Snow and blood streaked across the mountains.
Bai Leng's titanic form darted between jagged peaks, each stride collapsing ridges, each bound scattering avalanches down the cliffs. Its once-pristine fur was matted crimson, wounds gaping across its flanks where lightning had burned and the Voidpierce Spear had carved. Frost qi bled from its body in chaotic bursts, icing entire valleys in desperation.
But its pace was faltering.
Behind it, Haotian pursued.
His body was torn, his robe soaked in blood, veins bulging with every surge of chi. His breath came ragged, each exhale trailing steam in the frozen air. Yet his gaze never wavered. The Fenlong Spear gleamed in his grip, steady, merciless, tireless.
Each step propelled him like a thunderclap. The mountains shook beneath his feet. Lightning coiled around him, his Nine Spheres orbiting once more, hurling bolts that streaked across the sky to hammer into Bai Leng's path.
Crags exploded. Frost forests shattered. Valleys became smoking craters.
Bai Leng howled, the sound a mix of rage and fear. The Wolf King turned mid-run, unleashing another beam of condensed frost qi that ripped through the landscape, freezing everything it touched into brittle crystal.
Haotian spun his spear, lightning meeting frost. The clash detonated, shockwaves rolling outward, ripping glaciers into shards. He was hurled back a step, blood spraying from his mouth, but he advanced again, spear flashing with unrelenting resolve.
The chase tore onward.
Through mountains collapsing like paper.
Across rivers instantly frozen solid.
Over forests buried beneath avalanches.
The north itself groaned under their battle, as though the land sought to flee from their destruction.
At last, Bai Leng faltered.
Its stride broke, one leg buckling under the weight of its wounds. It stumbled, crashed through a cliffside, and rolled across the frozen ground in a storm of shattered ice and snow. Rising again with a snarl, its breath came in ragged clouds, its once-terrifying aura trembling.
Haotian landed on the broken ground before it, blood dripping from his chin, lightning dancing along his arms. His body shook, his vision blurred, but his spear was steady.
The Wolf King's eyes burned with hatred. "You… cannot… kill me."
Haotian's lips curved into a thin smile.
"Then watch me try."
He stepped forward.
The third core stirred.
Haotian stood before the wounded Wolf King, blood dripping from his mouth and chin, his body trembling on the edge of collapse. His skin was pale, veins bulging black beneath the surface, his robes torn and soaked with crimson. Each breath burned like knives in his lungs.
Yet his eyes—clear, merciless—never wavered.
This ends here.
He closed them.
Deep within, his chi roared, surging like a flood against the fragile walls of his body. His dantian core spun violently, heart core pulsed like thunder, but it was not enough. His body was breaking, his power nearing collapse.
There remained only one path forward.
The dormant meridian. The third core.
Haotian forced his chi into the sealed channel between his brows.
Agony.
His vision went white as if molten steel had been poured into his skull. His body convulsed, muscles tearing, tendons straining until they felt ready to snap. Veins bulged like coiled serpents across his flesh, bursting in sprays of blood. From his nose, ears, even his eyes, crimson streamed in rivers.
A scream tore from his throat, swallowed immediately by the wind.
His body spasmed, bones creaking as cracks webbed across them. Skin split, blood soaking through his robes until they clung like a second skin. His spear nearly slipped from his hands as they trembled uncontrollably.
Still he endured.
He shoved the flood of chi harder, forcing it through the meridian no matter how it resisted. His mind rang like struck iron, his sea of consciousness threatening to collapse under the strain.
Bai Leng, watching from afar, snarled in disbelief. He's tearing himself apart… and yet—he still pushes on?
The world seemed to freeze around Haotian. The only sound was the roaring of his own blood. His body writhed, but his will remained unyielding.
Then—
A crack.
The dormant meridian shattered open.
In that instant, the agony vanished. The flood of chi poured smoothly into the newly awakened channel, rushing upward into the third core seated between his brows.
The core flared alight.
A resonant hum filled the air, low and deep like the heartbeat of the heavens. The dantian, the heart, and now the third core—three suns aligned, their resonance cascading through his body.
Pain dissolved.
His muscles knitted. His veins calmed. His bones pulsed with renewed strength. The blood that drenched him steamed away, leaving only glowing skin beneath.
Then the world changed.
A shockwave blasted outward, the ground splitting, glaciers rupturing, entire ridges collapsing under the weight of his aura. Above, the sky tore open, a vortex spiraling into existence, black clouds whirling into a vast eye of storm.
Lightning crackled. Thunder roared.
The first dragon cry echoed through the heavens.
Haotian opened his eyes. The Eyes of the Universe burned brighter than ever, galaxies reflected in their depths. His breath was calm, steady, utterly tranquil.
Before him, Bai Leng staggered back, fur standing on end, its body trembling under the oppressive weight of that aura.
"You—" the Wolf King's voice broke for the first time, disbelief in its tone. "What have you become?"
Haotian's lips curved into a faint smile.
"Your end."
The storm above answered with another dragon roar.
The storm above writhed, black clouds twisting into a spiraling maw. Lightning cascaded like rivers of molten silver, thunder claps splitting the heavens. Every pulse of sound was accompanied by another dragon's roar, until the skies resounded with ninety-nine voices in unison.
The earth itself shook. Mountains cracked and avalanches thundered, rivers froze solid mid-current. Beasts scattered like frightened insects, their once feral eyes wide with primal terror.
Haotian's body burned with serene power, the three cores resonating in perfect harmony. His aura no longer surged violently—it rolled calm and infinite, the weight of an ocean pressing upon the battlefield.
Then it appeared.
From his back, light burst forth, surging upward into the storm. Shapes coalesced within the vortex, vast and titanic. Slowly, with each dragon's cry, the image solidified.
A figure descended—twenty meters tall, a towering spiritual avatar of Haotian himself. Its presence filled the world, its gaze cold as the void between stars. In its colossal hands, a spear of pure chi shimmered into being, its haft engraved with flowing dragon sigils that writhed like living flame.
The Avatar of Trinity Resonance had been born.
Its arrival crushed the battlefield. The ground fractured into jagged canyons, entire ridgelines collapsing beneath the sheer weight of its aura. Flood dragons of lightning spiraled around its body, their serpentine forms coiling through the air in a dance of destruction.
Bai Leng froze.
For the first time since its reign began, the Wolf King felt fear pierce its heart. Its knees bent under the pressure, frost qi unraveling in frantic waves as it tried to resist.
"What… are you?" it growled, its voice trembling despite its size. "No mortal cultivator should wield this power… no man should summon the will of heaven itself!"
Haotian's eyes glowed with the galaxies of the universe. His voice was calm, yet carried like thunder across the valley.
"I am Haotian. The spear that defies heaven."
The Avatar mirrored him, lifting its weapon high.
The heavens roared. Ninety-nine flood dragons coiled around the spear, merging into a single radiant serpent of lightning and flame.
Then the spear came down.
The strike split the sky. The ground buckled as though struck by a falling star. Mountains flattened, valleys inverted into craters, and the very storm was silenced beneath the weight of that blow.
Bai Leng howled, hurling its body aside. The ethereal spear missed its heart by a hair, yet still the shockwave ripped into its body. Flesh tore, blood erupted in rivers, fur blackened under the sheer force. The Wolf King was hurled across the battlefield, its once-proud form battered like a rag doll before crashing into the side of a glacier and vanishing beneath tons of collapsing ice.
When the storm of snow and stone settled, the valley was unrecognizable—nothing remained but shattered peaks and endless ruin.
And Haotian stood at the center of it, calm, bloodied, yet unbroken. His Avatar towered behind him, its spear poised for the killing strike.
The air was silent but for the storm's groan. Shattered mountains bled snow and stone into the void Haotian's strike had carved. The battlefield lay in ruin—yet the Wolf King still lived.
From beneath the collapsed glacier, Bai Leng erupted in a storm of frost qi. Its once-glorious white coat was torn and matted crimson, one foreleg twisted unnaturally, ribs cracked and visible beneath shredded flesh. Blood poured from wounds that no beast could survive—yet its eyes still burned with hatred.
"Human…" it rasped, its voice ragged but defiant. "Even if you tear down heaven itself… you will not kill me!"
It lunged, frost qi gathering into a colossal claw strike that froze the very air into crystal. The blow fell like the judgment of a god.
Haotian didn't flinch.
His Avatar moved with him, twenty meters of divine light, spear raised high. The ninety-nine flood dragons coiling around it roared as one, their serpentine bodies fusing into a single leviathan of lightning and flame. Its eyes glowed like suns, its roar split the heavens.
The wolf's claw descended.
The dragon surged.
Haotian thrust.
The Avatar mirrored him, driving the colossal spear downward. The flood dragon fused into the strike, its vast body wrapping the shaft in coils of incandescent power. The moment spear met claw, the world detonated.
Light consumed everything.
The frost claw shattered like glass. The flood dragon coiled tighter, piercing through Bai Leng's chest, tearing flesh, bone, and qi-core alike. The Wolf King's roar turned into a scream of pain that echoed across the frozen north.
The spear pinned it to the earth.
The Avatar towered above, pressing the weapon deeper until the dragon exploded outward from within Bai Leng's body, bursting through fur and hide in streams of lightning and fire. The ground split open, swallowing the Wolf King's blood in rivers of steam and crimson.
Bai Leng's body convulsed once, twice. Its proud eyes dimmed, hatred dissolving into the emptiness of death. Its massive form slumped, pinned beneath the radiant spear.
The Wolf King was no more.
Silence.
The Avatar slowly straightened, its form dissolving into motes of golden light. The flood dragons spiraled upward, roaring one final time before scattering into the heavens. The storm above calmed, clouds dissipating into a clear, frozen sky.
Haotian stood atop the Wolf King's corpse, Fenlong Spear buried deep in its chest. His body was drenched in blood, his robes torn to shreds, but his gaze was calm, steady, his breath even.
He exhaled once, then pulled the spear free.
The northern threat had ended.
Haotian soared southward, the Fenlong Spear strapped across his back, his aura calm but immense. His Eyes of the Universe still blazed faintly, galaxies turning within them. The sky opened before him, the path home clear.
Yet… something tugged at him.
He slowed, then stopped altogether, suspended high above the frozen wilderness. His head turned, gaze sweeping the endless snowfields and shattered mountains.
There—glimmers.
No ordinary glimmers. His eyes caught the faint shimmer of treasures, thousands scattered across the ruins of battle. Shards of qi crystals jutted from broken earth, glowing herbs peeked from beneath ice, ores of heavenly metal gleamed from freshly torn cliffs. Beasts' qi cores—scattered like stars after the slaughter—pulsed faintly with residual light.
A crooked grin curved his lips.
"…Treasures."
He spun slowly in midair, doing a full circle. No matter where he looked, there were glittering signs of opportunity. His senses drank them in, each one calling out like a siren song.
For a long moment, he weighed it.
Return to the sect at once? They're probably tearing the halls apart in panic.
His grin widened.
Or… let them wait a little longer.
Excitement pulsed through his veins. The solemn battlefield conqueror was gone, replaced by the young cultivator's thrill of discovery. His heart quickened—not at the thought of politics, but at the glint of hidden treasures.
He exhaled, smirking to himself.
"Treasure hunting it is."
With that, his body blurred, vanishing into a streak of lightning. He dove into the northern wastes, spear humming faintly at his back, the thrill of the hunt shining in his eyes.
The sect could wait.
The northern winds cut sharp as blades, but to Haotian they were nothing more than whispers. His Eyes of the Universe burned faintly, galaxies spiraling within them as he drifted low across the snowfields.
Everywhere he looked—treasures.
A sheer cliff face glittered, and beneath the ice clung a cluster of Silver-Crown Orchids, their crystalline petals humming with yin qi. He pressed a hand against the frozen stone, sending a pulse of spear qi through. The ice shattered with a crisp crack, and he plucked the orchids free, storing them carefully in jade boxes.
A valley below stirred with faint qi light, dozens of stalks of Frost Star Grass swaying despite the lifeless cold. Their blades gleamed like forged silver, sharp enough to cut a mortal's skin at the slightest touch. Haotian swept his hand, gathering them into his ring.
The deeper he went, the more his senses sang. Beneath ridges, under sheets of frozen moss, hidden in cracks of shattered peaks—every corner held something rare. Aurora Blossoms that glowed faintly in rhythm with the skies above. Ice Dew Pearls, round fruits of condensed qi, lying in hidden patches like scattered jewels. Even the weakest of these herbs would cause sects to go to war in the south.
And yet here, they grew like wildflowers.
By the time Haotian's shadow crossed the third valley, his rings already brimmed with hundreds of rare plants. His smile deepened, eyes flashing.
"So many," he murmured, shaking his head in disbelief. "If I picked every corner of this land… perhaps I'd never leave."
But then—he felt it.
A weight.
A cold pulse unlike anything else he'd touched. Not scattered herbs, not glimmers of qi, but something ancient, rooted deep.
He stilled, turning his gaze northward. Through the snow mist, across jagged ridges, he saw it.
There, in the heart of a frozen grove, rose a tree.
It towered thirty meters tall, its trunk black as obsidian, yet each leaf shimmered blue-white like cut jade. The branches arched wide, heavy with an otherworldly aura. The ground around it pulsed with waves of cold qi so dense they fogged the air into spiraling mist. The mere sight made Haotian's skin prickle, his breath condense to frost crystals before him.
"The Frost Lotus Tree…" His voice was quiet, reverent.
Legends whispered of such a tree, born when heaven's yin qi fused with the marrow of ancient glaciers. To meditate beneath its shade was to feel the clarity of the heavens themselves. To refine pills with its leaves was to raise their grade beyond mortal limits. Most would bow to it, build shrines, worship the ground where it grew.
Haotian's eyes softened, but his hand tightened on his spear.
"This land has no shrine. No guardian. No sect to honor you." He smirked faintly. "Then you'll belong to the Moon Lotus."
His eyes flared, the galaxies within aligning. He traced the ley-lines in the earth, following the root-nodes of the great tree as they spread deep into the frozen bedrock. He lowered his spear, stabbing it lightly into the snow.
A pulse of power surged. The ground cracked with a thunderous boom, ice shattering in waves as glowing roots writhed upward like serpents.
The Frost Lotus Tree trembled. Its leaves chimed, producing a faint music like crystal bells. Then, with a final heave, Haotian thrust his spear into the root-node, severing its tie to the land.
The entire tree shimmered, its vast trunk shrinking into a streak of blue light. With one sweep of his hand, Haotian sealed it into his spatial ring.
Silence fell.
Only the mist remained, curling where the sacred tree once stood.
Haotian exhaled, straightening. His robes fluttered faintly in the cold wind, his gaze calm, resolute.
"One tree," he said softly, glancing at the bulging rings at his side. "Three hundred herbs already collected. And yet, the north is endless."
He looked up at the pale horizon, a faint smile tugging his lips.
"The sect will never believe me."
With a step, he vanished into the snowfields, eyes of the universe still blazing, searching for the next pulse of ancient treasure.
The northern air grew heavier.
Haotian swept low over a ridge, his Eyes of the Universe spinning with light. Faint pulses of qi tugged at his vision—herbs scattered like jewels across the landscape. By now, his rings brimmed with rare stalks and roots, a collection numbering in the thousands.
But then he stopped.
Beneath the glacier ahead, something beat.
Not sound. Not movement. A pulse—slow, steady, thunderous. Like the heartbeat of the earth itself. His gaze pierced the layers of snow and ice, and there he saw it: a twisted, glowing root coiled beneath the mountain, radiating light like a buried dragon.
"Frost Ginseng…" His breath condensed in the frigid air. "No—not just frost. One hundred thousand years…"
He descended, boots crunching into the glacier's surface. The cold here bit sharper than any blade, gnawing at his bones. The air itself seemed to resist his presence, whispering with an ancient warning: Turn back.
Haotian knelt, pressing his palm into the ice. Spear qi surged. The glacier trembled, fissures crawling outward. With a deafening crack, the ice split, revealing a cavern of frozen mist.
There, suspended in frost like a deity in meditation, was the Hundred-Thousand-Year Frost Ginseng.
Its body resembled a coiled dragon root, thicker than a man's torso, its "limbs" stretching like arms. Each segment glowed faint blue, releasing tendrils of mist that filled the cavern. From its "head" sprouted crystalline leaves, each etched with veins that pulsed faintly in rhythm—like blood.
And then it moved.
A surge of qi burst outward, forming a phantom guardian. Shaped like a beast of ice and shadow, it towered over Haotian, fangs bared, eyes like glowing glaciers. Its roar shook the cavern, snow cascading down in sheets.
The cold deepened. Frost crawled along Haotian's skin, biting into his flesh, threatening to freeze him where he stood. Veins bulged beneath his skin, muscles tearing faintly as his body resisted the impossible cold.
Blood seeped from his nose. From his ears. From the corners of his eyes.
But his grip on the Fenlong Spear only tightened.
"Even a root spirit dares to test me?" His voice was ragged, yet steady. "Then break."
He stepped forward. His spear spun once, gathering lightning along its shaft. The cavern flared with light as he drove the spear in a precise arc.
Voidpierce Spear — Second Form.
The air split.
The phantom guardian shrieked as the spear tore through its chest, lightning unraveling its icy body into shards. The cavern shook, cracks splintering through the walls as the guardian dissolved into mist.
Haotian exhaled, blood dripping freely down his chin, staining the frost at his feet. His body writhed with pain, meridians screaming from the cold qi's backlash. But the root before him pulsed faintly, its resistance broken.
He stepped forward again, laying his hand on the ancient ginseng.
"Now you belong to me."
With a sweep of his will, the root shuddered, then shrank into a streak of blue light. Haotian guided it into his ring, sealing it carefully within reinforced jade space.
The cavern fell silent.
Only the sound of his ragged breathing remained. He wiped the blood from his face, chest heaving, but a faint smile tugged his lips.
"One more treasure," he whispered. "And the north still hides more."
Straightening his back, he turned toward the glacial horizon once more. His aura flared faintly, cold winds swirling around him.
The hunt was far from over.