The world of snow stretched endlessly — a pale, frozen ocean carved from silence and frost.
The wind cut like sharpened steel, curling white mist around jagged ice ridges. Old pine-spirits stood here and there; tall, ancient, frost-kissed, their branches shaking as if whispering warnings about the beast that ruled this mountain.
Elder Feng Yu stood at the front — robes fluttering, breath steady, sword sheathed but aura sharp as a blade already drawn. Behind him, ten disciples — steps firm, eyes ignited with resolve, battle spirit rising like embers fanned into flame.
They reached the icy platform — a cliff surrounded by snow-capped spurs.
At its heart, on a raised mound of crystalline frost, glowed the Nine-Frost Snow Lotus.
Pale blue petals shimmered with sacred cold, frost ribbons floating around it.
A lotus born of pure winter, revered by spirit beasts, blessed by heavens, feared by those unworthy.
Even the air bowed in reverence.
That Twenty meters tall.
