The cold stream ran shallow, but its chill bit deep.
Li Qiong stood waist-deep in the crystalline water, steam rising faintly around him as his body adjusted to the new realm. His white robes clung to his skin, soaked through and heavy, yet he stood still—eyes closed.
His breathing slowed.
He began to recite the Heaven-Severing Scripture in his mind.
Within his mind spirit, a gate opened.
He stepped into a space of words and laws—where meaning itself became reality. Endless scrolls floated in the void, and the rules of heaven flowed like rivers of ink.
Floating words circled around him, endless scrolls drifting through endless path as he walked among them without hesitation, every step deeper into enlightenment.
Then—
Thhhkkk...
A thick, black liquid pushed from his pores like ink, drifting through the water like smoke. It coiled away, spreading across the surface before dissolving into nothingness. All the impurities—the remnants of strain, of mortal limitation—were being expelled. His bones ached. His veins trembled. And then...
A loud bang. Like something breaking. His skin exploded.
Inside his dantian, three drops of translucent, pure qi orbited like beads of moonlight—still, potent, and cold. A full minor realm in one session.
Qi Condensation, third drop.
The breakthrough was quiet. Unceremonious. But the stillness around him deepened. The wind no longer disturbed the snow. Even the fox, curled beside a rock under the trees, lifted its head—recognizing the subtle change in presence.
His body, once trembling from exertion, now radiated a deep and chilling vitality—cold, yes, but not lifeless. Cold like the roots of a mountain: unmoving. Enduring.
He opened his eyes.
The frost no longer stung. Instead, the air flowed around him like an orbit, obedient and slow. He moved, and the water obeyed, parting around his waist like parting silk.
He stepped out from the stream. Each time his foot touched the ground, a glass rose bloomed—glassy, lucid, glittering under pale sunlight. When he lifted his foot, the rose shattered soundlessly into a flurry of shimmering petals, drifting upward before vanishing into air.
Behind him, the black stain in the water was gone.
His body had been reforged, his qi tempered by the rules of ice.
He fastened his robe, letting his long, wet hair hang behind his back in dark strands.
He could feel his senses stretching far beyond the human limit—hearing the heartbeat of a rabbit beneath snow, tasting the faint iron of a crow's feathers in the breeze, seeing the footprints of things that hadn't yet arrived.
A band of eight appeared in his path—bandits in leather armor and half-frozen boots, blades rusted but eyes gleaming with murderous intent.
"Well, what do we have here?"
"That's the boy they talked about in the tavern. The boy from a rich family—with no qi fluctuation. Still a novice."
"now pretty boy be a good boy and hand over all your belongings while we talk nicely."
"And those robes," the leader added, eyes lingering too long. "Could fetch a decent price. Or maybe we keep them for ourselves."
The others laughed, coarse and filthy.
"Pretty boy like you... might fetch more as a slave. But we can't just sell any product. Why don't we test the product before selling?"
Sounds fair isn't it.
Li Qiong didn't speak.
His eyes turned cold—a wicked smile curled his lips. Even a devil's heart would have stopped beating under that gaze.
Li Qiong didn't respond. Instead, he unsealed the gourd hanging from his hip.
A slow stream of clear, icy water poured out—but before it hit the ground, it coiled in the air, twisting like a living serpent. The strand thickened, spiraled, and then bristled—thorns of glassy ice sprouted along its length, the tip hissing and lashing like a viper.
His whip danced with subtle elegance—sharp enough to cut through flesh, cold enough to freeze bone on contact. Not killing, but painful.
One bandit lunged.
A flick of Li Qiong's wrist—
CRACK.
The whip struck his chest—ice exploded across the man's ribcage, freezing skin to bone in a heartbeat. He screamed, but his voice choked in his throat as frost crept into his lungs, immobilizing him in a posture of terror.
He became an ice sculpture in a matter of seconds—his exploded skin and blood frozen as well. His eyes still moved.
Another rushed from the side—Li Qiong spun, and the whip lashed in an arc, loosing a fan of shard-like thorns from its spine. They tore through the man's arm and thigh, embedding deeply. He dropped, writhing, blood freezing mid-spill.
The other three tried to retreat—but the petals from Li Qiong's shattered steps now stirred, rising like a vine. He flexed two fingers, and they grabbed their feet—tiny razors of crystal glass sank into their flesh, freezing them in place.
He gestured forward.
Petals swirled toward the bandits, slicing flesh, embedding in joints, chilling marrow. Each scream turned hoarse—then brittle.
With a calm breath, Li Qiong pulled his whip back and swept it sideways—one final snap.
All motion ceased. The whip returned to the gourd.
What remained were mangled bodies half-encased in frost—eyes wide, mouths open, frozen in agony. Their blood had frozen mid-gush, hanging like icicles.
He pulled a cauldron from his bag.
His gaze found the bandit leader—crawling away on frozen limbs.
A thin, curved smile—cold, inhuman, elegant, and terrifying. It was the kind of smile that made even devils flinch.
Only the leader crawled away, dragging himself with hands scraped raw.
Li Qiong wasn't done.
He glanced at the leader—trembling, begging him
"Please… sir… I beg you… mercy…" His voice trembling. "I wasn't going to harm you… I swear… I just— I just needed your money…"
He choked, words spilling like water through broken fingers."My mother… she's blind… frail… she's waiting for me to bring food.""My wife… she's pregnant… the baby's due in spring… without me—""I have children… they'll starve… please… I'll never do this job again!"
Tears streaked down his cheeks—turning to thin frost as they fell."I only did this because of debts… I swear, I never meant real harm… I was… I was scared…"
Li Qiong stood motionless—icy calm in motionless form. The wind tugged at his robes.—his fierce eyes cold as winter's heart.
Li Qiong laughed like a Madman.
Mercy had no place here.
He spoke—voice smooth and cold as dawn over glacier."Your pleas fall on ears that have already offered mercy."Another silent pause."Do not mistake my calm for compassion."
He looked down. "Strip."
The leader's eyes widened in disbelief—but the command was absolute. Shaking, he obeyed, the frost nipping at bare skin.
Li Qiong smirked. "Earlier, you wanted me stripped. Seems fair you return the favor."
He sat on a throne of ice that bloomed behind him in an instant, He rested his chin in one hand, eyes half-lidded.
"I've never had someone strip at my command before. I'm curious what comes next."…" His gaze sharpened, cruel amusement in his tone. "Why don't we wait until I decide."
The man's teeth chattered violently, his tears freezing against his lashes.
Finally, Li Qiong tilted his head.
Li Qiong smirked. "So, what should we do next?" it's getting late
The snow became strong and windy.
He forbade the bandit leader from speaking—refusing to allow him the chance to give an answer or a hint.
The bandit was pitiful. his tears were frozen hurting his eyes.
Finally Li Qiong figured it out.
The bandit leader was naked and shivering.
He was frozen solid—but his eyes hadn't lost their light.
Li Qiong tilted his head. "Oh... you want... now I see. Now it's all clear."
He leaned forward, voice calm, unhurried.
"But I have to refuse. You're not my type."
The bandit leader's eyes lost their light.
Li Qiong placed each corpse into the cauldron. Flesh, blood, frost fused under icy intent—rising as jiangshi golems, hollowed forms bound by frozen soul.
Another glass rose bloomed—perfect.
It withered under his heel.
Under the broken ice petals was a purple butterfly, crushed by his foot.
From here on, the true path of Dao began.