Chapter 12: Tracking

Wanxing Mountain Range, the Falling Immortal Lake.

A man with a scruffy beard carried a sword, standing by the lake's edge, glancing first at the lakebank hundreds of meters away, then at the center of the water.

Where the lake should have shimmered with rippling waves, it was now entirely occupied by a towering ice pillar shooting skyward. The column, reaching a hundred feet high, was as clear and crystalline as glass, exuding a cold, unyielding chill that spread endlessly beneath the cascading moonlight. The vast lake surface had been completely frozen over.

The bearded man snapped his jaws, as if the cold had numbed his senses. He rubbed his arms, flexing them slightly, and sighed wistfully:

"Phew, good thing I didn't go chasing them alone. With this scale—when you report back, I'm guessing I'd already be frozen solid inside that giant block of ice."

The two were the man and woman who had appeared earlier outside the temple.

The woman still wore her tight-fitting robe—black base with red trim—her slender figure curving with graceful definition. Her high ponytail gently swayed in the breeze, and she too stared at the colossal ice pillar in the middle of the lake, speaking softly:

"It's Ran Qingmo from the Sword Sect."

The man with the beard narrowed his eyes, then suddenly leapt forward—vanishing from his spot, reappearing instantly atop the immense ice pillar at the heart of the lake.

Seeing this, the woman flashed forward and followed closely behind. By the time she arrived, the stubbled man was half-squatting on the ice, lightly tracing the crystalline surface with his hand.

The woman cast her eyes over the surroundings, looking down from her vantage point.

The forest of hundred-meter-tall giant trees surrounding Immortal Fall Lake had been leveled across a massive expanse, a testament to the sheer ferocity of the battle that had transpired.

After a brief pause, the woman questioned the man:

"Find anything?"

Squatting on the ground, the man stroked his stubble and spoke with a hint of hesitation:

"The other person who fought Ran Qingmo doesn't seem to be human."

"A demon?" The woman knitted her brows, pondering for a moment before adding, "There are very few transformed great demons in this Wanxing Mountain Range capable of fighting Ran Qingmo to such an extent."

The stubbled man smiled faintly, brought a palm-sized scale he had picked up to his nose to sniff it, and casually tossed it to the woman, saying:

"It's none of those old monsters. It's a female snake."

The woman glanced down, furrowed her brow. "Mother snake? Can you tell what it is?"

The man with a beard paused, murmuring softly:

"The remaining qi bears a resemblance to the Seven-Generations Serpent. Considering the techniques used and the residual source qi, this Seven-Generations Serpent has likely reached its sixth shedding."

He chewed his lower lip, voice tinged with admiration. "Hmph... a Sixth-Turn Seven-Generations Serpent. With just one more life, it would fully stabilize its human form. Likely a significant figure among the serpent deities of the Alien Demon Realm."

Pausing briefly, the man stood up, a rare seriousness appearing in his expression:

"It was trapped by Ran Qingmo using this ice pillar, revealing its true form as it broke free. From this, it seems Ran Qingmo wasn't intending to face her head-on."

The woman's brow tightened further. "So you mean the Third Prince was captured by Ran Qingmo?"

The man did not answer immediately. After long contemplation, he shook his head:

"Uncertain. At least during the time we fell into the Celestial Fall Lake, Ran Qingmo was trying to protect the Third Prince. Inform the First Prince and the others—let them know we've found the Third Prince's whereabouts."

The woman's eyes flickered with a moment of doubt: "But now we're..."

"Ever since we've been tracking them, the man who abducted the Third Prince never veered off course."

The man raised a hand, cutting her off, standing atop a hundred-foot pillar of ice, gazing at the towering mountain beyond—like a devouring beast stretching into the heavens.

"They're heading for Tianmen Mountain."

.........

The wound behind the white tiger was grotesque and terrifying, though now covered with scabs, the crimson stain that had once spread across its snowy fur remained painfully visible.

Having just arrived in this world and untouched by cultivation, Xu Yuan could not, from the shape and depth of the wound, glean any further insight.

Yet even the fact that the white tiger had been injured was more than enough.

While he was unconscious, the two of them had managed to travel from their starting point to Tianmen Mountain in just four days—proof that the white tiger had carried him along.

And yet, this white tiger, serving as his means of transport during his unconscious state, had sustained injuries when confronted with external attacks—specifically, when Ran Qingmo was present.

In the four days of unconsciousness, the events that had unfolded seemed to stretch far beyond what he had imagined.

As thoughts flickered through his mind, Xu Yuan glanced around once more.

Flakes of snow drifted down from the sky, caught in the biting wind, settling upon thick layers of snow—beneath it, faintly visible, a bone stained with blood.

This discovery sent a cold weight into Xu Yuan’s chest. He glanced at the slender, nearly thread-like snow wolf lying on the ground, and exhaled softly.

The blood-stained bone was likely the remains of prey captured and consumed by Bai Hu earlier. And given the size of the beast’s remains, they had remained in place for at least one full day.

One day...

With pursuers behind them, what had compelled Ran Qingmo to halt and rest?

Xu Yuan gazed at the black-robed woman seated motionless in the snow.

The moonlight caressed her veil, and her dark robe swayed gently in the breeze, as if carved from beauty itself.

A thousand thoughts surged through Xu Yuan’s mind. He took a deep breath:

"You... were hurt."

His voice was soft, drifting away instantly with the cold wind of the mountains.

A silence fell. Ran Qingmo remained closed-eyed, regulating his breath, yet did not deny:

"Yeah."

"Severe?"

"A bit."

The assumption was confirmed. Xu Yuan reached up, rubbing his brow, then glanced downward at the endless forest below the peaks:

"Where is she?"

"My injury is less severe than hers."

"..."

Xu Yuan remained silent.

He recalled the wound behind the white tiger—likely a result of him having held her back.

The wind was cold and howling, the stars scattered across the sky.

After a long while, Xu Yuan spoke again, his words earnest:

"I'm sorry."

"......."

Ran Qingmo said nothing, merely closing her eyes and speaking calmly:

"Since you've awakened, go up with it. I'll wait for her here."

As she spoke, she slightly raised her hand and tossed something small to Xu Yuan.

Without thinking, Xu Yuan reached out and caught it. Looking down, he saw that Ran Qingmo had given him a small ice blade—clear and luminous, its entire body shining like crystal.

Xu Yuan, instinctively asked:

"Is this?"

Ran Qingmo opened her eyes, glanced at the large white tiger by her side:

"If it shows any signs of disturbance, crush it."

A flicker of sudden understanding passed through Xu Yuan's eyes.

Just moments ago, he had been wondering why this white tiger had remained so obedient to Ran Qingmo over four days—now he realized it was because Ran Qingmo had made subtle alterations within its body.

After a brief silence, Xu Yuan said nothing, grasped the ice-crystal dagger tightly, and climbed onto the back of the white tiger.

When he touched the wound on the tiger's back, already covered in dried blood scabs, he immediately felt the massive creature beneath him shiver slightly.

Fortunately, beyond that minor tremor, the white tiger showed no further significant reaction.

Crouched atop the beast, Xu Yuan again looked toward the black-clad woman seated beside him. After a moment of silence, he spoke softly:

"I'll wait for you at the Hanging Edge on the peak of Tianmen Mountain."

"......"

A moment of silence passed, and Ran Qingmo's voice remained as clear and gentle as when they first met:

"No."

Xu Yuan stared at her, slow and steady, repeating:

"I said, I'll wait for you at the Hanging Edge."

"........."

Ran Qingmo blinked her beautiful eyes, a faint confusion in her gaze.

She tried to understand why this man insisted on waiting for her.

Xu Yuan said nothing, merely gazing at her with quiet stillness.

Ran Qingmo did not come, so he could only leap from the cliff.

With only three points of fortune in his original body, not even the cave sanctuary could be reached—falling freely halfway down, he’d likely be snagged by the overhanging rock face.

Ran Qingmo couldn’t understand it, gently shaking her head:

"I left an aura trace within you, so I could find you."

Xu Yuan casually invented something, speaking word by word:

"The cave sanctuary can shield aura."

Ran Qingmo remained silent.

After a long while,

she slowly opened her eyes, slightly tilting her head upward, gazing at the gentleman in crimson robe riding a white tiger beneath the moonlight.

Silence. A gaze locked in mutual understanding.

In the end, she nodded gently, her face veiled, the crimson lips beneath the black silk just barely parting:

"Very well."

Xu Yuan smiled softly, "Come early."

In silence,

The White Tiger vanished in an instant, becoming a streak of pure white against the sky, racing toward the summit—leaving behind only that black robe, like ink, sitting motionless upon the desolate snowfield...