Zixi sits upright on his horse, reins loose in his gloved hands.

Morning sunlight spreads across the snowfields, reflecting softly into his closed eyes.

He breathes in the crisp air and lets his mind drift inward.

The thirty-six basic sword techniques of the Duan Family circulate through his thoughts.

Every stance.

Every transition.

Every angle of entry and withdrawal.

He has mastered them completely.

He could easily request a higher-level sword art from the Marquis.

But something else stirs within him.

During the battle with the Red Boar Tribe, he absorbed more than just their movements.

The heavy sword technique,

Brutal.

Direct.

Mountain-like in momentum.

What if…

He merges them?

The fluid precision of Duan techniques.

With the crushing weight of the Red Boar’s heavy blade.

Not copying.

Not borrowing.

Creating.

A sword technique of his own.

His mind simulates movements.

A rising diagonal slash transitions into a downward crushing arc.

A feint from the thirty-six forms leading into a heavy momentum cleave.

Violet qi is rotating differently.

Less sharp.

More compressed.

He sits motionless in the saddle, lost in the structure of a sword that does not yet exist.

Suddenly,

His shoulder jolts.

He opens his eyes sharply.

One of his team members stands beside his horse.

“Captain, a convoy is approaching.”

Zixi looks south.

At first, only shapes against white.

Then,

With his enhanced Outer Qi vision, details sharpen.

Imperial Guard uniforms.

Carriages.

Ordered formation.

The princess convoy.

He straightens in the saddle.

“To horse. We meet them.”

He tugs the reins.

His horse surges forward.

Snow sprays behind.

His guards follow in disciplined formation.

They approach and halt at a respectful distance.

From the imperial side, a guard shouts.

“Who goes there?”

Zixi answers steadily.

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“I am captain of the Duan Family guard. Are you escorting the princess?”

The imperial guard narrows his gaze.

“What proof do you have?”

Zixi reaches into his space bag and retrieves the Duan Family token.

He holds it out.

The imperial guard rides forward, takes it, and returns to one of the central carriages.

Moments pass.

Snow falls lightly.

Then the guard returns and hands the token back.

“We will follow you.”

Zixi nods once.

He turns his horse.

His team leads.

The convoy follows behind.

The journey continues northward.

An hour passes.

The sky darkens prematurely.

Snow begins falling more heavily.

Zixi raises a hand sharply.

“Stop.”

The column halts.

He turns in the saddle.

“We make camp here.”

His guards move efficiently.

Tents are raised.

Fires are lit.

Horses are secured.

The imperial convoy sets up nearby.

Night deepens.

Far away,

In Songji City,

The sun has already set.

Lanterns glow in streets and inns.

Citizens gather to drink and talk.

They speak of the upcoming marriage between the Duan Family and the Royal Family.

The ceremony will not be held in the capital, but in a northern border town.

Yet on that same day, a ritual blessing will take place at Lotus Temple.

The entire city was invited to feast.

Excitement fills the air.

Amid the chatter,

A cloaked figure rises quietly from a corner table.

He pays the innkeeper without a word.

Shi Yang.

He now knows where Xingli is.

Four days remain before the wedding.

He must reach her first.

He steps out of the inn.

The capital gates remain open.

Outside the city walls,

He vanishes from sight.

Rising into the night sky like a streaking meteor.

Heading north.

Back at the camp,

Hours later,

Zixi sits near a fire with his team.

Tents stand behind them in the falling snow.

They speak quietly of the war.

Of the Red Boar Tribe.

Of tomorrow’s possible battles.

A woman approaches through the firelight.

She bows slightly.

“Captain Zixi. Elder Mu requests your presence.”

The fire crackles softly.

Snow continues to fall.

Zixi rises slowly.

And follows her into the night.

Zixi walks through the camp slowly, boots crunching over snow hardened by frost.

Fires burn low between tents.

Imperial guards and Duan Family soldiers keep a respectful distance as he approaches the central carriage.

The carriage is larger than the others, decorated modestly but unmistakably royal.

Outside, there stands a beautiful middle-aged woman.

Her posture is upright.

Her presence is calm.

Her aura merges so seamlessly with the surroundings that an ordinary warrior would sense nothing unusual.

But Zixi feels it.

Fourth Stage Spiritual Refiner.

She must be Elder Mu.

Elder Mu inclines her head slightly.

Zixi nods in return.

He does not bow.

Though his status is lower by origin, he is now an Outer Qi warrior.

Cultivation reshapes hierarchy.

Elder Mu speaks first.

“Why is the war happening?”

Zixi answers plainly.

“The Marquis subdued six tribes, gathered them under his authority, and established a city. Some tribes did not accept this and attacked.”

The carriage curtain shifts.

A young woman lifts it slightly.

“So the war happened because of the Marquis.”

Zixi remains composed.

“The war was inevitable. The Marquis only moved the battlefield to their territory instead of letting it descend upon ours.”

Another female voice joins from inside.

“Could the Marquis not wait until after marrying the Princess? Or does he not care about the marriage?”

Zixi smiles faintly.

“The Marquis loves the people of the kingdom. He did not wish them to suffer the consequences of delay. The campaign plan was set in motion long before the marriage was decided.”

He glances toward the carriage as he continues.

“The wedding did not alter his strategy.”

Elder Mu nods slightly.

“Very well. But can the Lord guarantee victory?”

Zixi’s gaze sharpens.

“Do not worry. We will win. Perhaps the wedding celebration will coincide with the celebration of war’s end.”

Elder Mu studies him.

“How many tribes are involved in this attack?”

“Three,” Zixi answers. “The Raven Tribe. The Red Boar Tribe. And the Snow Moth Tribe.”

Elder Mu nods again.

Silence lingers in the cold air.

Snow drifts lazily downward.

After waiting respectfully for further questions, Zixi speaks.

“Princess, I shall take my leave.”

He directs the words toward the carriage.

Elder Mu answers, “You may go.”

Zixi turns,

But before he can leave, another question comes from inside.

“What happened to your First Lady?”

Zixi pauses only a moment.

He smiles faintly.

“That is not your concern. But I can say only this, the First Lady is safe and well.”

He does not wait for a response.

He walks back into the camp.

The next morning,

Snow blankets the road more thickly.

Zixi rides at the front, leading the convoy through winding mountain paths.

Snow-covered peaks rise on either side.

Frozen rivers cut through valleys like glass.

Rocky outcrops jut from white slopes.

Wind whistles across open ridges.

They crest a small hill.

From its summit,

The city comes into view.

Floating upon the lake.

Stone walls rising from the frozen waters.

Beyond it,

Two armies stand facing one another across the snowfield.

Zixi frowns slightly.

Several hours have passed since dawn.

Yet the battle has not begun.

He senses tension.

Confusion ripples through the convoy.

Elder Mu steps out of the carriage.

She lifts a hand and points upward.

Zixi follows her gesture.

Two small figures hover high in the sky.

He narrows his eyes.

His Outer Qi vision focuses sharply.

The world zooms inward.

He sees clearly.

One of the figures,

The Marquis.

The other,

A northern mountain tribe warrior.

Their auras clash invisibly across the sky.

Pressure radiates downward.

Even from this distance, Zixi feels the weight of it pressing against his chest.

Elder Mu’s spiritual senses probe deeper.

“The northern mountain tribe warrior is half-step Origin Seal Stage.”

The carriage door opens fully now.

Song Xingli steps down.

Mu Qiuran and Shi Yinli follow.

They all look upward.

The sky seems divided by an invisible force.

Merin stands at the peak Outer Qi Realm,

Yet his aura does not waver.

Mu Qiuran speaks softly.

“Can he defeat someone of higher cultivation?”

No one answers.

Wind rushes suddenly across the hill.

Above,

The two figures move.

They collide.

A shockwave tears through the sky.

Clouds rupture outward.

A violent burst of wind slams into the hillside.

Snow whips around them in spirals.

The battle has begun.

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