Years rolled by. Leng Zhi grew older, hair turning silvery white, eyes deeper but calm. At fifty, most worried he would decline, but instead his cultivation surged. The Everfrost Core became clearer, like beating diamond heart inside soul.
One winter's eve, while meditating in solitude, he broke through barrier. Ice mist surrounded him, stretching across valley, freezing flowing river still. His soul power pulsed with majestic aura.
He had stepped into Spirit Saint.
Clan celebrated wildly, fireworks of frost lighting sky. Disciples cried, kneeling before Frost Wall, reciting verses until mountains shook.
But Leng Zhi did not smile ecstatically. He whispered simply: "Saint or not, frost's duty does not change. A wall remains wall."
At council, he told them, "Do not let my rank fool you. Power is brief life. Words, doctrine, roots—these are eternity. That is what you must guard."
And so, while other Spirit Saints across continent boasted glory, Leng Zhi continued to inscribe Everfrost Sutra, expanding teachings. He trained new generation of Frost Clan to fight together as flowing glacier, not scattered ice.
One disciple cried, "Master, you are now near legends of Shrek!"
Leng Zhi closed eyes. "No. Tang San carried entire world against Spirit Hall. I only hold one valley. Never forget difference. And yet, both roots and heavens are needed."
That humility spread stronger than aura. More than Saint, commoners now whispered "Everfrost Sage."