At the foot of a towering glacial peak, beneath thick layers of ice, there lay a man-sized ice cave. The tunnel stretched deep into the heart of the massive mountain, whose icy summit reached thousands of zhang into the sky.
A cultivator who had reached the level of Sword Emperor possessed a terrifying sensitivity to sword energy. Within a thousand-li radius, if even a single sword cultivator was present, one could pinpoint their location without relying on divine sense.
A figure descended gracefully—Fengyun Wuji had landed at the entrance of the icy cavern. The interior was surprisingly bright; the walls smooth, the winding passage extending deep within, its end lost in mystery.
After a brief hesitation, Fengyun Wuji stood at the entrance and called out in a clear voice, "Fengyun Wuji requests an audience with Senior Ximen Yibei."
A voice echoed from within, cold and distant. "Since you've already reached the door, come in."
Following the twisting passageway, treading across slick ice, Fengyun Wuji descended hundreds of meters underground, where he found a weary-looking Ximen Yibei.
Strictly speaking, this was no ordinary cave—it was more like an ice kiln, a place someone had chosen as their solitary dwelling. The ground was cluttered with overturned wine jars. In the spacious chamber, Ximen Yibei, clad in white, leaned back against a frozen wall, sword in hand. Before him stood a short, ice-carved wooden table, atop which rested a steaming wine jar. On the snow wall across from the table hung a yellowing painting—depicting a woman with a gentle expression and a soft smile.
"Senior…" Fengyun Wuji began, but was quickly cut off by Ximen Yibei raising a hand.
"Say nothing. Sit down and drink with me," Ximen Yibei said, his voice unsteady, somewhere between sobriety and drunkenness.
Fengyun Wuji said no more. He walked forward slowly, sat cross-legged beside the ice table. Ximen Yibei grabbed a nearby wine jar, brushed the bottom of it with his right hand, and the frozen contents within instantly began to melt. Bubbles rose from the bottom, and in moments, steam rolled from the mouth of the jar.
"Here. Have one yourself," Ximen Yibei said, placing the jar on the table and motioning toward Fengyun Wuji.
As the familiar aroma of aged wine wafted toward him, Fengyun Wuji's eyes grew distant. How long had it been since his last drink? A hundred years? Two? No… over four hundred. After ascending, he had reached a state where food and drink were unnecessary, free from worldly distractions—but also stripped of many of life's pleasures.
"Never thought you'd have such refined tastes, Brother Wuji," Ximen Yibei said with bleary eyes. With a casual swipe, he retrieved two luminous cups and placed them on the table. "These I brought with me when I ascended. I rarely use them. But tonight, I'll make an exception—for you."
Fengyun Wuji glanced at the elegant cups and was secretly astounded. During ascension, when heaven and earth seemed to shatter, even keeping one's body intact was a miracle. Yet Ximen Yibei had managed to bring wine cups with him? That kind of control was truly extraordinary.
He picked up the transparent cup. Wine flowed from the jar like a spring, pouring into his cup and stopping precisely when it was full.
He drank it all in one gulp. With a sigh, Fengyun Wuji muttered, "It's been a long time since I've had such fine wine. I wonder where you found it."
All who ascended to the Primordial Realm were ancient beings. By age alone, most could be considered Fengyun Wuji's elders. But since Ximen Yibei called him "Brother Wuji," he gladly returned the gesture, and the bond between them grew that much closer.
"These were gifts... from friends I had before ascension," Ximen Yibei replied calmly, though Fengyun Wuji detected a subtle tremor in his voice.
"Then… where are they now?"
Ximen Yibei said nothing. He grabbed the jar and drank deeply. After a long silence, he wiped the wine from his lips, seized his sword, and stepped outside.
"They're all gone. All of them—gone! I ascended… but they… they died! Brother Lu… Brother Hua…" His anguished cries echoed from beyond the ice chamber.
Fengyun Wuji let out a heavy sigh. He took the jar and drank deeply, draining it in one go. A long pause later, he exhaled softly. "At least… you once had friends. I… never had any to begin with…"
He rose to his feet and walked out. At the threshold of the ice kiln, he saw Ximen Yibei standing tall in the snow, head lifted toward the heavens. His white robe billowed in the wind. Without any visible movement, thousands of streams of sword energy burst forth from his right wrist, fanning out to blast the surrounding snow into the air. A few hundred meters away, a towering ice cliff suddenly collapsed with a thunderous crash, sending avalanches tumbling down its face.
Fengyun Wuji's eyes stayed locked on Ximen Yibei's hand. No matter how hard he tried, he could only see the hand resting still on the sword hilt. Not even a tremor—just the faintest illusion of motion in a fleeting moment.
A storm raged in Fengyun Wuji's heart. Four hundred years ago, when they first met, he had already known Ximen Yibei's sword was unparalleled. But now, seeing him again, he realized he had still underestimated him. The stronger he became, the more he grasped just how utterly formidable Ximen Yibei truly was.
Within a hundred meters, Fengyun Wuji wasn't sure he could escape alive if Ximen Yibei chose to draw his blade.
"Brother Lu… Brother Hua…" Ximen Yibei murmured again, pouring the wine from his luminous cup onto the snow.
Fengyun Wuji understood—he was mourning the friends who had perished in the mortal realm.
"I've heard about your situation," Ximen Yibei said, his voice suddenly calm again, the anguish from moments ago completely gone.
Fengyun Wuji looked up, surprised. Ximen Yibei sighed. "It took me a thousand years after ascension to tear open the barrier and return to my old plane. I knew they were probably gone, but seeing it with my own eyes… it was a pain words cannot express. The people here in the Primordial Realm are cold, unfeeling—nothing like the world before. If not for the fact that everyone I knew is gone, I would never have chosen to stay here."
Fengyun Wuji nodded. "Since you've heard about the rise and fall of the Sword Domain, and understand its founding purpose, I won't repeat myself. What I ask… is for you to join us. Even if only in name—as an Elder, or any role. I simply hope you'll help me build a haven for all sword cultivators."
"If that's all," Ximen Yibei replied coolly, "then I'm afraid I cannot help you. You'll need to seek someone else." With a light tap of his foot, he walked past Fengyun Wuji.
"…I also hope to change this world," Fengyun Wuji said behind him. "The humans of this Primordial Realm—they've fallen too far. I want to bring them hope. I want my disciples to stop dying in vain. I want other warriors to no longer be torn from those they love."
Ximen Yibei paused mid-step, suspended in midair. After a long silence, he sighed.
"Go find someone named Sword Demon—Dugu Wushang. If you can convince him to join… then with him and me both, perhaps the Sword Domain truly can rise."
With that, he turned and stepped back into the cold, dark ice chamber.
"Sword Demon… Dugu Wushang…" Fengyun Wuji murmured, then smiled. He turned and strode away, joy rising in his chest.
He knew—Ximen Yibei's answer, though indirect, was as good as a yes.