“They might still be waiting outside. Here’s the plan: I charge my lightning, blast the entrance open, and let the noise cover us. We use the chaos to run.”
“And we run where to? Xing, we need to reach that village, or they will continue to chase us,” Ren Lin said.
“And how do we know which direction is the right one?”
“We climb the mountain and look for smoke,” Ren Lin replied. “The village should be on the lee side.”
Feiyun Xing nodded and stored the two Cores back into the Serpent Cache Core. “You look for smoke. I will handle the Snow-Lurkers.”
Tzztch.
Blue light jumped across the walls. “Step back.”
Lightning crashed into the sealed entrance. Stone burst outward like an angry god had torn it open. Daylight flooded in. Feiyun Xing swung Ren Lin onto his back and sprinted out, charging up the mountain.
No Snow-Lurkers. Not a trace.
At the peak, snowfall hid everything at first. Feiyun Xing poured essence into his eyes, dilating his pupils—the world sharpened around him. The blur of snow thinned, then cleared.
Far beyond the nearest ridge, a thin trail of smoke curled into the sky. It rose steady, not the wild plume of a fire, but the quiet signal of a village going about its day.
“I see it,” Feiyun Xing said.
Ren Lin leaned forward on his back. “How far?”
“Around 30 minutes if I run.”
Before she could even reply, the prince moved. In a flash they were back at the mountain's foot.
Suddenly, from behind, a gorilla-like creature leaped toward them. Ren Lin noticed nothing, while the prince felt the shift in the air—
Spurt.
His sword stabbed into the Lurker’s chest midair. He swung his blade, throwing the creature away.
“Their Cores are poorly refined.” Feiyun Xing thought. “That’s why I can’t feel them well.”
Snow around slowly rose—until erupting like geysers, then shaping to figures. Three more Snow-Lurkers; one to the left, two behind.
The closest one lunged low, arms swinging like a maddened ape. The prince sidestepped, twisting his wrist, and drove his sword not straight in—but diagonally through the creature’s chest.
Splat.
A sharp crunch told him he’d hit the Core.
The beast collapsed instantly at his feet.
“It worked!” Feiyun Xing muttered to himself.
Another Lurker charged.
The beast roared, massive arms spread. However, the prince lowered his stance and thrust upward from the hip, diagonally piercing the chest again.
Crack!
The Core snapped in half. The Snow-Lurker was helpless as it drew its last breath.
“Xing—you figured it out?!” Ren Lin acted surprised.
No answer. The third Lurker bounded forward, furious, white fur bristling. He watched its chest carefully.
Meeting the charge, Feiyun Xing simply took one precise step—letting his body pivot, and thrusting his sword forward in a clean, upward diagonal line.
Splish!
The blade penetrated through fur, flesh, and finally the heart. The beast’s roar died in its throat, replaced by a wet gurgle. It froze mid-lunge, then collapsed into the ground, utterly still.
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The prince ripped his sword free and spun, essence crackling around his blade, ready for the next.
A heavy silence fell over the mountain, broken only by the wind.
The snow around them began to move again. Figures rose from the drifts—one, three, then ten more. A whole pack of Snow-Lurkers, massive and imposing, had surrounded them, their blue, furred hands clenched.
They growled, their hot breath steaming in the frigid air. They had watched him. They had seen him kill three of their kind in seconds, each with the same, impossible, precise strike.
Feiyun Xing stood his ground, Ren Lin clung like a koala on his back. He held his sword ready, its lightning reflecting in the creatures' dark eyes. He was not arrogant, not frantic—just focused. Taking the role of the predator now.
One of the largest Lurkers took a step forward, then paused. Its eyes moved to the three bodies, then back at the prince. The creature's instinct, which usually consisted of domination, now screamed a new, more powerful message: fear.
Letting out a frustrated huff, the creature took a step back.
Another one lowered its arms.
One by one, the pack recognized the new hierarchy. With a series of short, angry shrieks, they broke formation. The creatures didn't just walk away—they fled, diving headfirst back into the snowdrifts, disappearing as quickly as they had emerged.
Feiyun Xing held his stance for a long moment, scanning the empty, snow-blown peak. Finally, he let out a sharp, steadying breath and sheathed his sword.
“You did it,” Ren Lin said, her voice sounding impressed. “That was incredible. You found their weakness.”
“Their Cores... are all different,” he said, his voice tight with lingering adrenaline. He started walking toward the ridge, his steps quick. “But once you know where to strike, they’re just... brittle. I should have seen it sooner.”
“You saw it when it mattered,” she said, resting her chin near his shoulder. “You saved us.”
A smirk formed on his face, yet, his mind was already on the next objective. Remembering the direction of the smoke, he broke into a sprint.
The thirty-minute run was a blur of white. The lower gravity of Bingmeng made his movements feel light—almost like flying, which was both good and bad. If he used his full speed, he would slip in every curve or even when trying to stop.
Still, the air tore past them, but Ren Lin held on, shielded from the harsh wind by him.
He slowed as a dark path of stone curved around the mountain’s decline, leading toward an assembly of wooden homes near a broad waterfall. Mist curled at the confluence of the waterfall and the river, while white snow was nowhere to be seen. Feiyun Xing felt something—as though a Core was wrapped around the entire place.
The air grew warmer as they entered. Too warm. The biting cold of Bingmeng faded unnaturally fast.
The smell of grass and sweet tree bark replaced the cold sting from before.
“A protective array?” the prince mumbled.
When they reached the center, his suspicion was confirmed—red leaves swayed at the end of the slither-shaped trunk and its branches. A proud Phoenix tree stood there. Roots extended from it like veins pulsating through the soil.
A sight very familiar to him.
The Sui villagers who were praying to it didn’t wear winter clothing, unlike Ren Lin or Feiyun Xing. Their appearances weren’t how they should be. Skin didn’t cling to cheekbones; it wasn’t even pale like snow. It was nothing like the prince imagined.
Then—one man stepped forward in disbelief.
Black cloth shoes and a reddish-pink changshan accompanied the approaching man. His face was average; his hair was long and messy. However, what stood out the most were his eyes—pitch-black, soulless. The right eye constantly teared, as if an entire river tried to escape through a tiny hole.
He stopped six steps away from Feiyun Xing.
His nostrils flared.
Suddenly, the man dropped to his knees so fast that even Ren Lin flinched.
Pressing his cupped hands to the snowless ground, head bowed low, he said:
“Village head Sui Zhuan Yang greets the great master!” the man declared fanatically. “The blood remembers. Even death did not erase it.”
The other villagers gasped in shock, as though their Messiah came.
Feiyun Xing blinked. “Master? I think you’re mistaking me—”
Sui Zhuan Yang lifted his head. His eyes were calm, empty. His right eye continued to slowly leak tears.
“My father told me about you! You gave my great-grandfather this array. Without you, our lives would be too harsh.” He sounded like a weeping dog finding its owner after years of separation. “Look, even with this protection we lack women.”
“You confuse me with someone else.”
“What…?” His voice wavered, sinking eerily low. “Are you not Feiyun Wuya?”
The prince shook his head.
Sui Zhuan Yang’s eyes fluttered in disbelief. “But… but you look exactly how my father described—tall and black hair with little white dots.”
The villagers mumbled in the background.
“I do resemble him,” Feiyun Xing smiled. “Though, I could never be him—please rise from the ground.”
The man sighed as he stood up. “Are you his son then?”
“Grandson. I have heard my grandfather visited every island. I’m curious—what else do you know about him?”
Everyone around turned silent. Sui Zhuan Yang swallowed, making room for his awe.
“My grandfather and father told me he was the most powerful being—possessing one of the four Transgressions: the ‘Transgression of the Ten Directions.’ He was basically immortal.”
“That’s all?”
The leader nodded his head. “Is… is it true?”
“I personally believe so,” Feiyun Xing sighed. “Unlike my father. He said my grandfather was just naturally skilled, and that the Transgressions were nothing more than old myths.”
Sui Zhuan Yang hesitated. “Your grandfather… ‘was’? Is he dead?”
“Yes,” the prince said softly. “But I don’t know how he passed.”
“My condolences.”
“Ah, don’t worry. I have never met him, he died when I wasn’t even planned.” He chuckled.
As those two were conversing, Ren Lin’s mind was a whirlwind of contemplation. The phoenix tree, the waterfall, the village layout—it was a perfect match for her published story. Yet, the residents here were wrong. Her gaze traveled around the crowd, counting, categorizing. The math was off. Only fifteen women amongst sixty people in total. It wasn’t just a slight deviation. There should be at least double the amount of women.
A chill spread around her chest.
“If the population is this off,” she thought, “What other fundamentals did I misjudge? Was I wrong about only filler being added?”
Ren Lin interrupted their conversation. “What is a Transgression?”
A dying world. A ruined body. A debt that should not be his.
What to expect:
- 3 to 4 chapters a week
- weak to strong MC
- headstrong MC
- cultivation
- xianxia cultivation world