Subtitle: When reason encounters the incalculable, order begins to crumble.
Silence reigned—broken only when the wind stripped snow from the pines in brief, whispering cascades.
Shen Yuzhu knelt in the snow, his fingertips red with cold, yet he stubbornly traced intricate patterns of spiritual veins and order nodes with a broken branch. The snow-covered ground was etched with arrows, symbols, and fractured lines—like a torn map of fractured laws. Strangely, snowflakes drifting onto these symbols seemed gently repelled by some invisible force, as if the snowy wilderness itself was responding to his will.
"The nodes of the Order's Web are unusually sparse here..." he murmured to himself, his heterochromatic eyes gleaming coldly in the night. "The Cold Mountain Sect's 'Heart-and-Sword-as-One' will creates a natural barrier, disrupting the Order's signals." As he finished the final stroke, the branch in his hand snapped abruptly. "This is not a land ruled by order... but a blind spot of reason."
The snow held its silence, as if the very heavens affirmed his judgment.
Not far away, Chu Hongying leaned against the corridor pillar, her Lie Feng Spear held close. She watched Shen Yuzhu's hunched figure in the snow, remembering the cold, precise analysis he had transmitted through the Heart-Oath bond last night—now transformed into these incomprehensible symbols on the ground. This man always did the most irrational things in the most rational way. "If you keep calculating, you'll turn into a snowman," she finally said, unable to hold back as she tossed her felt cloak toward him.
Shen Yuzhu caught the cloak, pausing for a moment. It carried her warmth and the familiar scent of battle. He wrapped it around himself silently, his fingertips trembling slightly—not from the cold, but from an internal fracture he could no longer ignore.
As dawn light pierced the clouds, Situ Ming arrived uninvited. Dressed in black, not a single snowflake clung to his shoulders, as if he were fundamentally alien to this frozen landscape. Yet in his hand, he carried an exquisite box of pastries from the capital—Chu Hongying's favorite from her youth. "Hongying," he said gently, a familiar smile even touching his eyes, "I remember you always complained that northern rations were hard as stone."
Chu Hongying froze, for a moment transported back to the days when he would stand at the edge of the snowfield, waving her over—before the image shattered like ice. She reached for the box, her hand trembling slightly.
Just then, Shen Yuzhu's voice cut through the Heart-Oath bond, cold as a surgeon's blade: "His warmth is but thin ice over frozen logic. When he speaks of 'His Majesty,' his spirit hardens to steel—a loyalty so instinctive, it needs no enforcement. This is no victim of coercion... He has willingly drowned in the deep waters of order."
Chu Hongying's hand stilled. Shen Yuzhu met her gaze, his voice soft yet piercingly clear: "He is not a controlled victim, but a willing agent of order. What you seek to awaken is a soul that long ago signed its contract."
Chu Hongying withdrew her hand in silence, a shard of ice piercing her heart, cold and sharp.
Situ Ming observed her reaction, yet maintained his gentle composure. "It seems my timing is poor." He set the pastries on a stone table nearby. "But Hongying, have you ever considered—precisely because human hearts are fickle, we need order to protect what is eternal?" Before turning away, his eyes briefly met Shen Yuzhu's—a scrutiny of reason against reason, devoid of any human warmth.
"We must verify our theory," Shen Yuzhu gathered the others immediately after Situ Ming's departure. "If the Northern Frontier is truly a blind spot of order, the Heart-Oath bond should be able to actively disrupt the Order's Web."
Their target: a nearby patrol of "Mirror-Soul Guards." Hidden behind a snowy ridge, the four watched the silver-armored soldiers march in perfect synchrony. Their movements were so precise they seemed like a single entity, their faces blurred beneath their helmets—no longer living beings, but puppets wholly assimilated by order.
"Frequency synchronization, begin." Shen Yuzhu closed his eyes to guide. Lu Wanning's silver needle trembled in her hand, the "heart-energy" stored in her Dark Heartlock swirling like a hidden tide, channeled into an invisible pulse of emotion. Gu Changfeng stood guard at the front, securing their physical defense. Chu Hongying focused her will, anchoring their shared consciousness.
In an instant—
A full stop.
The Mirror-Soul Guards' synchronized steps halted as if paused by an unseen hand, lasting half a breath. One guard's helmet tilted slightly, as if trying to comprehend some nonexistent emotion.
Their tactical system issued a cold error tone: [Emotional variables cannot be computed. Logical chain broken.] Far away in the capital's Mirror Palace, a screen monitoring the Northern Frontier flickered with static.
Shen Yuzhu opened his eyes, his voice trembling with awe: "Heart-energy doesn't destroy... It inserts incalculable variables into a system of absolute reason. When order encounters the uncomputable, it collapses upon itself."
Chu Hongying felt the resonance coursing through her, her Lie Feng Spear humming softly in her grip. For the first time, she understood so clearly—emotion was not a weakness, but the sharpest of weapons. "So our 'glitch of a team' happens to be the natural enemy of order?" Gu Changfeng grinned, his blade reflecting the snowlight. Lu Wanning gently stroked her now-calm silver needle, lost in thought: "If heart-energy can disrupt order... can it also rebuild it?" Her question left everyone in silence.
Sect Leader Ling Qingyin appeared by the Mirror Lake, her robes white as snow, her expression solemn. "The heart-light of you four has formed a 'Four Poles Resonance,'" she said, her gaze sweeping over them before settling on the floating Heart-Oath Crystal. "Only by passing the 'Heart-Mirror Trial' may you truly enter the Cold Mountain Sect." Her eyes lingered on Shen Yuzhu. "Your heart-mirror is sealed too tightly by reason. The lake will show you—what it means to 'reflect truth.'"
The trial would take place at the sect's forbidden ground: Mirror Heart Lake. The rules were simple yet cruel: face their inner demons while keeping the Heart-Oath bond intact.
Gu Changfeng grinned widely. "Finally, some real action!" Yet Lu Wanning frowned slightly, her silver needle humming inexplicably—she sensed the lake's energy structure bore an eerie resemblance to the laws of the Bronze Gate. "The trial begins at dawn tomorrow." With those words, Ling Qingyin dissolved into a swirl of snow, leaving the four facing the eerily calm lake. Its surface, solid as crystal, reflected the sky and snow-peaks, yet mysteriously showed no trace of their own images.
"This lake is wrong," Chu Hongying gripped her spear, her battle-honed instincts setting her on edge. "It's... waiting," Shen Yuzhu murmured. "Waiting for us to offer our deepest secrets."
Deep in the night, Chu Hongying sharpened her spear under the corridor eaves while Shen Yuzhu recorded fluctuations in the Mirror Domain's signals. The northern stars shone with exceptional clarity, a river of light spanning the heavens. "What are you calculating?" Chu Hongying suddenly asked.
Shen Yuzhu's brush stilled. He looked up at her, his breath misting in the cold air. "I've relied on reason to comprehend the world my whole life. Yet I cannot calculate why you took that arrow for me... nor why I am willing to follow you into this certain death."
Chu Hongying laughed softly, spearpoint glinting in the snowlight. "Then tell me—are you calculating me now, or feeling me?"
Shen Yuzhu remained silent for a long time, so long she thought he wouldn't answer. Finally, he spoke, his voice clearer and gentler than ever before: "I am learning... how to do both at once."
Their fingertips brushed unintentionally in the snowy night. Not clasping, yet not parting. In that moment, the Heart-Oath Crystal floating between them pulsed softly, as if responding to the unspoken feelings. Certain variables, beyond all reason, were quietly rewriting the equation of fate.
High on a distant snow ridge, Situ Ming stood statue-still. Snow piled unmelted on his shoulders, his aura one with the ice. In his palm, he held an ice-mirror reflecting those unjoined hands in the corridor below. "Emotion disrupting reason? Truly... an intriguing experimental anomaly," he murmured to himself, his fingers tightening imperceptibly on the mirror's edge—as if some lingering humanity twitched in silent pain. "Your Majesty, the laboratory of human nature you desired... has now taken form."
The ice-mirror trembled, showing tomorrow's reflection in Mirror Heart Lake—its surface stirring without wind, as if anticipating the coming trial. And deep within its waters, an ancient consciousness was slowly awakening.