“You may keep the token,” he said. “With it, you are free to enter and leave the outer perimeter of the Artifact Hall. But remember—without explicit permission, you are not to touch any artifact materials inside.”
Yun Che acknowledged the instruction. He knew well that Zhang Mingyuan had never been fond of him, this so-called “connection-based entrant.” Only now, seeing that Yun Che’s aura had grown noticeably steadier after four years of intensive training, did Zhang offer the slightest hint of recognition. Yun Che bowed respectfully and withdrew.
Before long, Yun Che arrived at the Ice Soul Sword Pavilion, located within the inner sect of Frost Condensation Peak. In earlier years, he had only glimpsed it from afar while transporting supplies as a menial disciple. Now, standing before it in person, he saw a three-story pavilion formed entirely of crystalline ice, glowing with a dim blue sheen beneath the snowy light. From its eaves hung icicles like inverted swords.
Outside the pavilion sat a round-faced disciple wearing a thick white padded robe, seemingly in his late twenties. He was holding a jade slip and yawning. Upon seeing Yun Che, he blinked in surprise.
“Junior brother… your cultivation seems to be around the third level of Qi Condensation, no? Entry into the Ice Soul Sword Pavilion requires at least the fourth level—or a token issued by a senior.”
Without a word, Yun Che handed over the token Zhang Mingyuan had given him.
The round-faced disciple examined it, and his expression immediately turned colorful. His lips twitched as he struggled to hold something back, but in the end, he failed.
“Pfft—!”
He burst into laughter.
“So it’s from Uncle-Master Zhang’s lineage… ahem, my apologies, my apologies.” He coughed lightly, still amused. “That lineage always has a certain… ahem… fondness for ceremonial flair whenever the sect deals with external affairs.”
Recalling some amusing memory, he laughed until his shoulders shook, only regaining composure after quite some time. He waved his hand.
“Go on in, junior brother. Oh, right—may I suggest the second sword from the right? When I first saw it, I thought it was the most ‘imposing’ flying sword in the entire northern cultivation world.”
Though puzzled, Yun Che cupped his fists in thanks and stepped forward.
After only five steps, his brows lifted sharply.
His divine sense detected an invisible ripple spreading through the air ahead. With each step, an icy resistance intensified, as though he were wading through frozen mud.
The round-faced disciple smacked his forehead. “Ah—forgot the Cold Barrier Formation is still active—”
He was about to shout a warning when his words caught in his throat. His eyes widened in disbelief.
Yun Che paused briefly. Then, the power within him—infused with the light specks of the void—began to circulate naturally. A faint, almost imperceptible glow enveloped his body.
The icy resistance that had stopped countless inner disciples in their tracks melted away around him like snow beneath the spring sun.
One step. Two steps.
His pace remained steady. In the span of a breath, he crossed the five-zhang distance and easily pushed open the ice-carved doors of the pavilion.
Inside, Yun Che swept his divine sense outward and felt a faint chill of alarm—the suppression on divine sense here was extreme, compressing his perception to less than three zhang.
The interior glowed with dim blue light. Rows of swords rested on icy racks along both sides—some white as fresh snow, others deep blue like an abyss. Each radiated a sharp, chilling sword intent.
His gaze moved slowly before finally settling on the sword the round-faced disciple had mentioned: the second from the right.
The moment he saw it, Yun Che fell silent.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
Calling it “imposing” was an understatement—it was downright extravagant.
The blade was nearly two palms wide and over four chi long, blazing with golden brilliance. A closer look revealed that this glow was no refining radiance at all, but an actual layer of red gold plating. Beneath it lay dull iron, its spiritual fluctuations so faint they were almost nonexistent.
Two pigeon-egg-sized ice crystal stones were embedded in the hilt. Clear and dazzling, yes—but utterly useless for spiritual nourishment. Pure decoration.
The sword tassel was woven from silver threads mixed with gold strands, adorned at the end with several small sapphires that sparkled faintly in the blue light.
The entire sword radiated a single message:
I am very rich, and I want everyone to know it.
Yun Che rubbed his chin thoughtfully. To his own surprise, he felt genuinely tempted—not by its power, but by its sheer… honesty.
If he ever truly lacked spirit stones, melting this thing down and selling the gold and gemstones alone would fetch a tidy sum.
Beside the sword lay a jade slip. Yun Che infused it with divine sense.
“Sword Name: Frostglory Fortune.
Forged three hundred years ago by Elder Hansong of the Artifact Hall, who expended his entire private collection to complete it.
Having refined countless artifacts in his lifetime, the elder remained obsessed with this sword even on his deathbed, instructing that it be stored in the Sword Pavilion to await its destined wielder.
The bearer must safeguard it carefully. If damaged, it must be repaired to the best of one’s ability.
Selling or pawning it is strictly forbidden. Violators will be punished according to sect law.”
Yun Che couldn’t help but chuckle.
He reached out and grasped the hilt. It was heavy in his hand, cold with gold and jade. The sword trembled slightly, letting out a low hum, as if responding to him.
“This one,” Yun Che murmured. “My family fortune is thin—since you’re called ‘Fortune,’ you’d best attract plenty of wealth for me in the future.”
He stored the flamboyant greatsword into his storage pouch and turned to leave.
Outside, the round-faced disciple was already standing perfectly straight, his face plastered with a nervous, respectful smile—nothing like his earlier teasing demeanor.
“S-So… junior brother, you’ve made your selection?” he asked cautiously, his eyes flicking repeatedly toward Yun Che as though he were looking at some sort of monster.
Yun Che nodded, puzzled by the sudden change in attitude, but he didn’t press the issue and left directly.
Back at the outer perimeter of the Artifact Hall, Yun Che retrieved Frostglory Fortune. Zhang Mingyuan, who was sipping tea, caught sight of the golden blade at a glance—
And nearly spat his tea out.
He stared at the sword for a long while, his expression complicated, before finally letting out a sigh.
“When I first saw that sword in the pavilion…” he said slowly, “I truly didn’t have the face to carry it out.”
He shook his head, then looked at Yun Che with a gaze containing an indescribable nuance.
“You’ve got courage. Three days from now, the sect will receive envoys from the Snowbound Alliance. You’ll carry this sword with you—let those envoys, and those old fogeys within the sect, broaden their horizons.”
Yun Che forced a wry smile and accepted the order.
Three days later, nine peals of the sect bell rang out from Frost Condensation Peak, shaking the snowy ridges.
Sect Master Han Jing and the elders stood in formation upon the icy steps of the grand plaza, awaiting the guests.
A long, clear cry echoed from the heavens. Moments later, a massive shadow burst through the clouds—
An enormous ice-blue avian beast, resembling a crane, with a wingspan exceeding a hundred zhang. As it descended, its wings stirred up a storm of snow, faint golden patterns shimmering along the edges of its feathers. Sacred, yet carrying a chilling pressure.
The giant bird landed slowly. Upon its back stood more than a dozen cultivators clad in snow-white robes embroidered with silver patterns—the envoys of the great northern sect, the Snowbound Alliance.
Many young disciples of Frost Condensation Peak gazed upward in awe. Several female disciples, in particular, were visibly shaken by the creature’s divine might.
“What’s there to panic over!”
A red-faced elder beside the sect master suddenly barked, his voice rolling like thunder across the plaza.
“It’s just a Snowcloud Crane! Looks intimidating, that’s all! If you rushed it together, one sword per person, you’d poke it full of holes!”
The remark was deliberately loud—clearly meant for the Snowbound Alliance members atop the crane.
A white-bearded elder leading the envoys stroked his beard and smiled lightly, unoffended. Several younger disciples behind him, however, showed clear displeasure.
Sect Master Han Jing cast the red-faced elder a brief glance but did not reprimand him. Instead, he stepped forward and said calmly,
“Fellow Daoists of the Snowbound Alliance, welcome to Frost Condensation Peak. Forgive us for not greeting you sooner.”
The white-bearded elder led his group down gracefully and returned the salute.
“Master Han Jing is too kind. It has been many years—your sect’s bearing surpasses even that of old.”
As the two sides exchanged formalities, Yun Che stood silently near the back of the disciple ranks.
Slung across his shoulder was a long object wrapped in brocade. To avoid drawing excessive attention, Zhang Mingyuan had hastily wrapped it in dark blue silk—but the faint gleam of gold and the raised contours of gemstones still drew curious glances.
Among the Snowbound Alliance envoys, a handsome blue-robed youth with a cold, aloof bearing swept his gaze across the Frost Condensation Peak disciples. His eyes paused briefly on the strange bundle over Yun Che’s shoulder, his brow lifting slightly in interest.
After a short exchange, Sect Master Han Jing led the guests toward the sect’s grand hall. The disciples followed in orderly lines.
Walking at the very rear, Yun Che could feel several gazes falling intermittently upon the object on his back.
His expression remained calm, but inwardly he sighed.
These three days of sect exchanges were unlikely to be peaceful.
The weight on his shoulder felt heavy—whether from gold and iron, or from the trouble soon to come, even he could not say.
Frostglory Fortune out of necessity—or was it a clever, unconventional decision?
If you were standing in the Ice Soul Sword Pavilion, would you pick a low-key, practical blade, or a sword so extravagant it practically screams trouble?
Share your thoughts in the comments ??