Tian had forced his fragile body too far again. Soul veins stretched thin, frost corroded blood. Coughs wracked him, spattering small flecks of crimson onto snow unseen by Yuexin.
At night, when all slept, he whispered to sky:
"If I must burn myself for their roots, so be it. The clan is eternal, I am not."
Every morning he still rose early, tutored disciples, refined Frost Manual. Yet Yuexin noticed his pallor worsening.
One evening, she confronted him, voice trembling, eyes wet. "Tian… if you keep this, you'll die young. Please, for me, for our children—rest."
He stroked her cheek with trembling hand. "Yuexin… even if I fade early, my frost will remain. And you… you are the flame that keeps it alive. Don't weep. The Leng Clan is worth my weakness."
Her tears streamed freely, fear and love colliding. But she understood his resolve was unbreakable.
The frost in his veins was both gift and curse—each cycle strengthening the clan, each cycle consuming him.
🔥 End of Chapter 37