“…Lord Hyun Seolrin… surely, you’re not…?”

“Yes. We are currently going against the fundamental nature of the Snow Mountain.”

Hyunshim ran a hand down his face.

This was a direction of thought no one had ever considered.

“So… you’re saying they failed to find the treasure precisely because they were too powerful?”

Unhwi nodded.

“‘The true meaning lies buried in the white snow’—this may not simply mean something is hidden in the snow.”

Unhwi slowly stopped circulating his internal energy. Immediately, the wind cold enough to slice flesh began piercing through his body.

Hyunshim shouted in alarm.

“Lord Hyun Seolrin! This is dangerous!”

“I’ll be fine.”

Even in the short moment it took to speak, Unhwi’s body was gradually freezing over—but still, he made no move to raise his internal energy.

“It’s a treasure no one has ever found. As time passed, it was dismissed as legend and everyone gave up looking, but when I cleaved through the Snow Mountain, I realized it. The treasure is real.”

“…Wait… you cleaved the Snow Mountain…?”

He had no intention of explaining.

Through clenched teeth, he spoke calmly.

“There is no phenomenon in this world without a reason. If the value of the treasure surpasses even that of divine relics from the ages, then of course the way to discover it must be extraordinary. If it were easy to find, would it still be called a treasure?”

Unhwi’s skin began turning blue. His breathing grew slower. Though his consciousness was growing faint, he opened all his senses to feel the Snow Mountain.

He couldn’t breathe. His lungs felt frozen. More unbearable than the cold of his body was the thinness of the air. For a person without protection from internal energy, this altitude was death itself.

The wound on his right hand worsened, and now even sensation began to fade.

Hyunshim, who had resolved to just watch for now, shouted with a pale face.

“You’ll die like this!”

He rushed over to inject energy into him, but Unhwi raised his arm to block him.

“Don’t.”

“…Lord Hyun Seolrin…!”

Even Hyunshim’s voice could no longer reach Unhwi’s ears. His consciousness began to blur. His body shivered uncontrollably… and then even that stopped. It was so cold, he could no longer even feel the cold.

And then—

The world before his eyes began to change.

Within the swirling white blizzard, strands of blue light came into view.

At first, they were faint, but gradually, they became more distinct.

“…Ice-Snow Qi (氷雪之氣)…”

A type of natural energy—but a primordial force that had dwelled in this Snow Mountain since the beginning.

Whether the Northern Sea Ice Palace or the Eternal Snow Palace—the term used to describe the mountain’s essence had never once changed.

In the moment when his body was freezing over, Unhwi’s soul became one with the mountain.

He saw it.

Not with his eyes, but with his entire being.

The Ice-Snow Qi enveloped the entirety of the great Snow Mountain.

It was a flow that could not be sensed through internal energy, natural force, or even heavenly energy.

It could only be seen by a human who had cast aside everything—and paradoxically, only by one who had understood everything.

Unhwi began to follow those strands. His consciousness drifted out from his body and swam through the white snow.

It was an experience like no other.

Even Unhwi, who had reached the realm of Sole Origin in his past life, felt it to be extraordinary.

His body remained on the Snow Mountain, but his spirit moved through another world…

It was like a separation of body and soul.

With the sight of his soul, Unhwi followed the current of Ice-Snow Qi.

It drew lines, circulating throughout the entire mountain—and naturally, it converged on a location about three ri from the summit.

It was very likely that this was the true summit of the Eternal Snow Palace before the Millennium Calamity.

Even though the mountain was high and three ri wasn’t a great distance, the way the flow converged there seemed to directly reflect the true meaning of the phrase, “The true meaning lies buried in the white snow.”

The current soon began burrowing downward—piercing through the mountain and tunneling deep into its core.

Unhwi’s consciousness, teetering on the edge of life and death, reached the heart of the mountain.

And there, he found—

‘…A cave…?’

No matter how you looked at it, it was a man-made cave.

Located in the dead center of the massive Snow Mountain, this space had been created intentionally. But how?

It was near impossible to dig all the way to the mountain’s core in this harsh climate.

And this wasn’t just digging—it was hollowing out an inner space.

Just as his spirit became fixed within that confined, clearly artificial place—

A dazzling blue light flooded the world.

Reality tilted—and in the next moment, Unhwi realized he was now standing in a completely different place.

A round chamber with crystal walls glowing with a radiant blue hue. Here, Unhwi’s body no longer froze—in fact, he felt a gentle warmth.

It was truly a strange phenomenon.

In all his life, nothing had ever been like this.

The cave he’d just seen with the eyes of his soul—this was it, without a doubt.

He looked down at his right hand.

The pain was still there. Though the warmth had somewhat eased it, the chill he’d just experienced still lingered.

This was definitely reality.

He had found it.

The legend.

***

He looked around.

The cave was enormous. The ceiling soared so high it was impossible to guess its height, and the walls were covered with intricate carvings, as though shaped by a master artisan.

…Could this really be?

It was an unbelievable phenomenon.

His soul and body had clearly separated.

His body had remained on °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° the summit of the Snow Mountain, while his soul had followed a path someone had laid out.

And now, his physical body had been transported into the space he saw as a soul.

That was easier said than done—in truth, it bordered on the impossible.

What kind of knowledge would one need to make such a thing possible?

At a minimum, one would have to start from the level of Sole Origin.

This wasn’t just about martial rank—it was about knowledge.

He drew his sword.

He had reached the realm of Sole Origin as a swordsman, and in the matter of the sword, he surpassed everyone below him.

That wasn’t arrogance or pride. It was fact.

He had acquired knowledge in other fields as well—but not to the level of Sole Origin. One could be whole, but never perfect.

The phenomenon he had just experienced resembled a kind of formation technique.

Which meant the knowledge behind this formation had to be at least Sole Origin—and the power required to cast it would have to match the pre-Calamity peak of the Innate Three Realms.

That was what made it strange.

The founder of the Eternal Snow Palace, Seol Heun, had been the last lord of the Northern Sea Ice Palace—and his realm had been ‘Sole Origin.’

This could be confirmed by looking through Eternal Snow Palace’s history and the scattered traces of him in the world.

During the Millennium Calamity, Seol Heun had withdrawn from the battlefield, returned to the Snow Mountain, and founded the Eternal Snow Palace.

It was said that after laying the foundation, he passed away at the summit of the Eternal Snow Mountain.

And yet—

Even with all known information, this formation could not be explained.

He wiped his face with his left hand.

Even so, if he had to draw a conclusion, there were three possibilities.

The first—someone from the Innate Three Realms had been with Seol Heun.

The second—the person who created this space was not Seol Heun.

The third—the known information about Seol Heun was wrong.

Personally, he found the third option most likely.

That Seol Heun had in fact been a master of the Innate Three Realms—and had created this place with a specific intent.

And had made detailed preparations so that only his bloodline from the Snow Palace could notice it.

No matter how he looked at it, the third seemed the most likely.

In that case, what had Seol Heun left behind?

Was the thing in this place the same jewel that had returned him to the past?

Whatever it was, this cave was anything but ordinary.

Something was definitely here—and Unhwi’s gaze fell on a small table at the center of the cave, upon which rested two books.

He slowly walked forward.

Neither of the books had a title.

As though frozen in time, they looked as if they’d just been written moments ago.

It was unusual in many ways.

He silently picked one up.

It was relatively thin—but what could be written inside?

He opened it.

—

To my descendant,

If you have found this cave, then you are surely of my bloodline.

This jewel, named Heaven-Earth Primal Reflection, is the final secret of the Millennium Demon Cult, and the only hope the Northern Sea Ice Palace preserved through the devastation of the Millennium Calamity.

You already know.

The Calamity came with an unbearable cost.

Countless lives were lost. The very order of Murim crumbled. This jewel is the only key that can correct it all.

I do not know how you will use it—but you must never let it fall into their hands.

The descendants of the Millennium Demon Cult, the traitors of the Martial Alliance, the rebels of the great sects—

Never reveal the existence of this jewel to any of them.

You must understand: this is not a simple tool. It is the medium of the primal wish of Heaven and Earth, crossing both time and space.

Only one can exist in this world. Once used, it can exist nowhere else.

It is the source of power that forms the root of the Millennium Demon Cult—and the final bastion they vowed to protect.

If you are truly my descendant, you will recognize the truth of this power.

Read the breath of the Snow Mountain, descendant of mine who possesses both purity and clarity of mind.

I ask of you—make the right choice.

—

It contained so much.

There are said to be three divine relics of the Millennium Demon Cult:

The Heavenly Demon Sword,

The Heavenly Demon Art,

And Heaven-Earth Primal Reflection.

The true nature of the Primal Reflection was never known. Some called it a weapon, others a scripture, still others merely referred to it as the teachings of the Heavenly Demon Cult.

And a rare few claimed it would take the form of a jewel.

They were right.

Heaven-Earth Primal Reflection was a jewel.

He glanced to the side.

Between the two books on the small table, there was something like a pedestal.

Judging by the size of the empty mount, what had once rested there was about half the size of a grown man’s fist—not much larger.

Thinking back carefully, it was almost identical in size to the jewel that had embedded in his heart just before he died.

He stroked his chin.

The monk Goseung had called him a “previous lifer.”

Why not a regressor, but a previous lifer?

He had thought about half a year had passed since he cleaved the Snow Mountain and died.

But if he truly was a “previous lifer,” then that timeline was wrong.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep