Subtitle: When the North entrusted its heartbeat to four souls, the Empire descended to measure humanity against the coming winter.
The outline of Hanxianzong was finally visible in the distance, its curved rooftops bearing crowns of pristine snow. The fatigue from days of travel and battle weighed heavily on the four, even Gu Changfeng's usually ramrod-straight posture slackened slightly. As they crossed a stretch of eternally frozen snowfield known as the Frostwolf Ancestral Grounds, the air suddenly stagnated.
The wind died.
It wasn't silence, but as if sound itself had been excised from the world's fabric. Then, a milky-white ice fog rose soundlessly from the depths of the snow, swallowing heaven and earth like a tide, cutting them off from the disciples following behind.
"On guard!" Chu Hongying hissed, her Lie Feng Spear leaping into her hand, its tassel stirring in the absolute stillness.
Shen Yuzhu's heterochromatic eyes flickered with frantic data streams, but for the first time, his processing power felt useless. "Energy structure unparseable... Not spiritual power, not Order's force... something primordial."
As the fog thickened, semi-transparent Frostwolf spirits materialized within it. Their bodies were condensed from ice, snow, and flowing light, their eyes burning with cerulean flames. There was no hostility in their gaze, only a solemn, soul-piercing scrutiny.
The lead giant wolf spirit paced before Chu Hongying. The scarlet Bloodmark on her arm, growing clearer by the day, suddenly burned as if a dormant volcano had awakened, luminous veins like magma pulsing beneath her skin. The great wolf stared at the mark, then its massive head slowly dipped in what seemed like an ancient warrior's salute to a commander.
The ice mist flowed towards Shen Yuzhu, swirling around him. Ice crystals coalesced before him, not as random snowflakes, but forming intricate, ancient bronze-colored sigils that resonated faintly with the rational light deep within his eyes. He grunted, his face paling instantly, fingers trembling slightly. "They're... reading the foundational layers of my consciousness directly." A feeling of utter exposure nearly choked him.
The Dark Heartlock on Lu Wanning's arm pulsed with a sudden warmth, like a sleeping heart awakened. A wisp of mist, like a curious serpent, coiled around her fingertips. A vast, gentle, yet inexorable ancient energy attempted to flow into her meridians, testing the very limits of her vessel. She closed her eyes, fine sweat beading on her temples as she focused on channeling the force.
When the wolf spirits passed Gu Changfeng, the blazing combat will from the legion souls within him boiled up uncontrollably. One particularly massive wolf spirit, bearing the phantom scars of battle, reared before him and let out a soundless roar. Gu Changfeng felt his blood surge as if a thousand war drums beat within his chest. The wolf spirit stared at him for a moment, then bent its foreleg, offering him an ancient battlefield salute.
The next moment, the collective will of countless wolf spirits merged into a torrent, bypassing flesh, spirit, and every boundary of will, branding itself directly onto the souls of the four:
"Four hearts aligned, the North may be entrusted."
"Yet the warm fire is unconsolidated, the trial unfinished—Return to the mortal realm, show us your true hearts."
The ice fog vanished as suddenly as it had appeared. The sound of the wind, the distant exclamations of the disciples, rushed back into their ears. In each of their hands lay a Frostwolf Sigil, carved from unmelting ice, pulsing with a steady, warm rhythm against their palms.
"...They acknowledged us?" Gu Changfeng murmured, gripping the sigil, feeling the battle-will within it resonate with his own blood.
"It is an entrustment, and a test," Shen Yuzhu said quietly, wiping a trace of blood from the corner of his mouth—a result of the psychic impact. "The North awaits our final answer."
Bearing this heavy acknowledgment, they entered the "Everbright Market" at the mountain's foot. It was a rare hub of bustle in the North, a sea of tents, roaring stoves, the scent of roasting meat mingling with the richness of mare's milk wine. Yet, the glint of Mirrorguard armor and the forcibly suppressed fear on the people's faces lay over the lively atmosphere like an invisible sheet of ice.
A little girl's shrill cry cut through the noise. Her father—a weather-beaten hunter—was surrounded by a squad of Mirrorguards, scanning beams locked onto his emotional readings, spiking from his distress at leaving his daughter.
"Emotional fluctuation exceeds parameters. 'Purification' stabilization required," the lead Mirrorguard stated coldly, reaching out a metal-clad hand.
"No! Don't take my A-Die!" the girl screamed, tiny hands clutching her father's fur coat.
The crowd stirred, but no one dared step forward.
A crimson blur shot forward. Chu Hongying ignored the glaring scan-lights, strode forward, and wrapped her own cloak tightly around the shivering girl, shielding her completely. She lifted her head, her gaze as sharp as her spear's point, piercing the Mirrorguard:
"The rule of the North is to protect every soul who wishes to live."
"Her tears carry more truth than all your damned data combined!"
The Bloodmark on her arm grew warm. That pure, ancient will to protect manifested as an invisible barrier, causing the scanner on the Mirrorguard's arm to emit a screech of static, its data streams instantly chaotic. The Mirrorguard froze, its cold logic core seemingly encountering an unprocessable anomaly.
In the stalemate, an old, booming voice rang out:
"Strategist Shen!"
A white-bearded blacksmith, a forging hammer at his waist, stepped from the crowd. He had once served the Imperial Armory and recognized Shen Yuzhu. His gaze was sharp, bearing the blunt skepticism of the North:
"You schemed and turned tides in the capital! Tell this old man, in your game of weiqi, how many stones are our rough Northern lives worth? When will we be discarded like used pieces?"
All eyes in the market fixed on Shen Yuzhu. Gu Changfeng frowned deeply. Lu Wanning looked on with concern.
Shen Yuzhu was silent. The hundred gazes felt like a hundred swords trying to flay him open. He glanced at the weeping girl in Chu Hongying's arms, then at the faces around him, each etched with the struggle to survive. Then, he did the unexpected.
He closed his eyes and voluntarily lowered part of his mental shields. Through the Heart-Oath Covenant, a wave of pure, uncalculated, unweighed intent—accompanied by the violent headache from forcibly opening his mind—washed gently over the heart of every person present.
The thought was simple and blazing—"I want to protect this place."
"Ugh..." He swayed slightly, a trickle of blood escaping his lips. His voice, though soft, was clear to all:
"This... 'irrational' choice... is my answer."
The old blacksmith stood stunned. His eyes, accustomed to forge-fires and molten metal, showed a flicker of emotion for the first time.
From another part of the market, panicked shouts arose. Miners carried a comrade forward; the old man's entire right arm was an unnatural leaden grey, flesh stiffened, wreathed in a hint of Order's Chill.
"Make way! Let Physician Lu through!"
The crowd parted. Lu Wanning stepped forward, the ominous black-tinged Reversal Silver Needle already between her fingers. Under the crowd's wary gaze, she drove the needle steadily into the stiffened, grey-frozen arm. The black qi writhed like a living thing, clashing fiercely with the Order's Chill. The old miner groaned in pain.
Yet, moments later, the grey receded. The deadened flesh regained its color with visible speed, even severed channels beginning to heal under the vibrant vitality the black qi now emitted. Lu Wanning, her forehead damp with sweat, spoke softly yet firmly:
"The marks of life, be they wounds or pain, deserve to be remembered, not erased."
The Northern women watching wept.
Suddenly, terrified screams came from the distance! The wooden walkway at the market's edge, struck by the strange chill, had splintered. Several people hung precariously in the air.
"Shit!" Gu Changfeng cursed. The Fire-Soul power the frostwolves had stirred within him erupted. He shot upwards like a cannonball, snatching the broken main chain in mid-air. Muscles bulged to their limit, his bronzed skin splitting under the immense strain, blood instantly staining his arms. He looked down at the terrified faces below and let out a near-wild laugh:
"My life's tied to these Northern mountains today—so don't you dare fall!"
That single shout, like a spark hitting oil, ignited the pent-up emotions.
Gratitude, trust, relief, hope... a massive, pure energy of heartfelt intent surged from every Northern soul present. The Frostwolf Sigils the four carried blazed with unprecedented brilliance, transforming into four streams of colored light that merged completely into their bodies.
"Hum—"
A Heart-Oath Chain, more solid and dazzling than ever before, shimmering with crimson, ice-blue, jet-black, and blazing gold light, manifested between them in radiant solidity, its light flowing, unbreakable!
Yet, as if in answer to this kindling of heartfire, another change seized the land.
Nightfall descended with unnatural speed, devouring the twilight. In the sky above, the stars vanished, obscured by the vast, phantom image of a net woven from countless icy data streams—the "Web of Order." All sound in the North was once more stripped away, plunging into dead silence.
Then, the New Emperor's calm, merciless voice, as if from a cosmic abyss, drilled precisely into the ear of every living being in the North:
"Observation Log: Northland emotional core anchored. Sample resilience... admirable."
"Experiment proceeding to next stage: Stress Test. Let me witness if your 'warmth' can endure absolute zero."
The Order's Deepfreeze descended.
It wasn't physical cold. The stoves still burned, but gave no warmth. Embraces between kin remained, but hearts were flooded with alienating chill. Hope, courage, love... these emotions felt frozen, drained from their very roots.
"Argh!" Gu Changfeng was the first to buckle, one knee hitting the ground, his seething fighting spirit doused as if by ice water. Chu Hongying gripped her spear, but her arm felt leaden. Lu Wanning felt the Heartlock's pulse grow sluggish and labored. Shen Yuzhu's data streams nearly froze before his eyes.
The newly formed, radiant Heart-Oath Chain groaned under the strain, its light dimming rapidly.
At this absolute nadir of despair, a lantern kindled.
A delicate, warmly glowing Imperial glazed lantern appeared like a phantom at the edge of the market's blizzard, defying the very concept of distance. The man holding it wore dark robes, hair like ink, his handsome features unchanged from years past.
Situ Ming.
He walked with steady steps through the frozen crowd and frozen hope, directly to Chu Hongying. The eyes that once held starlight were now voids of pure reason, yet they focused solely on her. His voice was tender enough to break a heart:
"Hongying, I've returned."
"This winter is not yours to bear. Come with me. I will show you... the truth behind it all."
Chu Hongying's entire body jolted. The name buried deepest in her heart almost escaped her lips.
"Don't believe him!" Shen Yuzhu, fighting the agony in his mind, stepped in front of Chu Hongying. His heterochromatic eyes locked onto Situ Ming, his voice sharp and cold with unprecedented urgency:
"He's not 'him'! He's a 'mirror trap'... meticulously crafted by the Empire from memory and emotional data!"
Gu Changfeng's blade was half-drawn, murderous intent rolling off him.
Lu Wanning reached out and stayed his armed hand. She gazed into Situ Ming's seemingly深情yet hollow eyes and voiced a deeper chill:
"He isn't lying... because he believes it utterly. That is what is most terrifying."
The Frostwolf Sigil against Chu Hongying's chest burned with a warning heat. And the hand Situ Ming extended to her was slender, clean, identical in every way to the youth who had once beckoned to her from the edge of the snowfields in her memory.
Behind her, the North wind howled, its lament lost to the storm.