Instead, he walked slowly along the snow-covered path, allowing the Breath-Concealing Art to circulate naturally within his body, firmly suppressing his aura at the level of Qi Condensation Realm, Third Layer.
The Heaven-Reversing Pearl against his chest felt faintly cool. Li Han’s voice did not sound—
the old monster seemed uncharacteristically silent, perhaps lost in memories of similar past events.
After traveling a hundred li, night fell.
In the Northern Region, darkness came swiftly, and the wind and snow grew increasingly fierce. Yun Che found a wind-sheltered rock crevice and used the Minor Pull Technique to clear out a dry space, then sat down cross-legged.
He took out a piece of dried rations from his storage pouch and chewed slowly, washing it down with melted snow. His gaze drifted toward the southwest—
where the Xuanfrost Sect once stood, now surely under the complete control of the Snowfield Alliance.
“Boy, are you feeling unsettled?”
Li Han’s voice suddenly rang out, lacking its usual arrogance and carrying instead a trace of age and weariness.
“A little,” Yun Che replied after a moment of silence. “An eight-hundred-year-old sect… gone in a single day.”
“Hmph. That’s how the cultivation world has always been,” Li Han sneered.
“The strong devour the weak—an unchanging truth since antiquity. Today it’s the Xuanfrost Sect. Tomorrow, it could be the Snowfield Alliance. If you don’t grow stronger, you’ll eventually become nothing more than bones beneath another’s feet.”
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Yun Che nodded. He understood the logic well enough.
Still, witnessing the collapse of such a colossal existence with his own eyes left an unavoidable tremor in his heart.
“What are your plans next?” Li Han asked.
“First, I’m going home,” Yun Che looked northward.
“I was only fourteen when I left. Five years have passed. My parents are getting old—I should return and see them.”
“Mortal family ties…”
Li Han’s tone turned strange, but he said no more.
After resting for two hours, Yun Che resumed his journey. This time, he did not walk. Instead, he used the Minor Pull Technique in tandem with his movement skills, gliding swiftly across the snow. Though slower than flying, his speed far surpassed that of any horse.
Three days later, he was far from the Xuanfrost Mountains, entering the hilly borderlands of the Northern Region.
The climate here was milder. The snowfall thinned, and patches of cold-resistant conifer forests dotted the hills. Signs of human life began to appear along the road—hunters’ footprints, bundles of firewood left by woodcutters, and even wisps of cooking smoke rising from distant valleys.
Yun Che slowed his pace, straightened his gray robes, and assumed the appearance of an ordinary traveler.
After another day of travel, a frozen river appeared before him.
On the opposite bank stood a small town built against the mountains.
Hanshan Town.
His home.
Standing at the riverbank, gazing at the familiar outlines of rooftops across the ice, Yun Che felt momentarily dazed.
Five years.
When he left, he was still a half-grown boy, carrying na?ve dreams of immortality and his parents’ earnest hopes. Now he returned as a cultivator who had walked through life and death, bearing secrets beyond measure—
and the sect he once relied on no longer existed.
The wind brushed against his face, carrying the scent unique to his hometown—a mixture of pine resin and cooking smoke.
Yun Che took a deep breath and stepped onto the frozen river, crossing toward home.
What Would You Do?
After witnessing the destruction of your sect and surviving life-and-death trials:
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Would you leave immediately to seek greater power?
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Or would you return to the mortal world to see the family waiting for you?