At first, Han Yu allowed small threads of warmth to remain in his meridians, preventing the cold from overwhelming him entirely. But every few hours he lowered the heat further.
Bit by bit.
Hour by hour.
The Ice Qi pressed against his body relentlessly.
By the next day, the warmth had nearly vanished.
Han Yu finally extinguished the last traces of fire Qi circulating through his body.
From that moment onward, he endured the chamber's cold with nothing but his physical constitution.
The difference was immediate.
Pain shot through his limbs like thousands of needles piercing his flesh. His breath grew shallow as each inhalation dragged freezing air into his lungs.
The cold was not merely external, it seeped inward. It made his bones feel heavy while his muscles stiffened. The frost on his skin thickened until his crimson black robes turned white with frozen moisture.
And yet he did not move.
Enduring it did not mean he had grown comfortable. It was not even close.
