The midday sun bathed the earth. Snow-covered ground shimmered with golden light, the flakes glowing faintly as if luminescent.

Sunlight offered little comfort against the biting wind. A chill swept past, sending an involuntary shiver through the air.

“Then—let’s begin!”

At Wu Jie’s command, on a clearing the size of a trial arena, both drew their weapons.

Ling Yu held the same gold-and-silver sword from earlier. Its guard formed a golden ring—a design Wu Jie recognized well. He knew this blade could split. That very trait had let Ling Yu unleash his decisive strike to defeat their archery instructor.

But Ling Yu seemed to read his mind. The moment “begin” left Wu Jie’s lips, he split his sword cleanly into two.

Wu Jie’s weapon differed entirely: a silver-blue cross necklace resting against his chest. Hands clasped before it, he channeled energy. A faint blue glow pulsed from the pendant. It lifted gently, and before it, a glowing blue magic circle materialized.

“I’ve seen your weapon,” Wu Jie declared, spellcasting underway. “No matter how many pieces you split it into—they won’t stand a chance against *them*!”

“Them?” Ling Yu echoed, puzzled.

His eyes snapped to the ground. From beneath the snow, figures rose—one after another. Human-shaped, yet not human: “snowmen.” In the blink of an eye, over a dozen surrounded the two combatants. No intruders—just Wu Jie’s summoned forces.

Among the four core professions of Arcanist Warriors, the Priest was a specialized branch born from mages. Though famed for healing and purification, Priests also wielded combat support abilities—like summoning allies. To Ling Yu, well-versed in all four paths, Wu Jie’s ice-summoning was utterly ordinary.

“So… ice-attribute Priest magic!” Ling Yu noted calmly. He didn’t move. Not from fear of numbers. His gaze stayed locked on the snow beneath his boots.

“What? Frozen stiff?” Wu Jie sneered. “You boasted you could handle multiples alone. All talk?”

A rookie would’ve charged. Ling Yu stayed silent, waiting.

Wu Jie’s patience frayed. “Hmph! If you won’t come—I will!”

The snowmen lurched into a sprint, encircling Ling Yu. He pivoted, blade flashing—severing the legs of the one charging from behind. *Thud.* It collapsed, crawling zombie-like toward him. Just as its icy fingers neared his ankle—

Ling Yu swung again. Shattered. The remains melted into a lifeless snow pile.

“Ugh. This annoying Battle Spirit Art again.” He glanced at his blade—frosted where it struck. Memories surfaced: past bouts with Priests, the same frustration. These summoned battle spirits lacked true life or will, controlled wholly by the caster. Decapitation? Useless. Heads were just for show. As the old saying went: *If cutting heads fails, toss them into the abyss.* One Arcanist Warrior once did exactly that. True counter? Total annihilation. Simple for Ling Yu—but numbers overwhelmed. One touch from these snowmen, and he’d be a frozen statue.

Using the ice’s reflection, he spun and slashed. But the frosted blade dulled on impact. Worse—the spirit fused its body with the ice on his sword, forming a grasping limb that seized the hilt. Quick as thought, his second blade flicked upward, severing the icy grip. Yet the other sword—freshly struck—now glazed over again.

“Tch! What a nuisance,” Ling Yu muttered, clashing the blades to shatter the ice. “If both freeze solid…”

Suddenly—a brilliant blue radiance flared from Wu Jie’s direction, seizing Ling Yu’s full attention.