The journey took three days on spirit skyships, slicing through clouds heavy with thunder qi and snow that glittered like crushed stars. Lin Feng stood at the bow the entire way, arms crossed, silent, watching the horizon as it twisted and shifted into something unnatural.
There was no sun beyond a certain point—only the sky's deep, endless silver. It was neither day nor night. The air itself shimmered with frost qi so pure that it threatened to crystallize the soul with each breath.
When the fog finally parted, they saw it.
The Eternal Frost Palace.
A fortress of legend—sculpted into the side of Mount Xueheng, the highest peak in the Spirit Ascension Realm. It was no ordinary palace. The walls were forged of Everfrost Jade. Towers hung in midair, suspended by frozen time formations. Bridges made of clear crystal arched through clouds. Everything shimmered with an ethereal glow that whispered ancient secrets.
Even Lin Feng, hardened by a hundred battles and a thousand hardships, felt a chill that went beyond cold.
He wasn't just entering another sect.
He was entering a different world.
---
The Arrival
At the gate, disciples bowed as Lan Xue stepped forward. Her frost-white robes swayed with quiet authority. She had been gone for nearly a century. Sealed, forgotten, and yet her presence stirred whispers like wind through dead leaves.
Some knelt. Some trembled.
But others—elders, inner court heirs—looked on with narrowed eyes.
One voice broke the silence.
> "So the frozen flower returns… and brings a weed at her side."
Lin Feng turned. The speaker was a tall man, face sharp as a blade, dressed in the armor of a palace commander. His cultivation hovered just below Nascent Soul.
> "Elder Yuan," Lan Xue said coolly. "Still guarding gates after eighty years. How loyal."
The elder stiffened. He said nothing else, but his glare stayed fixed on Lin Feng as the palace gates opened.
---
The Interior
Inside, the world was both beautiful and suffocating.
The architecture flowed like ice given will—graceful curves, spiraling stairways of frost-light, halls that whispered echoes from centuries past. Yet every stone held weight. Every corridor felt like it watched.
They passed training fields where disciples meditated atop frozen lotuses, their breath forming crystal petals in the air. Others sparred with illusions of ancient frost beasts, blades of snowlight clashing in silence.
At the heart of the palace, they reached the White Lotus Pavilion—a grand guest hall usually reserved for foreign monarchs and ancient sect envoys.
Lin Feng stepped into the room and instantly sensed it—surveillance talismans, hidden formations, layered enchantments. He turned to Lan Xue.
> "This whole place is a trap."
> "Of course," she replied. "But it's our trap now."
---
That Night: The Courtyard
Lin Feng couldn't sleep.
The palace's stillness wasn't peaceful—it was oppressive, like the calm before a glacier broke and buried everything.
He trained in the courtyard, his fists flowing through the forms of Heavenly Demon Fist, mixing them with the Lotus-Blooming Mudra that Lan Xue had taught him. Frost gathered at his feet, reacting to the foreign frost essence threading through his veins. His qi rebelled against it—but he endured.
> They don't want me to adapt, he thought. They want me to freeze, to shatter, to fail before the trials begin.
Footsteps interrupted his focus.
Jun Bai stood at the archway. No guards. No fanfare. Just the quiet arrogance of someone born to rule.
> "You're cultivating in the open," Jun Bai said. "Are you fearless? Or just stupid?"
Lin Feng didn't stop moving. "Maybe both. You?"
Jun Bai stepped closer, eyes locked on him like a beast sizing up prey.
> "I was going to kill you in the first trial. Slowly. But now… I think I'll make it a spectacle. The palace hasn't seen a Champion die mid-ceremony in decades. You'll be a fine reminder of why bloodlines matter."
Lin Feng's response was a slow smirk.
> "You're talking a lot for someone who's already lost her."
A crack of pressure split the courtyard—Jun Bai's killing intent lashed out, sharp as ice needles. The walls groaned. The frost in the air thickened into knives.
But Lin Feng didn't flinch. He just stepped forward, fists glowing faintly with golden-black qi.
> "Try me now, if you're so eager."
For a heartbeat, it seemed Jun Bai might strike.
Then—
A gust of wind, faint but commanding. A snowflake touched Lin Feng's shoulder and melted instantly.
Lan Xue stood at the courtyard's edge.
Her presence didn't explode. It settled. Heavier than killing intent. Colder than the mountain itself.
Jun Bai's qi collapsed like a tent in a storm. He exhaled and smiled again—but it was thinner this time.
> "I'll see you both on the arena floor," he said. "We'll see what the frost remembers."
He vanished.
---
The Winter Crown
The following morning, the trumpets of frost rang out across the palace grounds. Disciples gathered by the thousands. The sky above swirled with ceremonial snow, descending in perfect spirals.
In the arena, floating above the Mirror Lake of Trials, stood six thrones—five occupied by ancient elders of the sect, the sixth empty.
Lan Xue and Lin Feng stepped into the center platform.
A voice, old and vast, echoed across the clouds.
> "Let the Winter Crown Trials begin."
And all eyes turned toward them.