Across the Celestial Continent, the Immortal Clan held dominion over five provinces, further divided into seventy-two states, encompassing more than half of the land. Of the remaining portion, four parts were claimed by the ancient clans, each ruling over thirty-six districts. The final tenth was swallowed by the Endless Sea, a vast expanse that sundered the ancient races from the immortals.

This sea, the largest upon the Celestial Continent, was a perpetual tempest of churning waves and blinding mists. Mortals dared not attempt passage, and even cultivators, save for the most powerful, found its crossing nigh impossible.

Thus, the sea served as a natural barrier, hindering the passage between the ancient realms and the lands of the immortals.

Bordering this tumultuous sea was the Northern Province of the Immortal Clan, a realm of perpetual ice. Farthest north lay the Frostface State, a small land almost entirely blanketed in snow.

The cultivators who dwelled here were accustomed to the relentless cold, their practices centered on the essence of frost. Few mortals lived in this harsh land, their numbers dwindling the further north one ventured.

To the north of this state lay the boundless sea. From above, one could see Frostface State as a gargantuan iceberg, forever battered by the ocean’s waves, yet never melting away.

Indeed, where the land met the sea, new formations of ice could sometimes be seen coalescing, only to be carried away on the tide.

Within a million leagues of this frozen shore, life was scarce. Even cultivators rarely dared tread here, for the cold was so intense that their very blood threatened to turn to ice, making survival impossible.

Wailing winds howled through the heavens, whipping flurries of snowflakes into a frenzy before scattering them across the land.

In this tempest of snow, the landscape stretched endlessly, yet in the distance, three figures could be seen making their way across the snow-covered ground.

The foremost figure was cloaked in a straw coat, his hair as white as the snow that clung to it. As he walked, flakes fell from the thick layer of snow that covered his coat, only to be replaced by fresh snow.

Behind him walked two others. One appeared to be an old man, yet closer inspection revealed him to be a middle-aged man, his face pale with cold. He shivered, blowing into his cupped hands to warm them. He often cast envious glances at the other man beside him.

Upon this man’s shoulder rested a small snake, serpentine in appearance. It lay lazily, and whenever the man seemed close to freezing, the snake would exhale a warm breath, allowing him to endure.

The last of the three was a large man, or perhaps not so large, but a frail youth bundled in layers of thick cotton coats. He waddled clumsily, each step sinking deep into the snow, requiring great effort to lift his feet.

Despite the biting cold, beads of sweat dotted the youth’s forehead, creating puffs of white vapor, a curious sight indeed.

The crunching of snow underfoot was swallowed by the howling wind, unable to escape. Three lines of footprints quickly vanished in the storm, erased by the wind and snow. Only the occasional shouted words seemed to defy the gale, carried on the wind.

“It’s still your Grandfather Xu who’s the clever one! Just like in the Realm of Caves, I’m still on top in the Celestial Continent, hehehe! Jin Biao, you’ll never catch up with your Grandfather Xu!” The youth, bundled in cotton, boasted, wiping his brow with a smug grin.

“Ah, it’s so hot, this warm weather, so hot! I can’t stand it, so hot! Are you hot, Jin Biao? Why am I so hot?”

The man beside him, Liu Jin Biao, glared at Xu Liguo, about to retort, when a gust of wind made him shiver violently, his face turning pale.

“Oh, Jin Biao, why are you shivering on such a warm day? Are you cold? Ah, don’t pretend, it’s no use, you can’t fool me. Your Grandfather Xu has seen everything in Ancestor City! I’ve gotten treasures, ate and drank well, and had pretty things like Little Peach, Little Crimson, Little Indigo, and many more to warm my bed! How have you been all these years, Jin Biao?” Xu Liguo forced a friendly expression, but his self-satisfied eyes made Liu Jin Biao want to fight him.

“Ah, too many clothes, and it’s too hot. I say, Jin Biao, you seem really cold. It’s okay, your Grandfather Xu is your good brother, I’ll…” Xu Liguo glanced at Liu Jin Biao, pausing for effect.

Liu Jin Biao’s eyes widened with hope, but Xu Liguo chuckled.

“I’ll tell you how precious these clothes of mine are! Listen and imagine, maybe you won’t be cold anymore. Aren’t you a deceiver? Deceive yourself! Tell yourself you’re wearing countless warm clothes, and that’s it!” Xu Liguo stroked his clothing, shaking his head in mock pity.

“This piece is a treasure! Woven from celestial cotton, it generates its own warmth. Your Grandfather Xu snatched it from the Chen family!”

“This cotton coat is also a treasure! Wearing it is like hugging a ball of fire. Your Grandfather Xu tricked Prince Wang into stealing it from the Zhao family!”

“This piece…”

“This piece…”

“And this piece…” Xu Liguo continued to list them, but Liu Jin Biao roared.

“Xu Liguo!”

“What is it, calling your Grandfather Xu? Are you planning to rob me in front of the Master? Why are you so bold!” Xu Liguo glared, ready to roll up his sleeves, but his clothes were so thick that lifting one layer revealed more, and he couldn’t manage it for now.

“Master… look at him… I… I…” Liu Jin Biao glared at Xu Liguo before turning to Wang Lin, who walked ahead, ignoring them both. He pleaded with Wang Lin, seeking help.
“My lord, pay him no mind! It is of his own volition that he endures this trial, seeking to temper his body and elevate his cultivation. Tread carefully, my lord, for the ice beneath is treacherous. Disregard us, we are well. Little Xu-zi can manage,” chirped Xu Liguo, his face a mask of obsequious devotion. He scurried ahead of Wang Lin, his nimble fingers kneading at the lord’s shoulders through the roughspun raincoat. Turning his head, he shot a venomous glare at Liu Jinbiao, a smug grin plastered on his face.

*“Dare to vie for the master’s favor with your Grandfather Xu? Pah! You little cur are unworthy. When I first pledged fealty to our lord, you were likely still suckling at your mother’s teat!”* Xu Liguo projected the thought with a mental sneer.

“You…”

“Indeed! ‘Twas I who suggested to the lord that our cultivation was wanting, that traversing this frigid North Province solely by our own strength would not only harden our resolve but also allow us to subtly enhance our power through constant application. A boon, I say!” Xu Liguo preened. “Yes, ’twas I! Though I, Xu Liguo, may lack your raw power, lacking also that dimwitted dragon to aid me, I fear the cold and don my quilted coat. And what of it? If you possessed one, would you not do the same?”

Before the two could devolve further into squabbling, Wang Lin frowned, his patience wearing thin from their incessant bickering.

“Enough. Liu Jinbiao, if you find yourself unable to endure, I shall consign you to my storage realm,” Wang Lin said, halting and turning towards the shivering man.

*“Never shall I grant Xu Liguo an opportunity to whisper poison in the master’s ear! What vile lies might he concoct about me?”* Liu Jinbiao ground his teeth and shook his head vehemently.

“My lord… I… I can persevere!” he stuttered, his voice trembling.

“Xu Liguo, relinquish several layers of your garb and bestow them upon Liu Jinbiao,” Wang Lin commanded, his perception unclouded by their petty rivalries. He turned and resumed his trek towards the distant horizon.

With ill-grace, Xu Liguo peeled off several layers of his padded coat and tossed them to Liu Jinbiao, who hastily donned the garments. The two men exchanged a final, furious glare, silently cursing each other before falling back into step behind Wang Lin.

Time flowed onward. Wang Lin proceeded unhurriedly, making his way across the northernmost reaches of the Immortal Continent, toward the boundless ocean. The chill deepened with each step, eventually becoming unbearable even for Xu Liguo. With a sweeping gesture of his sleeve, Wang Lin gathered both men into his power and, in a single stride, vanished.

They reappeared on the frigid shores of Cold West Province. Before them stretched a turbulent, dark sea, its surface dotted with colossal ice floes that crashed against each other with thunderous booms.

“Beyond this sea lies the Ancient Clan…” Wang Lin said, with a careless flick of his wrist, he banished Liu Jinbiao and Xu Liguo to his storage realm. He stood alone, silent for a long moment, then stepped forward, his feet landing on a colossal iceberg.

Standing upon the ice, Wang Lin turned to gaze back at the Immortal Continent.

His eyes beheld the vast land, and a procession of memories, like the frigid winds off the sea, whipped through his mind, stirring the silver strands of his hair. As his hair danced in the wind, the memories faded like mist.

The iceberg, riding the capricious waves, drifted further and further away, until the Immortal Continent blurred into the distant horizon.

He stood unmoving, his gaze fixed on the fading land. He seemed to discern familiar faces, fading from sight as they were carried further away by the tide.

“Madness… But when I return…” The final phrase was not spoken aloud, but hardened into resolve in his eyes.

How long he stood there, he could not say. Until at last, no trace of the Immortal Continent remained, only the boundless sea and a fiery sunset staining the sky. As darkness descended, Wang Lin turned.

“Master Xuan Luo… your disciple has come,” he murmured, a flicker of determination in his eyes. He vanished from the iceberg without a trace.