Moments later, they arrived at a mansion in the remote corner of the city.
After stepping through several layers of spatial formation, they reached a secluded wing room.
"So cold…" Feng Yun muttered as he entered.
The room was made entirely of ice crystals. The biting chill cut through even his robust spiritual body.
In the centre, resting atop a pedestal of frost, lay an ornate ice coffin.
Inside it—an eleven- or twelve-year-old girl.
Dressed in black silk. Eyes shut. Skin as pale as snow.
"This is the one you want to save?" Feng Yun asked.
The Crazy Sword Saint nodded gravely. "She is."
"What happened to her?"
"She's alive… But her condition is special. Her bloodline has made her something between life and death—a living corpse. Her soul power declining gradually."
The Sword Saint's tone was low, reverent.
"The Spirit Soul Ember helped her stabilise her fading soul… barely. But even that's failing."
