One person: Starting with the Snow Drinking Blade

In the field.

Fujiwara Sousuke quickly tapped his left hand several times on the severed part of his right shoulder—he wasn't using pressure points to stop the bleeding, but rather a special ninjutsu technique to seal the meridians at the severed arm. The technique was complex, each finger vibrating at a different frequency, like playing a melody that only he could hear.

The small amount of blood gushing from the severed arm quickly stopped, and the skin around the wound contracted and closed, forming a thin, translucent membrane, like a natural protective layer.

His aged face remained expressionless—or rather, the expression returned. That faint, harmless smile reappeared on his lips.

But those who know him well know what that smile means at that moment.

It's not composure, it's not confidence.

It was murderous intent.

He looked at the shattered severed arm on the ground—the ice shards had begun to melt, mixing with the dust to form a puddle of grayish-white mud—and then at Catherine, whose face was pale.

He spoke in a hoarse voice:

"What a fine 'absolute zero'! I underestimated you."

The voice was very calm, as calm as if they were talking about today's weather.

But the murderous intent hidden beneath the calm was so intense it felt almost tangible, causing those nearby to instinctively take a step back.

Catherine did not answer.

She simply stared at him coldly, her icy blue eyes showing no fear, no hesitation, only a calm, almost ruthless focus.

She was secretly adjusting her breathing.

Her Qi was slowly and laboriously suppressing the rampant, toxic "qi" within her body. That "qi" was like a stubborn eel, burrowing and wriggling inside her, each pulsation bringing a sharp pain. She needed time—even just a few seconds—to expel it from her body.

She knew that Fujiwara Sousuke wouldn't give her that time.

She knew she was seriously injured.

Forcibly activating "Absolute Zero" just now consumed a huge amount of energy—that deep blue ice crystal almost drained two-thirds of her Qi, and now her dantian is empty, like a dried-up well.

However, the opponent lost an arm, which greatly reduced their combat strength.

Moreover—Catherine's eyes narrowed slightly—Fujiwara Sousuke's age was a factor. The pain of his severed arm, blood loss, and his declining health meant his recovery speed would certainly be slower than hers. In a battle of attrition and willpower, she might not necessarily lose.

Now, it's a matter of who can hold out the longest.

Or perhaps someone has a backup plan.

A brief standoff.

It lasted for about seven or eight seconds.

Then—the two of them moved at the same time.

Fujiwara Sousuke did not use stealth or clones again.

Having lost an arm significantly impacted his hand seals and movements. Stealth requires both hands to form hand seals to maintain the concealment of his aura, and the clone technique requires even more complex finger techniques—now that he only has one hand, his hand seal speed is more than half slower, and forcing his way to use it would only reveal his weaknesses.

He simply walked slowly toward Catherine.

It's not about walking fast or running, but about strolling slowly.

Like a retired old man taking a walk in the park.

But each of his steps carried a peculiar rhythm. His toes touched the ground first, then the ball of his foot, then his heel—each step landed at exactly the same time interval, like a metronome. His body swayed slightly with each step, his weight shifting smoothly between his left and right feet without the slightest unnecessary sway.

He slowly raised his left hand.

Spread your five fingers.

A chilling, grayish-black aura swirled around his fingertips. The aura was even more intense than before, almost solidifying, like a layer of black flame dancing at his fingertips.

"One move decides the outcome."

He said.

His voice was hoarse but resolute.

Each word seemed to be carved into stone with a knife, each word deliberate and imbued with an undeniable certainty.

He was ten steps away from Catherine.

Nine steps.

eight steps.

Catherine took a deep breath.

She could feel the cold air rushing into her lungs, like tiny blades cutting into her alveoli. But she didn't cough, didn't frown; she simply transformed the pain into strength.

A chilling light shone brightly in his icy blue eyes—not a reflection, but emanating from the depths of his pupils, like two unburning flames of ice.

He clasped his hands together again, albeit loosely.

With fingers touching, leave a fist's gap between the palms.

The moisture and frost in the air frantically converged into her palm—not slowly condensing as before, but as if seized, kneaded, and compressed by an invisible giant hand. The tiny ice crystals swirled, collided, and merged in the air, making a soft "rustling" sound.

An ice crystal slowly took shape.

It is more solid and more dazzling than the previous one.

A faint, deep blue vortex swirled at its center, like a miniature planet, slowly rotating in her palm. The surface of the ice crystal wasn't smooth; instead, it was covered with fine, snowflake-like patterns, each one subtly glowing.

Catherine's face turned deathly pale.

The lips turned blue.

My fingers are trembling.

But she didn't stop.

She poured all the remaining vital energy in her body, drop by drop, into the ice crystal. With each infusion of vital energy, the ice crystal would brighten a little, and her face would turn a little paler.

She's working desperately.

Clearly, she was going to fight tooth and nail.

seven steps.

six steps.

Five steps.

The distance between the two is decreasing.

But its momentum was steadily rising.

On one side was a strange, dark gray "qi" that carried the aura of death—this qi swirled, rotated, and condensed at Fujiwara Sousuke's fingertips, like a miniature black tornado, containing a penetrating power capable of piercing through steel.

On one side was a dazzling, cold, deep blue ice crystal that seemed capable of freezing everything—the ice crystal had expanded to the size of a baby's fist, the patterns on its surface were becoming increasingly dense, and the vortex in the center was spinning faster and faster, emitting a low "humming" sound, as if something was awakening inside.

Two completely different, yet equally dangerous auras collided and pressed together in the hall.

The air became viscous.

Breathing became difficult.

Those watching unconsciously held their breath.

Some people clenched their fists.

Some people gritted their teeth.

Someone instinctively took half a step back.

Four steps.

Three steps —

Just as the two were about to enter the final attack range, preparing to unleash a devastating blow—

Catherine's eyes widened suddenly!

It's not fear.

It's a decision!

Her hands suddenly flipped outwards—not pushed forward, but pulled open to both sides like opening a door!

That ice crystal—that deep blue, dazzling ice crystal she had condensed with all her vital energy—did not fly toward Fujiwara Sousuke, but instantly shattered in her palm!

It's not shattering, it's disintegrating!

The ice crystals transformed into countless tiny, almost invisible ice dust particles, resembling a cloud of deep blue mist that rapidly spread outwards from her center!

This is not an attack.

This is--

"Domain: Frozen Kingdom!"

Catherine's voice echoed in the hall, each word carrying a metallic quality, like the howling north wind of winter.

The dark blue mist spread at an astonishing speed—not the slowly spreading chill from before, but a kind of explosive spread that instantly covered everything!

Wherever the fog passed, everything was frozen!

It wasn't just a layer of frost on the surface; it was frozen from the inside out, at the molecular level. The water vapor in the air turned into ice crystals, which in turn turned into even finer ice dust. The ice layer on the ground thickened, changed color, and became as hard as sapphire. Large patches of ice flowers appeared on the walls, each one like a meticulously crafted work of art, symmetrical, perfect, and shimmering with a deep blue light.

But this is not the point.

The key point is that within this "frozen kingdom," all the heat is being lost at an irreversible rate.

It wasn't carried away by the cold air.

It was absorbed by this domain.

Fujiwara Sousuke's expression finally changed.

He no longer felt cold.

Because his nerve endings—the instant they came into contact with that deep blue mist—had already lost sensation.

He couldn't feel his left hand.

I can't feel my left arm.

I can't feel the left side of my body.

His steps faltered—not because he wanted to stop, but because his left foot failed to land properly when he took the next step. His left leg felt like a piece of wood, stiff, heavy, and unresponsive.

It wasn't frozen.

He was "killed".

"Absolute zero" is instantaneous, explosive, and limited in scope.

The "Frozen Kingdom" is continuous, pervasive, and covers the entire field.

The reason Catherine didn't use this move at the beginning of the battle was because it consumed too much energy—so much that she would have to use up all her Qi, and so much that she was burning her life force for every second she maintained it.

The reason she's only using it now is because—

She waited until the moment Fujiwara Sousuke stepped into this area.

She had calculated his pace perfectly.

They predicted his rhythm perfectly.

I knew he wouldn't back down.

From the moment Fujiwara Sousuke took his first step, she was counting his steps, observing the frequency of his strides, and calculating the location of each step he landed. She wasn't passively waiting for him to approach; instead, she was actively guiding him—using the extent of her retreat, the direction of her gaze, and the strength of her aura, she gradually led Fujiwara Sousuke to the "battlefield" she had planned.

Seven steps, six steps, five steps, four steps, three steps—each step fell within her calculations.

then.

The operation is over.

"How is that possible..."

For the first time, shock appeared in Fujiwara Sousuke's hoarse voice.

He tried to back away, but his left leg wouldn't obey him. He tried to form a hand seal with his left hand, but his fingertips lost all ability to move the moment they touched the deep blue mist.

He could only watch helplessly as the deep blue mist, like a tide, washed over his body.

Start from the soles of your feet.

Down to the calves.

Up to the knees.

Down to the waist and abdomen.

Up to the chest.

He felt as if he were being "covered" layer by layer—not frozen, but "fixed" by an invisible force. His body was as if it were embedded in a huge sapphire, and every joint, every muscle, every bone was unable to move.

"Admit defeat, or die."

Catherine's voice came from the mist.

cool.

weak.

But there is no doubt about it.

Her face was deathly pale, her lips were blue, and she swayed precariously, like a sapling struggling in a blizzard. Her hands remained outstretched, but her fingers were trembling violently, and the deep blue light in her palms was rapidly dimming.

She won't last much longer.

Maybe ten seconds.

Maybe five seconds.

He might fall down in the next second.

But Fujiwara Sousuke didn't know that.

All he knew was that if the stalemate continued, he would be completely "swallowed up" by this area—not death, but an ending far worse than death: forever trapped in a block of ice, like an insect in amber, conscious but unable to move, speak, or breathe, forever.

He struggled for a moment.

He could move his left leg a little bit—but at the cost of feeling as if his left leg had been torn off his body, with pain exploding from the depths of his bone marrow and shooting straight to the top of his head.

He gave up struggling.

"...This old man concedes defeat."