"Oops… slippery stairs," Athlaea muttered, flicking a speck of blood off her toes. "They really should clean better."

"…"

The entire chamber fell into suffocating silence.

Even the ghostly wind circling the staircase seemed to stop.

Then, her eyes gently shifted.

Two figures had just entered, the moment Athlaea recognized Wang Xiao, her back straightened instantly. The lazy arrogance vanished.

She forced a smile, the kind a child makes after breaking an ancestral vase.

"Ah…" she said carefully, voice far softer than before. "That one slipped on his own."

She was genuinely terrified of this man.

Wang Xiao was unpredictable.

Athlaea had faced Immortals, Kings, and even beings rumored to have brushed the fate, but this man? He didn't operate within logic.

If he decided to punish her on a whim, she wouldn't even know when to start crying.

Fortunately for her, he wasn't looking at the stairs.

He wasn't even looking at the corpse-mist.

His gaze was elsewhere.

An invisible force spread outward from Wang Xiao like a silent tide.

His senses enveloped the entire Frostfall Pagoda.

Every brick.

Every inscription.

Every hidden energy node.

To hide from that perception was akin to evading the gaze of Heaven itself.

The chamber they stood in was no ordinary hall. It was a spatially folded artifact, an internal world forged by the ancestors of Frostfall City.

From the outside, the pagoda looked tall.

From the inside, it was endless.

The staircase spiraled upward into mist that never thinned.

Yet Wang Xiao's awareness did not travel upward.

It moved sideways.

Backward.

Toward the sealed sections.

Near the entrance, the two guarding sages stood stiffly, wiping sweat from their brows.

This chamber was the only one open to the public today, originally, they thought it was the easiest assignment.

Now?

They regretted volunteering.

One sage whispered through clenched teeth, "Why today of all days…"

The other replied, "Stop speaking. If they heard you, I fear our ancestors will have to dig new graves."

On the far side of the chamber, another staircase rose, but it was blocked by layers of sealing energy barriers. Crescent-shaped sigils rotated slowly in the air, radiating a cold glow.

Standing guard were two figures clad in red, flame-like armor.

Their spears were engraved with frost runes.

On their chests blazed the crest of a Phoenix soaring toward the heavens.

Their aura was profound, far beyond ordinary sages and saints, potentially reaching Half-immortal!

The crowd whispered.

"Those aren't city guards…"

"That crest… isn't that the Frost Pavilion?"

Those who recognized the symbol immediately lowered their heads.

The Frost Pavilion was no ordinary force.

It was rumored that to become one of their warriors, one must endure 999 days at the base of the Blazing Nether Volcano, where molten fire met eternal ice.

During those days, one's ice marrow must condense into flame.

And on the final night, beneath a full moon... Your flame must freeze the land.

To master the contradiction of ice and fire was a feat most cultivators could only dream of.

These red-armored warriors were elites among elites.

And they were guarding the upper floors.

Which meant, someone extraordinary was above.

_____

Moonlit Hall, Top Floor.

Within the luxurious Moonlit Hall of the Frostfall Pagoda, lamps floated like stars.

A jade table carved from Moonheart Crystal stood at the center.

Three figures sat leisurely.

A pair of twins, brother and sister, appearing no older than twenty.

The young man wore deep sapphire robes embroidered with constellations. His name was Xue Tianming, heir of the Snow Moon Country.

Beside him, identical in face yet sharper in gaze, sat Xue Qiulian, the genius princess of the Snow Moon Country.

Together, they were known as the Twin Saints.

Achieving Sainthood (Demigod Realm) before the age of one hundred.

Rumors claimed that when combining their powers, they once fought an Immortal alone... Not only fought.

But defeated him.

And turned him into their slave and protector.

A faint dark shadow hovered behind them.

The enslaved Immortal was likely present.

Across from them sat a veiled figure in flowing silver-white robes, golden dragons embroidered along the sleeves.

A golden mask hid his face.

This was Yue Qingshuang!

The infamous "Golden Ghost" of the Heavenly Jade Pavilion.

A Sovereign Immortal (Quasi-Transcendent)

His legend echoed across the Netherworld.

He had once slaughtered an entire stronghold of the Dark Soul Forces and refined their souls into an undead army.

Vicious?

Yes.

But he only hunted the wicked.

Thus, he had gained a strange popularity.

The Dark Soul Forces were scattered across the Netherworld, originating from the forbidden Obsidian Faction territory, a land few dared approach.

They were rumored to be the personal spies of the Obsidian Great Lord.

And years ago... the Golden Ghost had openly provoked them.

Since then, they hunted him relentlessly.

Yet for centuries, he appeared and vanished like mist.

No one knew his origins.

Now, such a figure sat calmly in Frostfall Pagoda.

That alone was abnormal.

Nearby, kneeling respectfully, was Frostfall City Lord Han Guozhen in golden-red robes.

Once the supreme authority of the city.

Now pouring tea.

"Yes, Your Highness… more Wood Spirit Tea?"

Xue Tianming smiled calmly. "City Lord Han, there is no need to be so stiff. We are merely observing the Stairs this year."

Han Guozhen forced a smile.

"This humble one is honored beyond measure."

He wanted to relax.

He truly did.

But whenever he glanced at the Twin Saints, cold sweat drenched his back.

Demigods before a hundred.

Defeaters of Immortals.

And then, his gaze accidentally brushed against the Golden Ghost, even through the golden mask, the aura was suffocating.

To be killed by that man was one thing.

To have your soul refined into his undead army?

That was terror beyond death.

Han Guozhen quickly lowered his head.

"I only hope… these prodigies leave soon," he thought bitterly.

Unfortunately, no one listened to him anymore.

Bright sunlight flowed across the jade table as Xue Qiulian lightly tapped its surface.

"Lord Golden Mask," she said, voice calm but deliberate, "what would it take for you to cooperate with us… for my brother's ascension to the throne?"

Across from her, the veiled figure in silver-white robes, Yue Qingshuang, the infamous Golden Ghost, smiled faintly. His lips curved beneath the golden mask.

"The Heavenly Jade Pavilion does not involve itself in matters of rulers," he replied evenly.

He wasn't lying.

The Heavenly Jade Pavilion was no traditional force.

No territory, no banner.

It was a gathering of rogue powerhouses who pledged allegiance to none and believed only in the path of strength. They wandered, hunted opportunities, refined themselves, no chains, no throne rooms.

Xue Qiulian did not seem discouraged.

Her beauty was almost oppressive under the sun, hands smooth as milk jade, eyes like spring dew at dawn. Long lashes fluttered like butterfly wings as she leaned forward slightly.

"It is not the Pavilion I am asking," she said softly. "It is you."

"As long as you are willing to lend a hand, we are prepared to pay any price."

Beside her, Xue Tianming nodded gravely.

The situation in the Snow Moon capital had deteriorated.

A new concubine had risen like a venomous flower. Pillow whispers turned into edicts, ministers shifted allegiance overnight.

If this continued, the name "Snow Moon" might very well be replaced by her clan's surname.

Their mother, once the favored Queen, had been sidelined and was now under quiet investigation.

Despite being called the Twin Saints… they were still sons and daughters before they were warriors.

And in the political mire of the court... They were powerless.

Yue Qingshuang's brows lifted slightly behind the mask.

"Any price?" he asked.

Xue Tianming exhaled slowly. "There are many we could seek assistance from. But we approached you… because there is another reason."

The masked man's eyes narrowed faintly.

"Oh?"

Before he could probe further, Xue Qiulian's fair cheeks suddenly flushed red, she shot her brother a sharp glare.

"Brother," she hissed quietly, "I am negotiating. Who allowed you to speak?"

Xue Tianming laughed.

"Sister, what is there to be afraid of?" He turned toward Yue Qingshuang boldly. "Lord Golden Mask, why not tell you directly? My sister admires you."

"—!!"

The hall stilled.

Even the enslaved Immortal's shadow flickered faintly.

Behind the golden mask, Yue Qingshuang's eyes widened.

Xue Qiulian, usually confident and composed, suddenly lowered her gaze. The fierce Saint now resembled a shy maiden beneath the water.

"…Brother, you speak too much," she muttered, but she did not deny it.

Behind the mask, Yue Qingshuang's thoughts wavered.

'This young Saint… likes me?'

Xue Tianming pressed on.

"Lord Golden Mask, you cannot run forever. Marry my sister, and the pursuit of the Dark Soul Forces ends."

He leaned forward slightly.

"Behind Snow Moon Country stands the Great Yin Imperial Dynasty. Though we are merely a vassal state, the Dark Soul Forces would not dare openly provoke the wrath of the Great Lord."

His words were clever.

He did not directly ask for support.

Marriage alone would tie Golden Mask to them.

And once tied, support would naturally follow.

Tianming glanced at his sister, seeing no protest, and sighed faintly.

They were twins.

Parting with her felt like losing half of himself.

He couldn't help but glance at Yue Qingshuang with faint resentment, and, inexplicably, jealousy.

The masked man's exposed hand rested on the jade table.

Smooth, almost too smooth, more delicate than Xue Qiulian's.

Xue Tianming blinked.

What in the Nine Heavens… who is the woman here?

Still... the skin was youthful.

At least he wouldn't be ugly behind the mask!

Before the strange tension could break, the veiled figure suddenly froze.

His fingers trembled.

The jade cup in his grasp cracked sharply.

Crack!

The sound echoed like thunder, his gaze pierced downward through the layers of the pagoda.

Through space.

Through formations. 𝕗𝐫𝐞𝕖𝕨𝐞𝗯𝚗𝕠𝘃𝐞𝚕.𝐜𝗼𝚖

Through concealment arrays older than Frostfall City itself.

A presence, not Immortal.

Not Transcendent.

Something that did not belong within any established framework.

Cold fear crept into his voice.

"He is here."

Xue Tianming frowned. "Who?"

Yue Qingshuang rose abruptly, aura surged violently.

"Someone I cannot face."

Without another word, he turned and rushed toward the open window of the Moonlit Hall.

And jumped, he didn't descend gracefully.

He fled.

Like someone escaping calamity.

The Twin Saints stared in disbelief.

"Wait-!" Qiulian stepped forward.

Too late.

The Golden Ghost was already streaking downward like a comet.