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At FrostyLily Dream’s words, curiosity flared like a match in mist. We studied the girl stepping up, light as an egret on frost. Her beauty didn’t lose to Lingxiao or Lingsaki, not by a snowflake.

Her short deep-gold hair lay neat, like ripe wheat under snow. A white beret, imperial-cut, sat on her head like a pale moon.

Her eyes were mismatched, a violet-blue twilight on the left and an ice-blue lake on the right. Her skin was snow-pale, softer than fresh drift.

She was slender and tall, a winter willow under low sun. She wore a white imperial uniform, yet it felt manga-cosplay cute with a blade’s cool.

Inside was a white blouse with a breath of lace. A bow at her throat rested like a butterfly in frost. Outside, a white coat edged in gold fell to mid-thigh, frost-flowers stitched along both sides. Below, a black tight skirt and black leggings met white long military boots, crisp as new snow.

At her waist hung two ice-blue short swords, each half a meter, twin shards of glacier. Their hilts were linked by a fine chain, a silver thread in winter light. The blades seemed half-transparent, crystal-clear, turning thin sunbeams into a dreamlike aurora. They looked more ornamental than war-forged, like glass lilies under moonlight.

“You’re Yumigawa Sumeragi? You look softer than I imagined, like rain on silk.”

As we measured her, she measured us, eyes calm as still water. She spoke first. “My name is Tianyu Lixue. Just call me Lixue.” “I’m the guardian of this floor’s Palace of Ice Crystal, and Lady FrostyLily Dream’s disciple.” “My paired blades are Ice Illusion Moon.” “My class, same as yours, is Sword Wielder.”

“Huh? A Sword Wielder?!” Shock burst through me like a bird jolting from snow.

A Sword Wielder is a summit above clouds, yet rarer than phoenix feathers. Meeting one here felt like lightning in clear sky. Wait. If Lixue’s a Sword Wielder, then FrostyLily Dream must be—

FrostyLily Dream smiled, as if seeing through fog and bone. “Yep. Same as Sister Xinuo—I’m a Sword Spirit.”

No wonder her power howled like a blizzard. Relief melted my chest like ice under sun. My sisters still wore clouds on their brows.

“Um, Lady FrostyLily Dream,” Lingxiao asked, voice small as rain, “I heard Sword Spirits are spirit race. Why are spirits this broken?”

“I want to know too,” Lingsaki added, steady as a drawn bow. “With just Lady FrostyLily Dream’s strength, no force could stand against you. Well, aside from the Mizumi Clan.”

FrostyLily Dream chuckled, wind-bells in winter air. “When your strength reaches peak Lord God, you’ll grasp a snowflake of it.” “For now, this much: any blade that births a Sword Spirit isn’t ‘divine artifact’ simple. The material gap is a whole other sky.”

“Take Shattered Light in Yumigawa Sumeragi’s hand. Do you know what formed it?”

I could only shake my head, a reed in cold wind.

“Simple,” she said, voice flat as a frozen lake. “From core shards shed as the world split and fused again and again, like tides carving stone.” “Those shards held the world’s Primordial Source, seeds of origin. Over eons they settled into a sword’s shape.” “Across more eons, Sister Xinuo awoke within it, like moonrise over an ancient sea.”

“In other words, Xinuo was born already holding power of the world’s Primordial Source.” “Not all of it, but enough to stand unbeaten here, a mountain no storm can move.” “To fight Xinuo is to fight the world itself. Unless you match the whole world, you can’t be her match.”

She tilted her head, a drifting snowflake. “Does that picture help, little sisters?”

“None of that is simple!” we shouted in chorus, like sparrows exploding from a winter tree.