A Man in the Snow: Starting with a Sword Challenge to the Northern Liang Prince's Palace

The Lizhu Cave Heaven is on the verge of collapse.

Counting the days, it's been almost two years since Ye Yun left the Sword Qi Great Wall.

The sky was still the same sky, a clear, deep blue, with drifting white clouds. But if you looked closely, you could see that the clouds were twisting and stretching at an extremely slow speed, as if an invisible hand was tearing them apart.

From the depths of the sky, a muffled sound occasionally drifted out, as if something were breaking.

That's the collapse of the laws of heaven and earth.

The Lizhu Cave has existed for three thousand years.

Three thousand years ago, the last true dragon perished here. Its blood stained the heavens and earth red, its bones transformed into mountains and rivers, and its soul became destiny.

Taking this opportunity, the sages of the three religions and the nobles of the three mountains and nine kingdoms opened up this blessed land for those with affinity to cultivate and attain enlightenment.

Three thousand years have passed.

With its fortunes exhausted, Heaven began its reckoning.

The town was much quieter than usual. Most of the visiting cultivators had already left, and the streets were no longer bustling. Only a few wealthy people were packing up their belongings, preparing to move away.

Ye Yun walked along the long street and turned into Mud Bottle Alley.

The alley was still the same alley, dilapidated, narrow, with moss growing in the cracks of the bluestone slabs, but at this moment it seemed exceptionally quiet, as quiet as an empty city.

He walked to the pharmacy at the alley entrance and went inside.

Old Yang was still sitting in the courtyard, his eyes closed, holding the pipe in his hand, the embers in the pipe flickering.

It seems like nothing has changed.

It's as if this town will never fall apart, as if those who left will return, as if time has stood still here.

Ye Yun sat down in front of the counter.

"Senior," he called softly.

Old Man Yang opened his eyes.

His cloudy old eyes gleamed faintly in the dim light, like two pieces of amber worn away by time. He looked at Ye Yun and nodded.

"You haven't left yet?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

Ye Yun shook his head and said, "I want to see the true faces of those three sages."

Old Yang took a puff of his pipe, and the smoke billowed in the lamplight.

He was silent for a moment, then suddenly said, "Heh heh, you're not afraid of offending them."

"Because I'm not afraid."

"It seems you know more than I thought."

Ye Yun didn't reply. He took out a small wine pot from his pocket, placed it on the counter, and pushed it in front of Old Man Yang.

"Senior, would you like a drink?"

Old Yang looked down at the wine jug, then looked up at Ye Yun, a complex emotion flashing in his cloudy eyes. He didn't refuse; he picked up the jug, uncorked it, and took a sip.

"Good wine, imbued with the spirit of swordsmanship."

Ye Yun smiled and said, "It's homemade."

Old Yang took another sip and put the wine pot back on the counter. He leaned back in his chair, staring at the oil lamp above him, and remained silent for a long time.

"Did you get what you wanted?" he finally asked.

Ye Yun nodded and said, "I got it. She gave me a wisp of her origin."

Old Yang wasn't surprised; he simply grunted in response.

He repeated himself, his tone a few degrees harsher than before, "This is none of your business anymore. Leave!"

Ye Yun remained silent for a moment, then suddenly asked, "Senior, is Mr. Qi truly left with no way out?"

Old Yang paused for a moment.

The pipe hung in mid-air, the sparks in the bowl flickering intermittently.

He did not answer immediately.

After a long time, he finally sighed.

The sigh was very soft, but Ye Yun heard it clearly. There was something very heavy in that sigh, as if it had been weighed down for three thousand years.

"That's a stubborn mule," Old Yang said, his voice even hoarser than before.

"Once he chose that path, no one could stop him. The key is that he's blocking other people's way, and the old man can't help him."

Ye Yun lowered his head.

He recalled Qi Jingchun's words: "A gentleman would not save someone, but I am a scholar."

"Some things just have to be done by someone."

Qi Jingchun knew from the beginning that the moment the Lizhu Cave Heaven shattered would be the moment of his death.

He knew that Heaven would settle scores, that the three religions would plot against him, and that someone had to take responsibility for the six thousand lives lost in this small town.

So he chose that path.

It's not that I'm not afraid of death, it's that there are some things more important than death.

"What can I do?" Ye Yun asked.

Old Man Yang shook his head: "There's nothing you can do. That's his path, his destiny. You're an outsider, you can't interfere. Maybe you can get involved if you grow up in the future."

"Kid, if you want to follow in his footsteps, I'm afraid it won't work."

Ye Yun remained silent.

Old Yang looked at him, a hint of seriousness suddenly appearing in his cloudy eyes: "But there is one thing you can do."

Ye Yun looked up.

Old Man Yang said, word by word, "Chen, Ping, An".

Ye Yun naturally understood what this group of people wanted to do.

Behind this lies the shadow of the whole family, and even more so the work of the senior disciple of the Wensheng Academy.

Old Man Yang continued, "If there's an opportunity in the future, you can help this old man with something, as a way of repaying the debt of karma."

"Can you do it?"

Ye Yun remained silent for a long time.

"able."

Old Man Yang nodded, took out a jade slip from under the counter, and handed it to Ye Yun.

"These are some things I've collected over the years, things related to the ancient Heavenly Court. There might be something you want in them. Take them; they might be useful."

Ye Yun accepted the jade slip; it felt warm and smooth to the touch, with a faint, ancient aura emanating from it. He didn't examine it closely, but instead tucked it into his robes, saying solemnly, "Thank you, Senior."

Old Yang waved his hand, leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and looked like he was about to fall asleep again.

Ye Yun stood up, preparing to take his leave.

As he reached the door, Old Man Yang's voice came from behind him: "Kid."

Ye Yun stopped and looked back.

Old Yang didn't open his eyes, but just held the pipe, the embers in the bowl flickering.

His voice came from the dim light, hoarse and deep:

"If things really come to that in the future, remember that you owe me a favor."

Ye Yun stood in the doorway, backlit, so his expression was obscured. But he nodded and said very seriously:

"I won't forget."

Old Yang didn't say anything more, he just waved his hand slightly.

Ye Yun pushed open the door and went out.

The sunlight felt warm on his body. He stood at the entrance of Mud Bottle Alley and took a deep breath.

The alley was quiet, with only the whistling of the wind passing through the dilapidated doors and windows.

The door to the dilapidated little house was ajar. Chen Ping'an wasn't there; he'd probably gone to the dragon kiln.

Chen Anping became a wealthy man in the area, possessing unimaginable wealth.

Ye Yun withdrew his gaze and turned to leave.

As he walked out of the alley, he stopped and glanced back at the general store. The door was ajar, and it was dark inside; he couldn't see anything clearly.

Only a wisp of smoke drifted out from the crack in the door, rising gently in the sunlight before being dispersed by the wind.

Old Yang was still smoking.

As usual.

Just like every day.

The cracks in the sky were multiplying. They spread like a spiderweb, stretching from the depths of the sky to the ends of the earth. With each crack that appeared, a muffled sound echoed through the world, as if the world were groaning.

Sunlight streamed through the cracks, casting dappled shadows on the ground. These shadows moved and shifted, as if someone were using an invisible pen to draw the final period in this world.

Ye Yun gazed at the town.

The town was very quiet, as quiet as a painting.

Mud Bottle Lane, the old locust tree, the academy, the general store, the dragon kiln—they're all there, exactly the same as when he first arrived.

But he knew that the painting was about to be shattered.

He turned and walked down the mountain.

After walking a few steps, he suddenly stopped.

The sky was riddled with holes, and sunlight poured down through the cracks like golden pillars, supporting this collapsing world.

Lizhu Cave Heaven quietly awaits its destiny in the twilight.