Chapter Sixty-Four: Wonders Unveiled in the Frozen Lake

To Su Fan’s astonishment, the Celestial Lady of the Three Sovereigns was, in fact, a woman. Though her face was veiled in shadow, the aura she exuded left no room for doubt. A chill ran down Su Fan’s spine. If his opponent had been a man, he might have been prepared to fight to the end, but a woman—particularly one so perceptive—posed a far greater challenge. Women, after all, were said to possess a mind as delicate as silk threads; any scheme Su Fan devised might well be seen through in an instant.

With such overwhelming power arrayed against him, not even the addition of Hong Ling gave Su Fan a sliver of hope for victory. Suddenly, a thought flashed across his mind—he recalled an object that, perhaps at a critical moment, might yield some unexpected effect.

He discreetly signaled Hong Ling, urging her to seize the opportunity to escape. Yet the Celestial Lady caught the exchange and said coldly, “I will not let this woman go.”

Su Fan pleaded, “You might at least erase her memories.”

The Celestial Lady remained silent, but began to form a spell in her hand. Su Fan’s heart sank. He summoned all his strength and lunged toward her, but she only paused, then extended a slender finger directly at his brow.

She did not strike to kill. Evidently, she cared nothing for Su Fan’s attacks. Meanwhile, Hong Ling grew anxious. With a snort, she sent her crimson scythe flying like a meteor toward that delicate finger.

The Celestial Lady’s hand was as beautiful as a young maiden’s, but her shrill, unpleasant voice made it impossible for Su Fan to judge her age. Her finger, as supple as a serpent, easily avoided the scythe, then tapped it lightly. Instantly, the weapon was knocked aside.

Hong Ling hurried to intercept her rebounding scythe, but a wave of searing pain flooded her body; her hand was torn and bloodied. The Celestial Lady’s voice grew cold: “Move again, and I will kill you first.”

Hong Ling glared back, unbowed. “If you kill me, the Celestial Sect of Tianyuan will not forgive you.” Her pride and contempt were plain in her voice—truly, all of the Crimson Line bore themselves in this manner, Su Fan thought with a resigned sigh.

The Celestial Lady suddenly laughed, a sneer on her lips. “If I dare kill, I dare make sure Tianyuan never finds out.” Wise indeed are those seasoned in the world; her words left Hong Ling speechless, her cheeks flushed with anger.

Su Fan, too, had nothing more to say. The woman’s finger was nearly at his brow—if it struck, he would surely perish, and not an easy death at that.

Yet Su Fan did nothing. He stood motionless, neither activating any technique nor calling forth a talisman. The fingertip hovered close, but did not touch him—for Su Fan, in that instant, had already slipped far away.

The Celestial Lady let out a soft exclamation. “A corpse-puppet? Pity its grade is so low—and one taken from my own stronghold, at that.”

Her finger was nearly buried in the puppet’s brow, white light radiating from its form. With a cold snort, she withdrew her finger and said, “Let’s see what else you have left.”

She formed another spell, sending a conjured butterfly fluttering toward Su Fan. His eyes sharpened; with a sweep of the Violet Moon Blade, he struck at the butterfly and whispered, “Explode.”

Instantly, blood mist filled the air. A heavy aura of blood, the scent unmistakably that of snow wolves, enveloped the Celestial Lady. Alarm flickered in her eyes—she knew well the danger of being tainted by snow wolf blood, especially here, deep within the Great Snow Mountain.

In the blink of an eye, a thunderous howl of wolves filled the air. The Celestial Lady shouted in fury, “Su Fan, die!”

Her finger transformed into a palm, a giant hand descending toward Su Fan. He hastily recalled the Violet Moon Blade and leapt back, but the butterfly pursued relentlessly, clinging to him. He felt a chill at his back.

The illusory giant palm struck him square in the back. Blood surged within him; he spat a mist of crimson, flecked with fragments of shattered organs.

Gritting his teeth against the pain, Su Fan flew toward Hong Ling, but a second palm followed. His face pale as death, he forced himself to endure it. The phantom hand struck, hurling him farther and farther away, until at last he crashed into the icy lake.

Hong Ling’s expression shifted again and again. She stared, stunned, at the lake, murmuring to herself, oblivious to the Celestial Lady’s silent approach.

The Celestial Lady said coldly, “Hurry and prepare the plum blossom elixir. We must leave.”

It was as if Hong Ling had not heard. She only asked, “Will he die?”

The Celestial Lady let out a soft laugh. “He took a fatal blow from a Nascent Soul master, then fell into a lake even mid-Nascent Soul fiends wouldn’t dare enter. He is as good as dead.”

“As good as dead.”

At those words, tears streamed down Hong Ling’s cheeks. She knelt in the snow, sobbing like a wounded rabbit—like a child wronged and abandoned.

The Celestial Lady seated herself beside her, watching in silence. “The task your father entrusted to you is done. Thank you for your help.” There was no mockery in her words, only heartfelt sincerity.

Hong Ling wept quietly. “I killed him… He trusted me so deeply, trusted my father so much…”

Suddenly, the Celestial Lady rose in anger. “He knew all along you were not to be trusted. If he truly had faith in you, he wouldn’t have left you behind and fallen into the lake himself.”

Hong Ling stood, forcing a wan smile. She said nothing more, but drew out a small emerald vial and flung a drop of dark red liquid at the Celestial Lady.

The Celestial Lady gave a cold, knowing smile. Sitting cross-legged, she inhaled deeply. “Truly a rare treasure.”

Hong Ling vanished in a streak of scarlet light. The Celestial Lady rose, cast a glance at the lifeless, placid lake, and departed.

As soon as Su Fan plunged into the icy water, a bone-deep chill engulfed him. Darkness closed over his eyes. When he opened them again, he found himself in a barren wasteland—no snow, no lake, only desolation beneath a scorching sun that seemed near to setting the withered trees alight.

Suddenly, a streak of red flashed before his eyes. What sort of creature was this? Its entire body, even its hair, was vivid crimson; long locks draped over its shoulders, and two golden horns—sharp as the rams Old Wang used to keep in his youth—crowned its head.

But these horns were lethally sharp—weapons made for killing. Su Fan could only watch as the creature brandished its massive claws and roared. A crimson beam fell from the sky, from the very sun itself.

The beast leapt, nearly reaching the sun, and seized the red light in its claws—a blade, wreathed in fire. With a long, piercing howl, it swung the blade toward the earth, and in an instant, a sea of fire consumed the land for thousands of miles.

A fissure, deep and fathomless, split open, its end lost beyond the horizon. The crack spanned several yards and continued to widen. The beast casually waved its claws; the blade vanished into the void. It laughed, a sound that shook heaven and earth, filled with unrivaled arrogance.

The vision faded. Darkness returned, then fire surrounded him once more—an endless inferno stretching to the blood-red sky. From the direction of the sun, red clouds descended, and everything on earth began to burn. Forests that had moments before thrived were reduced to ash as red clouds blanketed the world, leaving nothing but a sea of flames.

Su Fan thought, If only a great rain would fall upon this inferno. At that wish, rain did begin to fall—no mere rain, but torrents as mighty as rivers.

The deluge quenched all flames, and soon floods covered the land. Su Fan watched countless creatures like the crimson beast, now adrift upon the waters.

A chill gripped his heart—such powerful beings unable to withstand this calamity. What unimaginable disaster was this? After a while, his mood eased a little; he could see a few survivors among the creatures.

But then the rain ceased and the wind began to blow—a wind so cold it could freeze the heavens and earth. The surging waters halted, transforming instantly to ice, trapping the struggling beasts immobile beneath its surface. The cold grew ever more intense. Was this a dream, Su Fan wondered, or had such events truly unfolded in the river of time?

He dared not speculate further. The world darkened once more and, this time, the vision did not shift again. Su Fan opened his eyes, just a crack.

He tried to rise, but agony held him fast. With a low sigh, he sensed the jade pendant at his neck gently sending threads of warmth into his body.

The warmth slowly pushed back against the invading cold. Su Fan patted his storage pouch and produced a snow wolf’s carcass. Guiding the Violet Moon Blade, he sliced open the wolf’s belly and, after a moment, retrieved a gleaming core.

Steeling himself, Su Fan swallowed the core in a single gulp. A torrent of savage energy, nearly as potent as that of a Golden Core cultivator, surged through him; it threatened to rupture his meridians.

But with the jade pendant’s aid, he rapidly absorbed the core’s spiritual power. Soon, his injuries were more than half-healed. Gratefully, he clasped the jade in his hand.

At last, Su Fan took in his surroundings. All about him were walls of ice, so thick that even his spiritual sense could not penetrate them.

At the center of this frozen space hovered an ice coffin, likewise impervious to his probing. Su Fan tried to approach, but no matter how he walked, he never drew any closer—the distance remained forever unchanged.

Only a few steps, yet he always ended where he began. Curiosity piqued, he sent the Violet Moon Blade flying ahead, but it, too, always returned to his side.

Undeterred, Su Fan tried again and again, each time focusing more intently, but the result never changed. Then, gripping the returning blade, a smile curved his lips. Forming a seal with his hands, he cast a simple array.

The spell struck the void, halted, and vanished. Su Fan laughed. “So there is a strange formation here after all. I might as well study it.”

With that, he sat cross-legged and began his research.