“Imperial Sister…?”

“I’m fine…” Bai Zhi lifted her hand like a willow leaf warding off wind. Ten slow heartbeats, and records of the Abyss unscrolled in her mind like inked pages.

“There are three arrays sealing the Abyssal Hell. One is beneath our feet. Another lies at the border between the Blood Clan and the demonfolk. The last sits under the Elf Clan’s Forest Capital.”

“The Forest Capital’s seal… has been broken.”

“!?”

A shard of cold panic bit her. Bai Zhi’s pupils tightened like ice snapping on a lake, her face paling as if moonlight washed it clean. “If all three seals break, the demon gods and wraiths trapped in Abyssal Hell will return. Those ancient monsters that butchered the gods like a storm aren’t something we can handle… Is the Flower of the Other Shore aiming for this?”

Even when a seal broke and ancient wraiths razed a city, she hadn’t trembled like this. If the Forest Capital’s seal is gone… there’s only one left, like the last candle in a long night.

“Tangxue, Xuewei… we have to go to the final seal’s site. Now.”

“No need.” Vinoena Qianya drifted out of a shadow like ink poured from a jar. Under every gaze, she spoke, voice calm as dusk, “The seal guarded by Demon King Jiuqi was broken days ago by a cadre of the Flower of the Other Shore.”

“What!?”

Bai Zhi let out a scream that cracked like thin ice—so unlike her. Even distant guards turned like reeds in a startled wind.

“…I hesitated for a long time, and only came when I felt Tangxue here,” Qianya said, leaning against a pillar like a tired tree. “Honestly, this is the first time I’ve heard some of what you said. When I reached the battlefield, Jiuqi’s fight with that red-haired woman had already ended. No doubt—she got beaten badly.”

“Of course she did. The opponent’s the strongest Demon King. Then what? Did the Flower of the Other Shore call in support?” Bai Zhi pressed, words falling like hard rain.

“I mean Jiuqi got beaten badly…” Qianya sighed, the sound a warm breath fogging glass.

“Uh…?”

“Divine mana. Remember?”

“I do. The creature I fought had it,” Bai Zhi replied quickly, while Xuewei and Tangxue listened in silence, their attention still as snow at night.

Qianya stole a glance at Tangxue. He lounged like a cat in sun, no ripple, no reaction. It made her itch, but she went on. “Anything tied to ‘divine’ rolls over ordinary life like a tide. Even false gods are beyond mortal resistance. My strength and Ms. Bai Zhi’s should be similar… We can be called true gods, but we’re still short of Demon King Jiuqi. That gap is the density of divine mana. The current plane’s ceiling is low, like a sky of glass; it won’t condense anything thicker, so we stall here…”

“But the Flower of the Other Shore’s cadres—who knows how—hold ancient-deity-grade divine mana. I haven’t fought them. From Jiuqi’s account, they could steamroll everyone I know…” She threw one more look at Tangxue, the way a sparrow tests a quiet branch.

“Also, from your talk, I’ve got a delicate guess… Maybe they’re breaking seals to crack the limits of this world?”

She pointed to the sky, like touching a lid. “This world’s doomsday isn’t far.”

“Enough.” Xuewei’s voice cut in cold, a blade drawn in moonlight. “If you came to tell us this, we’ve heard. Please leave.”

“Xuewei.” Tangxue’s glance was a soft shadow across still water.

“Brother…” Xuewei’s eyes carried stubborn stormclouds. After a few seconds of taut silence, she stepped back like a leaf losing the wind.

“Qianya, what’s your stance toward the Flower of the Other Shore?” Tangxue asked, his tone steady as frost.

“Ah… me, Tangxue?” Qianya tilted her head, a smile like thorns. “If I could, I’d wipe your lot out, root and branch. They want to shatter the world, ruin my country, kill us all, and crush everything I have. You, Tangxue?”

Tangxue lowered his gaze, voice deep as winter wells. “If their aim is to destroy the world, I won’t show mercy.”

“Mm. I figured. You’re the softhearted type who still steps into storms,” Qianya nodded, like a bell chiming once.

“?”

Xuewei’s expression warped, like silk catching a snag—especially when she heard her brother seek a reckoning with the Flower of the Other Shore.

“Xuewei…?”

“I’m fine, brother…” She shook her head. The smile she forced was as thin as frost on a blade.

Tangxue looked at his sister, helpless warmth like a single lamp in snow. As if he didn’t already know the thoughts she sheltered.

Xuewei couldn’t stand that gaze. A few seconds of locked eyes, and her heart collapsed like a dune in wind.

“Brother…”

“Can we not get involved?”

“Xuewei, do you know what you’re saying?” Tangxue’s eyes were calm seas. He’d always given her the highest trust—like a temple’s last flame.

“Even if you don’t step in, it’ll end safely…” Xuewei pleaded, voice fraying like rain on paper. “When it’s over, the people you care about, everyone you know, will be safe! So—can we not take the risk?”

“Sorry, Xuewei. I can’t.” Tangxue shook his head, the motion a falling leaf. The answer was the one everyone had already felt coming.

“…Did Dreamsound ask you to tell me that?”

“…Mm.” Xuewei nodded, heavy as a stone dropping into a well.

“Alright. I understand.” Tangxue smiled with a small release, like dawn lifting fog. From here, the threads finally knotted in his mind.

‘So Dreamsound already tampered with my memory. She still hopes I’ll dodge this calamity. Sorry, Dreamsound. This is the mission I was born to carry, the path I must walk.’

“Brother, why are you standing? Wait! Where are you going!?”

Xuewei reached to stop him, like a hand grasping snowflakes. Tangxue didn’t evade; he touched her arm, a gentle push like wind moving a curtain. “To the far north. To where I was born.”

“Xuewei, please stay here with everyone for now.”

“You—”

Her protest froze mid-breath. An icebound ward, strong enough to leave a person unable to move for a week, poured over the entire imperial city like glass-blue tide.

“When this ends, success or failure, none of you will be harmed. Until then, rest well…” Tangxue turned back, offered a thin smile like winter sun, then slipped through the ice and vanished like a swan into cloud.

“…”

‘Another road alone… but this should be the last.’

‘When I take back that power, what will I become? Will I remember that I’m a shard of the Ice Deity’s consciousness?’

‘Will I still be me…?’

‘Forget it. Thinking’s a lantern in a storm—pretty, but it won’t hold. I’ll know when the hour comes.’

Tangxue opened his eyes, resolve hardening like crystal. To reach that place, he didn’t need the far north. He only had to keep rising—until his hand touched the ice above.