Cloudstride Gorge lay in near silence. The mists curled through jagged cliffs as if aware of the struggle that was about to unfold. Lin Xuan's Third Dragon Vein pulsed faintly beneath his skin, coiling like a silent river of jade light, each spiral carrying the weight of Heaven's gaze. He did not breathe quickly, nor did his hands tremble. Calmness, precise and deliberate, had always been his greatest weapon.
Yu Qinglin stood beside him, sword drawn, silver hair catching the pale moonlight. She had trained for many years, yet tonight, under the presence of the frost cultivator, her confidence felt fragile. She inhaled slowly, trying to steady herself, but the chill that radiated from the approaching enemy pressed like iron against her chest.
The frost cultivator moved with deliberate grace. His robes were pale, almost translucent in the mists, and the air around him seemed to harden, freezing droplets mid-fall. Each step he took was a whisper of inevitability. He was not rushing; he did not need speed. His mastery was absolute, and the slightest lapse in defense could cost their lives.
Lin Xuan's eyes traced the faint rhythm of the cultivator's movements. He did not need to act immediately. Observation was the first strike, patience the first defense.
Without a word, the frost cultivator lunged. His hands moved with quiet precision, aiming not at Lin Xuan's body but at the spaces around him, cutting the flow of the Third Dragon Vein's subtle currents.
Lin Xuan responded smoothly, shifting his stance, jade currents coiling to redirect the pressure of the strike. The lattice within him did not flare; it merely hummed softly, folding the frost currents into the rhythm of his own energy.
Yu Qinglin acted next, stepping forward to flank the frost cultivator. Her sword swept with deliberate intent, but a faint miscalculation left her vulnerable. The cultivator's icy hand caught her shoulder mid-motion, sending her sprawling to the cold stone. Pain lanced through her side, a harsh reminder that even the smallest error could be fatal.
Lin Xuan's gaze sharpened. He extended a hand, not to strike, but to guide the lattice of his vein. Jade light coiled around Yu Qinglin's wrist, easing her fall and slowing the bleeding energy in her meridians. She gasped, her body trembling from the strain.
"You are reckless," he murmured quietly. "The vein does not protect from carelessness."
The frost cultivator moved again, a predator that measured each heartbeat, each micro-shift of energy. He did not attack Lin Xuan head-on; instead, he exploited openings in rhythm, testing defenses with controlled, precise pressure.
Lin Xuan shifted, adjusted, and redirected, his movements calm, almost meditative. Each dodge, each subtle counter, carried intent. He did not strike with violence, only with the weight of inevitability, forcing the frost cultivator to respect the lattice rather than overcome it.
Yu Qinglin attempted another intervention. Her sword moved like flowing water, yet the frost cultivator anticipated her motion with minimal effort. He struck her leg, sending her tumbling once more. Blood touched the cold stone, and her breaths came ragged, near the edge of consciousness.
Lin Xuan's heart clenched, but his expression remained serene. Desperation could not guide the Collector. He moved closer, extending jade threads to reinforce her veins and fortify her stance.
"Focus, Qinglin," he said softly. "Control your breath. Let the lattice guide your body. Do not rely solely on strength."
The frost cultivator shifted tactics. He moved faster now, not in haste, but in controlled acceleration, forcing Yu Qinglin back repeatedly. One strike caught her shoulder, another grazed her chest. Pain carved her movements, but she did not fall completely.
Lin Xuan could feel her strength waning. His veins pulsed more strongly now, coiling to anticipate every micro-strain in her body. He whispered guidance with the lattice of jade currents: Balance your weight… absorb the pressure… redirect, do not resist…
Her eyes widened as she followed his subtle cues, barely avoiding a blow that would have impaled her chest. She collapsed, trembling, blood seeping from shallow cuts, close to death.
Lin Xuan's voice was steady, carrying no panic:
"Qinglin… survive. Observe, endure, and the vein will not fail you."
The frost cultivator paused briefly, sensing Lin Xuan's lattice tightening like a living net of jade threads. Each subtle movement conveyed thought, not just motion. Lin Xuan was not fighting with strength; he was fighting with perception, folding the frost cultivator's energy against itself.
The air hummed with tension. Stones shifted slightly, dust rose in soft spirals. The frost cultivator's eyes narrowed. He realized the lattice was no mere defense; it anticipated him.
Lin Xuan did not strike, did not provoke. His calm radiated outward like the mountain itself, making the frost cultivator uncertain. For a brief heartbeat, the enemy was forced to measure each strike, to question whether he could succeed without overextending.
Yu Qinglin's knees hit the stone again. Her breaths were shallow. The frost cultivator's attacks became sharper, more precise, almost mocking. Lin Xuan's jade lattice wrapped tighter around her, stabilizing her pulse, but the strain was evident even to him: she had nearly died.
He realized then: the frost cultivator had pushed them to the brink intentionally. He did not seek to kill yet — he sought to test the Collector and his companion, to gauge the depth of their understanding, their perception of the vein.
The gorge was silent now, save for the ragged breathing of Yu Qinglin and the quiet hum of Lin Xuan's lattice. The frost cultivator did not retreat; he hovered like a predator satisfied that he had probed his prey.
Lin Xuan's gaze met the frost cultivator's, calm as stone, resolute:
"Enough."
The lattice coiled subtly around the enemy's strikes, redirecting pressure, containing without harming, demonstrating control without arrogance. The frost cultivator's eyes flickered with understanding — this was no ordinary mortal.
The frost cultivator finally stepped back, retreating a pace, observing Lin Xuan closely. Yu Qinglin collapsed fully against the stone, near death, but alive, her body supported by Lin Xuan's lattice.
The moonlight cast shadows over the gorge, painting them in jade and silver. Silence returned, though it was tense and heavy with unspoken acknowledgment: the fight had been brutal, precise, and nearly lethal, yet neither side had truly won.
Lin Xuan lowered his lattice, eyes scanning the mists. The frost cultivator's departure was measured, deliberate — he would return, but he had already left an impression.
Yu Qinglin's voice was faint, trembling from the ordeal:
"Lin Xuan… I… I almost…"
He pressed a hand to her forehead, stabilizing her breaths with gentle jade currents. "You survived. That is enough. Strength is not merely in attack, but in endurance, in clarity, in perception."
She looked at him, trembling, awe and fear mingled. "I… I thought I was going to die."
"And you almost did," he replied calmly. "But you lived. That is what Heaven asks of us — to survive, to perceive, to endure. Death comes for those who are reckless."
The frost cultivator had gone, but the weight of the encounter lingered. Lin Xuan and Yu Qinglin were alive, yes, but only just. The Collector knew: the world would test them again, and not every encounter would leave them unscathed.
The mists curled around the gorge once more, whispering in voices only the Dao could understand. Lin Xuan rose slowly, jade veins glowing faintly beneath his skin.
"Rest," he murmured to Yu Qinglin. "The path has only begun, and those who watch will not wait."
The frost cultivator's presence lingered in the cold night air, a silent promise of return. And somewhere in the distance, shadows stirred. The Collector had survived the night, but the true test of the Third Dragon Vein was only beginning.