Control the speed of motion at will; when all stands still, time itself stops—that’s ice at its pinnacle, winter swallowing the clock.

Tangxue walked to Mama Yaya, lifted her gently, and patted the dust from Yaya’s skirt like snow off a branch.

“Mom, let’s go.”

“Mm…” Yaya nodded, emotions tangled like seaweed.

Under Tangxue’s shelter, Yaya crossed danger like a reed in a storm that didn’t break. Those shadowed figures never attacked again, which felt wrong, like quiet before a squall.

Yaya drew a deep breath, nerves taut as a bowstring, and moved toward the Sea God Trident like a swimmer following a current.

She still felt the Divine Artifact’s presence, a tide pulling her closer, a moon calling the sea.

The Sea God Trident was her last hope, a lighthouse in black water; she couldn’t afford a misstep.

She prayed inside, heart knocking like a trapped bird; yet fate tasted bitter on her tongue.

At the artifact’s gate, a deep-red-haired girl sat atop a stone idol like a fox on a shrine, waiting.

She was the only continental being Yaya recognized today: the former former Beastkin chieftain, the Red Tiger King of Calamity—Tianhuo Yan.

Yaya knew her because her lover worked under Tianhuo Yan’s rule, a candle trembling under a tyrant’s wind.

“Ugly.”

Tianhuo Yan looked at Yaya, disappointment settling like ash; she shook her head, slow as a pendulum.

“Even with divine blood, you still reach for stronger hands to fix your mess. Servility sits in your bones like rust in iron. No wonder you lack the right to rise—clipped wings glaring at the sky.”

“Mama Yaya, she’s noisy.”

“Can I make her shut up?” Tangxue pointed at Tianhuo Yan, voice edged like a blade.

“Mm… if you want to, Tangxue.”

She wouldn’t throw reason away over one insult; she held her calm like a stone under waves.

“Mm~”

Tangxue pivoted, her gaze a sharpened edge aimed at Tianhuo Yan above. Their eyes met, and an invisible weight pressed down like a storm-lid on the sea; the surrounding mana currents stopped flowing.

Yaya felt a choking tightness, a rope cinched around her lungs; she staggered aside and watched from afar like a moth near flame.

“Annoying.”

Tangxue dropped Frostwhisper’s limiter in a heartbeat and armored her rapier in severe ice, winter’s steel on slender bone.

Both fighters deliberately slowed, setting the stage for a head-on, full-power clash like rams stepping back before the charge.

Scalding air and knife-cold wind crossed, and the seabed heaved like a sleeping leviathan turning over.

Unquenchable flames along the ruins blew out under the shockwaves of their exchange, candles snuffed in a gale.

Near them, Yaya bobbed like a paper boat in surf, one misstep from vanishing into the dark.

She pinned herself to the floor with will alone, wanting to witness the outcome; each flash of white steel and red fire could end her in a blink, lightning and wildfire crossing inches from her face.

Deep-blue ice spines burst from the ground, spiraling to wrap the field like a frozen shell.

In the instant they locked Tianhuo Yan in place, Tangxue blitzed in, raised an ice-blue greatsword, and cut down like winter cleaving a river.

On impact, a crimson shape shattered the ice; blade met blade, and space trembled like a cracked mirror under strain.

Fearing a tear in the world, Tianhuo Yan yielded, took the wound, and slipped past Tangxue’s cut like flame sliding off water.

“What a hassle.” Tangxue frowned slightly, winter knitting her brow, doubt a shadow in her eyes.

This enemy wasn’t like before; the fight felt different in color and weight, and she didn’t know if she could win, a scale tipping in fog.

“Don’t get me wrong. I mean it’s a hassle to kill you quickly.”

“...?” Tangxue tilted her head, puzzled, the motion small and sharp as a sparrow hop, a quiet mockery in her eyes.

“Tch.”

Tianhuo Yan’s brows knotted like drawn cords; her gaze pinned Tangxue like a spear.

She blasted forward, a flare-rocket of a body, and swung a flaming greatblade at Tangxue’s shoulder, fire roaring like a forge.

Tangxue refused to yield; ice armor wrapped her right hand, and she drove it up to meet the red blade, frost singing like glass.

A vortex of flame braided with a storm of icy scars; a thousand edges flashed in a heartbeat like meteors streaking the night.

Yaya stood frozen, bewildered, the attacks slicing past her nose yet drawing no blood, death breathing but not biting.

The world kept changing so fast it felt like time sped up around her, a river rushing downhill.

Maybe only seconds passed, or maybe years; when she could see them again, both were primed for the final strike, bows bent to breaking.

They staked victory on a last blow.

Tianhuo Yan turned wholly into a burning beast, roaring, venting rage without a leash; the heat boiled everything nearby, hell blooming around her like a furnace garden.

Tangxue stood opposite like a glacier; absolute cold froze all motion, and she fixed the scene into still frames, snow pinning the world.

Two extremes faced each other, fire and ice splitting the world down the middle like a drawn blade.

Suddenly, Tianhuo Yan bared a feral grin and charged, flames flooding her limbs like molten rivers.

Claws ripped like rot through multiple ice layers; Tangxue gripped her ice-blue greatsword, and the flaming silhouette met steel head-on, thunder under the sea.

The two terrible forces slammed for minutes that felt like an eternity, then ended with the crimson figure grievously wounded, color draining like dusk.

Tianhuo Yan reshaped into human form, face grave, palm pressed to her wound, and ran toward the ruins without a backward glance, a wolf retreating into smoke.

“Stop…!”

Tangxue wanted to give chase, but wounds bit her flesh; strength bled away like warmth in winter, and she had to rest.

“Tangxue!”

Yaya rushed and caught her, saving the girl’s lovely face from a stone kiss, arms a harbor in storm.

“Mama Yaya… that one heals fast… I have to hurry…”

“No… no need. We find the Divine Artifact first.”

“Once we take the Sea God Trident, everything will turn. It will.”

Yaya’s eyes were flint-bright with resolve; Tangxue met them for a long heartbeat, then nodded, trust settling like quiet snow.

“Okay. I’ll listen to Mama Yaya.”

Ahead lay the entrance to the ruins; thank the cold Tangxue drove that one off, or Yaya alone would have been done, a candle in a squall.

Yaya led Tangxue down into the deep, steps echoing like drops in a cavern.

Merfolk bodies lined the path like broken shells on a tide line.

They were familiar faces—maids, a cousin, a brother—and Yaya’s complexion went pale as moonwash, grief pooling like ink.

Tangxue flashed forward, caught Yaya before she fell, and asked, worry threading her voice, “Mama Yaya, are you okay? Are you hurt from before?”

“I’m fine…” Yaya forced a smile like a cracked mask and shook her head, pain glued behind her eyes.

“Let’s move. Forward.”

The Sea God Trident’s aura hadn’t faded; the artifact was still here, a beacon unclaimed in black water.

Suddenly, Yaya clapped a hand over her mouth yet still screamed, a sharp sound like glass snapping.

Tears flooded her eyes like warm salt; her parents and the brother who had saved her not long ago lay dead here, light gone like snuffed lamps.

In the final underground hall ahead, blood painted the walls like crude murals; the vaunted holy place lay shattered, sanctity torn to rags.

Severed limbs and strange fluids were strewn everywhere, a hellish slaughterhouse under the sea, stench thick as smoke.

The Sea God Trident rested within, yet they held a wary distance from the Divine Artifact, as if it were a sleeping god that might wake.

“Enjoy the view?”

The once-fled Tianhuo Yan appeared again, her wounds closed, her look transformed, aura sharp as a new blade.

Her lips curled into a thin, cold smile like a knife’s edge.

“Soon, you’ll join those merfolk.”

“Soon.”