"Dust returns to dust, earth to earth. Go now—may your next life know no suffering."
Zhao Xunan's voice was soft as he pressed the hilt of his Tiangui against the man's skull. With a final breath, the figure crumbled into ash, scattering across the snow.
Turning to Zhao Ping'er, he scooped her up and strode toward the valley exit. "Don't overthink it. I'm still me—just with more… unspoken memories."
Zhao Ping'er, her face buried in his shoulder, whispered, "Master, tell me. Please."
The carriage rumbled north through the blizzard, Tiangui cleaving a path through the snow. Zhao Xunan didn't explain the truth of his past lives outright—he framed it as a "strange dream" where he'd lived a full life, one that mirrored his current path but diverged in key ways.
"High fever, unconscious for days… yet I lived a whole life in that dream. Some things align with what's to come, others… not." He paused, glancing at Zhao Ping'er. "I'm as confused as you. Like Zhuangzi dreaming of a butterfly—which reality is real?"
Zhao Ping'er's grip tightened. "So… the hot spring and spiritual herbs in your dream?"
"Mm. Without those herbs to nourish me in that life, I might've never reached the first realm of cultivation by now." His voice softened. "Even if I don't advance this time, they'll heal our meridians. Good for our practice."
"But you risked everything for a dream?"
"Call it a hunch," Zhao Xunan said, grinning. "Or… a memory."
Zhao Ping'er huffed, but her earlier fear had faded. She knew his quirks—when he got that look in his eyes, it meant he'd already made up his mind.
Days later, the world outside the carriage turned bleak. No more herbalists or hunters dotted the landscape; only endless ice and snow stretched to the horizon. They passed two barbarian tribes, both obliterated by Tiangui's blade. Zhao Ping'er watched silently, her earlier revulsion replaced by numb detachment.
"Master… why do you hate them so?" she asked finally.
"Because they're monsters," Zhao Xunan said simply. "They raid caravans, eat captives, laugh while they do it. I've seen their villages—corpses hanging from trees, children playing with bones. You think I'd let them near you?"
Zhao Ping'er looked away, her throat tight. She believed him. After all, she'd seen the scars on his body—the ones she'd tended to, the ones that ached when the weather turned cold.
Ten days later, even the rocky peaks vanished. The world was a blank canvas of white, so pure it hurt the eyes. Without supplies, they'd have perished long ago.
"Master, your 'dream' is nuts," Zhao Ping'er said, stomping her foot. "No hot spring in this frozen wasteland!"
"Then it was a dream," Zhao Xunan replied, deadpan.
"Which part was the dream? The part where I died?!"
"Stop being difficult," he chided, though his lips twitched. "You were never in danger."
"Ugh, you're impossible!" She bit his arm playfully, her anger melting into a grin. "But… I guess I trust you."
After days of travel, they reached a valley veiled in mist. Zhao Ping'er's jaw dropped as she spotted them: hot springs, gurgling amid the ice, their waters shimmering with rainbow hues. Steam curled upward, freezing into snowflakes mid-air.
"Told you," Zhao Xunan said, smiling.
They dismounted, and Zhao Ping'er rushed to a spring, stripping off her furs to wash. "A month without a bath—I smell like a skunk!"
An hour later, refreshed and in fresh clothes, they climbed a rocky slope toward a plateau where the steam was thickest.
"Smells amazing!" Zhao Ping'er said, her nose twitching. "Like… lotus flowers?"
She rounded a bend—and froze. A massive white snake coiled on the plateau, its scales glinting like ice. Its head, crowned with four massive fangs, hung low, ready to strike.
"Run!" Zhao Xunan yelled, shoving Zhao Ping'er aside. He raised Tiangui, its blade glowing golden as he channeled his cultivation.
The snake lunged. Tiangui met its jaws in a shower of sparks. The impact sent shockwaves through Zhao Xunan's arms—he'd never felt such resistance. The blade barely dented the scales.
The snake roared, thrashing. Zhao Xunan grabbed Zhao Ping'er and bolted, the beast hot on their heels. They raced down the slope, the snake's scales scraping stone as it closed the distance.
"Go!" Zhao Xunan pushed her ahead, then turned to face the beast. Tiangui flared, but the snake's hide was impenetrable.
"Master!" Zhao Ping'er screamed, watching the snake rear up, its fangs dripping venom.
Zhao Xunan's eyes narrowed. This isn't right. The snake should've been scared off by the heat—but it wasn't.
Then, a voice cut through the chaos.
"Senior Brother, who are these intruders?"
Two figures emerged from the mist: a man and a woman in snow-white robes, holding jade fans. Their auras were pure, otherworldly.
The man bowed. "Greetings, travelers. This valley belongs to our Snow Mountain Sect. May we ask your purpose here?"
Zhao Ping'er panicked. "Master, they own the hot spring!"
Zhao Xunan's grip tightened on Tiangui. "We're here for the spiritual herbs."
The woman's fan snapped open. "Impossible. These herbs are ours—"
A bolt of lightning shot from her fan, slamming into Zhao Xunan. He dodged, but the shockwave tore his robes to shreds.
This is no ordinary technique.
"Payback!" Zhao Xunan roared, charging. Tiangui blazed, and the woman's fan shattered under its edge.
The man lunged with his fan, but Zhao Xunan side-stepped, slicing the snake's vulnerable underbelly. The beast shrieked, collapsing.
"Stop!" The man yelled. "That's our sacred serpent!"
"Your 'sacred serpent' attacked us," Zhao Xunan said, cleaning his blade. "Compensation."
The man paled. "We… we'll provide herbs. Just… don't kill it."
Half an hour later, Zhao Xunan reappeared, dressed in a snow-white robe, Tiangui sheathed. The two sect members knelt before him, heads bowed.
"Our apologies, Senior Brother. We didn't recognize your power."
Zhao Xunan waved them off. "Who leads your sect?"
The man swallowed. "Snow Mountain Sect. I am Yuquan, my junior sister Yuzhen."
"Snow Mountain Sect…" Zhao Xunan's eyes flickered. One of the ten hidden sects of the Great Qin Empire. Rare, reclusive, and legendary for their ice-cultivation techniques.
"Three hundred years ago, our ancestors bored through the earth to create these hot springs," Yuzhen explained. "To grow snow lotuses, using the cold and heat to nurture them."
She gestured to the plateau. "See those ancient runes? Proof of our sect's work."
Zhao Xunan nodded. "Show me the herbs."
On the plateau, nine snow lotuses bloomed amid the steam, their petals glowing faintly. Zhao Ping'er gasped. "They're… alive!"
"Not just alive," Zhao Xunan said, plucking one. "They're alive with spiritual energy."
He turned to the sect members. "These will heal our meridians. But we need more. The next batch—when?"
Yuquan hesitated. "They take three years to mature…"
"Then we'll wait," Zhao Xunan said simply. "But in return—" He paused, grinning. "Teach us your ice-cultivation techniques. For Tiangui."
The siblings exchanged a glance. Yuzhen smiled faintly. "A fair trade, Senior Brother."
As they prepared to leave, Zhao Ping'er tugged Zhao Xunan's sleeve. "Master… what about the 'dream'?"
He glanced at the lotuses, then at her. "It's not a dream. Not entirely."
She frowned. "Then…?"
"Let's just say," he said, mounting the carriage, "some memories are too vivid to be lies."
And with that, they vanished into the blizzard, Tiangui humming softly, as if in agreement.