Chapter Eighty-Two: Stepping Over the Threshold

“It's good that you're back. Huan Zhong, give my regards to your junior brother Hui on my behalf. I’ll visit Longxiang Peak myself this afternoon; there are matters I need to discuss with him.” In front of the Lingbao Pavilion on Tianzhu Peak, Yan Dongjue’s expression was as cold and stern as ever, yet a touch of gentleness crept into his words.

“Yes, Master Uncle. I’ll go at once.” Lian Huanzhong bowed his head in salute, mounted his sword, and flew off with a piercing whistle.

“You, come with me,” Yan Dongjue said with a glance at Lin Feng, striding up toward the summit.

“Yes, Master.” Lin Feng bowed low, nearly losing his grass-woven belt in the process, and hastily readjusted it.

Yan Dongjue cast a sidelong glance, waved his hand, and said, “Go change your clothes first. Such attire is hardly appropriate. Come see me in the hall afterward.”

Lin Feng hurriedly bowed again and ran down toward his lodgings.

As Yan Dongjue ascended slowly toward the grand hall at the summit, a fleeting smile passed through his eyes.

Lin Feng dashed down the mountain in one breath. Inside his small cottage, everything was tidy; the table was spotless, as if someone cleaned it regularly. He found a set of clean clothes and hurried to Companion Moon Lake in front of the house. With a loud splash, he leapt into the water.

“I’d better not keep Master waiting, or I’ll earn another scolding.” A few quick scrubs and the mud and stench were washed away. He sprinted back up to the Hongyu Hall at the peak. Strangely, he didn’t meet a single fellow disciple along the way—the entire Tianzhu Peak was so quiet, it seemed a world apart.

“Ninth…” In the grand hall, Yan Dongjue sat upright on the dais.

“Yes, Master,” Lin Feng replied, raising his head slightly.

“How did you escape disaster?” Yan Dongjue scrutinized him, his piercing gaze forcing Lin Feng to lower his eyes again.

“My flesh was burned to a crisp, Master. I fell into an icy pool and lost consciousness. When I awoke, I was like this—I truly don’t know what happened,” Lin Feng replied softly.

“Is that so?” Yan Dongjue’s gaze blazed, as if trying to see through him. After a long silence, his expression returned to normal.

Lin Feng bowed his head even lower.

“Go back for now. Get some medicine from the Lingbao Pavilion to recover, and don’t go out causing trouble again,” Yan Dongjue said at last.

“Yes,” Lin Feng answered quietly, then suddenly recalled something and asked cautiously, “Master, is Senior Brother Qian all right?”

Yan Dongjue snorted coldly and glared at him. “Mind your own affairs, not others’. None of your senior brothers are on the mountain right now. If you need anything, come to my quarters.”

Puzzled, Lin Feng dared not ask further. He had intended to request permission to visit the Ice Cavern, but now swallowed the words. Wait, just wait, he told himself.

Snow began to fall in the mountains of Qiyun, and in the blink of an eye, another year had passed. In recent days, Lin Feng had quietly sought news everywhere, piecing together the major events that had transpired in the sect over the past three months.

The triennial Outer Sect Martial Tournament had ended. Several dark horse disciples had distinguished themselves and were selected for inner sect training. Nangong Ke, Jiang Baifeng, and others failed to make the list. Though they ranked among the top ten, the elders refused them entry—though this was a minor matter.

A master from the Nine Dragons Hall, Teng Chong, had challenged the sect, but the sect master subdued him with a single move. Yet, that very day, Teng Chong returned unharmed to the wilds, and the underlying secrets remained unknown.

Since that day, all of Tianzhu Peak’s inner disciples had gone into closed-door cultivation. Qian Cai, in particular, had been sent to the Illusive Rainbow Cavern to serve his punishment alongside Wu Zhui; both remained there, their condition unclear.

A few days ago, the newly promoted inner disciples and some experts of the Hundred Flowers Sect all left to train across the Divine Land, but Tianzhu Peak remained quiet—as if Yan Dongjue cared nothing for the sect master’s wishes.

Time passed unnoticed in the mountains. As the year drew to a close, Tianzhu Peak remained as tranquil as ever. Lin Feng, having made little progress in his cultivation, resolved to leave the mountain and put his suspicions to the test.

Yan Dongjue’s residence was not far from the disciples’. Lin Feng revealed his plan, anxiously awaiting his master’s verdict.

“You wish to use the power of the cold to assist your cultivation? There’s no need to leave the mountain. I’ll inform your martial aunt. Come to the hall tomorrow,” said Yan Dongjue after a careful look, waving his hand to dismiss him.

Lin Feng bowed and withdrew.

Early the next morning, he waited quietly in Hongyu Hall for Yan Dongjue to arrive. As the sun rose, slanting rays of light scattered warmth across the stone slabs.

Outside the hall, two voices conversed softly, approaching. Lin Feng recognized one as his master’s; the other, a woman’s, sounded vaguely familiar.

“Come greet your martial aunt!” Yan Dongjue called sharply.

Startled, Lin Feng turned to see the peerless Lady of the Hibiscus. She was smiling gently, her bright eyes resting on him.

“Disciple Lin Feng pays his respects to Martial Aunt,” he said, bowing deeply.

“No need for formality—there’s no one else here. I hear you wish to enter the Azure Chill Cavern for training. Are you certain of this?” Qin Menglan asked with a smile.

“Yes, Martial Aunt,” Lin Feng replied without hesitation.

Qin Menglan studied him, then glanced back at Yan Dongjue with a smile. “The Azure Chill Cavern’s cold and wind are not for the faint of heart, but it seems you’re confident. Still, you must be well prepared.”

Lin Feng’s heart sank—his master had said nothing of the cavern’s dangers. But since the words were spoken, there was no taking them back.

“Junior Sister, this boy has luck on his side. He survived Teng Chong’s hands, so the Azure Chill Cavern is hardly worth worrying over. Take him,” Yan Dongjue said.

“Very well, as you wish. Nephew, come with me.” Qin Menglan raised her slender hand, and a pink hibiscus blossom unfurled, growing larger and larger until it hovered before them. The two stepped onto it. As they were about to depart, Yan Dongjue’s hand flashed and pressed a jade bottle into Lin Feng’s palm.

“Nephew, stand firm,” Qin Menglan gently reminded. The hibiscus shone with light, shrinking rapidly until, in a blink, both had vanished from the hall.

The world suddenly expanded before his eyes, then contracted into infinity—a dreamlike transition. Regaining his senses, Lin Feng found himself in a new world.

Everywhere he looked was a glowing blue-green: rocks, icicles, even the air shimmered with azure light. The bone-piercing cold invaded every pore, and his teeth chattered uncontrollably.

“This is the Azure Chill Cavern. If you can’t endure it, crush this petal and I will come to fetch you,” Qin Menglan told him.

“Thank you… Martial Aunt.” Lin Feng accepted the pure white petal, striving to keep his voice steady.

Qin Menglan smiled gently, then her figure faded away.

No sooner had the Lady of the Hibiscus departed than Lin Feng could not help but cry out. His breath turned instantly to frost, falling in shards upon the cavern stone.

His clothes, layer by layer, crumbled from the outside in, and fell in tatters. His brows and hair stiffened like iron, his skin threatening to crack apart. The Azure Chill Cavern was even colder than the Ice Cavern he remembered.

“The elixir, Master’s elixir!” He hurriedly opened his palm, staring at the small red jade bottle. It radiated a faint warmth, but just as he was about to open it, he paused. No, if he used it to ward off the cold, how could he liquefy his spiritual energy? The trip would be wasted.

Clutching the bottle, he sat down. Instantly, the chill from the stone beneath seeped into him, numbing his legs. He gathered his strength, fighting the cold with fire—ready to test the wild idea he’d long harbored.

From his palm, the Earth Azure Flame streamed forth, and the surrounding temperature soared. His limbs thawed, and he took a relieved breath, bracing himself for the danger ahead.

But the simple fire-guiding technique devoured his spiritual power at an alarming rate—this was Earth Azure Flame, not ordinary red fire. As the blazing flames faded, cold sweat beaded his brow, only to freeze and shatter away.

His spiritual energy was soon depleted; the flame on his fingertip extinguished. The cavern’s chill surged back. He activated the Longevity Art, letting a wisp of energy circulate and settle in his dantian, then guided this faint power into the labor palace at his right palm, exposing it to the cavern’s frost.

But with no energy to sustain him, even his Sun Physique—far hardier than most—could not resist the millennial chill. This was a gamble with his life.

Half his body went numb; his blood slowed, his mind grew dull—the signs of impending unconsciousness, of freezing to death.

“No, if I hold out any longer, I’ll die here…” His left forefinger pressed the fiery red bottle, about to uncork it, when suddenly, a cool current surged through his senses like rivers flowing into the sea. The cavern, the rocks, the chill—all pulsed with life, no longer dead or unbearably cold. In his palm, his spiritual energy had condensed into a single droplet, which seeped into his meridians and spread through his body.

The seemingly insurmountable barrier at the foundation-building stage was finally shattered by courage and wisdom.

“I did it!” He moved slowly, tucked the little bottle safely inside his clothes, and stood up, unable to restrain his joy.

Peering through the veils of misty cold, confidence bloomed on his face.

At Hibiscus Peak, on the Tidal Sound Terrace—one of the Hundred Flowers Sect’s most enchanting pavilions—one could, at night, hear the roar of imaginary tides, as if standing at the very edge of the sea, stirring boundless ambition and broadening the heart. At this moment, Qin Menglan, dressed in flowing pink gauze, wandered the terrace like a celestial maiden, holding a lily petal between her fingers.

“It’s been five days, and he’s still enduring…” A trace of worry crossed her face. Just then, the petal in her hand withered away. Her eyes flashed; in an instant, her figure vanished from the Tidal Sound Terrace.