Instead, it condensed—taking form as the miniature Ice Phoenix wings now resting in his hands.
Within the Sun and Moon Empire, knowledge about soul beasts was incomplete yet far from scarce.
Among the records, there were detailed mentions of soul bones.
Examining the peculiar icy wings in his palms, Wei Xuan instinctively made the connection.
"Head, limbs, torso… none of those six areas should look like this," he murmured, turning the crystalline object over in thought.
It was his first time ever seeing a soul bone, so immediate identification was impossible—he could only rule them out one by one.
As he searched his memory, a particular term surfaced from the depths of his studies.
External Soul Bone.
"This thing… could it actually be one of those?" Wei Xuan raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised.
Was his luck truly this absurd?
External Soul Bones were said to be rarer and more valuable than even hundred-thousand-year soul bones—treasures so scarce that few throughout history had ever possessed one.
And now, by sheer chance, one lay in his hands.
"An Ice Phoenix's External Soul Bone… truly one of a kind," he chuckled softly.
The higher the creature's bloodline, the greater the soul bone's value. From an Ice Phoenix—the apex of cold-attribute soul beasts—its worth was simply beyond imagination.
If placed in an auction, even Titled Douluos would fight to the death for it.
Realizing what he held, Wei Xuan wasn't overtaken by wild excitement—only quiet satisfaction.
"Not bad luck," he said with a small smile, then sat cross-legged in the snow. Time to absorb what countless Soul Masters could only dream of.
Previously, uncertain of what the energy was, he had expelled it for safety. Now, knowing it to be a soul bone, there was no reason for hesitation.
Circulating his Soul Power, he guided the bone to fuse with his body.
The icy wing dissolved into a streak of light and shot into his back, where a chill instantly spread through his spine.
The foreign energy settled between his vertebrae and ribs, dividing evenly across both sides, slowly merging with his skeleton.
The fusion process was anything but gentle. It felt as though steel needles were being driven into his bones—an excruciating pain that tore straight into the marrow.
Even Wei Xuan couldn't help but frown slightly. The process was far harsher than he'd imagined.
But pain alone could not shake him. He kept his posture upright and steady, expression calm and composed, showing not a trace of distress.
Once accustomed to the agony, his brows eased, and he simply let the process continue.
Hours passed.
After five hours, the fusion was complete.
With a thought, a brilliant pair of icy-blue wings unfurled from his back.
The Phoenix Wings were exquisitely formed—every line elegant, every feather shimmering with crystalline light. They looked as though sculpted from living ice itself, swaying faintly in the cold wind, lifelike and radiant.
Through his divine sense, Wei Xuan observed them clearly without turning.
Even he couldn't help but feel pleased.
Their beauty alone was art—and that was before even testing their power.
"No more need for a flying soul tool," he murmured, smiling faintly. "From now on, you'll be called the Ice Phoenix Divine Wings."
With that declaration, he leapt lightly into the air.
His wings spread wide—and in an instant, he soared skyward.
A single beat of those gleaming feathers launched him higher and faster than ever before.
His speed now exceeded that of the Ice Cloud Wings by more than double.
The sensation was liberating—the wings responded like extensions of his own arms, perfectly synchronized with his will.
His movements in flight were smooth, seamless—as if he were the Ice Phoenix reborn, gliding freely through heaven's domain.
The Ice Cloud Wings had been impressive as a Soul Tool, but imitation could never surpass the real thing.
They lacked the instinctive fluidity, the living pulse of true wings.
The Ice Phoenix Divine Wings were different—they were alive, a part of him, as natural and responsive as his own fingers.
Wei Xuan soared across the boundless northern sky, leaving the frozen valley far behind.
He had no destination—he simply flew, savoring the feeling of freedom.
This sensation stirred an old memory—a memory from his previous life, when he had once roamed the skies of the Cultivation Realm, unbound by earth or fear.
The vast expanse of the Extreme North stretched beneath him, white and endless.
It filled him with a strange, tranquil awe.
After ten minutes, he descended, landing lightly upon the snow. His stomach growled in protest.
"Still troublesome, not having the ability to fast," he sighed, shaking his head helplessly.
He sat beside a nearby snowdrift and lay back against it, drawing some rations from his storage ring.
Chewing lazily, he alternated between bites of dry food and sips of liquor from a silver flask—utterly at ease.
The biting cold couldn't touch him. As the master of ice, even the frost bowed to his will; the snow didn't so much as dampen his robes.
To him, the frozen world was not hostile—but familiar, comforting.
Lying there in the snow, food and warmth filling him, Wei Xuan's mind drifted. Gazing up at the endless blue sky, he felt a rare stillness—a faint melancholy stirring in his chest.
"I wonder… how far this world lies from the Cultivation Realm," he murmured softly.
The liquor burned down his throat, stoking memories long buried.
He had no deep attachment to that realm. His parents had been murdered when he was young, his elder brother sacrificing himself to save him.
Those years of blood and solitude had driven him into relentless cultivation, leaving no room for love, no room for companionship.
By the time he grew strong enough, his enemies were long dead—and he was alone, without family, without friends, without rivals.
Now, his only pursuit was the Dao itself—to ascend once more, to see the peak of existence, to witness the view from the summit.
This world had no such peak.
To find it, he would have to return to the realm of immortals.
"Become a god, huh…" Wei Xuan chuckled faintly.
He tilted his head back, draining the last of his flask. The dry rations were gone; the warmth of the liquor spread through his chest.
Hands folded behind his head, he closed his eyes and let sleep take him—a lone figure lying peacefully in the heart of an endless white world.
(End of Chapter)