Time wore on. Tang San prepared to ascend further. News of his divine inheritance spread, and people whispered of Shrek's rise to gods.
Leng Xue was proud but tired. By now he was old man with long white hair, staff always at side. He could no longer summon great barriers, but whenever his great-grandchildren played, small snow bloomed in his palm to make them laugh.
One autumn night, envoys from Shrek visited Frostpine one last time. Oscar, Rongrong, even Dai Mubai came. They had grown older, stronger, but still remembered Frost Brother.
Rongrong knelt before him and said, "Without you, I would not be standing here. Do you know, even now, when I give boosts, I still remember the cold air you used to buy me time."
Leng Xue laughed gently. "And I remember you sneering once at a pale northerner. All of us were young."
They spoke long into the night, reminiscing about battles, about the roar of crowds shouting Frost never falls. Yet when morning came, they departed—called back to Tang San's side, on path to godhood. Leng Xue waved calmly from Frostpine gates.
He knew he would not see the day they touched the heavens. His time was ending, and that was enough.