The frost wasn't sharp today. But Lu Xuan didn't trust it.
He stood at the edge of the Skywater cliffs, watching mist rise in ribbons across the valley. It moved slowly—like regret taking shape in the air. Quiet. Beautiful. Dangerous. Just like Bai Yujing.
Three days had passed since the confrontation in Moonflame Hall. Since the last seal was named, the last truth shown.
Shi Qiran hadn't died for loyalty.
He'd died on schedule.
Lu Xuan hadn't spoken since.
Not to Bai Yujing.
Not to Su Xue.
He hadn't gone back to his quarters either.
Instead, he walked—through meditation chambers, through worn archive halls, through wind-stripped corridors the sect had long buried beneath ceremonial silence.
Today, he walked with purpose.
The hidden sanctum beneath Frost Mirror Pavilion wasn't on any map. It didn't appear in sect diagrams or ceremonial scrolls. But Lu Xuan had seen glimpses of it—etched in memory, surfaced in visions when his body pulsed too close to the second layer of awakening.
They called it the Mirror Below Silence.
He descended alone.
The seal opened with an ancient click of spiritual teeth.
Inside, blue fire lanterns flickered without heat. A corridor stretched endlessly—lined with cracked bone tiles and silk tapestries. Each showed a single figure: the Demon God.
In each pose—war.
In each shadow—recognition.
Lu Xuan didn't flinch.
He didn't mourn.
He felt something colder.
The shape of inevitability.
He stepped deeper.
At the final alcove, a mirror hovered in stillness—bound by layered runes and pale chains carved from frost jade.
Beneath it pulsed a tablet—blank to any normal observer. But not to him.
It awakened at his touch.
Subject: Lu Xuan
Designation: Immortal Demon God Body
Threat Rating: Incarnate Tier
Phase: Stage One Awakening
Suppression Directive: Pending Council Vote
Mirror Observation Expires: 7 Days
Seven days.
The sect wasn't trying to kill him.
It was watching for a reason to try.
Lu Xuan didn't blink.
He placed his hand on the mirror.
It flickered—and revealed her.
She stood alone atop Seven-Spire Peak. Not crowned in glory, not flanked by elders—just her robes stirring faintly beneath the protective wards of the Sect Master's sanctum.
She whispered—not to anyone. Not into the mirror. Just into the wind.
"Let him hate me.
Let them call me heartless.
But if he burns—I must be the last hand between him and the world."
Her fingers shaped a seal—a seven-ring talisman encoded with soul resonance. She held it for a moment… then pressed it into a jade box.
Lu Xuan recognized it.
It wasn't for him.
It was for Su Xue.
The mirror dimmed.
Lu Xuan stepped back.
Not with rage.
Not with panic.
But with a kind of knowing that didn't need explanation.
Clarity—sharp, clean, final.
Bai Yujing hadn't just planned Shi Qiran's death.
She'd planned everything.
His body.
His awakening.
Even Su Xue's hand.
He turned and walked back through the corridor.
Past the tapestries.
Past the threat.
Toward the choice.
The frost garden held less color than usual.
Su Xue stood beneath the lantern tree, arms crossed, Frostbane nestled against her hip, eyes fixed on nothing at all.
Lu Xuan walked slowly toward her. He didn't speak until he was close enough to hear her breath.
"She gave you the seal."
Su Xue didn't respond immediately.
Then:
"She didn't ask. She simply said, 'If the threshold breaks—use this.'"
Lu Xuan nodded once.
"It's attuned to your soul."
"So I know."
He watched her.
"Would you?"
She turned slightly.
"Would I kill you?"
He didn't answer.
Su Xue looked at him then—really looked. Her gaze wasn't angry. Just tired. Just full.
"I remember everything."
He didn't speak.
"I remember the cracked altar. The blood-soaked prayer cloth. My mother's final words before the sky screamed."
"I know it wasn't this you," she whispered. "But it wears your face. And that truth doesn't wait for forgiveness."
Silence breathed between them.
"But no," she said finally. "I haven't used it."
"Why?"
She looked down.
"Because the Demon God I remember never hesitated."
Later that night, Su Xue returned to her quarters. She held the seal Bai Yujing had given her in both hands. It pulsed once—recognizing her touch.
She turned it over.
Examined the runes.
Read the words.
Soul lock. Memory dissolve. Spiritual freeze.
She held it close.
But didn't speak.
Above the sect walls, mist curled tighter than usual.
Lu Xuan didn't sleep.
He sat beneath the cherry tree where Shi Qiran once marked storm patterns with frost talismans.
He held the final letter again.
Read it slowly.
Twice.
Then folded it back and placed it under stone.
He didn't cry.
He didn't burn.
He just waited.
And beneath waiting—
He grew.
Because he knew now what even Bai Yujing feared to say aloud:
He could not be killed.
His body would rise again.
His soul would never shatter.
Only one fate remained—
Sealing.
Not in stone.
Not in sky.
But in the abyss where gods forget themselves.
And for now, he was still free.