Just as Yun Che was about to examine the sword scabbard more closely, a low groan sounded behind him. With a swift hand seal, he cast an ice-blue restriction onto the pitch-black flying sword, then turned around—

  Zhang Mingyuan had opened his eyes.

  He froze briefly upon seeing Yun Che, then sprang to his feet and scanned the surroundings. When his gaze fell upon the flying sword and scabbard in Yun Che’s hands, uncontrollable elation surged across his face.

  “He… he’s dead?”

  Yun Che nodded slightly.

  “Senior Brother Zhang—when you pretended not to recognize me earlier, it was because you feared he was watching, wasn’t it?”

  Zhang Mingyuan immediately turned his awareness inward, inspecting his dantian. After a few moments, he exhaled deeply.

  “The restriction is gone… Just as expected.”

  He opened his eyes, his expression turning grave.

  “Yun Che, this place is no longer safe. Let me deal with the witnesses first—then we can talk.”

  As he spoke, he raised his right hand. Three Spectral Azure Ice Spikes materialized out of thin air.

  Xu Zhen and the others had already been utterly shaken by the earlier battle—combat far beyond anything they could comprehend. Now, seeing ice spikes form again, their faces turned deathly pale, hands trembling so badly they could barely hold their weapons.

  The white-robed bandits were even worse. They stood frozen in terror—after all, they had personally witnessed their “leader” slaughter a fellow disciple without hesitation.

  Yun Che frowned, about to speak—

  But Zhang Mingyuan struck first.

  The three ice spikes shot forward—not toward Xu Zhen and the escorts, but toward the surrounding white-robed bandits!

  Puff! Puff! Puff!

  The spikes pierced straight through their bodies as frigid energy erupted outward. Including the severely wounded Song Xiao, dozens of bandits froze almost instantly, their bodies cracking apart before they could even scream—shattering into piles of icy debris.

  What followed was even more unsettling.

  From the fragmented corpses floated seven or eight dark-red blood beads, each no larger than a grain of rice. They spun in midair before being inhaled by Zhang Mingyuan in a single breath.

  Xu Zhen and the others were swept by the residual cold. Their hair and beards frosted over, skin splitting from frostbite—yet none dared to utter a sound.

  Seeing Zhang Mingyuan about to condense more ice spikes, Yun Che said coldly:

  “That’s enough.”

  Zhang Mingyuan glanced back at him.

  “If these people leave alive, word will spread. The man you killed was the sixth disciple of my master—Blood Refinement Venerable. If this is investigated, neither of us will escape pursuit by a late-stage Foundation Establishment cultivator.”

  Zhou Wenyuan, one of the few survivors still able to remain lucid, clenched his teeth and stepped forward.

  “Immortal Sirs! We are willing to swear a blood oath—today’s events will never be revealed! If we violate it, may our souls be destroyed—”

  “A blood oath?” Zhang Mingyuan sneered, cutting him off.

  “When souls are extracted and refined, what secret can’t be forced out?”

  Though he spoke to Zhou Wenyuan, his gaze was fixed on Yun Che.

  Yun Che fell silent for a moment—then raised his hand slightly.

  The remaining six or seven survivors—Xu Zhen, Zhao Rui, Hong Lei, Zhou Wenyuan, and three escorts—were lifted uncontrollably into the air and drawn before him.

  Seeing this, Zhang Mingyuan dispersed the ice spikes and stepped aside.

  Yun Che retrieved a pale-cyan jade slip from his storage pouch. It was a Basic Spell Compendium, purchased long ago at the Frost Condensation Sect’s menial quarters using accumulated contribution points. It contained dozens of common Qi Condensation–stage techniques.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  His divine sense swept through it rapidly.

  Soon, he found what he was looking for—

  A technique called “Frozen Memory Sea.”

  This spell could temporarily seal a mortal’s short-term memories. While far inferior to high-level soul-searching arts, its advantage lay in the minimal harm it caused to the subject.

  Yun Che memorized the incantation.

  A faint azure glow flashed in his eyes.

  Confusion immediately clouded the survivors’ expressions. Frost-like patterns flickered deep within their pupils. Ten breaths later, the glow faded, and the group collapsed limply to the ground, slipping into deep sleep.

  Their memories of the next three days—had been sealed.

  Zhang Mingyuan sighed softly, as if wanting to speak—but stopped himself.

  When the spell was complete, Yun Che glanced at him. The Frost Trace Sword beneath his feet flared, transforming into a streak of light that shot northeast. Zhang Mingyuan inhaled deeply, produced a palm-sized crystal token beneath his feet, and followed closely behind.

  The two streaks of light raced across the ice plains for half an hour.

  Zhang Mingyuan’s face turned pale, his breathing uneven, as he landed atop a snow-covered mountain peak. Yun Che descended calmly, showing no sign of fatigue.

  After steadying himself, Zhang Mingyuan found a flat slab of ice-rock and sat down. He retrieved two oil-paper bundles from his storage pouch, handing one to Yun Che with a bitter smile.

  “Something I cured myself—Icefield Snow Rabbit. Slow-roasted with cold fire for three days. Care to try?”

  Yun Che accepted it.

  For a fleeting moment, it felt as though he had returned to five years ago—two boys in the icy huts of the Frost Condensation Sect’s menial quarters, sharing dried rations and whispering late into the night.

  “When the Frost Condensation Sect was destroyed, I didn’t retreat with the others,” Zhang Mingyuan said quietly, biting into the meat.

  “I was never valued by the sect. I stayed behind and defected to the Snow Domain Alliance, hoping for resources… But three months later, I was sent on a dangerous mission and nearly died.”

  “I seized the chance to desert. I wandered the northern icefields for two years. Once, I stumbled into an ancient cultivator’s cave and was lucky enough to obtain a Cold Marrow Grass. That’s how I barely broke through to Qi Condensation Third Layer.”

  “Later, I met Bai Li—my so-called ‘master.’ Seeing that I had cultivation but nowhere to go, he planted a Blood Fiend Parasite inside me and forced me to collect mortal souls and blood essence for him.”

  “That’s why I pretended not to recognize you earlier—he was watching from the shadows.”

  Zhang Mingyuan let out a long breath.

  “Luckily, you killed him. With the master dead, the parasite perished as well. I’m finally free.”

  He spoke simply, yet the exhaustion etched into his features told of four brutal years.

  After a moment, he looked at Yun Che with complicated emotions.

  “Four years, huh? To kill Bai Li… you must be at least at Qi Condensation Perfection. That Blood Fiend Sword—even at only thirty percent of its power—had almost no equal among Qi Condensation cultivators.”

  “I haven’t established my foundation,” Yun Che replied.

  “Do you know where that sword and scabbard came from?”

  Zhang Mingyuan stared at him in surprise, but wisely refrained from prying further.

  “Bai Li once said the sword was found thirty years ago in an Ancient Battlefield Ruin. As for the scabbard…”

  He hesitated.

  “He valued it even more. He used to say: ‘The sword is merely a weapon—the scabbard is the foundation.’”

  Yun Che sat upon an ice rock, pondering.

  “Tell me about Blood Refinement Venerable. If he truly is your master’s master, trouble will come sooner or later.”

  Zhang Mingyuan swallowed his food, his expression darkening.

  “Blood Refinement Venerable is a notorious rogue demonic cultivator of the North. Rumor says he established his foundation over a century ago—he may already be at late-stage Foundation Establishment.”

  “He’s extremely protective of his disciples and proficient in blood-path tracking arts. Once Bai Li’s death is discovered, he will know.”

  “You should leave the North immediately,” Zhang Mingyuan said bitterly.

  “As for me… I’ll hide in Cold Crow City. As long as I don’t step outside the city gates, even Blood Refinement Venerable won’t dare act openly.”

  Yun Che paused.

  “Cold Crow City?”

  “The only rogue cultivator autonomous city in the North,” Zhang Mingyuan explained.

  “It lies at the junction of the Northern Domain, Eastern Wastes, and Western Desert. Three Golden Core rogue cultivators jointly oversee it.”

  “No private combat is allowed inside. Pay the spirit stones, and you gain protection. Many cultivators hunted by sects or enemies go there to escape disaster.”

  He hesitated, then added,

  “The cost is steep—ten mid-grade spirit stones per month. But I’ve saved some over the years. Enough for a year or two.”

  Yun Che fell silent.

  Ten mid-grade spirit stones was no small sum. He still possessed two Ironwood Jade Ganoderma, but they were vital to completing the Wood Aspect of the Heaven-Defying Pearl and could not be traded lightly.

  Seeing his hesitation, Zhang Mingyuan took out a small storage pouch and tossed it over.

  “Fifty-odd low-grade spirit stones, plus a few worthless artifacts. My private stash. Take it—you might need it.”

  Yun Che accepted it, sweeping his divine sense through.

  Fifty-three low-grade spirit stones, neatly stacked. Two average-quality flying swords. Several low-tier talismans.

  He looked up at Zhang Mingyuan.

  Four years ago, this man had been arrogant, domineering—constantly targeting him. Now, only weathered fatigue remained… and a trace of guilt he could not conceal.

  “Back in the menial quarters, I…”

  Zhang Mingyuan opened his mouth, then shook his head.

  “Forget it. The past is the past.”

  “If you have nowhere to go, Yun Che,” he said quietly,

  “come with me to Cold Crow City. At the very least… we can watch each other’s backs.”

  Yun Che slowly turned the pitch-black sword scabbard in his hand.

  Under the moonlight, the twisted patterns shimmered faintly, writhing as if alive.

  He recalled Li Han’s words:

  “That scabbard… is the truly valuable item.”

  After a long silence, Yun Che stood up and looked toward the northeast—

  Toward Rimewinter City, his original destination.

  “Cold Crow City…”

  he asked softly.

  “Which direction?”

  choice.

  ?? continue toward his original destination

  ?? or step into a dangerous yet sheltered refuge

  It will shape many fates to come.