The council chamber still smelled of tension from the last meeting. Maps lay stretched across the table, now marked with more notes—pits dug, talismans prepared, formations half-set in the Frozen Valley. Elders spoke over one another in tight, clipped tones, voices full of strain.
Into this atmosphere Haotian entered, jade bottles tucked neatly beneath one arm. He did not ask for permission to step forward. He simply placed the first bottle on the table. The pills within glittered faintly, as though each one held a cinder of sunlight.
"What is this?" Elder Yunxia asked, suspicion sharp in her voice.
Haotian uncorked the bottle and, without ceremony, rolled one pill onto his palm."A weapon," he said.
Before protest could rise, he flicked his wrist. The pill arced through the air, landed in the brazier against the far wall—
—and exploded.
The brazier disintegrated in a thunderclap of light and fire, shards of bronze flying like arrows, flames licking the walls before vanishing. The protective wards of the chamber flared automatically, holding the force within.
When the smoke cleared, silence pressed on the chamber. Every elder stared at the shattered remains of the brazier. Even Sect Master Yinxue's hand, which had been poised against her armrest, was still.
Haotian dusted his palm as if it were nothing."This is one. I have prepared twenty. With herbs, I can prepare more."
The silence stretched until Elder Mo Xueying's lips pressed thin. "Explosives. Dangerous. Unrefined. They could harm us as much as the beasts."
Haotian met her gaze evenly. "That brazier was solid bronze. Tell me how many of your talismans could shatter it in one strike?"
Her words caught in her throat.
Ziyue broke the silence with a soft laugh, though her eyes glimmered with awe. "You always speak lightly, Haotian, but your hands do not. What do you call these?"
"Explosive Pills," he said simply. "Not elegant. Not subtle. But against the first waves, numbers matter more than elegance. A line of disciples hurling these will cut a hole in the horde that no spear or blade can match."
A murmur spread through the chamber. Some elders leaned forward, eyes alight with sudden hope. Others whispered of danger, of dependence on something so volatile.
Sect Master Yinxue raised her hand, silencing both sides. She looked at the shattered brazier, then at Haotian, her gaze unreadable."And the cost?"
"Rare herbs," Haotian said. "But not impossible. With what we have, I can prepare a supply before the tide strikes."
Yinxue tapped the armrest once. "Then you will. Let the beasts learn that even fire can be forged into pill form."
The decision hung like a blade in the air. And with it, the chamber shifted—fear, still present, but now alloyed with anticipation.
For the first time since the omen of howls, there was more than dread in the Moon Lotus Sect. There was the promise of fire waiting to meet the storm.
The Frozen Valley was a scar of white between the mountains, its floor vast enough to hold armies, its ridges tall enough to hide them. On this day, the valley bloomed not with flowers but with banners—nine in all, each snapping in the frigid wind.
Moonlight reflected from their embroidery: lotus petals, crashing waves, veils of mist, jagged peaks of crystal. Each standard bore the weight of centuries, carried by sects that had ruled the frozen north since ancient times.
One by one, they arrived.
The Glacial Mist Sect entered first, silent as snowfall. Their disciples moved like shadows, faces half-concealed by white veils. Not a word was spoken, not even the clink of steel could be heard. They were assassins, scouts, killers who thrived in fog and silence. The cold eyes peering from behind their masks made more than one sect disciple glance away.
Next thundered the Frozen Tide Sect. Their march was no procession but a roar of boots and laughter, their disciples broad-shouldered, bare-armed despite the cold. Their sect master carried a halberd as long as three men, its edge gleaming with frostfire. "Why hide?" she barked as they entered, voice echoing. "The beasts will break like surf before us!" Her disciples cheered, voices crashing like waves against stone.
The Snow Shadow Sect arrived in contrast—graceful, sly, their robes pale as mist. Their sect master smiled like she already knew every outcome, her disciples gliding in her wake like ghosts. They spoke to none, only whispered among themselves, their words curling like smoke.
The ground trembled with the arrival of the Crystal Vein Palace. Their disciples were robed in heavy silks and armor inlaid with crystal shards, each step glittering. Their matriarch's hands were weighed with jeweled rings, her forehead marked with a sapphire that pulsed faintly with qi. Wherever she walked, defensive arrays flickered faintly in the air, as if wealth and protection followed her without effort.
From the ridges swept the Winter Gale Pavilion. Their disciples moved like the wind itself, leaping from crag to crag, robes fluttering. When they landed in the valley, the snow barely shifted beneath their feet. Their sect master's sword hummed faintly, a blade honed to split not just flesh but the very air.
The Frostpeak Monastery came last among the early arrivals. They did not march—they walked, bare feet crunching ice, heads shaved and eyes shut as if in meditation. Their leader, a tall ascetic wrapped in plain robes, carried no weapon, only prayer beads of carved ice that radiated faint qi. They seemed statues more than people, yet the ground shivered beneath their steps.
Then came the Silver Ice Valley, elegant as moonlight on frozen rivers. Their disciples wore robes threaded with silver, talismans dangling from their belts. They bowed to all, smiled at all, yet their eyes flickered always, calculating. Their sect was one of shifting loyalties, scholars and strategists who sold alliances like merchants sold silk.
Finally, two sects arrived at once, each on opposite sides of the valley.
On one ridge, Cold River Sect descended. Their banner rippled with the crest of twin waves, and their disciples walked in crisp formation, blue and white robes immaculate. Their elders' faces were carved of ice, unreadable, but when they saw him—the man in violet—they faltered. Whispers rippled down their line, disciples glancing at one another with shock and disbelief. Haotian. The disciple they had tried to bury, now walking openly in another's colors.
On the other ridge, Moon Lotus Sect emerged. Their procession was beauty and discipline entwined, violet robes swaying, long hair tied back in braids. At their center walked Sect Master Yinxue, her aura cold as a glacier. Elder Ziyue strode beside her, lips curved faintly, while the other elders walked with measured poise.
And among them, breaking every law of tradition, walked Haotian.
The Stir of the Valley
The valley erupted at the sight.
"A man?""In Moon Lotus robes?""Unthinkable!"
Disbelief turned to whispers, whispers to laughter. From the Frozen Tide Sect, jeers rose loudest. One of their young elites stepped forward, voice booming."So the women of Moon Lotus hide behind a man's spear! Perhaps he'll fetch your water when the beasts come?"
Their laughter roared like crashing surf.
Moon Lotus disciples bristled, hands twitching at their swords, but Yinxue's lifted hand stilled them. She did not answer. She did not need to.
Yet Haotian, walking steady among them, lifted his gaze. He did not look at the mockers. He looked north, to the mountains where the tide would soon break. The insults fell like snowflakes against stone.
Still, whispers hissed sharper from the Cold River Sect."Traitor.""Shameful.""He was nothing with us. He is nothing now."
But even they could not tear their eyes away. His calm presence cut deeper than their words.
The Council of Nine
At the center of the valley, a table of spirit wood had been raised. Maps lay spread across it, ink lines marking possible defenses. The nine sect masters gathered, disciples and elders forming circles around them.
Crystal Vein Palace's matriarch argued for barriers and wards.
Snow Shadow Sect's mistress whispered of weaving illusions.
Winter Gale Pavilion's master spoke of raids and lightning strikes.
Frostpeak Monastery's ascetic rumbled about endurance, about weathering the tide as stone weathers storm.
Silver Ice Valley's master proposed talismans and shifting formations.
Glacial Mist's veiled mistress pressed for ambush tactics.
Frozen Tide's halberd mistress slammed the table, demanding a head-on clash.
Cold River's elders sneered and scorned, muttering that Moon Lotus had shamed themselves by parading a man.
The table quaked with voices, a storm of pride and fear. No agreement. No unity.
Until Sect Master Yinxue, silent until now, set a jade bottle upon the table.
Within, golden sparks swirled, alive with restrained fury.
"My alchemist," she said, her voice cutting through the storm like frost-shards, "has devised these. Explosive Pills. One can shatter bronze. With them, the first waves will break before they reach us."
The council froze.
Disbelief snapped first. "Alchemy cannot match steel!"Mockery followed. "Parlor tricks and fireworks!"Envy came next, softer, sharper. "If true… this changes everything."
From the Cold River Sect came bitter laughter."That boy? He was nothing in our halls. He will bring you nothing but ruin."
But Ziyue only smiled, her voice smooth and mocking."Funny. Ruin seems to burn bright in our hands."
All eyes turned, finally, to Haotian.
But he did not meet them. His gaze was still fixed northward, where the storm would come. Words and politics were less than wind. Only the tide mattered.
The Frozen Valley had been chosen not for its beauty but for its cruelty. Sheer ridges rose on every side, their peaks jagged and sharp. Snow lay deep and heavy, muffling sound but hiding dangers beneath. It was here that the beast tide would crash—and it was here the nine sects now toiled together, uneasy allies bound by necessity.
For three days, the valley filled with the clamor of preparation.
Disciples from Glacial Mist Sect crept silently across the snow, digging deep pits where the beasts were expected to pass. They worked like ghosts, covering their snares with delicate layers of frost, vanishing again before another sect's disciples even noticed they'd been there.
Crystal Vein Palace erected crystal-spikes along the ridges, glowing faintly with embedded qi. When activated, they would fire shards of ice like arrows. Their jeweled matriarch inspected each one, nodding curtly, wealth and security etched in every glittering rune.
Winter Gale Pavilion disciples danced across the air, leaving talismans dangling from thin ropes stretched between trees. With a twist of qi, those slips would burst into slicing gales, cutting through weaker beasts like wheat.
The Frostpeak Monastery monks carried boulders larger than wagons, placing them by hand to reinforce chokepoints. They moved with silent determination, sweat steaming against bare skin in the bitter cold. To them, this was meditation.
Even the Silver Ice Valley cultivators contributed, inscribing talismans along the valley floor that shimmered with silver light, creating a shifting maze meant to disorient charging beasts. Their sect master hovered behind, whispering instructions and watching rivals just as closely as the ground.
The murmurs grew loudest when Haotian finally stepped forward.
From a wooden crate, he drew jade bottles, handing one to Elder Ziyue and another to Sect Master Yinxue. Disciples from every sect leaned closer, curiosity burning, even if their elders frowned.
"Place it in the pit," Haotian said simply.
A Frozen Tide brawler scoffed. "A pill? Against the tide? Do you plan to feed the beasts?" His laughter echoed.
Haotian gave no reply. He simply placed the pill himself, dropping it into the covered pit. Then he raised a hand, flicking a spark of qi downward.
The world shook.
Snow geysered upward in a roar of flame, the ground trembling beneath their feet. A cloud of smoke rose high, curling in the icy air. When it cleared, the pit was a crater—scorched earth black against the white snow, shards of ice driven into the surrounding ridges.
Gasps spread through the valley. Some disciples stumbled back. Others stared, eyes wide with awe.
The Frozen Tide brawler's smirk had vanished. His lips moved but no sound came.
Haotian dusted his hands lightly. "That is one."
Ziyue's smile widened as she let the silence linger, every sect forced to absorb the truth.
When the next day dawned, disciples gathered to train with the new weapons. Haotian stood before a group of Moon Lotus disciples, teaching calmly.
"Channel your qi into the pill—but gently. Too much and it will ignite in your hand. Too little and it will fizzle."
Disciples nodded nervously. One girl threw too early; the pill tumbled and ignited midair. A thunderclap knocked her backward into the snow, hair scorched at the edges. She blinked, stunned, while her sisters roared with laughter.
"Again," Haotian said evenly, and she scrambled up to obey.
By midday, even rival sect disciples whispered, asking to observe. Some scoffed that it was dangerous, that Moon Lotus was reckless. But when they watched the craters multiply across the valley floor, the whispers shifted to grudging respect—and envy.
At night, the campfires of nine sects dotted the valley like stars fallen to earth. Disciples huddled together, some boasting, some whispering their fears.
The elders met again, quieter this time, arguments dulled by the craters in the snow that spoke for themselves. Sect Master Yinxue said little, only watching her disciples train with calm pride. Elder Ziyue smirked as she caught rival elders glancing toward Haotian more often than they admitted.
From the shadows, the Cold River elders glared, their silence more venomous than words. They remembered too well that steady calm, the way he ignored their sneers.
And when Haotian walked past their campfires, a crate of jade bottles balanced in his arms, their disciples whispered his name like a curse—and like a prayer.
The Frozen Valley was silent beneath the stars. Torches flickered along the ridges, their flames shivering in the winter wind. Yet no one slept.
Nine sects camped together, their fires scattered like constellations. Disciples huddled close, voices hushed but urgent, each word betraying the fear they tried to hide.
Near the Moon Lotus camp, young disciples whispered under their cloaks.
"They say the tide has never been this big before. Entire villages swallowed in a night.""I heard Frostpeak scouts found a ridge buried under corpses.""And the Snow Beast Ape… stronger than any Soul Transformation elder. If it comes, who can stand against it?"
Some voices trembled, others forced themselves into bravado. One Moon Lotus disciple clutched her sword and whispered, "If Senior Brother Haotian fights with us, maybe…"
Her friend slapped her shoulder, cheeks red. "Don't call him that! He's—he's not our senior brother, he's…" She trailed off, because no one could deny it anymore: he walked like one of their pillars.
Across the valley, rival sect disciples whispered different words."That's the Moon Lotus man?""He made those pills. If not for him, the plan would already have failed.""…No. He must have stolen the knowledge. No man can wield such alchemy."
And by another fire, Cold River disciples spoke Haotian's name like an accusation."He's ours. He was ours.""Until the elders forced him out.""Shut up! Don't speak of it."
Their glares toward the Moon Lotus camp were knives dulled only by distance.
Around the central fires, the elders conferred in low voices.
Crystal Vein's matriarch fretted over defensive lines.
Snow Shadow's mistress whispered of illusions to cover retreat paths.
Frozen Tide's halberd mistress scoffed. "We'll smash them before they reach us."
Ziyue only smirked, sipping wine, as if the tide was already a memory. Yinxue sat silent, her eyes turned north, calm but tight, as though listening to something only she could hear.
Haotian sat apart, perched on a stone overlooking the frozen horizon. His spear lay across his knees, his hands resting lightly on the polished shaft. The stars shimmered above, cold and endless.
He closed his eyes, drawing breath, letting the Heaven Sundering Trinity Scripture circulate. The newly stabilized second meridian pulsed faintly within him, a fragile rhythm still raw from its awakening. Pain licked at his chest, but he endured, as always.
In his mind's eye, flames, runes, and the curve of a cauldron rose and fell. He was an alchemist, a cultivator, a wanderer who sought only peace to refine pills. Yet here he sat at the brink of slaughter, carrying not just his sect's hope, but the sneers and envy of every other sect present.
His thoughts drifted westward. Lianhua. His child. Would they ever see him as more than a shadow?
The cold wind carried faint laughter from the camps. Disciples trying to laugh away their fear. Haotian's gaze softened. Even in fear, they cling to hope.
The ground shuddered faintly beneath him. A tremor, like a whisper. Far to the north, the snow-capped ridges groaned. The first stirrings of the tide.
Haotian's grip tightened on his spear. His eyes opened, clear and sharp.
"Tomorrow," he whispered, voice lost to the wind, "the storm arrives."
The tremor came first.Then the sound.
A low, thunderous rumble rolled across the valley, like mountains grinding against one another. The snow beneath their feet shivered. Every disciple froze, hands tightening on weapons.
Then came the roar.
A chorus of howls, bellows, and screeches rose from the north, a wave of sound so thick it shook the marrow in their bones. Birds burst from the frozen trees, scattering like ash. The valley's air grew heavy, almost suffocating, as if the world itself braced.
And then they came.
The beast tide spilled over the ridge in a flood of fur, scales, and ice-slick claws. Wolves with fangs like daggers. Boars whose hides gleamed with frost. Serpents as long as houses, eyes glowing pale blue. The ground quaked as thousands upon thousands poured forward, their eyes glazed with bloodlust.
"Form ranks!" sect masters roared.
The valley erupted into motion.
With a scream of command, the first Glacial Mist traps triggered. The snow collapsed beneath the beasts' paws, pits yawning open. Screeches and bellows filled the air as dozens of frost wolves plummeted into spikes hidden beneath the drifts.
Crystal Vein's wards flared, hurling shards of ice like rain. Silver Ice talismans flashed, weaving mazes of light that disoriented the charging horde. Winter Gale slips ignited, slashing gales ripping the front ranks to ribbons.
For a heartbeat, the tide faltered.
Then it pressed forward, relentless.
Haotian's voice cut sharp over the din:"Now!"
Moon Lotus disciples hurled jade bottles into the densest clusters. For a moment, the beasts snarled, confused by the small objects gleaming faintly in the snow.
Then the ground tore open.
Explosions cracked like thunder. Fire and frost slammed upward, hurling beast bodies skyward. Limbs and shards of ice rained down, snow blackened, pits gouged deep. The shockwave rolled across the valley, rattling teeth, flattening snow.
Gasps tore from disciples' throats—even from rival sects. The beasts reeled, dozens collapsing in mangled heaps.
"By the heavens…" a Crystal Vein elder whispered, eyes wide."Impossible… pills that strong?" a Silver Ice scholar gasped, clutching his talismans.Frozen Tide disciples, who had mocked the day before, fell silent, their bravado swallowed by awe.
But the roar of the beasts drowned all words. For every wolf torn apart, ten more surged forward. The tide did not break—it only grew angrier.
Sect Master Yinxue's command cut like steel:"Hold the line!"
More pills arced through the air, detonating in bursts of fire and frost. Beasts shrieked, blood spraying the snow. But the tide pressed closer, their weight shaking the ridges. Disciples screamed, their ranks buckling under the pressure.
Haotian leapt onto a ridge, his violet robes snapping in the storm of wind and blood. His eyes swept the battlefield, calm amid chaos. Every trap sprung, every pit filled, every pill hurled was his plan brought to life—and yet the tide surged still, endless, inexhaustible.
His hand tightened around the Fenglong Spear at his side. For now, he held still. His moment had not yet come.
But when it did, the beasts would learn the meaning of the spear's heart.
The first roar had sounded. The battle had begun.