As the blinding starlight subsided, Su Ming stood on the summit of a black mountain. Beside him, Bai Qingxian exhaled cold air.
Above them, the sky stretched into an endless void, filled with swirling currents of gold and blue. Below them, a mirror-like river flowed through the valley, reflecting the sky so perfectly that the mountain grounds below them felt like floating in empty space. Tiny glass-like shards of snow hung suspended in mid-air, caught in an eternal moment. Still, it looked so real that it confused Bai Qingxian.
"A Grotto-Heaven?" she whispered, the words swallowed by the absolute silence.
She took a slow step forward. She reached out, her fingers brushing one of the suspended snowflakes. It did not melt. It carried no temperature.
"No," she said, her expression softening. "A true Grotto-Heaven possesses its own cycle. It breathes, expands, and moves with the laws of the world. This place is dead. It is a single moment preserved forever."
