Li Yuan stepped into the Deathless Tomb with Xue Ning in his arms; Ping’an followed behind. Outside, a camp of young Ice Folk had mustered. They were the tomb guard Naran had thrown together at speed, all trusted men. They’d been told Li Yuan was coming and let him pass without a murmur. Their post was the entrance to the Deathless Tomb, not the mouth of the labyrinth. Deeper in, Li Yuan scanned the ice-lit corridors and didn’t see Sheng'er. Doubling back to ask the tomb guard wasn’t practical; there was too much ground between them now. Where did she go? Li Yuan knitted his brows. Suddenly, a sharp-billed crow with red eyes dropped onto his shoulder and opened its beak. “Papa, I’m at the very end of the maze. It’s quite comfortable here.” Li Yuan blinked. He tapped the crow on the head. “Be careful.” “Yes, Papa,” the crow said dutifully. Li Yuan sent a direwolf ahead to clear the way. Cradling Xue Ning, already asleep from a sleeping tonic, he walked step by steady step into the maze. Ping’an followed, silent as a shadow. Ghost-blue ice pillars rose on either side like a colonnade built for giants. He went deeper and deeper, until, beneath the lightless Yin-Yang twin-fish at the very end, he finally noticed a shape. “Papa.” Sheng'er’s voice floated out of the dark. “Over here.” Li Yuan went to her, slid an empty coffin open, and laid Xue Ning inside with careful hands. He didn’t close the lid right away. He stood there, reluctant, studying her face in the gloom. He knew she wouldn’t wake. They’d already said their farewells back at the camp. Xue Ning’s expression was peaceful. Her hands were folded, resting over her lower belly. Li Yuan adjusted her hands gently, then said, “Ping’an, come take one more look. The next time we see her…it might be thousands of years from now.” Now that the Deathless Tomb existed, he meant to place all his family here. Ping’an had no inner flame; the cold had soaked him through and stiffened his limbs. Even so, he forced himself to the coffin’s edge, peered at the faint outline within, and murmured, full of longing, “Mother, good night.” “Good night, Xue Ning. We’ll meet again,” Li Yuan murmured softly. Then, he turned to his son. “Come on, Ping’an, Let’s tuck her in. Let her rest.” “Mhm.” Ping’an answered. Father and son took a side each and eased the lid forward together, closing the coffin by slow degrees. Through the coffin’s jewel-bright wall they could still see her clearly. Her body looked perfectly normal, only…caught in some uncanny stillness, as if time itself had congealed around her. The cold here was brutal. Even Li Yuan couldn’t linger, much less Ping’an. They looked on for a few breaths, gathered themselves, and turned away. Sheng'er walked them as far as the labyrinth's entrance, chatting a little along the way. Catching the empty look in Ping’an’s eyes, she said, “Cry-baby, Mama Xue is only sleeping. Don’t worry.” He sighed. This time he didn’t cry. “We already said goodbye. It’s just…” Sheng'er glanced at Li Yuan. “Father, you and Ping’an go on. I want to stay a while longer.” “Be careful,” he said. “I will,” she replied. Back at the White Deer Tribe. Li Yuan stood in the quiet of the empty tent, sifting through old memories of Xue Ning. Melancholy tugged at him, but only for a moment. Then he headed to the tent where the Wolfmother was confined. He hadn’t had time before to parse the Gravekeeper’s hints. Now he needed the details. The Wolfmother hadn’t fought her captivity; she’d stayed where she was, cooperative. At his approach she rose quickly. Li Yuan dispensed with polite facades. “If you want me to stop the Grand Union of Yin and Yang, then you need to tell me who the enemy is, and what you can actually do.” “I-I’m sorry…the god hasn’t arrived yet,” she said, nervous. She rushed on, “But the god gave instructions. I’m to cooperate with you in all things. Whatever you ask, I’ll do. Even if you order my death, the god says I may obey.” Li Yuan looked at her and saw what she was beneath the title, just a village girl from beyond the permafrost, reshaped by the Gravekeeper’s unknown arts, memory by memory, until she carried the fate called the Wolfmother. He frowned. “When will she wake?” The Wolfmother bowed her head. “The god sleeps and wakes only now and then. She s-should be out in a few days, I think?” Uncertainty threaded her voice. “I’ll come tell you the moment she appears,” she added quickly. ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ꜰʀᴏᴍ 𝗻𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹·𝖿𝗂𝗋𝖾·𝗇𝖾𝗍 Li Yuan nodded and left the tent. A few days, then. He had plenty to do. Li Yuan gathered himself to return to Yan Yu’s side. His weak points had been tidied away; even if the Lotus Cult and that enigmatic powerhouse found Yan Yu now, they couldn’t touch her. As he was leaving, he felt Ping’an in the distance, hacking at the wind and snow like a madman. This place suppressed source blood. It was perfect for practicing the sword. Li Yuan let him be, and with a thought slipped back toward the black market ghost domain. What Li Yuan didn’t know was that, deep in the Deathless Tomb, whispers were rising and falling like the hush of a secret. The voice sounded like an old man’s, rippling through the lightless, cold air, heard by only one person. “Girl, do you want to know the meaning of life? “Girl, your talent is tremendous. You should be singular, so why can you wield only a sliver of your power? “Girl, you want to help your father, don’t you? “Girl, if you don’t grow strong, you’ll end up clutching your family’s corpses and sobbing, and then die meekly beside them. The murmurs went on and on, like fevered talk at midnight. Sheng'er sat beneath the Yin-Yang twin-fish. Her crows had conquered the Deathless Tomb entirely. If Li Yuan were here, he’d see them as a dense swarm of more than a hundred thousand 0~1s, everywhere his eyes landed. In this place no one could match Sheng'er. Even Li Yuan, here, would count as just another 0~1. He might cut down more birds than most, but he would still die. That was why he’d trusted her to stay. The quiet girl peered around curiously. “Who’s talking’?” she called out, her voice breaking into rippling echoes. Silence, and then the many voices returned. “Girl, who I am doesn’t matter. What matters is that I can give you power, power beyond anything you’ve known.” “Oh? If it doesn’t matter, then never mind,” Sheng'er said. She shut her eyes and ignored them. The voices hesitated, then kept up their patter. She didn’t budge. For some reason, this place felt wonderfully comfortable. As for food, she’d already sent a flock to linger near Naran, feasting with him whenever it was time to eat. When the crows ate, she ate. Sitting in the Deathless Tomb felt like lying in bed with a meal tray. She was cozy, lazy, and content. As for that honeyed, tempting voice, she couldn’t be bothered. Her father had told her a hundred times not to talk to strangers. The voice went on, silky as ever, “Girl, your family all took the wrong path in cultivation. Don’t you want to know the right one? Don’t you want the truth of what lies beyond the fourth rank?” “Oh? Then hurry up and tell me,” Sheng'er said. The voice paused, milking the moment like a storyteller guarding his last twist. Sheng'er didn’t rush him in the slightest. At last the voice couldn’t help itself. “Step outside. I’ll guide you to the Yang flame. To others, the flame is simply the wellspring of the Ice Folk’s strength. But for you, the flame means something entirely different. Yin alone does not flourish; Yang alone cannot be born. With the flame, you’ll have a chance to take the next step. And that step…will be a single stride to the heavens.” Sheng'er cut in, “Oh, I get it. You’re trying to trick me into leaving the Deathless Tomb so you can pull something nasty.”