Night had fallen over the ice plains as the three arrived in the depression encircled by the three massive ice peaks. The sky held no stars, only auroras flowing like colored rivers across the dark heavens, casting a strange, eerie light over the frozen expanse.
At the center of the depression lay the Blood-Soul FrostPool, about thirty meters across, its waters dark red and eerily still, exuding both icy chill and the metallic scent of blood. Beside it, the Thousand-Year Frostblood Lotus swayed in the cold wind. Its nine crystalline leaves gleamed like red rubies, while the deep-red bud pulsed with life, ready to bloom at any moment.
The forbidden protective array loomed over the entire depression like an insurmountable chasm. The ice-blue light curtain was inscribed with ancient, intricate runes.
From it hung chains tipped with ghostly ice beasts, radiating a pressure that made the soul tremble. And behind the array, farther into the ice peaks, stood the palace, an imposing cluster of ice-crystal buildings. Its scale defied description, silent under the night sky and the dancing auroras.
The palace was not a single structure, but a sprawling city of ice. The main hall soared a thousand meters high, carved from millennia-old ice and core-cold jade, reflecting the aurora’s beauty while radiating an icy, sacred authority.
Smaller halls, towers, and bridges circled it like planets orbiting a sun, connected by stairways and suspended walkways, forming a breathtaking yet perilous ice-crystal city.
Faint blue lights flickered inside, and powerful auras seemed to drift invisibly. The entire complex exuded an ancient, lofty, and unassailable aura, like slumbering ice deities.
“Finally…” Vermilion said, gazing at the lotus with a mixture of desire and anxiety. The protective formation before them, the palace behind, retrieving the herb was still fraught with danger.
Clara gripped sword, whispering, “Sir, the array…”
“We must first find a way to break it,” Jared said, eyes fixed past the pool and the array, on the distant palace. “And the key must be inside the palace.”
After a brief pause to recover, the three began their approach. The closer they got, the more overwhelming the palace’s grandeur and oppressive aura became.
There were no walls around the palace, only towering ice-crystal barricades, each high, sharp as blades, engraved with defensive runes radiating icy refusal.
The only entrance was a huge ice-crystal arch. On either side stood tall statues of ice guardians, spears at the ready, giving the illusion they might spring to life at any moment.
When Jared’s group was still far away, two figures emerged from the arch. One tall and broad, the other lean and pale, both radiating a suffocating, terrifying aura.
The taller man was nine feet high, broad-shouldered, with a rough, rock-like face and a full beard, eyes sharp as copper bells. Bare-chested, his bronze-toned, scarred muscles gleamed, his lower body clad only in a blue ice war skirt, wielding a giant ice-crystal axe the size of a door.
Just standing there, emanated the weight of a mountain. His aura reached the pinnacle of Level Eight Heavenly Immortal, rivaling Celladin.
The slimmer man was pale and sallow, around thirty, with narrow, snake-like eyes radiating cold intent. His elegant ice-blue robes concealed a deadly, concentrated aura far surpassing his appearance. He, too, was a Level Eight Heavenly Immortal at peak, but exuded even more lethal danger.
“Northern Abyss Palace First celestial general, Montar,” the giant announced, voice like a temple bell, causing nearby ice to tremble.
“Northern Abyss Palace second celestial general, Glacern,” said the pale man, his voice sharp, like needles sliding across glass.
They stood side by side, blocking the entrance, dozens of elite Northern Abyss Clan warriors poised behind them.
Glacern’s gaze skimmed across Jared’s party, pausing on Jared himself.
“You felled the Third General? Impressive…” A thin smile ghosted across his lips. “Level One Heavenly Immortal Realm… Such modest cultivation. You must harbor secrets…”
Montar swung his axe in an impatient arc, flinging a gust that cracked the surface ice. “Enough chatter! Trespassers who slay our brethren owe a debt of blood. Name yourself, boy, so my axe does not claim an anonymous spirit!”
Jared inhaled the biting air and stepped forward half a pace, fists pressed together in courtesy. “I am Jared Chance. We come without malice, seeking only the Thousand-Year Frostblood Lotus from the Blood-Soul Frostpool…”
“That blossom will save a life dear to us. I am prepared to barter treasures of equal value, grant us passage, and no further blade need fall…” His words hovered, sincere yet unbowed.
“Grant you passage?” Montar erupted in laughter that shook the ground, fissuring the Ice beneath his boots. “Has the cold frozen your wits? The pool is our sacred spring; every reed and droplet belongs to the divine clan. You butcher our warriors, then beg convenience?”
Ice crackled like splintering glass as his mirth died.
Glacern’s voice was cold, “Hand over the sword you carry, along with all your cultivation techniques. Self-limit your power, and maybe I’ll let you keep your corpse intact. As for the two behind you… The man will have his soul extracted, the woman made a servant. This is the price for trespassing into the divine clan!”
Arrogance and malice dripped from his words.
Jared’s expression darkened. He knew negotiation was impossible. But the two opponents before were Eighth-Rank Heavenly Immortals at peak, far stronger than anyone he’d faced before.
He was confident, but not reckless.
