"Thud!" The exhausted horse stumbled over a snowdrift, its front legs buckling, and both riders were thrown violently to the ground. Miao Feng tried to catch himself by pushing off the saddle, but his body felt as heavy as iron, far from the nimble grace he was used to.
He barely managed to twist in midair, shielding Xue Zi Ye with his back as they crashed into the snow.
Blood spurted from his mouth, scattering red droplets across the white snow.
The battle with the Sect Leader had already left his body severely weakened, and the recent fight with the Seven Swords had worsened his condition. Now, his body had reached its limit.
Although both of them possessed strength far beyond that of ordinary people, here on this endless snowfield, their journey felt helpless and desperate. The two figures, stumbling forward together, appeared as small and insignificant as ants in the eyes of the heavens.
“…” Suddenly, he felt his arm being tightly gripped, but amidst the howling wind and snow, there was only the sound of labored breathing—someone trying to speak, yet unable to voice anything.
"Master Xue!" Miao Feng quickly loosened his cloak and pulled the woman from within the fur lining, placing his hands on her back to channel warmth.
Her pale face emerged from the cloak, now turning an alarming shade of blue. One hand gripped his shoulder tightly, while the other reached out, trembling in the air, as if trying desperately to grasp something. Her lips moved faintly.
Just now… was that an illusion? She thought she had heard Huo Zhan Bai’s voice!
In that moment, as she hovered near death, a strange joy filled her, and with surprising strength, she had raised her hand, attempting to touch the source of that voice. But, weakened by the poison coursing through her body, she couldn’t even form a single word.
“…” Her breath came in short, silent gasps, her vision gradually fading to white, but slowly, a warm and familiar smile appeared before her mind’s eye—
"Let’s have a drink together when I get back!"
Plum blossoms fell like snow beneath the plum tree, and there he was, smiling and raising his hand to make a gesture as if to challenge her in a game of rock-paper-scissors.
"Huo… Huo…" Her lips barely moved, and she managed to whisper a single word.
"Master Xue!" The faint sound caused the man beside her to let out a low, joyful cry, stopping to look at her. "You’re finally awake?"
Whose voice was that?
She opened her eyes, and what she saw wasn’t the image she had expected—only blue hair and white snow.
"Yami…" Her consciousness slowly returned, and she sighed softly. So, it was him who had never given up on saving her. It was this man who had stayed by her side until her final moments.
That too, was a bond of destiny.
He seemed to want to say something, but she raised her hand, placing a finger to her lips: "Shh… Look."
Her slender, pale finger trembled as it stretched out, pointing towards the snow-filled sky. Her lips, drained of color, moved slightly, and she whispered a single word in joyful awe: "Light."
Miao Feng instinctively lifted his head, but all he saw was the iron-gray sky, heavy and cold, with countless snowflakes drifting down, bleak as death.
Suddenly, a deep fear gripped him, and he quickly looked down again: "Master Xue!"
In the moment he had looked away, she had managed to grip the longest of the golden needles in her hand, clutching it tightly.
"Light." She lay back in the soft fur cloak, her gaze fixed on the sky, a faint, unreadable smile on her lips.
In her fading vision, countless tiny points of light began to dance, radiating in beautiful colors. Like playful spirits, they swirled and chased one another, finally coalescing into a rainbow-like band of light, shifting and changing above her, enveloping her.
She reached out toward the sky, straining to touch that magnificent, illusory light.
To journey with the one she loved to the farthest northern lands, standing on the floating glaciers and watching the endlessly shifting rainbow lights in the sky—that had been her dream as a young girl.
Yet that dream had frozen forever in the dark river of ice when she was thirteen.
Having survived that disaster, she lived alone in the valley, her heart as still as water, burying her life as silently as the falling snow.
But once, for a brief moment, she had dared to dream of a new life.
She had hoped for someone to walk into her life, someone who would make her laugh without restraint, cry without shame, someone who could break through the barriers of her past and touch her heart. She had hoped to marry like any ordinary woman, her face covered with a wedding veil, smiling softly under the red candles; to sit by the window as the willow trees grew their first leaves, waiting for her beloved to return; to spend snowy nights warming wine over a red clay stove, talking and laughing until all the cold nightmares of the past were dispelled.
Once, she had longed for such small happiness.
But in the end, it all slipped by.
The snow continued to fall. She opened her eyes, gazing up at the gray-white sky as the snowflakes, like mischievous spirits, fluttered down, growing larger and larger… one landed on her lashes, cold and playful.
How many days had it been?
The poison of the Seven-Star Begonia was slowly invading her brain, and soon, she would forget everything.
She stared blankly, struggling to hold onto the fading memories in her mind, as her other hand, hidden beneath the fur, gripped the long golden needle tightly.
* * *
When the Seven Swords of Dingjian Pavilion arrived at the Southern Gate, as expected, they encountered little resistance.
The Grand Light Palace had evidently just experienced a major internal conflict. From the foothills of Kunlun to the gate, everything was in disarray. The once well-guarded stations and lookout towers were now manned by only a few low-ranking disciples, while the leaders had long disappeared.
Huo Zhan Bai landed lightly on the icy jade steps in the center of the Southern Gate.
High above the gate stood a figure wearing a bronze mask, quietly waiting.
Miao Kong?
"So, you’ve finally come." The figure sighed as the seven swordsmen leapt down from the glacier. Though masked, his voice carried a palpable sense of relief. "I’ve been waiting for you for eight years."
He extended his hand toward Huo Zhan Bai.
On his sleeve was the flame emblem representing his status as one of the Five Elders. But that pale hand bore a terrible scar, stretching from the web between thumb and forefinger up into his sleeve—a sword wound, one that had severed the tendons in his hand, rendering it crippled and unable to hold a sword ever again.
Huo Zhan Bai and the other six swordsmen immediately recognized the scar, and as one, they stiffened slightly and bowed in respect. Together, they performed the same gesture: reversing their sword grips and pressing them against their foreheads. Then, they exchanged smiles.
“Sixth Brother.” Huo Zhan Bai stepped forward to grasp the hand extended toward him, his eyes filled with unspoken emotion. “You’ve endured much.”
“Huo Qi (Seventh Brother),” Miao Kong smiled in return. “You’ve endured much these past eight years as well.”
He raised his hand and removed the bronze mask he had worn for so long, revealing a weathered yet striking face. He smiled broadly at his comrades—a face long believed dead in the martial world of the Central Plains, a face that the Seven Swords of Dingjian Pavilion had never forgotten.
He was the sixth sword, Xu Zhong Hua, the eldest son of the Xu family from Runan!
Eight years ago, in order to infiltrate Kunlun as a spy and halt the ambitions of the Grand Light Palace, which sought to dominate the martial world of the Central Plains, this once-promising young man—who had once stood shoulder to shoulder with Huo Zhan Bai—had endured immense pressure and misunderstanding.
To sever his ties with the Central Plains, he had pretended to fight with Huo Zhan Bai for the position of pavilion master, and after his defeat, he staged an angry departure, injuring several elders and fleeing to the western regions. To gain the trust of the Grand Light Palace’s king, he fought Huo Zhan Bai in a deadly duel by the Xing Su Sea, where Huo Zhan Bai ultimately crippled his right hand and pierced his chest.
Clinging to life despite his severe injuries, he struggled to the Southern Gate, where the Grand Light Palace king finally took him under his command.
From that day on, the mysterious and skilled "Miao Kong" became one of the Five Elders of the Grand Light Palace, while the martial world believed Xu Zhong Hua to be a dead traitor. Even his newlywed wife had no idea her infamous husband was still alive somewhere in the world.
Now, eight years later, Xu Zhong Hua—having removed his "Miao Kong" mask—smiled at his comrades, though the lines of hardship etched into his face and the streaks of white in his hair told of the toll those years had taken on him. The once youthful and bright young man had aged prematurely from bearing the weight of shame and duty.
Huo Zhan Bai gripped his hand, recalling the years of unresolved enmity and tangled emotions between them. A flood of mixed feelings surged within him.
Xu Zhong Hua had been his comrade of many years, a rival in martial prowess, a brother to whom he had entrusted his life—and yet, he had also been the man who had taken Qiu Shui Yin affection away. When they both received the secret mission from the old pavilion master, Huo had admired Xu Zhong Hua's courage and determination but was also furious at his cold willingness to abandon his wife and child.
In their duel by the Xing Su Sea, Huo Zhan Bai had almost killed Xu Zhong Hua for real, even though it had been staged. He would never forget the look in Xu Zhong Hua’s eyes when Huo severed his right hand.
For that brief moment, despite the mission that had bound them, both men had genuinely wanted to kill each other.
Eight years had passed. All the triumphs and sorrows, honor and shame, had flashed by. Now, as they stood hand in hand once more atop Kunlun Mountain, countless emotions flooded their gazes, though they remained silent.
“Quickly, there’s no time to waste,” Xu Zhong Hua, ever calm and composed, was the first to pull away, urging his comrades to action. “Follow me! The palace is in chaos, and this is the perfect time to strike!”
“Right!” his comrades echoed in unison.
The Eight Swords of Dingjian Pavilion, reunited after eight years, stormed toward the heart of the Grand Light Palace!
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