The search resumed at dawn.
The forest stretched endlessly, coverd with white snow. Frost clung to branches like veins of glass. Each breath from the disciples turned into mist that drifted upward, vanishing before it reached the canopy.
They dug through frozen soil, shattered thin layers of ice, and brushed aside snow crusts that hid the faint scent of spiritual essence. Their hands were red from the cold, their eyes sunken from sleepless nights.
Fu Yang, however, moved differently.
While others worked in rigid lines under their leaders watch, he wandered among the trees, hands behind his back, his expression calm, his gaze sweeping lazily across the landscape.
The others who saw fu yang were a bit angry because they were working hard, but after how he beat down shi tian no one had the courage to even talk with him.
They simply ignored him. And he also didn't cared.
Three days slipped by like that.
---
No investigation had ever been made. Chen Hua still lay in the medicine hall, for rehabilitation.The disciples continued their search every day, yet the came empty handed—no sign of the spiritual frogs.
In the hall Bai Nian sat at the center table. Scrolls, ink pots, and half-filled reports covered the desk before him. Around him were the elders—faces stern and voices low.
Bai Nian leaned back, rubbing his temples. "How long has it been since we began this madness?"
Xiang Xi's tone was heavy as he replied
"5 days. We've scoured half the mountain, but not even a single frog's trace."
"Three days…" Bai Nian exhaled, his breath trembling. "Haaah… things are getting out of hand now. Without the treasures and important things stored within those frogs, our clan's foundation won't last another decade."
Silence thickened the air. The soft hiss of burning incense was the only sound in the hall.
At last, Rion Yan—his face calm but his eyes sharp—spoke. "Continue the digging. Clear the entire cave. If, even after that, you still find nothing…"
He paused, his gaze cutting through the smoke like a blade. "My offer still stands."
The room chilled further, though no wind had entered.
The elders exchanged uneasy glances. They all knew what that offer meant—a loan from the Yan Clan.
Rion Yan had proposed it before the winter came. The elders had refused then, believing the frogs would be found soon. But now…
Their expressions darkened. The loan wasn't the problem—the condition attached to it was. If the Nian clan failed to repay within the time given the Yan Clan would gain authority over the Nian clan, and will be the one to decide what will happen and with this their positions will be threatened. And they also had to give the authority over deciples to them.
To hand over disciples was to hand over the future.
Yet no one spoke. Their silence was answer enough.
Outside, snow continued to fall softly, covering the roofs and courtyards in quiet resignation.
---
Fu Yang returned from the forest that evening. He ate in silence, seated among noisy disciples who spoke of failure and rumors.
When he finished, he rose without a word and walked to his small room. It was dim, a single oil lamp trembling on the desk. He sat by the window and stared at the black sky, he than layed on his bed to rest.
Midnight arrived quietly.
No moon. Only a thousand cold stars above the snow-covered world.
Fu Yang stood, put on his cloak, and drew the hood low over his face. He opened the door—its creak swallowed by the wind—and stepped outside.
The academy grounds were still, only a few guards half-asleep by the gates. He walked past them.
---
He crossed the frozen road until he reached the outskirts of the market. There stood an old, half-burned bamboo building. Snow covering the whole.
Fu Yang made his way to the back, and walking a bit, he saw an old tree rose tall, its trunk scarred by lightning. A hole yawned on its top.
He climbed the tree and putting his right hand Inside the hole he grabbed the three small spiritual frogs—motionless, their bodies glowing faintly.
Fu Yang reached in, his fingers brushing against their cold, damp skin. He lifted them gently, placing them inside a small woven pouch.
"Still alive. Good."
He tied the pouch securely, then looked once toward the distant lights of Academy.
With that, he turned and left towards the market.
---
The market streets were empty, buried under layers of snow. Lanterns had long burned out, leaving only the whisper of wind. Fu Yang's cloak fluttered behind him as he walked, his shadow merging with darkness.
At the center of the square stood the statue of the God of Mercy—a towering stone figure carved long ago, now worn by time. Snow gathered around its feet, untouched.
Fu Yang stopped before it.
He had thought long about this place. A public shrine, constantly surrounded by merchants and townsfolk during the day—perfect for hiding what no one should ever find.
But another thought gnawed at him.
"Should I hide all three here… or keep one for?"
He closed his eyes briefly, considering. The frogs were priceless; each contained a concentrated essence that couldvhelp him in future.
But At last, he decided.
Two would stay here. One—he would deliver personally.
Without wasting time, Fu Yang knelt before the statue. His hands pressed against its base—solid stone carved by mortal hands, seven and a half chi tall, but for him, it weighed little. He pushed it aside with quiet strength.
Snow scattered, revealing frozen soil beneath. He dug swiftly, stopping only when the hole was deep enough to conceal the frogs. Carefully, he placed two inside, their glow fading as he covered them with snow and earth.
Then he slid the statue back to its original place, aligning every crack and edge perfectly.
Fu Yang glanced around. The market remained silent, untouched by life.
No one saw.
He exhaled and turned away, the last frog still hidden in his pouch.
---
Now his path turned toward the west—toward the Mo Faction's residence.
A faint smile tugged at his lips as he ran through the snow." Hehee… this is perfect. That woman won't resist meddling once she finds it."
Fu Yang knew Mo Mi well—too well. She was beautiful, cunning, and cruel in her pettiness. She enjoyed creating trouble for others.
In his past life, she had caused too much trouble for him, all to earn favor from Li Tian.
But that was another life.
This time, Fu Yang would use her nature against her.
---
The Mo residence appeared ahead—a grand compound surrounded by high walls and tall gates. Snow covered its roof tiles like a white blanket. Dim firelight flickered from a few windows.
Fu Yang crouched near the gate and observed. Two guards stood watch on the east—one half asleep beside a brazier, the other snoring in a small side room.
He vaulted over the wall with silent ease, landing lightly on the inner path.
Rows of small houses lined the yard, and at the far end stood a two-story building beside an old storeroom. He moved toward the west side.
He entered through a half-broken window into one of the smaller buildings. Dust hung thick in the air; cobwebs brushed against his cloak. No one had cleaned this place in months.
He sat briefly on a broken chair, thinking.
"Where should I hide this?" he murmured under his breath. "Not too easy to find… not too hard either. It must draw attention, but only to the right person."
His eyes narrowed in thought.
This was his first time inside the Mo household—he didn't know its layout. But time was running short.
He stood and crossed to the storeroom door. It was locked.
Fu Yang frowned. "Tch."
He placed his hand on the cold iron latch, feeling the faint vibration of spiritual force beneath his skin. He focused, channeled strength into his fingers, and twisted.
Kachak!
The lock snapped quietly. He slipped inside and shut the door behind him.
The air reeked of old fabric and damp wood. He reached out, feeling through the darkness until his hand brushed against a pile of clothes—robes, perhaps belonging to disciples who once lived here.
A faint smirk formed on his lips. "So this used to house the Mo disciples… and now, it's abandoned because of the clan's decree. Perfect."
He took one robe, reached into the pocket, and carefully placed the frog inside. Then, he buried the robe deep beneath the others, covering it completely.
"Stay there," he whispered, straightening. "You'll find your trouble soon enough, Mo Mi."
He turned toward the door, but paused. Footsteps?
No—just wind.
Still, he moved faster, stepping out into the cold night. He noticed the broken lock on the ground, picked it up, and slipped it into his sleeve.
Outside the wall, he threw it aside into the snow, leaving only faint footprints behind.
He exhaled, long and quiet. "Haaaah… this place wasn't ideal. I left some clues, but it won't matter."
The wind carried his words away.
With one last look toward the silent Mo residence, Fu Yang pulled up his hood and vanished into the darkness, heading back toward Academy.
---
By dawn, snow had buried all traces of his visit.
The statue in the market stood serene once more.
And Fu Yang sat in his small room at the academy, sipping cold tea as if nothing had happened.