A gap? Yeah. The gulf between us is an ocean. She’s right; maybe I never had a chance.

Ling Yehan murmured, voice like wind over ice, “Frostwhisper, was I too reckless?”

...

I don’t even know who I take after… I get heated over scraps, stir silt in a clear stream, then regret it later. Xuewei probably hates my guts.

But surrender? Go chase a daydream under an empty sun.

[Cold Wind, Frosted Shadows]

Drive water, congeal ice; turn frost into a blade.

I’ve held my godform for over thirty seconds, a flame locked under a lid. Any longer, it’ll boil over. Still… I need a little more.

There’s a secret to my godform, a thorn I never showed Xuewei. I can keep it running, like a bell that won’t stop. The longer it tolls, the madder I get. Power surges like spring flood; reason thins like noon ice. Once I drowned in it—lost myself—and stabbed my own sister.

After that, I never crossed the line again. Fear coils like a cold snake. I don’t know what I’ll be if the madness takes me whole.

No chronicle on the continent records a god who commands ice, yet they exist, real as stone. My sister shares my affinity, but she’s the aberration. Her Authority is Iceflame, a flame that burns on matter itself—bane to water, ice, and fire alike.

Me? I’m ice in its purest grain, with a thread of water’s favor woven through.

From the start I’ve been laying kindling for this strike—frosted wards, that towering ice dragon—each a step in the pattern.

[Frost Unbinding]

Shards of the ice dragon sifted into fine frost-dust, orbiting Ling Yehan like pale fireflies. The cold plunged again. Air thickened like winter syrup.

You’re right. There’s plenty of water in the air. But air isn’t only water.

Drop the heat far enough, and even air congeals, like breath freezing on a blade.

[Solidify Space]

From the tips, his deep-blue hair bled into ice-blue, dawn overtaking night. His aura surged, climbing to meet hers.

[Frostmark Whirl]

Frostwhisper, I’m counting on you. I carved arcs around her shield. Frost-dust spun with my turn and packed onto Frostwhisper. The simple sidearm swelled into a greatsword. Qingyu Mengyin’s Malleable Water Shield lost its supple flow as the cold bit deeper. It began to set, slow and glassy.

“Your defense is strong,” I said, breath white as mist, “but give me time to set the board and I can break any guard—especially water.”

Qingyu Mengyin blinked. Her supple shield had crystallized. Frostwhisper was unbinding it grain by grain. Even the space around her felt set, like a lid pressing down.

“Colorless Edge—Sky-cleaving Frostcut!” Some techniques hit harder when you shout.

You can’t run. This seals space, breaks any defense. Only equal intent can meet a blade that cuts all things.

Ling Yehan lunged like a spear splitting the sky, ripped through the towering ice shield, and cut for Qingyu Mengyin.

Frostwhisper halted at the pale column of her throat. It didn’t fall.

Qingyu Mengyin looked at him, surprised, eyes clear as rain.

“By our terms, you lost. Remember your promise.” His ice-blue eyes locked on hers, winter stars unblinking.

“Why not finish it? How do you know I lost?”

“This cuts your blood and seals it. It breaks your guard from the inside out. If it lands, you die.”

“Oh?” Qingyu Mengyin smiled like a soft drizzle. “How would you know without trying? You don’t really think you can kill me, do you? Or are you just playing it safe against water?”

“Force-breaking… the godform… that’s my limit. If I cut, you die. I’ve used this… to kill a royal-blood Vampire. We’re not… at a kill-or-be-killed yet.” His voice frayed like sleet. Frost-dust bloomed on the hand gripping Frostwhisper.

“Shoving frost into yourself—does that feel good?” Qingyu Mengyin’s smile curved like a crescent. “Truth is, this isn’t enough to kill me. Watch.”

She gripped Frostwhisper’s edge without a blink. The greatsword carved brutal welts into her palm, but no blood fell. It froze the instant it rose.

Ling Yehan’s pupils tightened. “What are you… doing?! You’ll die! Stop!” He tried to wrench the blade free, but her strength was iron wrapped in silk.

“Fool. This body is just a construct, woven from mana. I told you—you never had a chance from the start.”

“…Huh?”

“Idiot. Look behind you.”

The figure before him fractured into seawater and spilled away. Behind him, Qingyu Mengyin stood smiling, rainlight in her eyes.

“I… you—! Cough, cough!” The urge to spit old blood surged up, bitter as rust.

“So, by our agreement, you lost, okay—”

“No! We said three moves each! You only blocked my three!”

“Ho? Little Ling Yehan still thinks he can take three of mine?”

“Tch. Don’t look down on me. I’m bad at brawls, sure. But defense? I’ve never lost to anyone. Trust me—no one knows taking hits—uh, defending—better than me.”

“If that’s so… let’s begin—”

“Wait! I didn’t say start!” But Qingyu Mengyin didn’t heed him. The world smudged like wet ink. One heartbeat he stood over the sea; the next he dropped into the deep. Not a seabed—no currents, no pulse. Just a pale-blue space, still as glass, pressing like ocean on all sides.

No. Not the sea. An illusion—A dreamscape?

In the blue beyond, a thread of light bloomed, like dawn threading fog.

“Huu… and that’s that.”

Qingyu Mengyin looked at Ling Yehan dozing inside a great water bubble and smiled, fond as spring rain.

She parted her lips. The bubble unraveled into a slender stream and flowed into her mouth, a river swallowed by the moon.

“Long time—no, that’s wrong. Let’s get along, then… Shengsheng—no, Little Shengsheng.” Qingyu Mengyin stroked her lower belly as she spoke.