Below is the full English translation of Chapter 105, followed by a concise bilingual interactive ending section suitable for RoyalRoad-style engagement.

  The night in Frost Severance Valley was cold as the nether abyss.

  Yun Che walked alone through the forest shrouded in icy mist. His steps were neither hurried nor slow, yet when they fell upon the frost-covered ground, no sound followed. A faint Azure cold radiance lingered around him; wherever he passed, withered grass glazed over, shattered stones crystallized, even the drifting frost-mist parted before him.

  He had walked like this for three days.

  Three days ago, he returned from Hanshui Town.

  Three days ago, he watched the Yun ancestral estate reduced to ruins. He saw the black banner packed with the twisted faces of his clansmen. He saw his sister’s frost-reddened hands by the well.

  Three days ago, he knelt in a pool of blood and shed the last tears of his life.

  Since then, his eyes had known only dryness.

  Before Teng Huayuan left, he branded Yun Che’s sea of consciousness with the Soul-Locking Banner. The voice clung like rot to bone:

  “Outside Jue Ming Valley, I will wait. If you do not come when the valley opens—this banner will scatter your clan’s souls into oblivion.”

  Yun Che did not respond.

  He did not need to.

  He would go.

  With his sword.

  And with the thing that had grown wildly inside him these past three days.

  It had no name, no form. Yet it was colder, harder, sharper than all the spiritual power he had cultivated in seven years combined. It coiled between his dantian and qi sea, tempering the two Nine Nether frigid cores until they resembled frozen dark stars. Each pulse released an aura that made even the soul tremble.

  At his moment of deepest pain, the ancient will within the sheath had spoken:

  “This realm is called ‘Extremity.’ Those who enter it are invincible among their peers.”

  “The price—eternal severance from the path to Divine Transformation.”

  Yun Che did not ask about the price.

  He asked only one question:

  “Enough to kill a Nascent Soul?”

  After a long silence, the will answered:

  “Against late-stage Nascent Soul and below—you may fight. To kill—requires timing.”

  Enough.

  He sheathed the black sword and walked into the night of Frost Severance Valley.

  Thirty zhang behind him, three figures followed from afar.

  The same two men and one woman who had pursued him three days ago. The leading Foundation Establishment mid-stage cultivator, Liang Qiu, frowned deeply at the distant Azure silhouette.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “Senior brother… he seems like a different person,” the woman whispered, fear flickering in her eyes.

  Liang Qiu did not reply.

  Three days ago, this man had still possessed the aura of a human—he bled, he knelt in pain.

  Now the figure ahead resembled a corpse sealed in ice for a thousand years.

  Not dead.

  Something worse.

  “That pearl…” another male cultivator swallowed. “The jade slip from the ancestor depicted cloud patterns, but his pearl bears leaf patterns. What if we’ve mistaken him?”

  Liang Qiu’s gaze flickered.

  Mistaken? Perhaps.

  But what if not?

  “A Nascent Soul-grade treasure for the one who submits it. Ten Divine Transformation-grade Nether puppets for their sect. Their cultivation domain raised three tiers…”

  The temptation was overwhelming.

  “Follow him,” Liang Qiu gritted out. “No matter how strong, he’s only early Foundation Establishment. The three of us together—”

  He never finished.

  The Azure figure ahead stopped.

  Not turning. Not looking back.

  Just stopped.

  As if waiting.

  Before Liang Qiu could react—

  An Azure sword light pierced his brow.

  There was no scream. No defense. In the instant it passed through his skull, his body froze from within. He fell, shattering into seven pieces of crystal ice.

  The remaining two fled in terror—but frost had already climbed to their knees. The female cultivator crushed a communication jade; it shot upward as light—

  And was shattered midair by a conjured icicle.

  “You—!”

  Yun Che did not even draw his sword. He walked past her.

  Five steps later—

  Two faint cracking sounds.

  He did not turn.

  Word still spread.

  Frost Severance Valley was not large. Disciples of seven sects were scattered throughout. Some witnessed the one-sided slaughter from afar.

  Soon, rumors spread like plague:

  A monster had emerged from the Nine Nether Ruins.

  Some said he killed mid-stage Foundation Establishment like livestock.

  Some said he froze people with a glance.

  Some said his sword was invisible—silent when drawn, leaving only death.

  The more absurd the rumor, the more it was believed.

  Because those who saw clearly were already dead.

  On the seventh evening, Yun Che stepped into a forest clearing.

  Righteous and demonic cultivators were locked in standoff. Several corpses still radiated warmth.

  Yun Che walked through.

  A demonic middle-aged cultivator, irritated by his cold aura, struck without warning.

  “Get lost!”

  Lightning split the sky.

  Yun Che did not look up.

  The lightning froze midair upon reaching three feet from him.

  Not dispersed.

  Frozen.

  Azure frost climbed backward along the bolt, freezing it into a three-zhang ice spike—

  Which shattered into powder.

  The demonic cultivator opened his mouth—

  Green light pierced from his chest.

  He fell, frozen solid.

  Silence.

  The rest fled.

  A righteous cultivator stammered thanks.

  Yun Che ignored him.

  He walked north.

  The white-robed cultivator caught a glimpse of his eyes—

  Not anger.

  Not killing intent.

  Not even focus.

  Only boundless stillness.

  Not a monster.

  A sword in human form.

  Later, a young demonic disciple glared at Yun Che’s retreating back.

  “I’ll remember you… Yun Che of the Nine Nether Ruins…”

  A hundred zhang away—

  Yun Che’s gaze shifted half an inch.

  Across trees, distance, breathless witnesses—

  He saw.

  Green light pierced the disciple’s chest.

  Frozen.

  For three more days, similar scenes repeated.

  Those who coveted him—frozen.

  Those who spied on him—frozen.

  Those who merely harbored hostility—frozen.

  Soon the entire valley knew:

  On the northern path walked a god of slaughter. He spoke to no one, contested nothing. He simply walked—and killed anything that blocked his way.

  Yun Che knew none of the rumors.

  He only walked.

  Each kill solidified the Nine Nether cold force within him. The twin frigid cores drew closer.

  He knew only that Teng Huayuan waited beyond the valley.

  He knew only that the black banner held his father, mother, uncles, cousins—

  And faces he had no time to remember.

  He had to go.

  Day nine.

  The northern exit came into view.

  Yun Che stopped for the first time.

  Not hesitation.

  The brand in his consciousness pulsed violently.

  A sinister divine sense slithered inward.

  Teng Huayuan’s voice exploded in his mind:

  “So you’ve come? I thought you would hide forever.”

  Yun Che did not answer.

  He looked toward the leaden sky beyond the valley.

  He grasped the sword hilt.

  Three inches drawn.

  Within the sheath, the ancient will sighed:

  “Hatred thus refined—only now is Extremity complete.”

  “Go.”

  “Show him how the heir of the Nine Nether—”

  “Claims a life.”

  (Extremity formed. Frost cannot bar his path. Teng Huayuan waits beyond the valley. Yun Che arrives with sword in hand.)

  (This journey is not for victory.)

  (Not for survival.)

  (Only to silence one more crying face upon that banner.)

  He is Extremity taking shape.

  or toward his own end?