Upon hearing this, Wang Tieqiang was slightly taken aback. The voice sounded like that of the young maid named Huang Ying from the ship. However, while the Shun River might freeze over at other times, it would never form ice during the flood season, let alone on a day like today…
Unable to resist, Wang Tieqiang glanced up at the sky. The scorching sun was directly overhead at noon, and even wearing just a thin fur coat, he felt slightly warm, almost to the point of sweating. How could there possibly be someone trapped in ice? Despite his many years of experience in the martial world, this was the first time he had heard of such a bizarre occurrence. He instinctively reached behind to touch the two short steel spears strapped to his back and, as if compelled by some unseen force, walked toward the source of the voice.
As he rounded the side of the ship, he saw a group of seven or eight people—men and women, maids, servants, and sailors—huddled together, pointing and exclaiming at something in the river.
His gaze shifted slightly, and sure enough, about fifteen feet from the ship, a white object bobbed conspicuously on the water’s surface. Squinting, he confirmed it was a translucent block of ice, within which a human figure appeared to be trapped.
“How strange. Could it be someone who fell into the river long ago and is now floating up as the ice melts?” Wang Tieqiang muttered in astonishment.
“Brother Wang, what’s going on?” A low, hoarse voice came from behind as footsteps approached.
“Brother Gao, you’re here too.” Without turning, Wang Tieqiang recognized the voice of his longtime partner, a skilled martial artist with a reputation in fist and foot techniques.
“Oh, there really is someone in the ice. This is quite the rarity,” remarked a burly man with a thick beard as he casually walked over, clicking his tongue in amazement.
“A dead man, no matter how strange, is of no consequence,” Wang Tieqiang said coldly, his tone indifferent.
“True enough! At least a dead man won’t be hijacking the ship,” the bearded man chuckled, stroking his coarse beard.
“What’s all this commotion? Don’t you know the mistress has just retired?” A middle-aged man dressed as a scholar emerged from the cabin, his expression darkening as he scolded the servants.
This was Advisor Zhou, reportedly a trusted aide of a high-ranking official. He had hired Wang Tieqiang and his companion and was traveling with the official’s family.
“Advisor, in the river…” The young maid Huang Ying timidly pointed toward the water.
Seeing Wang Tieqiang and the others gathered there, Advisor Zhou grew curious. Following the maid’s gesture, he spotted the ice and the figure within, his face registering surprise before he frowned. “It’s just a dead body. There’s no point staring. Everyone, disperse and get back to work. Must I summon Steward Wang?” His tone grew stern at the mention of the steward.
At the name “Steward Wang,” the servants paled and quickly scattered, leaving only a few crew members who slinked away unnoticed.
Wang Tieqiang and the bearded man exchanged glances, sensing it was best to leave as well. But just as the latter, named Gao Dafeng, was about to step away, he glanced once more at the river and froze, exclaiming, “Impossible! That person is alive!”
Startled, Wang Tieqiang and Advisor Zhou turned to look but saw no movement—the figure remained motionless in the ice.
The scholar eyed the bearded man skeptically. “No mistake. The person in the ice just blinked. I saw it clearly,” Gao Dafeng insisted.
“Brother Gao wouldn’t lie. It seems the person truly isn’t dead,” Wang Tieqiang said without hesitation, trusting his companion’s word.
Advisor Zhou hesitated, then shook his head. “Even if he’s alive, it’s none of our concern. Let’s not trouble the mistress and young lady. Since no other ships are interfering, neither should we.”
Wang Tieqiang felt no indignation at this. The figure in the ice seemed eerie, and keeping him off the ship suited him fine. His years in the martial world had made him warier of such oddities than most.
Gao Dafeng, however, looked conflicted.
“Advisor Zhou, wait! Saving a life is a greater virtue than building a seven-tiered pagoda. My mother has always been compassionate. If this person is alive, we should rescue him first,” a sweet voice interjected. A graceful young woman in brocade emerged from the cabin, followed by the maid Huang Ying, who kept her eyes demurely lowered.
“Young Miss, this isn’t advisable. Allowing a stranger aboard…” Advisor Zhou bowed respectfully but hesitated.
“There’s no harm. If he survived such an ordeal and encountered us, it must be our family’s merit. We have plenty of empty cabins—arrange one for him. Surely, with so many of us, we needn’t fear a dying man,” the young woman said softly, her expression brooking no argument.
“Very well. As you wish, I’ll have him rescued,” the scholar conceded with a bow.
The young woman smiled and retreated to the cabin with her maid, while Advisor Zhou watched her leave, his brow furrowed. “You heard her. It seems we’re rescuing him. But that ice is massive—I’ll need your help,” he said with a wry smile.
“No problem. I may lack many things, but strength isn’t one of them,” Gao Dafeng said casually. Wang Tieqiang studied the ice again before nodding slowly in agreement.
…
How long had he been in the dark? A splitting headache roused Han Li from his stupor. Before opening his eyes, he heard a young girl’s voice.
“Old Master, when will he wake up? It’s been two days and nights. Is he really alright? The young lady is waiting for my report!”
“Hmph! What do you know, little girl? I’m no physician. How should I know when he’ll wake? But his condition is bizarre—pale as death, yet his pulse is stronger than a normal man’s. It’s baffling!” an elderly voice grumbled.
“Tehee! Maybe you misread his pulse!” the girl teased, clearly familiar with the old man.
“Nonsense! Haven’t I cured all your headaches and fevers? Never made a mistake! Maybe he has some unheard-of ailment. I’m no doctor—it’s no shame if I can’t diagnose it,” the old man retorted defensively.
Han Li realized he lay on a soft bed, thickly padded with smooth quilts, warm and comfortable.
Hearing the pair converse in the Jin language, he felt relieved. Not only had he been rescued by mortals, but he’d also reached Jin territory. Yet his situation was dire.
Upon waking, he’d used his spiritual sense to assess his body and was aghast at what he found.
After escaping the Tianlan Saintess’s pursuit and traveling thousands of miles, his time limit had expired. He’d plunged into a river, using the Great Divination Elder’s false-death technique to encase himself in ice, drifting with the current to evade the Utara pursuers.
But his condition was worse than expected. Excessive use of the Bloodshadow Escape had drained his vitality, leaving him frail, and his spiritual energy was severely depleted, dropping his cultivation to the Qi Refining stage. Without five or six years of rest, he’d never recover his former strength.
Han Li sighed inwardly, then remembered something and checked his flying swords. Finding Silvermoon—her spirit equally weakened and unconscious—in one of them, he relaxed slightly.
But the absence of his second Nascent Soul troubled him. Though too distant to sense clearly, it hadn’t been destroyed by the Utara’s Great Immortal as he’d feared. A faint, tenuous connection remained, confirming its existence. Yet if he couldn’t reclaim it in time, it might become independent and turn against him.
The only comfort was that once he recovered, the second Nascent Soul’s initial strength would be no match for him. Reclaiming it wouldn’t be difficult.
With these thoughts, he sent a mental message: “Elder, how long was I unconscious in the ice before reaching Jin? Have any Jin cultivators appeared nearby?”
“Hmph! Finally awake. You drifted underwater for over a year until the ice’s magic dissipated and it surfaced. But your condition is far from ideal,” the Great Divination Elder replied lazily.
“I’m well aware of my state. But escaping alive from an Utara late-Nascent Soul cultivator is luck enough,” Han Li said with a wry smile.
“Quite the optimist! But why didn’t you tell me about your Spirit Treasure? No wonder you sometimes excluded me during seclusion. I’ve longed to study one. Hand over that little cauldron later—no excuses!” the elder grumbled.
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