The disciples of the Snowfield Alliance were likewise observing those of the Frost Condensation Sect, silently making comparisons.

  Several black-robed disciples at the Qi Condensation Realm, Sixth Layer or above, became their primary focus. In addition, Yun Han’s handsome appearance and his cultivation at the peak of the Fifth Layer also caught their attention and was quietly noted.

  As for disciples like Yun Che, who were only at the Third Layer of Qi Condensation, they were almost entirely ignored in their eyes—aside from Su Ningxue, who had given him a second glance, no one paid him any mind.

  While the elders of both sects conversed, they too were secretly observing the younger generation.

  The three Snowfield Alliance elders grew more pleased the longer they watched, privately concluding that if the Frost Condensation Sect had only these disciples, this exchange would be a guaranteed victory.

  Yet having contended with the Frost Condensation Sect for many years, they knew well that their opponent always concealed hidden cards.

  Most of the Sixth-Layer disciples before them were unfamiliar faces; the true elites seen in the last exchange were nowhere to be found.

  Those people—they were the real key to this contest.

  Sect Master Han Jing swept his gaze across the Snowfield Alliance disciples, lingering briefly on Shen Bingyun and Su Ningxue, both possessors of Ice Spirit Bodies. A quiet sigh rose in his heart.

  Five hundred years… Has the Frost Condensation Sect truly declined to this point? Even a rising force like the Snowfield Alliance now surpasses us. Consecutive defeats, one after another. We thought ourselves prepared this time—yet they bring forth such rare constitutions again.

  His gaze involuntarily shifted to the blue-robed man standing at the very rear of the Snowfield Alliance formation.

  His pupils contracted slightly.

  “…So be it. It seems the core disciples must emerge earlier than planned.”

  Having made his decision, his expression remained calm as he smiled at Ouyang Shuo.

  “Elder Ouyang, the disciples have traveled far. They should first rest at the guest quarters. We old friends rarely gather—let us enter the hall and share some tea.”

  The three Snowfield Alliance elders smiled and agreed, following the group into the grand hall.

  All Frost Condensation elders accompanied them inside. Bringing up the rear was Elder Ling Shuang, who glanced at the disciples outside before turning to Yun Han.

  “Yun Han, you will host the Snowfield Alliance disciples. If there is any lapse, do not blame me for being merciless.”

  Yun Han bowed, clearly prepared.

  “Rest assured, Master. This disciple will attend to everything.”

  Elder Ling Shuang then turned to the Snowfield Alliance disciples, speaking gently:

  “If you require anything, simply inform Yun Han. This old man will not disturb the younger generation. The future of the cultivation world ultimately belongs to you.”

  With a smile, he entered the hall.

  Once the elders departed, the atmosphere outside instantly relaxed.

  Several female disciples of the Frost Condensation Sect immediately gathered around Shen Bingyun, their laughter bright and their admiration undisguised.

  A number of Snowfield Alliance disciples also clustered around the black-robed Sixth-Layer disciples, exchanging cultivation insights.

  Others formed small groups of their own, while quite a few gathered around the resting Snow Cloud Crane, marveling at the majestic spirit beast.

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  Yun Che scanned the scene briefly, showing no interest in joining the bustle. He walked alone to a quiet stone step at the edge of the ice platform, sat down, and gazed at the distant snowy ridges and rolling clouds—peaceful and untroubled.

  Among the Frost Condensation inner disciples, there were others who disliked noise as well.

  The female disciple surnamed Zhou, who had once been trapped at the Third Layer bottleneck, noticed Yun Che sitting alone. After a moment’s hesitation, she walked over.

  “Junior Brother Yun,” she said as she sat beside him with a soft smile. “I’ve long wanted to find a chance to congratulate you. Four years of seclusion, and you reached the Third Layer—there are few in the sect as diligent as you.”

  Yun Che shook his head.

  “Senior Sister Zhou flatters me. Most of our fellow disciples cultivate diligently—I dare not claim such praise.”

  Looking at the sea of clouds, Zhou sighed softly.

  “Junior Brother need not be so modest. During those four years in the Cold Abyss, others often emerged to rest, but I rarely saw you. Cultivation is a lonely path. To have such determination… I truly admire it.”

  Yun Che touched his nose and smiled.

  “Didn’t Senior Sister also reach the Third Layer?”

  “I reached the peak of the Third Layer three years ago, but even now…” Her smile turned bitter.

  “One by one, disciples who were once inferior to me have surpassed me. Perhaps… I simply cannot sever mortal attachments.”

  Yun Che fell silent for a moment before speaking calmly:

  “The Dao is merciless. If Senior Sister wishes to advance, these attachments… may truly have to be cut away.”

  Zhou turned her head, her clear eyes resting on him.

  “Junior Brother has also reached the Third Layer peak. You’ll likely break through soon—then you’ll surpass me as well.”

  Yun Che looked at her refined features and gave a wry smile.

  “I won’t break through anytime soon. Mortal ties… are not something one can sever just by willing it. I can’t do it.”

  Zhou froze, hesitating.

  “Junior Brother, forgive my boldness—but what is it that you cannot sever…?”

  Yun Che shook his head without answering.

  In his mind, fragments of vague memories surfaced: a pair of warm hands, indistinct voices calling out to him…

  His origins were a mystery. He did not even know what this “mortal attachment” truly was—yet he felt, deep down, that something must be protected.

  Seeing his silence, Zhou sighed.

  “What I cannot sever is family. The cultivation path is so cruel… Perhaps I was never suited for it.”

  Yun Che was about to respond when he suddenly felt a sharp gaze upon him.

  Turning his head, he saw Yun Han staring coldly at him and Zhou from afar, a trace of malice flashing through his eyes.

  At that moment, Yun Han’s voice carried over:

  “Senior brothers and sisters of the Snowfield Alliance—earlier I heard that this Snow Cloud Crane particularly enjoys fresh Ice-Scale Fish? During your stay, feeding the crane shall be handled by us.”

  He paused, his gaze sweeping toward Yun Che, the corner of his mouth lifting.

  “I have a junior brother whose cultivation is mediocre—wasting time on the path of cultivation. Such menial tasks are perfectly suited for him.”

  Shen Bingyun hesitated slightly.

  “Brother Yun, this may be inappropriate. Though the Snow Cloud Crane is tamed, its wild nature remains. Feeding it by an unfamiliar person could be dangerous.”

  “Brother Shen worries too much.” Yun Han smiled warmly.

  “As cultivators, how could we fear such minor risks? You are honored guests—since this matter is within our sect, naturally we should handle it.”

  His clear voice drew many glances. Several Snowfield Alliance disciples looked toward Yun Che with faintly amused expressions.

  Yun Che’s face remained calm as he slowly stood.

  Senior Sister Zhou hesitated, worry flickering in her eyes.

  The Snow Cloud Crane seemed to sense something. It lifted its long neck, golden eyes fixing on Yun Che, releasing a low, resonant call.

  Yun Han’s smile deepened as he called out from afar:

  “Junior Brother Yun Che, the task of feeding the crane is yours. You’ll need to catch thirty Ice-Scale Fish daily from the Cold Pool—shouldn’t be too difficult, right?”

  The Cold Pool lay in a perilous area behind the mountain. Though Ice-Scale Fish were not demonic beasts, they were swift and elusive—extremely difficult to catch.

  Even a Fourth-Layer cultivator would need most of a day to gather thirty.

  Not to mention… approaching a spirit crane of this caliber was itself fraught with danger.

  Yun Che met Yun Han’s gaze. After a moment, he nodded slowly.

  “This junior brother accepts.”

  His voice was flat, betraying no emotion.

  The brocade-wrapped bundle on his shoulder shifted in the wind, revealing a flash of a brilliant golden sword hilt, dazzling beneath the snowlight.

  From afar, Su Ningxue watched, a hint of contemplation flickering in her eyes.

  Shen Bingyun frowned, about to speak, when a Snowfield Alliance disciple beside him gently tugged his sleeve and shook his head.

  The atmosphere between the two sects fell into a subtle stillness.

  Yun Che said nothing more. He gave Zhou a slight nod, then turned and walked down the mountain path.

  Snow and wind swept across the stone steps, gradually swallowing his gray-clad figure.

  Yun Han watched his retreating back, the smile on his lips turning cold.

  The Snow Cloud Crane cried out once more, shaking its wings as ice crystals scattered from its feathers.

  Its shadow stretched long across the ice platform—lonely and desolate.

  What appears to be friendly exchanges between sects is, in truth, layered with undercurrents—

  contempt, jealousy, probing eyes, and a task deliberately framed as “menial.”

  Not out of weakness, but because he understands one thing clearly—

  some paths cannot be avoided, only walked.

  It mirrors Yun Che’s own position at this moment:

  standing alone, yet forced to move forward.