— "And what happened to him?"
Her smile stretched, slow and slicing.
— "He was taken by the Ice Demon."
The name landed like a blow. A low murmur—almost a groan—slipped from someone in the shadows. That name still stirred dread, even after time had swallowed centuries.
— "One of the most feared goddesses of antiquity."
She turned to Nael, her gaze probing for any crack, any sign. But he stood unchanged—an ice-carved figure, his clear eyes meeting hers, offering nothing in return.
— "The strangest thing about this physique…" — Her voice softened, but it was a softness that cut, like a dagger wrapped in silk. — "Is that the stronger someone is, the harder it is to conceive or get pregnant."
A choked "ah" escaped someone, a cry caught halfway in their throat.
— "But that doesn't apply to the bearer."
The air grew dense, as if the hall had plunged into an unseen ocean.
— "He can impregnate goddesses as if they were mortals."
Silence gripped the room—a silence that squeezed your lungs, made them ache. No one stirred. No one dared.
— "For cultivators, physical resistance prevents relations between those with a vast difference in domains." — She went on, calm, her eyes still piercing Nael. — "Like trying to cut titanium with a weed."
Her smile returned, faint and almost warm.
— "But not for the bearer of the Giver's Physique."
The hall seemed to contract, the walls closing in with the weight of her words.
— "He ignores that barrier. As if… bending the rules of reality itself."
She paused, letting her words linger, thick and unyielding, like smoke that refused to fade. The cultivators sat frozen, eyes wide, breaths shallow.
— "And the most feared part…"
No one blinked.
— "The children born from this physique…"
A shiver raced up every leg, a cold gust no one could see coming.
— "They are absurdly talented, as if compensating for their father's lack of talent."
The whisper that followed was raw fear, a hoarse rasp that slithered across the floor.
— "The son of the previous bearer…"
One master's head sagged, his stomach twisting—it was clear in his eyes.
— "Was born with all ten Supreme Physiques."
The space shuddered, or perhaps it was the ground beneath them. A low, almost mournful sound slipped from someone's lips.
— "He began cultivating in his mother's womb."
Eyes widened further, disbelief scrawled across every face like wet ink.
— "And when he was born…"
She smirked, one corner of her mouth rising sharply.
— "The celestial phenomenon he triggered covered all domains for an entire day."
The air grew thick, unbreathable. Chests heaved, but no oxygen came.
— "But what came next…"
Her eyes glinted, a dark amusement flickering within them.
— "The child declared that the only one worthy of being his wife was the Heavens themselves."
Terror crashed over the hall like a tidal wave, swallowing it whole. An older master's knees buckled briefly before he braced himself against the wall.
— "And it took all the ancient gods to contain him."
Her words hung heavy, as if woven into the very stones of the chamber.
— "The Giver's Physique was cursed."
Some breaths turned jagged, panicked, frail.
— "And the original bearer's soul…"
Her smile widened, slow and almost languid.
— "Was obliterated."
Time froze. A single second stretched into eternity.
— "So that he would never exist."
The sentence reverberated, cutting through the hall like a phantom blade. The masters shrank back, shoulders hunched, gazes averted.
— "The war was proclaimed as one of the Ancient Wars."
Tension coiled around the room, strangling every throat.
— "And all information about it…"
Her eyes sparked, vivid and perilous.
— "Was erased from history itself."
Silence fell. Utter. A void that devoured sound, light, and breath.
And there stood Nael, untouched by it all. His clear eyes locked on her, his face as smooth as carved stone. No fear, no rage, no shock—just him, standing still, as if the abyss couldn't reach him.
But now… now he was more than a man. He was the heart of something vast, a shadow swelling quietly as the cultivators stared. Some with skepticism, others with awe, many with a nameless dread.
Her words settled like a relentless tide, steady and unyielding. No one spoke. No one dared breathe too loudly. All eyes clung to Nael, waiting for a sign—anything.
He offered nothing. He stood there, silent as a mountain in a storm. But now, the hall knew. He wasn't merely Nael. He was a shard of something shattered, something the gods themselves feared. And that… that changed everything.
The hall lay ensnared in a silence so keen it seemed the air itself feared to move. Green light from the jade lamps quivered on the walls, cold as melting ice. The cultivators, cloaked in dark robes and steeped in power, stood brittle as statues, their gazes fixed on Nael and the woman with golden hair. She was a misplaced sun—fierce, perilous—scorching the space around her with her presence alone.
Nael remained at the center, unyielding. His icy, clear eyes betrayed nothing. Not a flicker, not a breath. Only stillness.
— "If someone from the divine realm learns of this…" — Her voice dropped like water on embers, calm yet searing, piercing the fabric of reality. — "They'll want to monopolize you for themselves."
A dry swallow echoed from the back—someone's nerve faltered. Glances darted like sparks, heavy with unspoken terror.
— "And if they can't…" — She pressed on, her lips curving into a smile more cutting than kind. — "They'll prefer to exterminate you."
The weight of her words slammed down like an invisible surge, drowning the hall. Nael's fate hung like a taut thread, poised to break.
She stepped forward. The air warped, retreating from her as if in fear.
— "When it comes to this physique…" — Each word fell like a stone into still water. — "There is only one law."
The pressure tightened, squeezing lungs, stealing air.
— "Either you belong to me…" — The atmosphere trembled, bending to her will. — "Or you belong to no one."
A mute thunder rolled through the hall. The peak masters, their faces stern as granite, had paled. One clenched his fists, veins throbbing beneath his skin.
She paused, tilting her head with a faint, almost playful curiosity.
— "Oh…" — A smile danced on her lips, light yet sharp as shattered glass. — "Perhaps I've made things worse…"
No one moved. The cultivators' poise teetered on a razor's edge.
Her expression brightened, a mischievous gleam sparking in her eyes.
— "And as your mother, who's barely a thousand years old…" — She sighed theatrically, her golden hair spilling like sunlight. — "I don't want to be a grandmother!"
A stifled choke rasped from the rear. Someone smothered the sound, but it sliced the silence like a blunt knife. It was almost comical. Almost. Yet the heaviness in the air crushed any hint of mirth.
— "May the gods spare me. I'm still far too young for that."
She turned her gaze to Nael, and something shifted. Her blue eyes, deep as the sky before a tempest, softened. There was warmth there, ancient and burdened, like a memory bearing the world's weight.
— "But I respected you."
Her words rang out, resolute, a drumbeat resounding in every chest.
— "Even if everyone thinks you're useless…"
The hall felt too small to hold her proclamation.
— "I have faith in you."
Her eyes glowed, distant as unreachable stars. Then she paused. The silence stretched, tight as a drawn bow.
— "And just so you know…" — She let the words linger, weighty. — "You have less than ten years."
The air vanished from the hall. Ten years? An older master, his brow etched with lines, clutched his chest. Another's eyes flared wide, his mouth agape in silent shock.
— "No more, no less."
The ground seemed to quake, though it was only truth taking root.
— "You have only that time to get out of there."
A judgment. A countdown none had foreseen. The air thinned, hard to grasp.
— "And when you return…"
The future loomed over Nael like a living shadow.
— "No one will be able to touch you."
The cosmos held its breath.
— "Even if you bear the cursed physique…"
Every inhale halted, suspended in the void.
— "I will protect you."
The silence hardened, absolute and unyielding.
Then, she eased. For the first time, her shoulders softened, her gaze drifting to a place only she could see.
— "I still remember when I left you there."
A shadow crossed her eyes, deep and timeless.
— "Even though you showed no emotion…"
All eyes turned to Nael. He was stone, yet now they sought something in him.
— "Your hair showed it for you."
A pause. The hall held its breath.
— "When you're happy…"
The cultivators leaned closer, almost unaware.
— "Your strands turn golden, like the sun, just like mine."
No one blinked. Then, slowly, as if unveiling a secret, Nael's white strands had shifted. Threads of gold wove through them, shimmering like molten sunlight under the lamps' cold glow. A faint gasp slipped out. The strands gleamed, alive, then faded like mist.
Nael didn't stir. Didn't speak. But all had seen it. The shock clung to the air like ash.
Her voice pressed on, steady, brimming with undeniable power.
— "You may not even have a physique…"
The words loomed, heavy as storm clouds.
— "But you have my blood running through your veins."
It was a brand, a legacy that seared.
— "You may be different from your sister…"
A faint tremor rippled through a cultivator's hands in the corner.
— "Who was born a divine being."
Nael's gaze remained fixed, impassive.
— "And you were born mortal."
There was a trace of harshness, yet something tender beneath.
— "Without a special physique."
Faces around the room twisted—confused, incredulous.
— "But you have my blood."
The shadows deepened, swallowing the light.
— "Trust in it."
The world seemed to pause, listening.
— "And if that fails…"
The lamps flickered, just for a moment.
— "Trust in your eyes."
A chill crept up spines. For Nael's eyes—clear, cold, piercing—saw everything.
— "And don't fear them."
Her words echoed oddly, a shapeless caution.
— "They are a reflection of you."
The silence bore down, crushing.
— "And if you don't trust yourself…"
Something unseen thickened the air.
— "This is the second time I've left you in a kind of sewer."
A silent thunderclap. The cultivators teetered between reverence and dread.
— "And I trust you'll find your way out alone."
She was leaving. The air around her shimmered, colors bleeding like ink in water.
— "I can't come there."
A sharp cold descended.
— "Everyone is watching me."
Her words whispered prophecy.
— "And searching for you."
No one moved. Fear rooted them in place.
— "But only for now."
Her smile lingered a heartbeat longer, then she vanished, dissolving into mist.
The hall fell quiet, but it was a living silence—dense, pulsing, as if something had awakened. Nael stood unmoved. His eyes, fixed where she'd been, were a depth none dared explore.
The world stilled around him. Yet, for a fleeting instant, something sparked within him—a faint glimmer, nearly invisible. And that, no one saw.