Despite passing mantle, Tian still worked tirelessly.
Day after day he sat hunched by stone tablets, inscribing last thoughts with trembling hands. His script was shaky, letters uneven, but each line held weight of lifetime:
"Even weak frost has use."
"Patience outlives arrogance."
"Preserve knowledge as you preserve life."
"Even if heaven denies you, pass root to children."
Hours left him coughing blood, sword-hands trembling like fragile branches in winter. Disciples begged him to stop.
Mei, his second child, knelt desperately: "Father, let me write, please…"
But Tian only shook head. "No, my daughter. My hands began this, my hands must finish. They will see my script and remember foundation not written by perfect genius, but carved with weak, stubborn frost."
And so he etched until final stone slab stood covered in frost-carved script—Ancestor's Last Script.
Clan members later placed it as centerpiece of Frost Hall, eternal for future generations.
🔥 End of Chapter 52