did you save me?"
The woman turned her gaze toward the cave mouth, where snowflakes had begun to fall again. "Because I hate chains."
He blinked. "Chains?"
She looked back at him, and for a moment, the softness of a long-buried wound flickered in her gaze.
"Tell me," she said. "Do you want to be free?"
His grip tightened on the bowl. Memories flashed—cold floors, mocking voices, his body used like a vessel, his mind breaking.
"Yes," he whispered. "More than anything."
She rose. "Then I'll help you."
Lin Yan looked up at her, confused. "Why? What do you want from me?"
She turned her back to him. Her voice echoed like a blade drawn in a quiet room.
"I don't want anything from you, Lin Yan. But I will give you something the world never did: a chance."
That night, she told him her name.
Mei Qingxue, once known as the Ice Widow of the Northern Realms, a rogue cultivator who slaughtered an entire sect that tried to enslave her. She had wandered alone for decades, refusing the rules of cultivation society.
And now, she was offering to teach him. Not as a disciple. Not as a servant.
As an equal.
But freedom had a price.
"To walk the path of cultivation," she said, handing him a scroll etched in ancient crimson ink, "you will need to destroy the shackles inside you first. And your greatest enemy, Lin Yan…"
She leaned forward, her silver eyes locking with his.
"...is the version of you that learned to kneel."