“That’s why I said it—you can’t beat us. At worst, we all sink together like stones in a black lake.” The crimson girl’s face stilled like winter water; Tangxue had dropped the God-Tomb’s power.

“The two-edged bite of your awakening is severe, but your creator left the choice in your hands, little sister.” Her voice drifted like ash on the wind.

“Still, this is a net we’ve knotted for centuries. Did you think we’d leave a hole wide as a moon and just stare at it?”

A chill pricked Tangxue’s heart like needles of sleet. Fear flashed, then anger boiled over and drowned her reason.

“You’re threatening me?”

“A threat? No. Just a reminder,” said the Hierarch of the Flower of the Other Shore, voice flat as a shadowed river.

“A… reminder?” Tangxue bowed her head. Cold gathered on her face like rime on glass.

‘Then why choose the one thing I can’t bear to lose to corner me?’

Silent killing intent spread like ink in water, tightening every breath. Even with odds stacked, no one dared swear they wouldn’t be erased in the next heartbeat by this monster in human skin.

“Hey… we’re really at this point and you’re still not using that?” The Gray Tigress wavered, her voice a scratch in the frost.

“If I can help it, I won’t.”

The air had plunged more than a hundred degrees below zero, a blizzard turned to steel. Frost sheeted every shoulder, yet sweat slid down the face of the black-and-crimson girl like rain on a brazier.

“I hate being threatened most of all.”

Power from the God-Tomb surged into Qingsheng Tangxue like a winter sea breaking its dam. Her aura spiked, a mountain over a field, higher than all of theirs combined.

“If I erase you all in one instant, there’s no risk—right?!”

A blade of frost bloomed high above, and killing intent thickened into ice fog that cut skin. The black-and-crimson bishop’s expression snapped; her right hand clenched. Snarling, Qingsheng Tangxue stood three meters away—Frostwhisper already a breath from the bishop’s throat.

“Ugh—!? Aaah!”

Pain tore through Tangxue like a crack through crystal. She clutched her head, fell from the air, and curled on the ground like a wounded cub.

“Apologies. We’ve watched you for centuries; of course we set protections. You walking out of the snow mountains wasn’t chance. Meeting the orphanage director wasn’t chance. Meeting Qingyu Mengyin at sea was even less so.” The bishop’s tone was cool as a black cliff. “We tampered with your memories before you were even born. We can’t control you, true—but making resistance impossible is enough.”

‘You touched my memories… before I was born? What does that even—before birth… no way. Dreamsound…? Why…’ Tangxue’s eyes trembled like leaves in wind. She forced her lips to move and looked at Qing Feng Yuelian. “Why… Dreamsound…”

“Why?” Qing Feng Yuelian glanced at her, pity thin as frost. “Maybe she truly didn’t want to lose you. If it wasn’t a hundred percent, Dreamsound would never have let you do it.”

‘A hundred percent… When did Dreamsound notice?’ The thought scraped her heart like ice on stone.

The black-and-crimson bishop watched Tangxue writhe on the ground, her gaze level, dry as a winter sky. No trace remained of her near-panic a moment ago.

“Heh. Normally we can’t touch your memories,” the bull-headed priest chuckled, grin crooked like a broken mask. “But you ate an Evergreen Fruit not long ago, right? That stuff raises your mental cap like spring floodwater, but your memories? A snowstorm of loose pages for a long while. Sorry, dear Tangxue—what you just remembered is going to blur again.”

Tangxue’s eyes went blood-red, a pair of coals in drifted snow. She stared at the bull-headed priest like she meant to bite through his throat.

“Enough. If you don’t want her breaking free, say less.” Qing Feng Yuelian’s gaze was cold as a bare blade. The bull-headed priest laughed weakly and shut his mouth.

“Rest easy. We don’t plan to carve up your memories. But you’ll forget everything that happened here.” The black-and-crimson bishop’s tone was a steady snowfall. “Take a nice vacation at home. In seven days, it’ll all be over, Tangxue.”

Tangxue glared until darkness took her. Only then did the others finally let out the breath they’d held like divers under black ice.

“Holy hell, I almost died! Was that little psycho really about to go all in?” The Gray Tigress hugged herself, teeth chattering like beads.

“She’s the child of that mad god. Madness fits,” the bull-headed priest crowed, laughter rasping like gravel. “See? This failsafe was necessary—ha ha!”

“Leaving the choice with this girl… Lady Ice Deity treats this world like her back garden,” the black-and-crimson bishop said with a bitter curve of lip, a smile cracked like dried clay. Then her eyes chilled. “Even if the road ahead is hell, humans will spill their last drop for a spark of hope. That hunger to live is something gods never owned.”

“So then, Miss Qingsheng Tangxue—lend us your strength to unlock the final seal, yes?” The bull-headed priest bowed with a parody of courtly grace, and the crowd parted like reeds before a boat.

The key to the Gate of Hell slept in Tangxue’s body. She alone bore the gods’ imprint. The Ice Deity’s dominion hung over that gate, for she was the warden of hell itself.

“Let the gods pay for their foolishness. Let Them taste the bitter fruit of what They sowed.”

High over the far north, the sky split with a thin tear, a hairline crack in blue glass. It was too small for a gnat to pass, yet the power leaking out could upend the world like a table kicked to pieces.

“One week until the seal fully opens,” someone breathed, breath white as smoke. “In the next seven days, nothing can stop us.”

Once the Gate of Hell opens, nothing can shut it. Even outside force can only drag the clock, not turn it back.

Faces in the Flower of the Other Shore finally eased, snow thawing at the edges. They were more than halfway there. Next came releasing the demon-god, then cutting down every living thing—leading them away as the dead, a gray tide leaving this world.

“They say the brightest Flower of the Other Shore blooms at hell’s threshold, offering a soul’s end the most beautiful view.”

“This story’s awful! Change it, Mama Dreamsound!” Tangxue’s voice rose from under warm quilts like a muffled chirp.

“All right…” Dreamsound shut the book, a little wilted, then pulled another from a small mountain. “They say that on an ancient snow mountain there’s—”

“Again? You’ve told that one like twenty times, Mom!”

“Eh? Have I…” Dreamsound blinked at the page, doubtful as a cat in rain. “Okay, then I’ll switch again…”

“Once upon a time, there was a—”

After that, Tangxue slept one full day and was sent home. Dreamsound watched her for a long while like a lantern at dusk. She seemed to have forgotten everything that happened.

This was the second day.