The elder's voice echoed across the snowy expanse, slicing through the lingering chill left by the women's duel. Lan Qingwei and Mu Xuexin bowed to each other in graceful concession, swords sheathed, retreating amid respectful applause from the assembled disciples.
"Next pair: Senior Brother Wei Hanlin versus Junior Brother Ji Fengyuan." The elder's tone was steady, authoritative.
At that moment, Xue Wuya turned to Yu Xiao, offering an excuse.
"Your Highness, I must leave for a while. Please remain here. I'll return soon." His farewell was formal.
Yu Xiao simply nodded, silent. Xue Wuya departed at once.
After he left, Yu Xiao refocused on the platform ring.
From opposite ends of the central dais—now dusted with fresh ice crystals—two men ascended. Wei Hanlin, broad-shouldered and imposing, wore deep indigo robes layered with reinforced frost-silk armor. His dark hair was bound in a warrior's knot, and he wielded a heavy broadsword etched with glowing glacial runes, its very presence chilling the air.
Ji Fengyuan, leaner and quick-footed, followed with swift, assured strides. His hair fell in sharp, unbound strands, his pale gray robes edged in silver, flowing like mist. In his grasp was a slender spear tipped with crystalline ice, which hummed faintly as he twirled it in salute.
They faced each other at center stage, bowing deeply.
"Senior Brother," Ji Fengyuan greeted with a respectful nod.
Wei Hanlin returned the gesture, his voice deep. "Junior Brother, let us spar with honor."
The elder raised his hand. The duel began.
At first, their exchange was measured. Wei Hanlin's broadsword swept in powerful arcs, unleashing waves of crushing frost qi that cracked the platform like thunder. Ji Fengyuan dodged with liquid grace, his spear thrusting like a serpent, countering with piercing shards of ice that shattered on Wei Hanlin's defenses.
From the Beiming View Pavilion, Yu Xiao watched, awe deepening. The men's spar was rawer than the women's—bursts of power shook the air, snow swirling in violent eddies.
The fight intensified. Wei Hanlin summoned a surge of qi, his broadsword glowing bright azure as he prepared his signature technique: Glacial Avalanche Strike. But as Ji Fengyuan pressed him with a flurry of spear thrusts, Wei Hanlin lost control. The qi erupted—too much, too fast—a massive wave of frozen energy exploding outward in an uncontrolled blast.
The shockwave rippled across the platform, shattering barriers and hurling shards of ice in all directions. One jagged bolt of frost qi veered upward, streaking toward the pavilion—straight at Yu Xiao.
Her eyes widened, breath caught. Time slowed.
Instinct took over. She squeezed her eyes shut, arms crossing protectively over her face. Her heart pounded as she braced for the inevitable—the searing cold, the shattering pain, the end.
But nothing happened.
No chill pierced her, no force struck her body.
Cautiously, she cracked one eye open.
A man stood before her, mere inches away—his back broad in her vision. He wore black robes that seemed to drink in the light, edged faintly with silver frost that hadn't been there a moment ago. His long black hair was tied high, strands stirring in the lingering wind.
His right hand was extended, palm open and steady, as if he had caught the errant frost bolt mid-flight. Azure runes flickered across his skin, absorbing the wild energy without effort. With a subtle movement of his wrist, he redirected the strike, sending it harmlessly into the far corner of the training grounds, where it exploded in a harmless burst of snow and ice.
The entire pavilion had fallen silent.
Yu Xiao's arms lowered, trembling. She opened her other eye wide, staring at the stranger's back—power radiating from him like moonlight over a frozen lake.
Below, Wei Hanlin had dropped to one knee, pale with horror. "This disciple… lost control! I beg forgiveness!" His voice shook. Ji Fengyuan and the elders looked equally stunned.
The man's voice cut through the silence—low, cold, and edged with authority.
"Wei Hanlin."
Wei Hanlin flinched. "Young Master… this disciple accepts full responsibility."
"Responsibility?" The man stepped forward, black robes barely stirring. "You call losing control of a Glacial Avalanche Strike in public 'responsibility'? You lost your grasp the moment pressure mounted. That is not a lapse—it is negligence."
His gaze turned to Ji Fengyuan.
"And you, Ji Fengyuan. You pressed without restraint, knowing your senior brother's style. Did you think provoking him would earn you praise? Or were you simply too eager to prove yourself?"
Ji Fengyuan's knuckles whitened around his spear. "This junior… admits fault for escalating."
The man's attention returned to Wei Hanlin, sharper than before.
"Your stray qi nearly struck an honored guest—one under the Young Master's personal protection." His tone was deliberate. "Had I been a heartbeat slower, blood would have stained this platform. Do you understand the gravity of that?"
Wei Hanlin pressed his forehead to the stone. "This disciple understands. I have no excuse."
Silence settled, heavy as winter frost.
Finally, the man spoke again, quieter but no less commanding.
"Both of you will report to the Discipline Hall after this session. One hundred cycles of the Frost Reflection Circuit. Meditate on restraint until your meridians ache with the lesson. If ambition or carelessness ever endangers another soul in these sacred grounds again, my palm will be far less gentle."
He turned away, black robes swirling like living shadow.
"Matches will resume only when the elders deem you worthy. Dismissed."
The two cultivators remained bowed long after he vanished into the periphery, his reprimand settling over the training grounds like fresh snow—cold, immaculate, impossible to ignore.
Back at the Beiming View Pavilion, Yu Xiao stood frozen, heart racing. "Where did he go?" she whispered.
A moment later, the man reappeared before her, turning to face her. She caught his profile: sharp, refined features, eyes dark as winter nights, an aura so profound the air itself felt heavier.
He really is beautiful, she thought. By fantasy novel tropes, immortals look young no matter their age—how do all cultivators appear so aethereal? And he had just saved her life with a single, effortless gesture. Whoever he was, he was no ordinary cultivator.
The man tilted his head, scrutinizing her.
"What is your name?" His voice was serious.
"Yu Xiao," she answered simply.
His gaze narrowed, relentless.
If I'm not mistaken, this is the woman rumored to be involved with Xue Wuya—the one he personally brought here. If that's true, then the thoughts flickering through the man's mind were shaped by gossip, though Yu Xiao herself remained unaware.
"Xue Wuya brought you here?" he asked, cold and serious.
"Mmm…" she managed, eyes glimmering with a quiet smile.
He nodded slightly, gaze sharp.
Suddenly, twin siblings appeared beside her, shimmering in a spiral of silver dust. Yu Xiao's lips parted, eyes widening in disbelief as they materialized completely.
Han-Yun and Han-Qing stood smiling, holding a handcrafted reed basket brimming with fruits: apples, nectarines, guava, green plum, grapes, and peaches.
Yu Xiao faced them, pointing.
"You—" she began, brows furrowing. "You know how to teleport with spells?"
The twins nodded in unison.
"If so," she pressed, "Xue Wuya can do it too?"
Han-Yun replied first, "Absolutely, My Lady."
"Why do you ask, My Lady?" Han-Qing echoed, curious.
Yu Xiao curled her finger into a fist and struck the air beside her, lips twitching in annoyance, one hand planted on her waist.
The twins waited, patient and curious.
A sharp look from Yu Xiao. "Forget it!" she snapped, taking a nectarine from the basket, biting into it with forced satisfaction as her thoughts drifted.
Meanwhile, the twins noticed the man standing before them and immediately bowed. "Greetings, Young Master!" they chorused.
Yu Xiao paused mid-bite, eyes wide as she turned slowly to the man.
Young Master? Again?
Confusion flickered through her mind. She quickly placed Han-Qing's hand atop the nectarine and bowed formally. "Greetings, Young Master!" she echoed, sheepishly.
"So, she is your Master?" he asked, one eyebrow raised.
"Yes, Young Master!" the twins replied in unison.
He regarded Yu Xiao, scanning her from head to toe.
If rumors are true that he dotes on her, he's made a good choice, the thought flickered.
She's like a blooming lotus—odd, perhaps, but she stands out among all the female cultivators here. If Dijun weren't so ill, surely he'd be fond of her, too.