Chapter 9: Freezing Cold

December Sect, Hall of Immortal Pursuit.

Within the hall, warm smoke curled through the air. Most of the elders of the December Sect appeared as white-haired old men. In the center of the hall, a white crane stood with its wings spread, as if about to take flight, looking incredibly lifelike. From its beak, a circle of water-mirror rippled, clearly displaying the scenes on the Cloud Stairway.

Every sect in the Immortal Cultivation Realm included various types of cultivators, but each had its own specialization. The names of the factions were blunt and direct: sword cultivators were the Sword Gate, medicine cultivators were the Medicine Gate, and so on.

However, this didn't mean the Sword Gate consisted entirely of those who used swords. Rather, as long as one used a weapon—be it a whip or a staff—they would be categorized under the Sword Gate.

Few elders bothered to watch the entrance to the Cloud Stairway; it was mostly a formality. An hour after the water-mirror was opened, they spent their time exchanging pleasantries and discussing trivial matters, usually only rising to pay attention on the final day.

"Is Lord Wanghua still in seclusion?" Shu Ning asked, smoothing her long sleeves.

Aside from the Sect Leader, the highest-ranking individual in the December Sect was the Sword Sovereign. In the Sect Leader's absence, he was supposed to preside over the recruitment. Lord Wanghua had indeed been present for a few days, but yesterday he claimed to be entering seclusion and sent his disciple, Turi Qi, as his substitute.

Currently, Turi Qi sat tensely in the second seat. Hearing this, she immediately cupped her hands in a respectful bow, lowering her head. "Yes, Elder Shu. Master entered seclusion in the Void Grass Cave two days ago and instructed me not to make a scene."

"No need to be nervous, Qi. You have improved much recently; you should take this chance to relax," another elder said with a laugh.

Turi Qi nodded in agreement.

"Out of the three hundred disciples in the Sword Gate, only a hundred use swords, and of those, only five possess swords that have birthed a sword spirit. I wonder how many will become true sword cultivators this time, wouldn't you say, Immortal Jin Chuyang?"

Among the few young faces present, one was the Sword Sovereign's disciple, and the other was Jin Chuyang, who, despite his advanced age, maintained the appearance of a youth. He stared at the water-mirror with a serious expression, completely ignoring the question. After a while, he looked like a frozen statue.

"Asleep again. If he's going to sleep, why must he pretend to be watching?"

"Let me close his eyes for him."

Shu Ning reached out, a sweep of her long sleeve acting like a hand closing eyes that refused to shut in death. Jin Chuyang closed his eyes, and his body went limp as he slumped into his seat.

Turi Qi was unable to join the elders' chatter. She watched the water-mirror as the scenes on the Cloud Stairway constantly shifted.

There were those whose entire bodies were pulled into illusions and vanished from the stairway. There were also those whose spirits were shrouded by illusions, appearing to stand in place with glazed eyes; if such people encountered someone with ill intent, their packs would be silently stolen.

The Cloud Stairway never focused on filtering for "kind-hearted" individuals; it was primarily a test of perseverance. Even though it pained her to see, Turi Qi had watched enough people commit a misdeed one moment only to be killed by someone else the next. She took a deep breath, trying to remain calm.

In a daze, she thought of her cold and ethereal master, whose features were like frost—colder even than those who practiced the path of Heartless Dao.

A sudden bitterness rose in her throat.

She quickly snapped out of it and refocused on the water-mirror.

The middle-aged man in the mirror died, the surface rippled, and the location changed.

A boy, carrying an average-sized pack, was whispering to the girl beside him. The water-mirror had no sound, so she didn't know what they were saying.

A few meters behind them, a young man in fine silk robes lay collapsed on the stairs, exhausted. His hairpiece was crooked, and his clothes were covered in dust—a wretched sight.

The girl seemed to say something, and the boy with the ponytail lowered his head to whisper a few more words back. Before he could finish, the young man in fine robes suddenly vanished into thin air.

Turi Qi saw the expressionless girl's eyes widen significantly.

The two fell into a brief silence. Suddenly, the boy looked up toward the position of the water-mirror, his dark pupils revealing no emotion. With the eyes of a mortal, he naturally discovered nothing, and after a moment of observation, he let it go.

Since the boy was so sharp, his talent should be excellent, yet Turi Qi found her attention drawn to the girl.

Ordinary people might think the girl’s gaze was simply clear and a bit dull, but Turi Qi was different. She had spent over a decade in the Sword Gate and had met and fought with sword cultivators from sects all over the world. Between the two of them, she seemed to like the girl a little more.

After walking for several days, the pack grew smaller, and most people they encountered harbored malice. They had to fight every so often. The corpses ahead were rotting, though fortunately, there were no flies or rats.

Vane was the first to be captured by an illusion.

Zora had just struck someone’s jaw, knocking them unconscious, when she saw the boy carrying the pack suddenly stop moving.

"?"

Zora walked in front of him and waved her hand. Vane’s eyes were vacant; he didn't react at all. She pushed him, but he didn't budge, as if he had grown roots. He had been captured by an illusion.

Zora watched him quietly for a while and then sat beside him, hugging her knees. The Puppet Threads seemed to have lost a segment of their connection because his spirit was absent, rendering them unable to function.

She waited for an unknown amount of time. Several people who had passed by trying to steal the pack were knocked down and lay scattered around; those who woke up scrambled away up the stairs.

The sun in the sky was covered by white clouds, and the heat lessened slightly. Zora sat on the stairs and dazed for a long time. Everything was silent.

She was getting a bit hungry. She stood up to take the pack from his hand. She grabbed the pack and pulled—it didn't move an inch. He was clutching it tightly.

Zora lowered her head and pried his fingers open one by one. The boy's warm fingers suddenly began to tremble. Zora was startled and immediately let go, retreating up a few steps.

Vane was trembling as if enduring something intense. His long black lashes shook along with his furrowed brow, and his vacant eyes were filled with a deep, dark shadow.

Zora approached again once she realized he had no offensive power and continued to pry his fingers from the pack. Her movements were even more hurried than before; she was afraid his trembling would cause the pack to drop. What if the food rolled away?

Vane seemed to have returned to the Demon Realm—a vast, barren land of yellow earth and rolling, bald hills. As a child, he ran barefoot across the coarse ground. The hungry refugees digging in the earth were mere blurs as he sped past.

"Halt!" A shout rang out, and his head was slammed into the ground by a large hand. His face was scraped bloody against the earth, staining the soil red.

The man chasing him was tall and filled with hatred, causing the thin refugees nearby to avoid him, though they stayed close, barely suppressing their fear.

The man snatched a stale steamed bun from the boy's arms and cursed, "You beast, was it you who killed my brother?"

The boy's head was lifted and then slammed down again. Blood flowed steadily. A hint of darkness appeared in his black pupils, his knuckles tightening and turning white. With his left cheek pressed into the ground, he could only open one eye. Within his field of vision were crowds of people with terrified yet greedily watchful expressions.

He knew they were waiting for him to die.

The Demon Realm was thousands of miles of parched earth and withered grass. All food, clothing, and medicinal herbs were hoarded by the few who possessed even a sliver of cultivation. What was ordinary treatment for a cultivator in the Immortal Cultivation Realm was a life of absolute power in the Demon Realm, let alone for the refugees struggling on the edge of survival.

But there were no kind-hearted people in the Demon Realm; they had all died long ago. The onlookers hoped for his death so they could carve up his body to fill their stomachs.

The boy's body began to tremble, and darkness filled his eyes. The man above him ranted incessantly, then suddenly stopped. His eyes protruded, his face frozen in an instant of shock as a large amount of blood sprayed from his neck like a fountain.

Vane had turned his back to the man the moment the blood sprayed. He had always known how to avoid the high-pressure spray of blood from a severed artery.

Withdrawing his blade, he scrambled up from the ground. He had only taken a few steps before the man behind him was swarmed by the hungry crowd, even before he had completely fallen.

The boy paused, pivoted on his toes, and looked back at the huddle of people making crunching sounds.

Strange.

In the past, his heart would have been racing with excitement, and he would have stood to watch for a long time. Now, however, it felt dull and lacking. Perhaps it was because that man had been too mediocre and too simple. The strength he once had to fight with all his might suddenly felt so weak now. There was nothing to be excited about after defeating him.

His dark eyes went completely still.

The moment his heart grew calm, the illusion shattered, and his memories returned.

the scene before him became a painting, decaying inch by inch as light seeped through the cracks. The light flooded in, and in a moment of disorientation, his surroundings became bright. Before him were the sunlit, tree-lined stairs of the Cloud Stairway.

Vane looked down. Zora was prying his fingers open, her forehead pale and a few stray hairs sticking out.

"What do you want to eat?" he asked after staring at her for a few heartbeats.

Zora looked up and saw that his eyes were clear, meaning he had broken free from the illusion. She let go of his hand and said, "Vegetable cake."

"There are none left."

"Then a steamed bun."

He pulled a steamed bun from the pack and handed it to her.

"Too slow," Zora said, taking a bite.

"Sorry. I’ll be faster next time." Vane knew she meant he was too slow in breaking the illusion.

He glanced at the people lying around, observing as he straightened his finger that Zora had accidentally fractured.

"Illusions seem to be judged by one's state of mind to determine if one can escape. I suspect the calmer one is, the sooner they can break free."

His knuckles made a soft clicking sound as he set the bone. To him now, such a minor injury was inconsequential.

Zora gave a small grunt of acknowledgment. After eating, she took his water skin and drank a few gulps before continuing forward.

They walked past the scattered bodies. After a long while, a rasping gasp sounded behind them. Initially, they paid no mind, but the person spoke up.

"You... you there... Hey, you people in front..."

Zora turned back.

The person was a wretched-looking boy in fine robes, seemingly a bit older than them.

Vane lowered his head and whispered to her: "Likely a wealthy son of a rich family who brought servants up the stairs. Those servants must have all died along the way. We passed them once a few days ago."

"I... I am of the Shu family, related to Immortal Shu of the December Sect's Medicine Gate! You... come over here and support me!"

Zora: "What does 'Shu family' mean?"

Vane whispered again: "It means he has connections in the sect."

The young man was self-righteous, and seeing that the two ignored him, he grew angry. "You... didn't you hear me? The Shu family!"

Vane could see she wanted to walk over and kick the person unconscious, just as she did with others who made a scene. He said, "Careful, he might have spiritual tools. Families like that usually have many cultivators, and I don't know what he has on him..."

Before he could finish, the young man suddenly vanished, disappearing on the spot.

Zora’s eyes widened slightly in surprise.

They didn't know that illusions could pull in more than just a person's spirit—they could also pull in their physical body. However, such illusions were rare; not one in a hundred people would encounter one.

The two watched the spot where he had vanished in silence for a moment.

Zora: "Was that a spiritual tool?"

Vane: "I'm not sure. But he had no reason to move away just now; it must have been forced."

The two watched for a bit longer and then turned back to head forward.

When night fell today, the trees on both sides suddenly rustled. It was eerie and dark, and the cold wind whistled. It wasn't snowing, yet the temperature plummeted.

Moreover, it wasn't a normal cold. The more one moved, the lower the temperature became, effectively trapping people in place.

After Vane dealt with a few troublemakers, he found winter clothes in the pack. Both changed, but it was still freezing.

Zora was shivering from the cold. She was naturally sensitive to the cold and had cool skin; now she felt an icy chill.

They only had two thick padded cloaks. Zora put one on and sat curled into a ball. Vane was cold too, the tips of his hair nearly freezing. Neither closed their eyes; on a night like this, one might never wake up if they fell asleep.

When Zora was about to lose consciousness from the cold, she turned and whispered, "One isn't enough."

Vane was clenching his teeth to stop his shivering. Hearing this, he paused and slowly undid his cloak with stiff fingers.

Zora: "We have to be together. It's warmer when people hold each other."

Vane paused for a long time and then nodded.

Neither of them had any romantic thoughts; it was a pure desire for survival through warmth.

When she hugged Vane, she felt like she was hugging a warm stove. Vane, on the other hand, felt as if he were holding a piece of ice. Both of them reached their arms inside each other's thick cloaks and held on tight, blocking the wind and making their hands warmer.

Only when they were shielded from both front and back did the temperature stop falling.

As Zora warmed up and her frozen face regained sensation, she realized her face was pressed against the hairpin beneath his collar. It was a bit painful, so she moved her head slightly. Perhaps due to a difference in constitution, she felt he was very warm, constantly radiating heat.

Vane also gradually grew warmer. From the corner of his eye, he saw her head move until she found a more comfortable spot to lean and then stayed still.

The Demon Realm didn't have such cold weather.

The white mist from their breath dissipated. He thought of that snowy mountain where they had first met after escaping the Demon Realm.

"Talk. Stay awake," Zora said. Her face was buried against the boy's chest, and the white mist was squeezed out. Her voice sounded muffled.

When Vane started to drift off, his chin almost rested on the top of her head. He forced himself to look up. "This might be even colder than that snowy mountain, even though it isn't snowing here."

"Mhm. Indeed."

"When I was being hunted," Vane’s throat hitched for a second from the cold, and more white mist appeared from his lips, "it was because I was running that I stayed warm. Once I stopped, it would be exceptionally cold."

"For me," Zora thought for a moment and said honestly, "after I severed the tendons in your wrists, you bled so much that I used it to warm my hands before dragging you into the cave. Otherwise, my fingers would have been too stiff to move."

"..."

Vane was momentarily speechless, though he didn't feel much. Rather, her tone was so sincere that it carried a hint of bluntness and innocence. She could have acted like someone from the Demon Realm, but she had merely covered herself in blood and then dragged him away to save him. She wasn't cruel, but she didn't possess that sickening, excessive kindness either.

"..."

After a while, neither spoke again.

In the silence, Vane realized that as long as he didn't respond, she wouldn't start another topic. He asked, "If you enter the immortal sect, what will happen to the mortals you know?"

"You're the only mortal I know."

Vane was slightly startled.

Ignoring his silence, Zora asked, "How many people do you know?"

In the Demon Realm, he only offended people. Vane came back to his senses and said, "You're the only person I know who doesn't hate me."

It was Zora's turn to respond. She thought for a while, not knowing what to say, and decided on a useless sentence: "Then if we die here, no one will know."

"..." Vane replied, "Yes."