The heavens trembled.
High above the Frostveil Range, clouds split apart as an ancient resonance echoed through the realm — the low, sorrowful hum of the Mirror Bell. The sound did not belong to mortal hands; it belonged to memory, to destiny. Ice and lightning fused in the skies, swirling around the lone figure standing upon the highest peak.
Tiān Lán.
Snow whirled around him in violent spirals, each flake edged with qi sharp enough to cut stone. His robes tore in the wind, strands of dark hair dancing wildly across his face. Behind him, his Guardian shimmered — a celestial mirror of frost and light, its wings half-spectral, half-divine. Spirit beasts circled protectively: the frost wolf howled to the heavens, the serpent-dragon coiled through the storm clouds, the ember fox's flames burned blue in the blizzard.
Across the ridge, the Spirit Severing Peak cultivator descended like a comet of fire, his presence twisting the very qi of the world. His steps crushed the mountain beneath him. Flames and frost warped together, screaming in protest. He smirked, voice laced with arrogance.
"So this is the one who calls himself Top Twenty? You're barely clinging to your life."
Tiān Lán's gaze lifted. Calm. Cold. Endless.
"Then come," he said softly, "and see what life remains when frost refuses to die."
The villain's first strike was an explosion — the sky ignited in a pillar of crimson qi that split the horizon. Shockwaves blasted the snowfields to dust. The storm raged like a living beast. But Tiān Lán moved through it, a blur of pale light, Guardian flaring beside him. He deflected the strike with a flick of his wrist; shards of frozen qi scattered like diamonds in the air.
The mountain roared. The battlefield twisted into chaos — frost against flame, lightning against destruction. Yao Xiangyi and Lán Xi darted between energy bursts, redirecting terrain flows, summoning barriers from fallen spirit arrays. Their movements, their breaths, everything synchronized with Tiān Lán's heartbeat.
But the villain was no fool. He had lived through countless battles. His Spirit Severing energy pulsed through the mountain veins, corrupting frost into molten rock. "You fight well," he sneered, "but you are still bound. You can't cross the wall between realms through will alone!"
Tiān Lán's lips curved. "Then perhaps your wall is weaker than mine resolve."
The Guardian's eyes blazed open. Spirit threads extended — not just to the beasts, but to the very mountain beneath. Energy spiraled upward, connecting heaven, earth, and soul. Tiān Lán felt it — the pulse of his Frostheart Elixir, the echo of his past life as Yè Tiānshuāng, the soul that once froze thunder itself.
His veins burned with cold. His mind drowned in memory. He saw again that night — betrayal, blood, the laughter of those who had slain him.
"Even frost can bleed," they had said.
Now, the frost answered.
A single droplet of his blood fell upon the ice. The world reacted.
The Mirror Bell tolled again — one deep, endless sound that shook every cultivator within a thousand li. Frost spread from his feet, devouring stone, swallowing fire, silencing wind. Even the villain staggered back, eyes wide. "What—what is this energy?!"
Lightning crashed down from the heavens, striking Tiān Lán directly. But the light did not harm him — it bent around him, curved into spirals of frozen silver.
His Guardian expanded, its wings now stretching from one horizon to the other, symbols of ice and starlight dancing along its form. The frost wolf howled, merging its essence into him; the dragon's roar echoed through his bones; the fox's flame became his heart's pulse.
The mountain shuddered.
Spirit Severing – Early Stage.
The barrier broke.
Power burst outward like the first dawn after eternal night. Frost and lightning fused into divine radiance, bathing the battlefield in ghostly white. The villain screamed, his aura collapsing under the sheer pressure. He barely managed to stand as Tiān Lán descended step by step — each footfall freezing the air.
"You… you broke through mid-battle?" the villain gasped, backing away. "Impossible!"
Tiān Lán looked at him, eyes glowing silver. "Impossible," he repeated quietly, "is what mortals call their fear."
He raised his hand. The Guardian moved with him, its wings gathering all surrounding qi. Spirit beasts merged into streams of energy, flowing through the resonance pattern Tiān Lán had created — a divine circuit of life, frost, and eternity.
The sky itself split open.
The final strike fell — a spear of condensed frostlight, pure, unblemished, cutting through flame, through air, through arrogance. When it struck, it did not explode. It silenced. Everything froze in that instant — the wind, the villain's scream, even the rain that dared to fall.
Then the mountain exhaled.
The frost shattered into shimmering dust. The villain's form collapsed, encased in crystalline ice, his expression locked in eternal disbelief.
Tiān Lán stood at the summit, untouched. His aura radiated warmth and cold, life and death, chaos and calm. The Spirit Realm itself bowed to his presence — the frost spirits singing faintly, the snow settling like petals around his feet.
He closed his eyes.
A whisper echoed in his soul — the voice of Lingxiao, the Bell Spirit.
> "The frost that once wept has risen.
The soul that once fell… now ascends."
He opened his eyes, gaze turning toward the horizon where the sun rose behind veils of snow.
"I am Tiān Lán," he said softly, voice carrying through the heavens. "And I am no longer bound by your realms."
The frost spread outward, blessing the mountain with eternal radiance. Spirit beasts rested beside him, silent guardians of his new power. The Guardian folded its wings behind him like a crown.
The wind whispered through the peaks, repeating his name across the continents.
"Tiān Lán… the Frost Soul who ascended."
And high above, beyond mortal sight, the heavens themselves seemed to tremble — as if remembering a god they once feared.