The dawn came cold and sharp, painting the sky in pale silver. The fortress buzzed with restless energy—soldiers preparing weapons, tightening armour straps, and adjusting saddle bindings. The air carried tension, not fear, but the kind only men who'd tasted war could understand.
I stood near the iron gate, the Snowfire Blade strapped across my back. Its hilt pulsed faintly with blue-red light, the edges humming like a heartbeat I could feel even when I didn't touch it.
Captain Feng, the same hard-faced man who'd met me at the gate days ago, approached. "Prince or not," he said gruffly, "today you'll earn your keep. A merchant convoy went missing near the Frostgale Ravine, and the bandits responsible are rumoured to wield spirit artifacts. You'll ride with my unit."
I nodded. "Understood."
Lian Xueyin appeared beside me, her robe swaying lightly in the morning wind. She'd insisted on coming, claiming her ice abilities could track spiritual traces. The captain didn't argue — no one dared to, not after she froze thirty men like statues.
As we mounted our horses, I felt Arina stir in my mind, her tone calm but firm.
"Host, this mission presents your first field opportunity. Combat under real conditions will awaken the next hidden layer of the Snowfire Blade. To prepare, you must begin learning the preliminary stage of its corresponding technique—Crimson Frost Flow."
I frowned slightly. "Now?"
"Yes," she said. "The technique requires both fire and ice qi. You must learn to balance contradiction—warmth that doesn't burn, cold that doesn't freeze. The sword's power adapts to your inner flow."
Her words echoed through me as we rode out of the fortress and into the open tundra. The wind met us with icy teeth. Mountains loomed in the distance, jagged and endless. My breath turned to mist, but within me, something else flickered—a faint heat, steady and patient.
"Focus inward," Arina whispered. "Breathe through your core. The fire exists in the breath, the frost in the silence that follows."
I obeyed, drawing slow breaths as my horse's hooves pounded the ice-crusted ground. Through each inhale, I pulled warmth into my chest; through each exhale, I let that warmth wash into stillness. At first, the two forces clashed—flame and frost cancelling each other. But slowly, I began to sense rhythm, a kind of quiet dance between the extremes.
"Well done," Arina said softly. "That is Crimson Frost Flow. It will guide your sword strike when the time comes. Remember the sequence—calm the frost, then call the flame."
Hours passed before the wind carried something new—iron, smoke, and the faint tug of death.
Captain Feng raised a hand, and the unit slowed. Ahead, half-buried in snow, lay broken carriages and frozen corpses. Banners marked the merchants of the Southern Guild, now torn and soaked in blood. The air felt heavy, thick with residual spirit energy.
"They were attacked by Qi users," Lian Xueyin murmured, kneeling near a fallen guard. She brushed her fingers over the wound—cut clean by spirit steel. "Whoever did this wasn't ordinary."
Before anyone could reply, a sharp whistle sliced the air. Arina's voice turned urgent.
"Host! Movement behind the ridge—multiple hostile presences!"
The snow exploded. A group of figures rose from the drift, their armour dark, weapons gleaming with red qi. There were at least a dozen. The leader, wrapped in fur, grinned beneath a cracked mask.
"Well, look what wandered into my trap," he said. "The frozen prince and his pet frost goddess."
The soldiers tightened their formation. Captain Feng barked an order, and battle erupted. Steel met steel, qi flared like storms, and the snow became smoke.
I stepped forward, drawing the Snowfire Blade. The weapon responded instantly, flaring with twin colors—blue ice along one edge, red flame along the other. My heartbeat echoed in its hum.
"Now, host," Arina commanded. "Invoke Crimson Frost Flow. Unite both elements."
I steadied my breath. The cold air entered my lungs; the inner fire rose to meet it. When they touched, something inside me clicked—a pulse of harmony, bright and pure. The sword vibrated, releasing a wave of heat and frost together.
The first bandit charged at me, laughing—but his laughter turned to shock as my blade cut through the air. It didn't slice like normal steel. Instead, it left a trail of crystal flame—fire that froze, ice that burned. The man's weapon shattered on contact, and the shockwave hurled him backwards into the snow, unconscious before he hit the ground.
A second attacker came; I moved faster. My strikes flowed like water, one motion melting into another. Each slash carried both heat and chill. Where the blade passed, the very air hissed.
Around me, soldiers shouted, "That sword—what is that?!"
Lian Xueyin fought nearby, her frost spreading outward like snow petals. When our powers clashed against the enemy's, the ground trembled, sparkling in strange light—snow and flame entwined in one dance.
The leader roared and launched himself at me, his aura blazing. His sword crashed against mine. The impact sent sparks flying and pushed me back two steps, but I didn't falter.
"Arina—now!" I shouted.
"Channel both extremes!" she answered. "Let flame carry frost; let frost sharpen flame!"
I turned my wrist, guiding the flow exactly as she said. The Snowfire Blade sang, and a spiralling wave erupted outward—half crimson blaze, half icy mist. It struck the leader square in the chest, exploding in a burst of heat and snow. When the wind cleared, he lay still—his armour burnt and frozen at once.
The remaining bandits fled into the wilderness, their courage shattered. In moments, silence returned—only the crackle of distant fire remained.
Captain Feng approached, his usual cold eyes filled with reluctant admiration. "You might be more than you look, boy," he muttered. "Maybe there's hope for you yet."
When the battle ended and the bodies were buried, darkness fell upon the ravine. Exhaustion settled into my bones, but pride glimmered quietly underneath.
That night, by the campfire, Lian Xueyin sat beside me, tending to a small frost spirit she'd conjured to light our corner of the camp. Its glow shimmered across her face.
"You fought well," she said softly.
"So did you," I replied. "Every time I think I understand what power means, you show me something new."
She smiled faintly. "Power isn't everything. Sometimes, it's just the will to move forward—even when no one believes you can."
The wind sighed through the ravine. I looked at her, then at the sky. The moon was high, pale, and distant, but its light touched everything equally—the frost, the flame, and even two souls scarred but unbroken.
Arina's voice whispered through the silence.
"Mission complete. Reward distributed—cultivation increased to Qi Condensation, Seventh Layer. Connection to Snowfire Blade synchronised fully."
I smiled quietly to myself. For the first time in this world, I didn't feel like an outcast prince or a lost orphan. I felt like someone stepping into his own story.
And as Lian Xueyin's faint laughter rose beside the crackling fire, I realised that strength alone wasn't the goal.
It was the will to keep walking—through flame, frost, and every storm ahead.