It was hard to tell whether the system had done it by accident or on purpose, but the persona it assigned to Xiao Heyun was practically a budget version of Liu Xingzhi.
Worse still, Yun Yunzou happened to be one of Liu Xingzhi's admirers. To her eyes, Xiao Heyun was nothing more than a poor imitation. She might even see him as an insult to Liu Xingzhi.
The more Song Wanníng thought about it, the more amused she became. If Xiao Heyun wanted to win that woman's favor, he would have to work hard for it.
Her eyes narrowed slightly. Since that was the case, she might as well add fuel to the fire and roast him thoroughly. Turning her attention back to Jiang Cen, she followed the directions described in the novel's plot. Sure enough, she soon located Zhang Shuning's position.
Unfortunately, as the "female lead," Zhang Shuning's Luck was formidable. She had already taken the treasure.
Jiang Cen's face darkened with frustration. But the fault was partly her own—she had been greedy. On her way there, she ran into another treasure hunter. Rather than confronting them openly, she hid in silence, ambushed them, and stole the prize like a mantis stalking a cicada.
By the time she finished killing the man and rushed over, she was already too late.
Watching Jiang Cen's methods, Song Wanníng frowned slightly.
Jiang Cen was a spiritual cultivator. Why did she have the Ten Thousand Demon Banner? Could she be secretly connected to the demon race?
It was common knowledge that in the Spirit Realm, spiritual cultivators and demon cultivators were natural enemies, like water and fire.
As the daughter of an elder from Guhan Sect, Jiang Cen possessing the Ten Thousand Demon Banner was suspicious, to say the least. If such a connection existed, this could be a useful opening. It might even sway the opinion of the sect's Grand Elder.
"For now, I have to secure the treasure. Otherwise, I won't be at ease!"
Jiang Cen regretted her earlier greed to the point her gut twisted. If she hadn't been so fixated on petty gains, she might have already secured the treasure. Now she had thrown away a watermelon for a sesame seed.
To avoid another loss, she had to get her hands on the treasure mentioned in the book as quickly as possible. "If even the female lead didn't find it, but the author still made a point to mention it, then it's clearly meant for me!"
She smiled smugly. So what if Zhang Shuning was the female lead? That didn't make her superior.
Following the novel's description, Jiang Cen began searching for the treasure's location.
"Come on. We'll take a look as well," Song Wanníng decided. She would waste no time—best to snatch it first.
After a moment's thought, she released her clone to explore other parts of the secret realm. Then, following the Blood Lotus's guidance, she sped after Jiang Cen.
Though she encountered several obstacles along the way, she dealt with them quickly. A few hours later, she found Jiang Cen's trail.
Rather than approach recklessly, she used the Three Lives Mirror to observe Jiang Cen from afar. She shadowed her for seven full days before Jiang Cen finally found a location matching the book's description.
"Finally!" Jiang Cen's eyes shone as she stared at the valley ahead, her expression brimming with determination.
However, the novel offered little detail about this place. She would have to explore it herself. After a moment of hesitation, she activated every defensive artifact she had, shrouding herself in protection before stepping into the valley.
The moment she crossed the threshold, thick mist surged in from all directions, blotting out her view. A bone-chilling cold struck her full-on, making her shiver.
"What in the world is this white fog?" she muttered, frowning, her guard up. Her spiritual sense was suppressed, forcing her to inch forward step by step.
Song Wanníng followed. Seeing Jiang Cen vanish into the valley, her expression shifted, and she hurried in after her.
The instant the mist touched her skin, goosebumps erupted across her body. The cold pierced straight to her heart. But almost immediately, a faint radiance flickered through her bones, pushing the cold away until warmth spread through her body.
A few steps in, the cold grew sharper, frost forming instantly along her brows. In the past, this would have been a severe problem—her single fire spiritual root clashed with ice and water, greatly limiting her abilities. Now, with her altered constitution, she only needed to circulate the warmth in her bones once for all frost to melt away. The cold could no longer hinder her.
The difference was obvious. While Jiang Cen struggled to move, Song Wanníng walked as if on level ground, quickly passing through the outer mist.
Beyond it lay an even colder expanse.
Who would have thought that a mere wall of fog could separate two utterly different worlds?
She already had a guess about the treasure—it was likely something of the ice element.
Through the Three Lives Mirror, Jiang Cen was still trudging through the mist. Song Wanníng's lips curved in satisfaction, and she quickened her pace. The ground was coated in thick ice. Every step was slippery, and flight was forbidden by a low-hanging barrier above.
In the distance stood a towering ice sculpture.
Gliding forward carefully, she made her way toward it. The slick surface made for a rare sliding experience, and the three little companions with her grew curious about the sculpture as well.
Within minutes, she reached the base of the sculpture, only to find it was set within a massive pit.
The pit spanned dozens of meters across, with the statue rising from its center. It depicted an ancient beast, long extinct.
Looking further down, she saw that the pit walls were sheathed in ice, and below there seemed to be a passage.
She jumped down without hesitation.
The moment she landed, the ice beneath her feet cracked.
Her body dropped suddenly before she could react. In seconds, the gap sealed shut above, erasing all trace of her passage.
Crack.
The ice beneath her feet shattered again. Just as she steadied herself, she fell once more. Her brows knitted. This ice, which appeared thick and solid, was breaking far too easily—almost as if it had been designed to.
So she stopped resisting and let herself fall.
It happened several more times. Then, abruptly, her spiritual power was sealed. The next moment, she was encased in solid ice, transformed into a human-shaped statue.
Crack.
The ice below her shattered again. She plunged further, her eyes turning serious. With a swift effort, she melted the ice and freed herself.
By now, she had no idea how far underground she had fallen. The air grew thin, and the scent of earth filled her lungs.
She still could not halt her descent and had to endure it.
Finally, after half a quarter of an hour, the ice stopped breaking. Her feet met solid ground.
Rising to her feet, Song Wanníng looked around—and found herself inside a grand ice palace.