By the next afternoon, the peaks of the Northern Frontier came into view. A great fortress stood there—carved into the mountain like an iron scar. Its black walls reached high, dotted with banners torn by the wind. Soldiers patrolled the ramparts, their armour dull but their eyes sharp from too many winters in battle.
When our carriage stopped near the gates, a captain stepped forward, his face hard and unwelcoming. "You're the exile from the capital?" he asked, looking me up and down.
"Yes," I said quietly.
He grunted. "Don't cause trouble. We don't care about royal blood here. Either you earn your place or freeze outside the walls."
Without waiting for my answer, he waved for the gates to open. The sound of heavy chains and gears filled the air as we entered the fortress.
Lian Xueyin walked beside me, her expression calm, though I could tell she was watching everything. Soldiers glanced at her, some whispering low—a girl of beauty and otherworldly frost didn't belong in a war post. Yet one glance from her quiet eyes was enough to silence every mocking tongue.
Inside, the fortress smelled of iron, fire, and sweat. Warriors trained in an open yard—their blades flashing under the pale sun. Sparks flew as weapons struck armour, and the voices of sergeants cut through the wind like thunder.
Arina's voice echoed inside me, measured and calm.
"New task: perform exceptionally in your first training session. Rewards scale with performance: greater strength earns greater gifts."
I took a deep breath. "So this is my test."
"Indeed," she said. "Show the world that the Loser Prince is gone."
The captain ordered me to join the training ground immediately. No rest, no welcome. My hands still ached from the fight on the road, but I stepped into the circle of dirt where a dozen soldiers were sparring.
"Pick your weapon," the instructor barked.
I glanced at the rack—blades, spears, hammers. My hand stopped on a twin-edged sword, simple but balanced. It fit in my grip as it belonged there.
The soldiers sneered. "Careful, prince. Don't trip on your fancy sword."
I ignored them. The instructor gave me a nod to start.
As I moved through the drills, guiding my breath as Arina had taught me, I felt the flow of qi through my body grow steadier. Every swing of the sword felt cleaner, louder, and more alive. The others mocked less as minutes passed. When paired for a spar, I faced a soldier twice my size. He swung down hard—a blow that would have sent me sprawling before—but my feet moved on their own, sliding aside, the strike missing by an inch. My counterattack cut a shallow streak across his armour, leaving steam in the air from the raw energy behind it.
The yard quieted.
"That's enough for now," the instructor said after a moment, but I saw the respect flicker in his eyes. The same men who laughed before now looked different — cautious, maybe a little curious.
When I left the ring, sweat clung to my forehead, and my chest heaved, but somewhere deep inside, a quiet voice spoke: you're not weak anymore.
Then came Arina's whisper.
"Task completed. Outstanding performance detected."
A thread of light wound around my wrist, fading into my body. My heart burned warmly, spreading energy through every vein.
"Reward granted," she said. "Cultivation increased from Qi Condensation, Third Layer, to Qi Condensation, Fifth Layer. Additional reward: spiritual weapon, Snowfire Blade."
The weapon shimmered into existence before me—slender and silver, with faint red etchings running along the edge. I could feel both warmth and chill within it, as if flame and frost shared the same heartbeat.
"It resonates with your dual energy," Arina explained. "Your soul carries both calm and fire—a rare balance."
I held the sword carefully, feeling its pulse match my own. Around me, soldiers pretended not to stare, but awe lingered in the air.
After sunset, the fortress quieted. The clang of blades and shouts faded into distant murmurs. I climbed to the higher wall to breathe and think. The moon rose above the frozen peaks—wide, silver, endless.
Lian Xueyin joined me silently, her steps barely making a sound. She carried a small lantern that glowed faintly blue. Its light caught in her hair, turning the strands into threads of snow.
"You fought well today," she said softly.
"I had help," I replied, tapping my chest. "Arina reminds me of what I forget—that I'm not defined by failure."
She smiled faintly. "Sometimes we all need a voice like that."
For a while, we just stood there, watching the moon together. The wind was cold but gentle tonight.
"Lian," I said after a moment, "do you ever think about what drives you forward?"
Her eyes glimmered, distant. "Every day," she murmured. "For a long time, it was revenge. I wanted those who destroyed my family to feel the same cold that took everything from me. But now…" She paused, her gaze softening. "I think I'd like to live differently. Not for hate, but for something warmer—something worth standing beside."
Her words sank deep. I understood that feeling too well—the endless weight of wanting to prove something, to survive your scars.
"I don't know what I stand for yet," I admitted. "But I'll find it. And when I do, I'll protect it. That's my promise."
She turned toward me, eyes reflecting the moonlight. "Then I'll hold you to it, Prince Mukul."
The wind stirred, carrying her voice like a quiet melody. For the first time since I entered this world, I felt peace—fragile, but real.
Arina's voice echoed softly in my thoughts.
"Connection deepened. Lian Xueyin's favorability has increased to 75%."
I smiled despite myself.
The moon hung high above us, painting silver light across the fortress wall. Lian Xueyin's lantern flickered gently, the flame within dancing in rhythm with her quiet breathing.
And as I looked toward the distant horizon, I realised something—this world of swords and spirit wasn't just about power. It was about finding bonds strong enough to heal what power alone never could.
Under that moonlit sky, surrounded by the scent of frost and steel, I made a silent vow:
To rise.
To protect.
And to never let the world steal my heart again.