Chapter Forty-Eight: Doubt

The staircase of ice was breathtakingly exquisite, each spiral step tracing a graceful arc through the air. The railings were intricately carved, as if woven from threads of ice, both thick and thin, forming elegant tapestries frozen in crystal. Han Su’s pristine robe, once pure white, was now rumpled and charred from the recent battle, with tears exposing the delicate skin beneath. Her shoes, embroidered with spell arrays, were dainty and stepped lightly upon the translucent staircase, producing crisp, gentle footfalls.

Her ascent was steady and powerful, possessing a unique rhythm. Even as she climbed midair, her patrolling sprite, Little Walnut, returned with its findings—confirming what her spiritual senses already told her: the second floor was a vast living space.

Soon, she reached the second level, greeted by a grand foyer. A long table stood at its center, flanked by several chairs. Unlike the palace’s icy grandeur, these furnishings were crafted from wood—rare spiritual woods, no less. The table and chairs were made of Xuan Yang spiritwood, while the treasure cabinet was Red Mist wood. Such precious materials, used merely for furniture, seemed almost wasteful.

Upon the table sat a vase of luminous jade, holding a single, blooming Scarlet Feather plum blossom. A Jin Yang plum lamp glowed warmly nearby.

At first glance, everything appeared ordinary, but what was most peculiar was the white jade pool at the center. Its waters were crystal clear, densely planted with several types of spiritual herbs whose species she could not discern, but which seemed of high rank and ancient—at least tens of thousands of years old.

Han Su felt an inexplicable affinity, compelled to dip her hand into the pool. The water was icily cold, so much so that even her body, blessed with an ice spiritual root, could not resist its chill. Clearly, the herbs within were also of the ice attribute. The more she explored, the more curious she became—the immortal palace seemed crafted especially for her. How could this be?

The hot spring lake outside was heated by the Red Flame crystals lining its bed, infusing the waters with fire energy, as Snow Spirit had discovered. The palace at the center was indeed an ice palace, filled with objects of the ice attribute, yet on the second floor she found fire-aligned items: Xuan Yang spiritwood, Red Mist wood, luminous jade vases, Scarlet Feather plum blossoms, Jin Yang plum lamps. The garden pool and its contents were of ice. If the entire immortal palace wasn’t dual-attribute, how could fire and ice be so perfectly combined? Was it mere coincidence that she had stumbled upon such a palace, herself possessing both fire and ice attributes?

She couldn’t help but suspect some deeper plot, but soon remembered that the palace had split from the jade token alongside the manual of "Mystic Fire, Ice Heart," which was designed for dual-root cultivators. It made sense, then, that the palace was dual-attribute.

Scratching her head, she dropped the thought and continued exploring the second floor. Like the main hall below, this foyer held another ice staircase, leading upward, still shrouded by mist and inaccessible. To the left, the first room was a cultivation chamber—empty, save for a star array carved into the ceiling. Activating it during cultivation allowed one to sense the mysteries of the starry sea, benefiting both progress and state of mind.

The second room was a study, with a standing Jin Yang plum lamp matching the one in the foyer, though its branches curved differently. Beside the lamp stood a large desk, fully stocked with scholarly tools. Several rolled paintings rested in a bin, depicting scenes of plum blossoms, bamboo stalks, or garden corners, all seemingly from the same estate. Rows of wooden shelves lined the walls, filled with books—bamboo scrolls, beast-hide manuscripts, embroidered cloth, even jade slips, crowding the study to overflowing.

Were it not for the extraordinary materials, one could mistake the place for a scholar’s retreat. Han Su browsed a few volumes, surprised by their breadth: from cultivation techniques to oddities, from poetry to music and painting scores, everything was included. Yet, restricted by her own level, many manuals appeared blank, their text unreadable to her.

Exiting to the right, the first room was an alchemy chamber, its walls lined with shelves holding rows of jade bottles—once containing pills, now dissolved by the passage of countless years. At the center lay a lone, modest cauldron, its caliber beneath even that of her father, Daoist Lanhe.

The second room was a smithing chamber, similar in layout, but its shelves held categorized materials. At its center was a dark, unremarkable cauldron, which, nevertheless, must be no ordinary item.

Having explored the extra floor, Han Su happily brought out her damaged puppets for repair. The smithing room proved perfectly suited, and she even reinforced the other three, scarcely damaged ones, with a bit of Pangu gold.

Days passed. The puppets were restored, and the internal injuries she’d suffered in battle had mostly healed after daily soaks in the hot spring lake. The remaining wounds would need time to mend. Han Su prepared to leave. After her last escape into the immortal palace, she’d hurriedly steered it westward, far from the territory of the fifth-tier Immortal-Slaying Thunderbird. She should not encounter that beast again.

Double-checking her gear, she sent Little Walnut ahead to scout. Learning all was clear, Han Su recited her incantation and flashed outside. Though fully prepared, she had not foreseen what awaited her.

No sooner had she left than an overwhelming pressure forced her to collapse, the oppressive force suffusing her organs, driving cold sweat and blood from her pores. She couldn’t even summon the strength to recite the incantation for retreat, nor could her spirit sense cohere—her mind was scrambled by the opponent’s power. “My fate is sealed!”

She realized this must be a great demon of the secret realm, seeking vengeance for its kin. Yet, she had never harmed a single beast in years, and to die thus felt unjust. This sense of grievance ignited her stubborn will, and her resistance surged. Though she was nearly crushed, she stubbornly struggled upright, attempting to stand.

Her slender body was like a bamboo stalk in a storm, yet she managed to rise. Unable to lift her head, she straightened her spine, preserving her dignity through sheer force of will. Blood flowed more freely, soon soaking her, yet she persevered, bracing herself against the pressure she could not hope to resist.

A melodious voice, rich and splendid, sounded: “Oh?” The pressure vanished instantly, her body suddenly light. But as the next words were spoken, the severity of her wounds overwhelmed her, and she fainted.

“You’re quite impressive, little girl.”

A low sigh hovered in the throat. The speaker glanced at the unconscious girl, then stooped to lift her. Robes trailed elegantly behind, as their wearer moved away, slowly vanishing amid the trees.

Han Su awoke after an uncertain time, still dazed. Her long lashes quivered; her beautiful eyes opened, gazing blankly at a patch of fine fabric and floor. Only after a moment did she realize she was lying across someone’s lap, face down, back up—a most peculiar position!

She tried to move, but the owner of those long legs seemed to notice first, placing a gentle hand on her head and stroking softly. “This—this—what is happening?!”

Han Su tensed further, body rigid, wanting to escape, but the other’s restraining technique was formidable; no matter her skills, she could not budge. “What are you doing?!”

Knowing well this must be the shape-shifting demon who had knocked her out with mere pressure, Han Su still blurted out her protest, spurred by the gentle caress.

A low, musical laugh answered her, so alluring it seemed one could fall in love just hearing it. “Me? I find you adorable, so I’m smoothing your fur.” With a graceful motion, the hand shifted, flipping her onto her back, laying her across his knees, then lifting her chin. “What did you think I’d do?” The laughter came again, but Han Su barely heard it. This—it was too beautiful!

Even from her odd vantage, nothing could diminish his allure: broad shoulders, slender waist, elegant neck, pronounced Adam’s apple moving with each word, his face sharply defined, brows slanting upward, eyes brimming with charm, nose like a jade goblet, lips crimson, a smile impossible to describe for its splendor. Who was this man?