**Blue Mountain Lodge**
Nestled in the mid-reaches of the Kun Mountains, Blue Mountain Lodge stood as the only inhabited place for miles. In summer, it was embraced by emerald peaks; in winter, the path vanished under snow, leaving only desolation behind.
A bitter wind howled outside. Inside, a figure in a long gray rabbit-fur coat leaned by the window, breathing warmth into cupped hands.
*"Freezing! Freezing to death!"* From a cage in the corner, a large white parrot with a crimson crest paced restlessly.
*"Someone's coming."* The figure by the window tensed, sensing an unfamiliar presence.
*"Hah?"* The parrot tilted its head.
*"Strange… very few could find this place now."*
The Kun Mountains had seen scarcely any visitors in twenty years—let alone someone who seemed to be heading straight for the lodge.
*"I'm leaving. Guard this place well."* They moved to the cage and refilled the food tray.
*"A talisman, maybe? This is creepy!"* The bird flapped its wings anxiously, resuming its pacing as if foreseeing doom.
No reply came. The figure packed lightly, locked the door behind them, and left without a backward glance.
*"What if they take your stuff?"* the parrot called after them.
*"Many can take. Few can keep."*
With a **clank**, the lodge was sealed. Only the furious flapping of white wings echoed inside.
———
Two days later, a knock sounded at the door.
Silence.
Then a **crash**—the lock gave way. The parrot startled in its cage.
A silver-haired visitor in pale robes stood at the threshold, cold air rushing in as he pushed the door open. He shook snow from his cloak, its hem intricately embroidered with silver threads—dragons and clouds.
Finding the lodge empty, his gaze fell on the parrot, which had resumed pecking at its food with exaggerated nonchalance.
Bai Changming stepped inside. The lodge's layout matched Monk Nianchu's memories perfectly. He strode to the inner hall, where a sealed longsword—**"Severing Snow"**—hung at the center of the room.
A frown creased his brow. According to the monk's memories, this place should've been rigged with traps. A yin-yang diagram in the corner… Yet the room was eerily pristine. Dust motes drifted from the rafters, as if the lodge had been abandoned for years.
*Memory corruption, perhaps.* Bai Changming retrieved the sword effortlessly. He'd trained in swordsmanship back in Saher City; now, with his magic bound, a reliable weapon was exactly what he needed.
Severing Snow slid from its sheath—**razor-sharp**, its blade reflecting Bai Changming's approving gaze. Only the scabbard bore an odd insignia: a fusion of **"6" and "9"**, named **Typhon**, symbolizing the measured use of power and authority.
Over the years, he'd received heaps of gifts from officials—auspicious symbols, animal motifs, archaic scripts, or ornamental trinkets of every floral variety. He'd always dismissed them as empty allegories, fleeting wishes.
Acquiring Severing Snow had been laughably easy. Aside the two-day trek (his magic-sealed body couldn't use qinggong), not a single obstacle had arisen. The insignia meant nothing to him.
Only phenomena that erupt violently are deemed threats. *"What flourishes must decay—this is the law beyond laws."*
*"Typhon! Typhon! TYPHON!"* As he left, the parrot shrieked three times—a grave warning.
*"So you **can** speak."* Bai Changming chuckled, shutting the door behind him.
With Severing Snow in hand, his spirits lifted. He wandered back leisurely, reaching Liuzhou five days later.