The shard pulsed under his palm.
Not with the steady beat of a heart, but with a rhythm that shifted — hot for three counts, cold for two. Each cycle grew sharper, like a coin spun faster and faster before it tips.
Qin Mo kept his eyes on the valley. The Bellkeeper's back was a dark cut against the pale horizon, unmoving. The wind scoured the black rock, pulling thin threads of mist off the ridge.
He could feed the fire. It would surge through him, give him the raw power to break whatever stood in his path — but fire never asked if you meant to burn more than your target.
He could give in to the frost. Cold held shape. Cold endured. But the frost man's eyes had carried the weight of things buried, not forgotten.
Or…
He pressed both hands to the shard. Heat and cold crashed together, neither yielding. His teeth clenched against the pressure crawling up his arms.
[Balance Attempt Detected.]
[Warning: Stability threshold at 61%. Structural failure possible.]
The shard fought like two predators tangled over the same prey. Fire roared through his bones; frost bit into his marrow. His vision split — in one half, a forest burning down to glowing roots; in the other, the same forest locked under ice so thick it strangled the sun.
His breath frosted and steamed in the same exhale. Blood drummed in his ears, first hot, then cold. The edges of the valley blurred.
"Qin Mo."
The Bellkeeper's voice cut through the storm. Not loud — precise. The bells at her wrist gave a single, sharp chime.
The shard shuddered. Heat recoiled a fraction; cold flinched. In that heartbeat, he drove the two currents together, forcing them into the center until they bit down on each other instead of him.
[Stability spike: 61% → 74%.]
[Hybrid state achieved. Output volatile.]
The world snapped back. He could feel the fire coiled in his legs, the frost threading his fingers. They did not blend; they circled, each waiting for the other to slip.
He opened his eyes. The Bellkeeper was watching him now, her expression unreadable.
"You've done something the shard doesn't like," she said.
"I didn't give it what it wanted."
"That never comes cheap."
Below, the valley moved. Not the wind — shapes. Lines of armored figures, their cloaks catching the weak dawn light. Azure Flame banners, but the color was wrong: a dull, storm-washed blue instead of the sect's bright azure.
"Splinter unit," the Bellkeeper murmured. "Not the main sect guard. They've been in the wild too long."
The lead rider raised a hand. On the cliffs opposite, something unfolded — a siege engine, stripped down to its bones, its frame carved from pale spiritwood.
Qin Mo's jaw tightened. "They mean to flush us off the ridge."
"And into what?"
The siege engine's arm creaked as it drew back. At its tip, a sphere of shimmering frost gathered, fed by runes along the frame. It wasn't just ice — he recognized the pattern. It was the frost man's work.
The Bellkeeper's bells stirred against her skin. "If that hits here—"
"It won't."
He stepped forward, the hybrid power flaring. Frost spread from his feet in a thin sheet over the rock, slick as glass. At the same time, heat built in the air above it, bending the light.
The engine fired. The frost-sphere screamed through the air, trailing shards like teeth. Qin Mo met it halfway. Fire licked along its surface, thinning the outer layer just enough for his frost to bite into the core. The sphere shattered into steam and glittering ice-dust that fell harmlessly around them.
Below, the splinter unit halted. Confusion rippled through their line.
"Now they know you're not running," the Bellkeeper said.
"Good," Qin Mo replied.
The lead rider raised his hand again — and this time, the pines to the left of the unit shook. A new sound rose: claws on stone, but not wolves. He knew that weight.
The wolf king had arrived.