CHAPTER 19: THE SNOW KINGDOM'S TRAP
657 Words
The journey to the northern territories was treacherous even for veteran cultivators. Snow blanketed everything—fields, mountains, rivers, even time itself. What once was a vibrant path became a white wasteland of silence and hidden dangers.
Ye Qing moved swiftly through the snowstorm, his cloak fluttering behind him, qi flowing steadily through his veins. He had followed the traces left behind by the Silent Fang assassins. Their bloodline led north, toward the Ruins of the Snow Kingdom, a land that had been declared uninhabitable after the Great Frost War five hundred years ago.
But something was alive there now.
Something ancient.
Something that remembered the blood of the Blood King.
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Three days into the journey, Ye Qing arrived at the edge of the Frozen Expanse. Cracked palaces of ice stood like forgotten sentinels. Statues of long-dead emperors were buried waist-deep in snow, their eyes chipped away by time.
He knelt by a frozen body—one of the assassins, throat ripped open, but not by a sword.
By claws.
“Beasts…” Ye Qing murmured. “No. Puppets.”
A growl echoed in the distance.
Suddenly, the ground cracked, and a creature made of frost and bone burst from beneath the ice. It stood three meters tall, its ribcage hollow, its face a skull of carved obsidian.
A Frost Revenant—an undead guardian of the Snow Kingdom.
It lunged.
Ye Qing met it head-on, his Crimson Monarch Spear manifesting in a burst of red lightning. With a single whirl, he pierced the revenant’s chest, then twisted—the creature exploded into shards of ice.
More emerged.
Dozens.
A trap.
Ye Qing’s eyes narrowed. “You think I didn’t come prepared?”
He slammed his palm on the ground. A red array flared beneath him—a Soul-Burning Formation, reverse-engineered from one of the Blood King's oldest techniques.
Flames of crimson and gold burst outward, incinerating the revenants instantly.
In the silence that followed, a single figure clapped from the top of an ice-covered spire.
“Well done, child of war.”
The voice was old, regal, and layered with malice.
The Pale King stepped forward.
He wore white robes lined with blue fire, his eyes glowing like moonlit glaciers. Around him floated dozens of spirit rings—each a marker of a realm once conquered.
“I was wondering when you’d come. The Blood King’s soul always leads his heirs into ruin.”
Ye Qing raised his spear.
“And you’re the ruin?”
The Pale King smiled. “I am your trial. If you survive me, you might be worthy to stand where your ancestor fell.”
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Without another word, he moved.
The sky turned white. Blades of ice rained down. The temperature dropped so fast, the very air turned solid.
Ye Qing charged.
Their weapons clashed—fire and ice, legacy against legacy.
Every strike of Ye Qing’s spear carved crimson runes through the storm. The Pale King countered with frozen domains that slowed time and sealed space.
But Ye Qing was faster.
Stronger.
Angrier.
And his blood screamed for vengeance.
The battle raged across cliffs, frozen rivers, and the skeletal remains of kingdoms. At last, Ye Qing roared and unleashed the Crimson Devourer Strike—a forbidden attack that drew power from pain and memory.
The spear pierced the Pale King’s shoulder.
Blood spilled—silver, ancient, cursed.
But the Pale King only grinned.
“You’ve tasted strength,” he hissed. “But you know nothing of cost.”
He raised his hand—and shattered the ground beneath them.
The entire battlefield collapsed into an underground temple hidden beneath the snow.
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Ye Qing hit the floor hard. The walls around him pulsed with seals drawn in soulblood. Chains of ice lashed out and wrapped around his limbs, draining his qi.
The Pale King floated above.
“You are not your ancestor. And now, you will die here.”
- Writer
