The pale sun filtered through high clouds, casting soft golden beams over the valley's jagged peaks and shadowy ravines. A gentle wind swept across the stone outcrop where Mike sat, his body faintly trembling as he opened his eyes. Cold air clung to his skin not the chill of wind, but something deeper, something… alive.
Jian Dao was already standing nearby, his arms crossed, his gaze fixed on Mike. "Show me your flame," he said calmly, though his voice carried a weight of curiosity and concern.
Mike raised his hand slowly.
With a focused breath, he summoned it.
A flicker.
Then a blaze.
But this was no ordinary fire.
White.
Silent.
Deadly.
The Ice Snake Flame coiled up his arm like a living spirit, wrapping him in a cold, radiant aura. The temperature around them dropped in an instant. Frost bloomed across the grass at Mike's feet. Tiny shards of ice began forming midair and drifted down like snowflakes.
Even the light dimmed.
Jian Dao narrowed his eyes. "So… it really happened."
Mike stared at his own flame in disbelief. "Master… it changed. My Sea Snake Flame it's turned into this. And my body it's like it's part of the flame now."
A ghostly gleam shone in Mike's eyes. For a moment, white fire danced along his lashes, and the faint outline of a crystal serpent flickered across his shoulders, curled protectively.
"This is incredible," he murmured. "But dangerous, too. I don't think I should use it carelessly."
"You're right," Jian Dao replied, his expression serious. "This isn't just a mutation. It's a transformation flame. Very rare. Very powerful. Few cultivators ever encounter one in their lives."
Mike looked up. "Master… can I still use my old flame?"
"Of course," Jian Dao nodded. "This doesn't erase what you had it adds to it. The Sea Snake Flame still flows in you. But now, when one fails, the other can take its place. Like light and shadow balance."
Mike's brows furrowed. "How many flames… are out there in the world?"
Jian Dao gave a faint chuckle, eyes drifting toward the mountains in the distance. "More than anyone can count. Your old mentor Huang Lie spoke the basics low-rank, mid-rank, high-rank flames. But those are categories, not limits. New flames are discovered constantly. Some are born of heaven. Some from ancient beasts. Others… from pain, war, betrayal."
Mike lowered his flame. The temperature rose slightly, and the frozen air softened.
"What now, Master? What's our next path?"
Jian Dao's tone turned grave. "Before anything else, listen carefully. This technique you just unlocked Frostgrave Doomsway is not just rare. It's secret. It's the most forbidden art from the ancient Ice Valley. Never reveal it in public. Same goes for future techniques."
Mike's face darkened. "Why? If I earned it, why hide it?"
"Because they won't believe you earned it," Jian Dao said quietly. "They'll see you as a thief. A grave-robber. A false cultivator who steals from families, clans, sects. Someone who climbed on the dead just to rise."
Mike went silent for a while.
"Then… what makes me any different from those false cultivators?"
Jian Dao stepped closer, placing a hand on his shoulder. "One thing, Mike. Existence. You're still here, not for greed or conquest but survival. You carry your pain. That makes the difference."
Mike exhaled slowly, a quiet fire in his eyes. "If it's about existence, then so be it. I'll carve mine into the world."
Jian Dao smirked. "Well said. Now come. It's time. We head to the Death-and-Life Competition."
Mike straightened up. "Let's go."
Two Days Later…
Wind howled between the cliffs as they soared through the dusk. The Mountain Valley rolled beneath them an ancient wilderness of ridges, valleys, and snow-dusted slopes. Mike's eyes were heavy from lack of sleep, his limbs aching.
"Master," he said, panting slightly, "we've been flying for two days straight. Shouldn't we rest a while?"
Jian Dao didn't stop. "No. Not yet. This place isn't safe enough to sleep at night."
Mike groaned. "Then tell me something at least. How can you fly without wings?"
Jian Dao finally glanced back. "Because I've broken through to the Jing Ying Rank. Once you reach it, you don't need wings. You command the air."
Mike blinked, impressed. "Then I'll keep climbing. My current rank is Dou Ba… 2-star."
"Good," Jian Dao replied, "you're progressing fast. Keep sharpening yourself."
Suddenly, he stopped midair.
"Quiet," he said sharply. "Descend now. Put on these cloaks and masks."
Mike obeyed instantly, landing beside Jian Dao in a thicket of dry brush near a rocky ledge.
Below them, through scattered trees, they saw it a battle.
On a wide, open plateau flanked by cliffs, two large groups were clashing with violent force. Dust billowed from the ground. Swords gleamed. Cultivators roared as they hurled fire, wind, and earth techniques at one another. The ground was stained with blood, and the corpses of fallen cultivators lay broken between the chaos.
Mike crouched low. "Master… who are they?"
Jian Dao's eyes narrowed. "Those are the Mountain Valley Families. I didn't expect to see them still here."
"You said this place was empty."
"I thought it was. But clearly, something's changed."
Below, the two groups pressed harder into combat until, suddenly, two powerful auras surged across the battlefield. The chaos stilled.
Two figures emerged.
Each radiated immense power.
One wore flowing silver robes with a white serpent coiled around his shoulders the Mangshi Family Chief.
The second stood firm in lightning-marked armor the Zhenlei Family Chief, eyes sharp like a blade.
These two turned sharply, looking toward the cliff where Mike and Jian Dao hid.
Then the Mangshi Chief's voice rang out, calm but cold.
"You can come out now. There's no point hiding. We sensed you the moment you arrived."
Mike's breath caught.
He looked at Jian Dao, eyes wide. "Master… how do they know we're here?"
Jian Dao didn't answer.
His lips pressed into a tight line, gaze locked on the three figures below.