After I left the training ground, my steps carried me toward the edge of the Rin Clan estate.
I reached the massive exit gate—towering, ancient, and etched with countless symbols of protection. The metal shimmered faintly under the morning sun, a mix of silversteel and enchanted frostwood, bound together by runic forgemarks.
I looked up at the colossal structure, and for a brief moment, a strange feeling surged through me.
A pressure.
A presence.
Like one misstep... and life itself could be stripped away.
It wasn't just imagination.
That feeling wasn't wrong.
This gate—this threshold—wasn't just an exit. It was a guardian in itself. One forged by generations of clan ancestors, imbued with arrays so deadly, even a Nascent Sky cultivator would hesitate to force their way through.
"Defense Array: Frost Lock, Tier Five."
"Lethal Protocol: Ice Rend Pillars, Activated on Hostile Aura."
The guardian tell me the information.
And I respected it as knowing this may be comes in handy sometime.
Stepping toward it, I paused just outside the triggering line—an invisible boundary marked by a thread of energy like a thin energy layer.
A servant stationed nearby bowed quickly.
> "Young Master Kai… shall I inform the elders of your departure?"
I shook my head slightly.
> "No. This is just a brief step outside."
He didn't question further. How could he? My aura alone was no longer that of the same boy who once trained quietly within these walls. Now, it carried the will of frost and the presence of someone reborn.
The gate recognized me.
It pulsed faintly in response.
And then—creaked open.
Not fully. Just enough to let me pass.
As I stepped beyond the gate, the aura of the Rin Clan faded behind me, replaced by the wild, untamed breath of the outside world.
The air was different here.
Less structured.
More alive.
Ahead lay Jeon City—a bustling trade hub nestled in the outer region of the Rin Clan's domain. Though the clan's name carried weight, I belonged to one of its sub-branches, and this city wasn't built for heirs like me.
It was built for survival.
And profit.
Still, it was the first time I'd walked its streets since reborn in this world. I am busy with other things.
I walked in silence, letting my gaze wander across the buildings that lined the stone-paved roads. Shops spilled with weapons, cultivation manuals, alchemical ingredients, beast pelts, and strange artifacts that glimmered under the sun.
The aroma of grilled beast meat and steaming broth drifted from food stalls. A vendor shouted prices for spirit fruits, while a pair of kids dashed past, laughing, their wooden swords clashing in play.
It was… oddly peaceful.
My mind, out of habit, began comparing it to what I remembered of my first life. The modern world had its steel towers, flashing screens, and artificial lights. Jeon City had spirit lamps, runic elevators, and merchant hawkers with enchanted carts.
Old versus new.
Magic versus machine.
And strangely… this place felt more real.
As i pass by the food vendors I take a meat with some silver coin and as I eat the food it felt very good as the meat quality is amazing, and the more i chewed more fascinated i became.
It gives me a different satisfaction a kind that that difficult to explain as i tried every one that looks good and to be frank. Every item gives my taste buds the swing of different tastes.
Some are sweet and some are hot, there is also some mixed tastes in them.
As i complete my food experience i again began my touring the city
As my footsteps slowed as I turned down a quieter street.
And then—I saw her.
Just ahead, standing beneath the shade of a blooming frost-berry tree, was a girl.
She wasn't doing anything in particular. Just gazing into the distance, wind brushing her pale black hair to the side. She wore a soft blue robe, simple but elegant, with silver-threaded patterns that shimmered faintly like moonlight on snow.
For a moment, I couldn't look away.
Her presence wasn't loud.
It was calm.
Still.
But it hit me harder than a blast of spirit pressure.
Half her face was turned toward me—enough to see the delicate curve of her cheek, the way her lashes curled, and the faint hint of frost-blue in her irises.
Who is she…?
The thought came unbidden.
She didn't notice me. Or maybe she did, but chose not to react. She simply turned and walked into the nearby herbal shop, the bell at the entrance parting with a soft click.
I remained frozen for a second longer.
Then my feet moved—before my mind could stop them.
The bell of the herbal shop's entrance clicked softly again as I stepped inside, the warm scent of crushed herbs, oils, and dried roots washing over me. The lighting inside was dim, but soft glowstones set into the shelves illuminated the space with a gentle warmth.
She stood near the far counter, speaking softly to the old shopkeeper.
Her voice—light and calm—wasn't loud enough for most to hear.
But I caught it.
> "I'll take the snowpetal leaves… and two packets of frostginseng. The unground kind, please."
She didn't look my way. Not even once. As if she was used to eyes following her but had long stopped caring.
There was a peaceful stillness about her… like she existed on a different frequency.
Unbothered.
Unhurried.
Alive.
The old shopkeeper chuckled as he gathered the requested herbs into a paper packet.
Then he said, areYou sure you don't want to grind these ahead of time, miss?"
She shook her head.
> "No need. I prefer doing it myself. The energy leaks otherwise."
Her moments are Practical and Methodical Not arrogant.and also not pampered that we can see in beautiful girls or rich ones
I found myself watching her hands as she inspected the herbs—delicate fingers moving with experience, not vanity.
Then she turned slightly, sensing perhaps a shift in air or presence behind her. Her eyes met mine.
Her eyes look at me with Just brief acknowledgment—like a raindrop tapping the surface of a still pond, then vanishing without a ripple.
And then she looked away.
Finished her purchase. Thanked the shopkeeper. Took her bag of herbs. And walked past me without a word.
Her robes brushed gently against my sleeve as she passed. Cold. Fragrant. Like frostflowers in winter rain.
I didn't move until the beads clicked again behind her.
She never said a word to me.
Not one.
But I heard something anyway.
A quiet, unspoken message:
"Don't follow just because you're curious."