Traces of the Snow Wind Palace (3)
Hm?
I lifted my head at the strange sensation.
All around was a vast, snow-covered plain.
A dream?
I was definitely reading the manual inside the cave...
Then a voice came from behind me.
"You've come."
"...?"
Turning around, I saw the handsome man from my previous dream, looking at me.
"Are you perhaps the Ancestor?"
He nodded at my question.
"Draw your sword."
"Pardon?"
"Draw your sword and execute Heavy Snowfall."
I tilted my head at his words but complied, figuring there must be a reason. I drew my sword before him and performed the first form, Heavy Snowfall.
But he scowled at my swordsmanship.
"Hah, what is that? Such sloppy swordplay?"
"...Pardon?"
I couldn't help but be flustered.
He was saying my swordplay was a mess.
Heavy Snowfall was the form I was most confident in, after all.
As the first form, I'd practiced it the most, and having learned all the forms, I understood its true essence.
Even my master had praised it as excellent.
Yet here was the Ancestor, frowning the moment he saw it, shaking his head in clear dissatisfaction.
"Is this not it?"
"No."
"The movements match perfectly. It's exactly as in the manual you gave."
"The movements might be the same. But without fully embodying its true essence, is an empty shell truly Heavy Snowfall?"
"..."
His words sparked my curiosity.
"Then what is the true Heavy Snowfall? I've never seen it, so how can I embody its essence?"
The Ancestor nodded.
"You're right. Better to show once than explain a hundred times."
With that, he lightly beckoned, and the sword in my hand vanished, reappearing in his.
Its shape was markedly different from when I'd held it.
"The Silver Mist Sword's form has changed."
"This sword has no fixed shape. It simply takes the form best suited to its wielder. That's why it's called the Silver Mist Sword."
Like mist without form, hence the name.
And thus, it could be commanded like mist.
"Now, watch closely."
"...!"
The moment he gripped the sword, a chill ran down my spine.
I felt cold—true cold, which I hadn't sensed lately.
A biting, flesh-cutting cold.
Ah...
Snow began to fall.
The sword qi scattering with his movements was identical to snow in midwinter.
Its sword qi blanketed the world in enforced winter, devastating the surroundings into desolation.
Only after the form ended could I regain my senses.
And I was shocked once more.
My surroundings were utterly devastated.
"..."
"This is Heavy Snowfall."
I knew the form was more domineering than it seemed, but not to this extent.
"Heavy Snowfall forces winter upon the surroundings while laying the foundation to keep fighting. As you know, the Great Yin Ice Sea Divine Art performs better in lower temperatures."
"True."
"Even in a desert."
The Ancestor grinned.
"Then shred them with sword qi."
"..."
Is it just me, or does the Ancestor's personality feel unusually fierce?
.
.
.
I opened my eyes to find myself back in the cave.
A dream?
Looking down, the Silver Mist Sword was back in my hand.
Shall I... try it once?
I stood, recalling the Heavy Snowfall the Ancestor had shown me in the dream.
Replaying the memory, I slowly moved the sword.
.
.
.
Finally, I embodied the true essence of Heavy Snowfall in the form.
"Is this it?"
Did the manual hear me?
The page with the first form crumbled away like sand scattered by wind.
No way...
Does the manual vanish once I master all the forms?
At that moment, my vision spun.
"Hm?"
I stood once more on the snow-swept plain, the Ancestor before me.
"We meet again."
"That means you've perfectly mastered Heavy Snowfall. Let me see."
I immediately executed the form, and he nodded.
"Not bad. Passable."
Phew, glad he let it slide.
"To leave this cave, must I master all twelve True Snow Forms perfectly?"
He smiled and nodded.
"Yes."
So I really had to master them all.
It felt daunting, yet reassuring.
A clear goal.
"But Ancestor, there are people waiting for me outside, and..."
"Even so, I can only do one thing."
"Pardon?"
"Help you master the True Snow Twelve Forms Swordsmanship quickly."
Right.
The sooner I learned, the sooner I'd escape.
How much time passed?
Honestly, I'd worried at first. My disappearance would be like vanishing.
But fortunately, the systems I'd set up would run fine without me.
Sorry to Palgap and the guards, but this was unavoidable.
Who could've foreseen this?
Still, if they returned without me, my master would guess and inform my parents.
So I steeled myself and focused on sword practice.
I realized this was an invaluable opportunity, worth a fortune.
No time to focus solely on martial arts like this, and the creator of the True Snow Twelve Forms Swordsmanship teaching me personally.
What was it called? That trendy one-on-one direct instruction from Beijing?
And now I understood the greatness of the Prodigy Dragon Physique.
My master had called my aptitude exceptional, but it hadn't sunk in—until now, grasping how rare it was in the martial world.
I could intuitively understand what the Ancestor showed.
Couldn't explain it; I just got it from watching.
When I asked, he laughed: "You're a genius like me."
Self-praise much?
Anyway, time lost meaning, but it felt like one or two years had passed.
Only two forms left in the manual.
The eleventh, White Night, and the twelfth, Snowblossom.
I hadn't learned them in this life, and in my past life, as merely first-rate, I'd only skimmed the surface.
My master said even those required peak mastery to see their true face.
.
.
.
"I'm here."
"Good."
This was routine now; I bowed to the Ancestor.
He took my Silver Mist Sword and swung it.
"...!"
In that instant, I witnessed the true face of White Night—unseen in either of my lives.
A night as bright as day—not from the sun lingering, but from freezing even the sun itself.
It wasn't literally freezing the sun, but it felt that way.
My master's demonstration hadn't been this intense.
The Ancestor sheathed his sword.
"This is White Night."
"Wow, it's really tough."
"Why? It's just the sum of the first through tenth forms."
He was right.
It might seem simple, but not to me.
"You have to link them harmoniously without clashing. Calculating that... must've been a nightmare for later learners, right?"
He glanced away and cleared his throat.
"Ahem."
That said it all.
He'd made it by his own genius standards, not considering students.
His senses calculated it intuitively.
As I stared, he looked to distant mountains.
"I never imagined my descendants would be so lacking."
"..."
No point arguing; it'd just hurt my mouth.
The swordsmanship was set, and he was long gone.
The issue was for the survivors.
He'd asked me to rebuild Snow Wind Palace with great rewards, but that required refining the swordsmanship.
"But isn't the True Snow Twelve Forms Swordsmanship only for direct descendants?"
"Huh? What are you talking about?"
"Pardon?"
"It was taught to all Snow Wind Palace disciples."
"..."
I was speechless.
My master had called it a hereditary art.
"Snow Wind Palace never limited arts to direct bloodlines. The Palace Lord was chosen not by lineage, but by the North Sea Ice Palace Lord and disciples recognizing the strongest martial artist."
"..."
Over time, traditions had shifted.
So my plans should be fine.
"Then... may I tweak the True Snow Twelve Forms Swordsmanship a bit?"
"Hm? How?"
"To make it, well, easier to learn."
He pondered, then nodded.
"Sure, do as you like."
Permission granted.
More time passed.
Finally, only the last form remained: Snowblossom.
Flower blooming in snow.
"The final form at last."
I nodded.
"Yes. Farewell time."
"Farewell?"
He chuckled.
"Why think that?"
"Because it's the last of the True Snow Twelve Forms Swordsmanship."
"Do you think True Snow Twelve Forms Swordsmanship is the only art I created?"
"..."
Uh... yeah, kinda.
My master mentioned others lost to time.
"Time has good and bad sides. Things vanish."
"..."
I had to ask.
"Don't tell me... this isn't the only place to learn swordsmanship like this?"
"Right. I've set them up in many places."
That answered it.
More ordeals ahead? Pass.
Reading my mind, he spoke sadly.
"But they only respond to one granted a second life at the cost of mine."
"..."
"If that heir doesn't learn, Snow Wind Palace arts vanish forever."
Playing dirty, elder?
Tears from a senior? That's cheating.
"Enough talk. Back to practice."
He gripped his sword seriously.
"Watch closely. This is the final form of the True Snow Twelve Forms Swordsmanship: Snowblossom."
Snow fell heavily.
Heavy Snowfall?
No—fresh snow.
Amid the fierce blizzard, something warm stirred.
Warmth?
No—heat.
I'd heard once: layer cold upon cold until it burns like fire.
Yes.
Extreme yin was extreme yang.
A single flower bloomed amid the snow—beautiful beyond words.
.
.
.
More time passed.
Perfectly mastering Snowblossom, I awoke to the manual crumbling like windblown sand, now empty.
My eyes closed.
Finally escaping this cave.
How much time had passed?
Everyone must be worried.
Got to hurry back.
Or so I thought.
"Young master? Why are you spacing out like that?"
"Huh?"
A rock stood before me—the one inscribed with the qualification test.
Turning, Palgap and the guards watched me.
What the...?
"Wait, have I been standing here the whole time?"
"Yes."
"How many hours?"
"Hours? What do you mean?"
"Huh?"
"Just about half an incense stick's time."
"What?"
After years in the cave, only half an incense stick outside?
Examining the rock, no inscription remained.
"The writing's gone."
"Pardon?"
"What writing?"
I channeled qi and touched it—no reaction.
What was that? An illusion?
.
.
.
We returned to the North Sea Ice Palace inn. I headed to my room alone.
Had to check if the secret vault treasures were illusions too.
Opening it carefully...
"This is..."
Vast gold and jewels, the ice crystal sword, countless accessories—all there.
I couldn't fathom it, but one thing was clear.
Our Snow Wind Palace Ancestor— the best.