Prison of Absolute Frost.

As the world around me heaved and cracked like shifting ice, FrostyLily Dream's silhouette bloomed above me.

And a giant sealed cage closed in, an ice shell wrapping us like a glacier's heart.

...

In this ice cage, pressure bit into my strength like winter biting bone.

Understanding hit like a falling icicle: the ambient ice element had turned into pure Ice Primordial Source.

In other words, this cage held nothing but Ice Primordial Source, severing all ties to the outside like a frozen void.

Not good; the situation tasted thorny, like brambles beneath snow.

Inside a cage of only Ice Primordial Source, FrostyLily Dream's power would crest like a blizzard's peak—true, unrestrained release.

And me, two layers of strength suppressed, with Sword Aura hamstrung; no other energies here to weave, like a harp with snapped strings.

Beating her in this weather would be hard; but my blood sparked, craving a battle carved from challenge.

Please, sister, take it more seriously, or you might lose to me in this frozen ring.

Her voice was cold as rime; behind her, wings of ice swords unfurled, jeweled by dim light like frost-lit feathers.

Mm.

I pulled my drift into focus, my stance settling like still water before storm.

Her “wings” slapped once; thousands of ice swords poured down like a steel rain from a winter sky.

World Sword.

With Sword Aura pinned, I leaned on swordcraft; one sweep cleared the blade-storm like wind scything snow.

But she sent dozens of Origin Sword Qi from the air, ice-blue comets denying me a breath.

No choice; I condensed a sword of Sword Aura in my left hand, then hewed out the World Sword's second stroke—Reverse Sword.

If World Sword merges with the world and draws the world's Primordial Source, Reverse Sword flips that flow.

It unravels any attack like melting frost.

Boom!

I took one step back; both swords ruined in my grip, but her Origin Sword Qi was fully stopped like waves against a cliff.

Reverse Sword excels at disassembly, but the blade must bear the weight, like a bridge carrying floodwater.

And pure Sword Aura lags behind Primordial Source, far behind Origin Sword Qi; my sword snapped under pressure like brittle ice.

Then a hateful chill crawled from behind; the whole cage went pitch-black like a moonless tundra.

A single ice-blue swordlight bloomed near me, bright as a frozen star.

Ice: Nether Slash.

Her flat tone cut like sleet; the swordlight surged straight at me, defying space and time like a comet.

I couldn't spare thought; I forged a new blade and swung Reverse Sword again, a stroke like overturning a river.

Crack. Bang.

On contact, my blade broke like thin glass, yet the swordlight's weight fell by half, like dimming dawn.

I flashed aside through the cold, then chased her with Sword Aura, a streak like wind through pines.

Too bad; my Sword Aura only trimmed a few ice-blue strands from her fringe, and she erased the rest with one clean cut.

A sword formed from ordinary Sword Aura blocked my Origin Sword Qi twice, and you even had room to counter—unexpected, sister.

FrostyLily Dream looked at the fallen strands in her palm, a pale-thorn glance, then at me.

Tell me, sister, are you really fine not turning back into Sword Spirit form?

No problem; I despise that Sword Spirit state—mind without feeling, like a blade without warmth.

This time I poured all Sword Aura into a sword that matched Shattered Light in shape and weight.

It sat heavy in my hand like a winter stone.

It should carry me through this fight, a keel under storm.

I see.

Her icy gaze sharpened like a spearhead.

Then she vowed, I'll force you back into Sword Spirit form by sheer power.

As the words fell, a blizzard roared through the cage, each flake sculpted from Ice Primordial Source like carved crystals.

I mustn’t let it touch me; I raised a clear Sword Aura barrier around my body, a glass wall against the snow.

What?

A clamp tightened on more than strength; even my Sword Intent felt muffled, like sound under thick snow—this blizzard's work.

Meanwhile her figure vanished, swallowed by the storm like a shadow in white.

This blizzard stirred by Ice Primordial Source dulled Sword Intent and blurred vision, and she could strike from the snow's veil.

Power of the Primordial Source isn't rule or law; treat it with care like fire in dry grass.

So annoying!

Dozens of swordlights flared in the gale, and with World Sword and Reverse Sword I blocked them like shields in hail.

But that left me on passive defense, a posture I loathe like standing in rain without a cloak.

Sword melds with heaven and earth; everything becomes a sword.

A single Sword Aura ripped the haze ahead like dawn through fog; I drove my power hard.

Countless golden Sword Aura rose and gathered overhead, lanterns lighting the dim cage.

Found you?

I felt her position and sent hundreds of Sword Aura, each seeded with the world's Primordial Source like sun in grain.

Snow Burial.

Her clear-cold voice rang in the storm; the blizzard ceased, and my Sword Aura dissolved like ash in water.

I refused to give her air; I sent hundreds more Sword Aura, a volley like arrows from a wall.

Bang. Bang...

Feeling overmatched, she raised a snowflake-shaped Sword Aura shield, a white petal to catch my blades.

But Sword Aura at the extreme is hard to stop; halfway through, her shield shattered like fragile ice.

Dodged?

She wasn't behind the broken shield; always hiding, never facing me in open light—annoying as mist on the road.

I didn't expect to fall behind before you returned to Sword Spirit; is our gap really that wide?

She appeared before me, face and tone blank as frost.

Yeah, it's pretty wide.

...