By twelve, Leng Zhi was no longer only legend in village. Messengers from Frostpine Stronghold itself came traveling. Two centuries had passed since his second life, but the clan survived. Inscriptions he once carved into mountain wall were still there, guarded, worshipped. The Leng Clan had thrived. Trade caravans carried frost to three empires. They were mid‑power that even imperial courts recognized.
When Frostpine disciples saw young Zhi's Everfrost Core, they fell to knees. "Ancestor…?" one gasped.
The boy only smiled faintly. He could not admit truth, but inside, tears burned. To see disciples of his blood, following words he wrote long ago—it was rebirth worth every pain. They begged him to join Frostpine, and parents joyfully agreed.
So he traveled back to valley he once built with dying breaths. Frost Wall still stood, covered with creeds carved across generations. Children recited them at dawn daily. Seeing it again crushed Leng Zhi's heart—his own script, written as Leng Tian in first life, carved deeper by descendants through centuries.
Clan Patriarch greeted him, bowing despite rank. "Your spirit is Everfrost Core… you are chosen by ancestors!"
Leng Zhi lowered eyes humbly. "Then let me learn from wall itself. Frost is not about shouting names—it is about lasting."
From then, he trained under best masters, but often he taught them instead. His control over frost exceeded manuals. He developed new patterns, layering shields upon shields, creating flowing defensive techniques. He secretly rewrote Codex, marking third generation of frost techniques—Everfrost Methods.
Children adored him. Elders respected. Rumors spread: "A prodigy of frost has emerged with spirit no one's seen before. Perhaps Leng Clan may rise beyond mere preservation—perhaps they may rival great sects."
Leng Zhi knew his goal remained: clan above self. But he also felt destiny tugging—a world after Spirit Hall, where new forces rose. He must prepare.