Ning Qinghan withdrew her hand from Bai Qingxue's shoulder.
Then she stood up.
Shattered ice cascaded from Ning Qinghan's robes, hitting the ground with a soft clatter, mixed with half-dried blood.
An endless stream of spiritual power surged from the depths of her dantian.
At first, it was just a tiny thread of warmth, like the first hidden current beneath a frozen river.
Then it met another thread, and the two merged into one. That stream met another.
The hidden current became a stream, the stream became a river, and the river became a torrent.
Ten years.
She had waited ten years.
Deep blue spiritual power erupted from within her, roaring through her meridians and crashing through every acupoint that had been blocked for far too long.
Those blocked points let out a series of muffled pops under the impact of the spiritual power, like rusted door bolts being smashed open one by one.
Her aura began to climb.
Qi Refining.
Foundation Establishment.
Mid-stage Foundation Establishment.
Late stage Foundation Establishment.
Peak Foundation Establishment.
At this moment, the entire ice cave was in resonance.
The runes on the stone walls lit up and flickered out in succession, like countless eyes blinking incessantly.
The figures frozen deep within the ice revealed clear outlines amidst the surging power; their robes fluttered in the invisible currents like swaying seaweed at the bottom of the sea.
Ning Qinghan raised her hand and looked at her palm.
Deep blue spiritual power flowed and leaped between her fingers, condensed and steady.
The light reflected on her face, casting an eerie blue glow over her pale skin.
Her fingers curled slightly, and the light tightened between them like a living thing held in her grasp.
A hint of a smile finally appeared at the corner of Ning Qinghan's mouth because, at this moment, she finally caught the scent of freedom.
Faced with this sudden change, the middle-aged man's expression shifted.
He instinctively took a step back, but only one step before he steadied himself.
However, Ning Qinghan gave him no time to react.
With a flip of her palm, the deep blue spiritual power condensed into a nearly transparent blade.
The edges of the blade shimmered with an eerie blue light, so thin it was almost invisible.
But from its aura alone, everyone knew how sharp it was.
The blade shot through the air, aimed straight for the middle-aged man's face.
The blade was too fast.
It was so fast that the moisture in the air condensed into fine ice crystals, leaving a silver-white trail in its wake, like the long tail of a meteor streaking across the night sky.
The middle-aged man dodged to the side.
The blade flew past his ear, slicing off several strands of hair before pinning itself into the ice wall behind him.
The ice wall began to crack from the point of impact, the fissures spreading outward like a massive spiderweb.
Unable to withstand the spiritual power imbued in the blade, the entire wall collapsed with a roar, revealing the dark rock behind it.
The middle-aged man steadied himself and looked down at his bleeding hand.
Dark gray blood seeped from between his thumb and forefinger, falling drop by drop onto the shattered ice and corroding small pits that hissed with white smoke.
"Ten years," his voice was calm.
"To think you still possess such strength after being sealed for ten years."
Ning Qinghan did not speak. The deep blue light shone in her palm once more.
The middle-aged man's gaze shifted from Ning Qinghan to the dark red pattern on Bai Qingxue's wrist.
Then he laughed.
"You passed the restriction to her?"
Ning Qinghan's spiritual power faltered for a moment in her palm.
"Now the restriction is on her. If she dies, something will happen to you as well."
He paused, the curve of his mouth deepening.
"Then how is this any different from wearing shackles?"
He looked into Ning Qinghan's eyes and shouted harshly:
"Is this what you call freedom?"
Ning Qinghan did not speak.
The ice cave was silent.
The chill surged from all directions, condensing into fine frost flowers on the ice.
Bai Qingxue leaned back in Lu Xueqing's arms, one hand resting on the Shuanghua sword.
Lu Xueqing held her by the shoulder, her gaze never leaving the middle-aged man, like a mother guarding her child, ready for a fight to the death at any moment.
Meanwhile, the black-robed men behind the middle-aged man were like a silent dark tide, waiting without a sound.
Ning Qinghan lowered her head, looking at the spiritual power in her palm.
The deep blue light flowed between her fingers like a tide, like a breath, like a heart that had finally started beating again.
She watched it for a moment, then looked up.
"How could there be no difference? The biggest difference is..."
Her voice was soft, but every word was crystal clear, carrying far in the empty ice cave.
"...that I chose this."
The middle-aged man's smile vanished.
He took a step back.
The black-robed men retreated with him, like a receding tide, like shadows withdrawing from the light.
"You will regret this."
After saying those words, the middle-aged man turned and walked into the depths of the ice path.
Black mist rose from beneath his feet, spreading like ink dropped into water, swallowing his figure, the black-robed men, and the direction of their retreat.
The ice cave fell silent.
The chill still surged from the depths of the ice path, from between the frozen figures, and from the cracks in the shattered ice wall. But the oppressive feeling had vanished, as if a massive boulder pressing on one's chest had been moved away, making the air feel lighter.
Ning Qinghan stood where she was, looking in the direction where the middle-aged man had disappeared.
She did not give chase.
The spiritual power still flowed in her palm, the deep blue light reflecting on her face, making her dark eyes flicker.
Her fist clenched, then slowly relaxed.
Then she turned around.
Bai Qingxue was leaning in Lu Xueqing's arms.
Her frost-white martial attire was stained with ice shards and blood—some her own, some Lu Xueqing's.
At this moment, her silver-white hair was mostly loose, a few strands sticking to the side of her face and others hanging over her shoulder. Her face was pale, her lips devoid of color, like a porcelain doll on the verge of shattering, barely held together by someone.
But those light-colored eyes were still calm.
Calm like a frozen lake, with nothing on the surface and nothing reflected from beneath.
Ning Qinghan knelt down.
Her knees hit the shattered ice with a muffled thud.
But she didn't care.
Her gaze fell upon the dark red pattern.
The pattern lay there quietly, winding like a snake from her wrist bone to her forearm.
It was exactly the same as when it had been on her own wrist. But now it was on a different person, the dark red pattern contrasting with her incredibly fair skin, creating an inexplicable sense of unease.
Ning Qinghan reached out her hand, wanting to touch the pattern, but looking at Lu Xueqing beside Bai Qingxue, she stopped herself and asked softly:
"Why did you help me?"
Hearing this, Bai Qingxue opened her eyes and looked at Ning Qinghan.
"Because if I didn't help you, we would all die."
Ning Qinghan fell silent for a moment.
Actually, what she wanted to ask was: Why were you willing to bear that restriction for me?
She wanted to know the answer.
Perhaps it was because she had waited too long, or perhaps because she wanted to know what kind of person her ten years of waiting had ended up with, or perhaps she wanted to find a reason—a reason that would allow her to accept this kindness with a clear conscience.
"Just because of that?" she asked again.
Bai Qingxue did not answer.
The ice cave fell silent.
The cold wind surged from the depths of the ice path, blowing Bai Qingxue's loose silver-white hair.
Her gaze shifted from Ning Qinghan's face to the pattern on her own wrist.
The old green cord was tied next to the pattern.
Seeing this, Lu Xueqing tightened her hold on Bai Qingxue's shoulder slightly.
She did not speak, only resting her fingers gently on Bai Qingxue's shoulder, as if saying silently: I am here.
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