The Frost Thread was tearing.
It was not tearing like a rope.
It was tearing like a law.
A thin, clean crack ran through the pale frost light above the Court platform, and every heartbeat made it worse. Ling Xueyao's body went stiff, like winter had grabbed her from the inside. Her breath came out white. Her fingers trembled, but her eyes stayed proud.
Qi Shan Wei lifted Heavenpiercer.
He did not shout.
He did not rush.
He did not beg.
He simply raised the black-iron ruler-sword until its tip hovered near the place the bell's hook did not "exist."
That place looked empty.
But the emptiness felt wrong.
It felt like a hidden nail in the sky.
The Silent Bell envoy's face turned tight. "If you strike that," he warned, "you may scar time itself."
Qi Shan Wei's voice was calm. "Then time will learn to bleed."
The Court elders froze.
Some of them wanted this. Their eyes burned with cold greed, as if they were watching a gift fall into their hands.
Others looked afraid, because they could feel it too—
This was not a fight with people anymore.
This was a fight with the thing that keeps "before" and "after" in the right order.
Zhen stepped forward.
His tall armor plates locked with a heavy click. Runes lit across his chest in neat lines, as steady as a wall. The Imperial Shield Matrix around them tightened like a moving fortress, and the dome's air turned dense and safe.
Zhen spoke in his flat, blunt way. "Master. If time breaks, the risk of death becomes… non-countable."
Qi Shan Wei did not look away from the hook. "Then we do not let it break."
Inside the cracked cocoon, Drakonix's half-born wing twitched. His prismatic flame hissed, angry and proud at the same time, like a small storm trying to become a sky.
"Cut it," Drakonix growled, voice rough. "It pulled her."
A Court elder sneered. "Do it, then. Prove you are a curse."
Qi Shan Wei's golden eyes narrowed, just a little.
Then he moved.
Heavenpiercer touched the "empty" place.
The air screamed.
Not like sound.
Like reality being forced to show what it was hiding.
A thin line appeared—silver and sharp—like a hairline crack in glass. It was the bell's hook.
It finally had a shape.
For one heartbeat, everyone saw it.
A curved mark in the air, ancient and clean, like a judge's finger.
Qi Shan Wei did not hesitate.
He pushed.
He did not swing at the Court.
He did not strike the envoy.
He struck the hook.
The crack flashed bright.
A sound hit the dome—ding—but it was not the envoy's small bell.
It was the big bell.
The bell beyond the realm.
The bell that remembered.
And this time… it sounded hurt.
The Frost Thread stopped tearing for one breath.
Just one.
But that one breath saved Ling Xueyao from falling apart.
Her body shook, and her eyes widened like she had just stepped away from a cliff.
Qi Shan Wei's hand lifted, and his prismatic formation bracelet around her wrist flared again—steady, gentle, protective.
"Breathe," he said to her, quiet and strong. "Stay here."
Ling Xueyao's throat moved. She swallowed pain like ice. Then she nodded once.
"I am here," she whispered.
Behind her, the shadow of a pale moon flickered again, trying to form. Lunar Frost Domain. Not awake yet. But close enough to scare the sky.
The Court elders stared at the hook line in shock.
One of them hissed, "He… touched Bell-Law."
Outside the dome, Thousand Masks watchers stepped back. Even their masks looked less sure now.
Because the bell did not just punish normal people.
The bell punished destiny-changers.
And Qi Shan Wei had just grabbed it by the throat.
The Silent Bell envoy's eyes were dark, like still water. "You made a scar," he said.
Qi Shan Wei did not deny it. "Good."
The envoy's small bell trembled on its own, like it wanted to run away.
Then the big bell rang again.
This time, the sound was deeper.
Heavier.
Like a mountain door opening.
The scar line in the air did not close.
It widened.
And from the wideness, something cold poured into the dome.
Not frost.
Not wind.
Not killing intent.
It was the feeling of "too old."
Everyone's skin crawled.
For a breath, some cultivators outside the dome saw their own faces as children.
Others saw themselves dying.
One man screamed and clutched his head, because he saw a memory that was not his.
The bell was not ringing in ears.
It was ringing in time.
The Time-Debt Ledger above the Court platform flashed bright, and new lines formed like ink writing itself.
PAYMENT REFUSED.DEBT INCREASED.
Then another line formed under it, slower, like the bell was choosing its next move.
IF NOT THREAD… THEN NAME.
Ling Xueyao's eyes snapped up.
Her lips parted. "Name…"
Zhen's head turned, sharp. "Name theft equals identity rewrite."
The Court elder who hated Shan Wei smiled. "Good. Take his name. Make him nothing."
Qi Shan Wei's face did not change.
But the air around him became heavier, like an emperor sitting down on a throne made of stone.
"Try," he said.
The bell answered.
Words formed in the air again, carved into light like a seal.
GIVE TRUE NAME.
The moment those words appeared, Qi Shan Wei felt it.
Something reached for the deepest part of him.
Not his bones.
Not his meridians.
Not his soul in the normal way.
It reached for the shape of his existence.
It reached for the thing the world calls him.
A hidden pressure wrapped around his heart like a cold hand.
His golden eyes sharpened.
He lifted two fingers.
A prismatic formation spread in front of his chest, small and precise, like a lock placed over a lock.
Name-Anchor Formation.
It was not a public formation.
It was not something you sold in an auction.
It was something an emperor builds when the universe tries to rewrite him.
The Court elders felt it and stiffened.
One whispered, "That formation… it's… illegal."
Qi Shan Wei's voice stayed calm. "Laws are tools. I build better tools."
The bell pressed harder.
The air around Shan Wei's head began to shimmer.
Not illusion shimmer.
Name shimmer.
It was like the world was trying to pull a mask off him.
The Silent Bell envoy's voice lowered. "Returning Prismatic One," he said, "if the bell takes your true name… it will not only kill you."
Qi Shan Wei's eyes did not blink. "It will erase."
The envoy nodded once. "Yes."
Ling Xueyao's breath hitched.
Her pride fought her fear, but fear still showed—small and real.
Not fear of death.
Fear of losing him.
Qi Shan Wei did not turn to her in a soft way. He was still facing the bell's words.
But his next action was not cold.
It was emperor-level care.
He lifted his hand and drew a single prismatic line between his chest and her wrist.
A thin thread.
Not binding.
Not forcing.
A vow-shape.
A protection that said one simple truth:
If the world takes you, it must go through me first.
Ling Xueyao's eyes widened as she felt it.
A warm pressure inside her cold heart.
Steady.
Unmoving.
Her voice came out quiet. "Shan Wei…"
Qi Shan Wei answered without looking away. "I know."
Two words.
No poetry.
No jokes.
No easy comfort.
But it hit like a mountain being placed behind her back.
Because it meant: I know your fear. I know your pain. I know you will not be taken.
The bell did not like it.
The air text flickered, angry.
The bell rang again, and the demand changed.
GIVE FROST THREAD.OR GIVE NAME.
The bell was cornering them.
The Court elders leaned forward like wolves.
The Thousand Masks watchers stayed silent, but their bodies were tense. Their contract was burning. Their clean-kill clause was failing. Something higher had stepped in.
Inside the cocoon, Drakonix growled low.
A prismatic flame surged out and touched the air text itself.
The words burned.
Not fully.
But enough to make the light shake.
The bell rang hard in response.
Drakonix hissed in pain. "Too old… too stubborn…"
Zhen spoke, perfectly timed, perfectly blunt. "Statement: the bell is emotionally unstable."
Drakonix snapped, even while half-born. "Shut… metal."
Zhen replied, calm as always. "I am not metal. I am Zhen."
The tiny humor lasted one breath.
Then the dome shook again like it was about to break.
The Silent Bell envoy lifted his hand fast. "Enough!" he said, sharper now.
The Court elder barked, "You have no right to stop it!"
The envoy's eyes turned cold. "You think I serve the Court? I serve the flow."
He turned to Qi Shan Wei. "If you refuse payment," he said, "the bell will choose a payment you cannot predict."
Qi Shan Wei answered calmly. "Then I will predict it first."
He closed his eyes for one heartbeat.
Not to pray.
To calculate.
To listen.
Not to sound.
To pattern.
He saw it in the way the ledger lines formed.
He saw it in the way the Frost Thread trembled.
He saw it in the way the bell's pressure moved like a hunter circling.
Then his eyes opened, sharp.
"It will take memory," he said.
The envoy stiffened. "How do you—"
Qi Shan Wei lifted his hand. "If it cannot take the thread… and it cannot take the name… it will take what weakens both."
Memory.
Because memory holds identity.
Because memory holds bonds.
Because memory holds "who."
Ling Xueyao's lips parted. "No…"
The Court elder smiled again. "Let it. Let him forget everything."
Qi Shan Wei's gaze cut through that elder like a blade.
Then, calmly, he made a choice.
He spoke to the sky.
"Take mine," he said. "Not hers."
The dome went silent.
Even the bell's pressure hesitated, as if it was surprised by the offer.
Zhen's head turned. "Master. That is unacceptable risk."
Drakonix's flame flared in anger. "No!"
Ling Xueyao stepped forward, pain shaking in her body. "Do not—"
Qi Shan Wei raised one hand. One simple motion.
Command.
Not harsh.
Just final.
"Hold position," he said.
His voice was quiet.
But it carried the weight of an emperor, and everyone obeyed before they even knew they were obeying.
The bell rang.
The Time-Debt Ledger flashed.
A new line formed.
OFFER ACCEPTED……CONDITION FAILED.
Qi Shan Wei's eyes narrowed. "Failed?"
The envoy's face changed. Real concern. "Your stream," he whispered. "Your time stream is… wrong."
The Court elders frowned. "What does that mean?"
The envoy swallowed. "It means he is not in the normal flow."
He stared at Shan Wei like he was seeing him for the first time.
"Returning Prismatic One," the envoy said, "you have been… moved before."
The dome went colder.
Ling Xueyao's eyes shook. "Moved… like a cycle?"
The envoy nodded once. "Like a step outside the path. Time cannot take your 'years' cleanly, because your years do not match the ledger."
Qi Shan Wei's jaw tightened a fraction.
Not fear.
Annoyance.
Because even he did not like being treated like a broken tool.
The bell's demand changed again, angry now.
IF NOT YEARS… THEN THREAD.IF NOT THREAD… THEN NAME.
The bell was done being gentle.
The hook in the air flashed again, and the Frost Thread yanked hard.
Ling Xueyao gasped, body jerking.
The crack on the thread widened.
Zhen moved instantly, stepping between the hook and the thread like a wall.
His shield matrix flared.
"Imperial Shield Matrix: Third Layer," Zhen announced.
A new dome formed inside the dome, tight around Shan Wei, Xueyao, and the cocoon.
The bell's pull hit the shield and bent, forced to slide around it like water hitting a rock.
But Bell-Law was not normal force.
The shield strained.
Runes on Zhen's armor glowed hot.
Zhen's voice stayed calm. "Shield strain increasing. Recommendation: counter-attack."
Qi Shan Wei lifted Heavenpiercer again.
Not at the hook this time.
At the ledger.
At the words in the air.
At the rule itself.
He spoke one line, calm as death.
"World-Grid: Record This."
A prismatic ripple spread from his feet, thin and clean.
It was not a killing formation.
It was a proof formation.
A witness.
A system that said: If the bell breaks the world, the world will remember who did it.
The Court elders' faces changed.
Because systems scare liars.
The Silent Bell envoy's small bell trembled harder.
Then the big bell rang again, and the sound came with a new feeling.
Not hunger.
Not punishment.
Recognition.
Like the bell finally understood something.
Qi Shan Wei had scarred it.
And the bell… did not like being scarred.
The sky above the dome flashed.
Not with normal lightning.
With sideways lightning.
Lightning that moved like an eye turning.
Lightning that searched.
Lightning that hunted.
The first line of the Heaven-Rending Thunder Descent slid across the clouds like a living blade.
Every cultivator outside the dome froze.
Some fell to their knees without meaning to.
Even the Court elders went pale.
The Silent Bell envoy whispered, voice tight. "No…"
Qi Shan Wei's golden eyes lifted to the sky.
He watched the hunting lightning move.
He did not flinch.
He did not look surprised.
He looked… ready.
Drakonix's cocoon cracked wider from the thunder pressure.
A full prismatic wing forced its way out, shaking the air. His flame changed—there was a sharp, bright edge inside it now, like thunder learning to burn.
Ling Xueyao's moon-shadow behind her flickered again, pulled by the sky's new law.
Zhen's shield matrix groaned, like a fortress hearing a god knock.
And the lightning—
the hunting lightning—
stopped.
Right above Qi Shan Wei.
Like it was looking at him.
Choosing.
The Court elder whispered, shaking. "Heaven… is selecting…"
The Silent Bell envoy's eyes were wide now. "This is not punishment," he said, voice almost broken. "This is… a call."
The hunting lightning dropped.
Not down like normal.
It fell through the air like a judgment, straight toward Shan Wei's head.
Ling Xueyao's breath stopped.
Zhen raised both arms.
Drakonix roared from the cocoon.
Qi Shan Wei did not move.
He simply lifted Heavenpiercer's tip a little, like an emperor greeting a messenger.
The lightning struck.
And instead of burning him…
it carved a crown-shaped mark of light above his brow for one heartbeat.
A mark that did not harm.
A mark that recognized.
Then a voice spoke from between the strike and the silence.
A voice that sounded like thunder learning to talk.
"One… who cuts Bell-Law… is worth watching."
The lightning vanished.
The crown-mark faded.
But the sky stayed cracked.
And the bell… went quiet.
Not because it gave up.
Because it was listening now.
Qi Shan Wei's gaze stayed calm.
But inside his chest, Heavenpiercer pulsed once—heavy, excited, like it had just smelled a war that could shake the heavens.
To be Continued
© Kishtika., 2026
All rights reserved.