With Xuan's awakening, Tian realized words on hides were not enough. Too fragile. Too easily lost.
So he sought permanent method.
Taking stone slabs carved from frozen cliffs, he instructed disciples night after night to copy every passage of Frost Manual, Herbal Codex, philosophy lines. They engraved slowly, fingers bleeding, until rows of runes filled dozens of slabs.
These became known as the Frost Inscriptions.
Even if fire consumed huts, inscriptions carved into stone would endure centuries. Already villagers treated them reverently, bowing lightly when passing, whispering that their ancestors' teachings slept there.
One evening, Xuan asked his father, "Why do this when I can protect clan with spear?"
Tian smiled weakly. "Because one spear breaks in time, my son. Words last forever. If one day you fall, your children will still read them. That is what makes us eternal."
The boy's eyes widened, and he nodded solemnly.
Thus the Leng Clan gained not only bloodline strength, but written heritage—an inheritance no enemy could easily erase.
🔥 End of Chapter 45