Weeks blurred into relentless drill. Shrek's cracked dorm became furnace of training. Many broke daily, yet Leng Xue endured steadily. His frost veil thickened stronger within warmth, now able to cover nearly entire small yard if concentrated slowly. More impressive was not distance but constancy—others flared then faltered, he maintained like glacier breath.
Observing, Yan quietly urged him to inscribe knowledge here as ancestor once did at Frostpine. She and Xue carved first slabs from stone behind dormitory, writing patient verse. Words etched were not declarations but reminders: Cold preserves; hot burns fast. Team survives frost patience. Clan never one but many.
Some students scoffed at odd carvings, but others curious began reading. Even those who once mocked found quiet comfort—nuggets of resilience helpful after bones ached. Slowly slabs became meeting point, where tired souls sat cool beside letters and whispered, "Frost boy wrote this, right?" The whisper spread, morphing to respect ingrained deeper.
Teachers noticed too. Flender approached once lazily, feathered cloak swaying. He traced jagged etches and chuckled. "This again? Like your ancestor leaving scripture for future?" Leng Xue bowed respectfully. "It is duty. If frost dies with me, frost meaningless." Zhao Wuji gave one of his rare approving snorts.
Soon more inscriptions cropped up. Yan, dutiful with steady hands, added neat copies. They called it half in jest, half reverence, "Shrek Frost Wall." Even Dai Mubai mocked less, instead reading stones in distraction when bitter training tired him. In this way, unnoticed by many, Leng Clan's heritage crossed continents—north root planted deep into south ground.
Tome glowed within, inscribing: Secondary Inscription Foundation Achieved. Legacy permanently engraved beyond clan territory. Leng Xue smiled faintly in heart. No matter if life ended tomorrow, frost would remain in Shrek stone.