The last thing Xiao Yang remembered was the searing pain of a sword piercing his dantian.
He had been nothing more than an outer disciple of the Crimson Flame Sect—nineteen years old, stuck at the third layer of Qi Condensation for three whole years, with no background, no resources, and no talent worth mentioning.
All because he had accidentally bumped into the sect's number-one genius, Young Master Zhao Tian, spilling a drop of spirit tea on the young master's robe.
A single drop.
For that "grave offense," Zhao Tian had publicly crippled his cultivation and ordered his execution.
As the sword plunged into his lower abdomen, Xiao Yang's vision darkened. His final thought was bitter regret: If I had another chance… I would never let anyone trample me again.
Then, everything went black.
…
Cold.
A bone-chilling cold dragged him back from the void.
Xiao Yang's eyes snapped open. He was lying on the rough wooden bed in his dilapidated outer disciple hut. Moonlight spilled through the cracked window, illuminating dust motes in the air.
He sat up abruptly, hands flying to his stomach. No wound. No blood. His dantian… was perfectly intact.
"I… I'm alive?"
His voice was hoarse, disbelieving.
Before he could process the miracle, a cold, mechanical voice rang directly in his mind.
Xiao Yang froze.
The system's voice continued without emotion.
Xiao Yang's breathing grew heavy.
He had read forbidden scrolls in the sect library. He knew what dual cultivation was. He knew what netori meant.
And Madam Su Qingxue…
Every outer disciple knew her name.
She was the legendary Ice Phoenix Beauty—peak Golden Core realm, breathtakingly beautiful, with flowing silver-white hair and eyes like frozen stars. For three centuries, she and Grand Elder Zhao Wuji had been the sect's model couple. They met as mortals, entered the sect together, supported each other through life-and-death trials, and were said to love each other more deeply than any other pair in the Crimson Flame Sect.
Grand Elder Zhao Wuji was currently in closed-door seclusion, attempting to break through to Nascent Soul. Everyone said Madam Su had willingly sacrificed her own progress to refine pills and gather resources for him.
She was untouchable.
Forbidden.
Perfect.
Xiao Yang clenched his fists. The old him would have trembled in fear at the thought of even looking at her too long.
But the new him—the one who had died once—felt only a dark, burning excitement.
"System," he whispered. "How do I meet her?"
Xiao Yang exhaled slowly.
Three days.
He had three days to prepare.
Three days later.
The outer disciple herb gardens were located at the foot of Crimson Flame Mountain, shrouded in perpetual spiritual mist.
Xiao Yang knelt among rows of Fire Spirit Grass, carefully pruning dead leaves. His posture was humble, but his senses were sharp.
A faint fragrance of icy lotus suddenly drifted through the air.
Every outer disciple in the garden froze, then dropped to their knees in unison.
"Greetings, Madam Su!"
Xiao Yang lowered his head, but his eyes lifted just enough to see her.
Madam Su Qingxue floated down from the sky like a goddess descending to the mortal realm.
Her long silver-white hair cascaded down her back, held by a simple jade hairpin. She wore flowing ice-blue robes that hugged her mature, perfect figure—curves softened by centuries yet still breathtakingly elegant. Her skin was flawless, almost translucent, and her phoenix eyes carried a quiet melancholy that made one's heart ache.
She was even more beautiful than the rumors.
And she looked… tired.
There was a faint pallor beneath her eyes, and her aura flickered slightly—signs of qi deviation.
She nodded faintly to the kneeling disciples. "Rise. Continue your work. I merely wish to check the progress of the Seven-Star Flame Lotuses."
Her voice was cool and clear, like mountain spring water.
The disciples rose, but no one dared look at her directly.
Except Xiao Yang.
He deliberately channeled a trace of his new Heavenly Yang Essence, letting warm yang qi drift outward like invisible smoke.
Madam Su's steps paused almost imperceptibly.
Her beautiful eyes swept across the garden—and landed on him.
For a split second, something flickered in those ice-cold depths.
Warmth.
Hunger.
Then it was gone, replaced by perfect composure.
She walked slowly toward Garden No. 7.
Toward him.
Xiao Yang's heart pounded.
She stopped three steps away, her fragrance enveloping him.
"You," she said softly. "What is your name?"
Her voice was gentle, but it carried the natural authority of a Golden Core cultivator.
Xiao Yang lowered his head respectfully, but allowed another wisp of yang qi to drift toward her.
"This disciple is called Xiao Yang, Madam Su."
Su Qingxue's breath hitched—barely noticeable, but he caught it.
Her fingers tightened around her sleeve.
"Your… qi is quite pure," she murmured, almost to herself. "Strange. You are only at Qi Condensation, yet your foundation feels… warm."
She stepped closer.
Too close.
The other disciples were pretending to work, but stealing shocked glances.
Madam Su had never spoken more than a few words to any outer disciple.
Xiao Yang raised his head just enough to meet her eyes.
Up close, her beauty was devastating. Her lips were pale, but perfectly shaped. Her scent made his blood surge.
"Madam," he said quietly, "if this disciple may be bold… your aura seems slightly unstable. Perhaps the cold yin from pill refining has accumulated?"
Su Qingxue's eyes widened a fraction.
No one below Core Formation should have been able to sense that.
She stared at him for a long moment.
Then, so softly that only he could hear:
"Tonight. After the moon reaches its peak. Come to the eastern spirit spring alone."
She turned and walked away, robes fluttering like an immortal leaving the mortal world.
But Xiao Yang saw it.
The faint flush on her elegant neck.
The slight tremble in her fingers.
And in his mind, the system's voice rang with cold satisfaction.
Xiao Yang lowered his head, hiding the dark smile that curved his lips.
The hunt had begun.
And the Ice Phoenix… had already taken the first step toward the flame.