Time passed like flowing ice. Days bled into years, and by then Tian's disciples reached adulthood. Boys married girls, girls bonded with hunters, and one by one, families multiplied.
The once tiny Leng family swelled—children raced across lanes in snow, calling each other cousins, while Frost Breathing spread into every household.
Walls expanded, huts rebuilt larger, pelts traded. Where once just thirty families huddled in danger, now more than sixty households carried the Leng name.
Villagers from nearby hamlets occasionally migrated too—drawn by safety, or married into blood. And slowly, Leng Clan became more than one man's stubborn dream—it became reality, visible in laughter, meals, and nightly cultivation circles under auroras.
Tian, body failing faster, could scarcely walk without cough—but when he watched dozens cultivating together, whispering passages from the Frost Manual like scripture, he smiled.
"This is… the root," he murmured, pride choking his frail breath.
🔥 End of Chapter 41