The scorching flames of the Burning Realm were still etched in Yan Xuanlanbin's memory, but now a biting chill wrapped around him like a steel shroud. The air crackled with a cold so sharp it sliced through flesh and spirit alike. Before him loomed the towering entrance to the Frozen Abyss — the third realm of the nine, where icy winds screamed and the ground was a frozen wasteland, glittering under a pale, ghostly sun.
The realm was silent in a way that demanded respect — no bird songs, no rustling leaves, just the cold hum of ancient ice energy. Yan's breath fogged in the air as he took a deep inhale, the cold searing his lungs, a reminder that here, only those with indomitable will could survive.
Behind him, the Sect Elders watched silently, their faces stoic and unreadable beneath their frost-covered cloaks. The eldest, a man with eyes as cold and sharp as glaciers, finally spoke. His voice was a slow, steady crack, like ice breaking beneath a frozen lake.
"Yan Xuanlanbin, the Frozen Abyss will test more than your sword. It will test your mind, your spirit, and your very essence. The Glacial Heart Technique is your key. Master it, or be consumed by the cold."
Yan bowed his head, the weight of their words heavy but steadying. He tightened his grip on the Supreme Sword, its golden light flickering faintly — a beacon of warmth amid the freezing void.
The icy gate opened with a deafening crack, and Yan stepped forward into the abyss.
The temperature plummeted instantly. Frost formed thick crystals on his robes, and the air shimmered with a blue-white cold that seemed almost alive. Jagged pillars of ice rose like frozen sentinels around him, their surfaces etched with glowing runes that pulsed with icy energy.
The sky above swirled with snowstorms, sheets of crystalline flakes dancing in the biting wind.
Yan's boots crunched against the frozen ground. Every breath was a battle. The cold clawed at his skin, threatening to numb him. But he refused to yield.
Suddenly, sharp shapes moved from the shadows.
A pack of Ice Wraiths appeared—ethereal warriors born from the essence of the frozen realm itself. Their bodies shimmered with frosted armor, eyes glowing with a fierce, chilling blue. Their blades were forged from ice so sharp it could cut through steel and flesh without mercy.
They moved with unnatural speed, darting like shadows through the cold mist.
Yan's muscles tensed, his senses sharpening to a razor's edge.
The first wraith lunged, a blur of icy steel aimed straight for Yan's throat.
With lightning-fast reflexes, Yan parried with the Supreme Sword, the blade clashing against the ice with a burst of golden light. The impact sent a shockwave that shattered ice crystals in every direction, sparkling like stars in the frostbitten air.
Yan's Second Bloodstage Seal pulsed strongly beneath his chest, golden veins glowing brighter as he pushed his cultivation energy outward, forming a thin shield of Sword Qi that repelled the chilling cold and slowed the wraith's advance.
He stepped forward, sword slashing in a wide arc of golden flames. The fiery energy was unlike anything the cold realm had seen—warmth against the bite of frost. The flames melted part of the wraith's icy form, forcing it back with a piercing shriek.
More wraiths closed in, a deadly dance of blade and ice. Yan's sword moved with fierce grace, carving through the frost air and melting enemies before they could reach him.
But the cold was more than a physical force—it crept inside his mind.
Shadows of doubt and fear slithered at the edges of his consciousness. The frozen realm whispered lies: weakness, failure, defeat.
Yan's breath grew shallow. His limbs felt heavy, as if his very blood was freezing in his veins.
He clenched his jaw. The Golden Dragon Slash had taught him to rely on raw power, but here, that was not enough.
He needed balance.
Drawing deep from his cultivation, Yan reached inward to awaken the Glacial Heart Technique—an ancient, forbidden art rumored to blend the freezing cold with blazing heat.
His dantian flared as golden light collided with icy blue energy. The clash was agonizing, the two opposing forces battling for dominance inside his body.
His skin prickled, frost forming on his hair and eyelashes. But his core burned brighter than ever—a perfect fusion of fire and ice.
Yan's aura transformed into a shimmering frost-gold glow, the very air around him humming with mixed energies.
The next wave of ice wraiths attacked, but Yan was ready.
With a shout, he unleashed the Glacial Dragon Slash—a powerful, swirling strike combining freezing shards and scorching flames. The slash cut through the frozen battlefield, sending shards of ice and embers flying in a dazzling display of elemental fury.
The wraiths shattered and melted, their forms dissolving into mist as Yan's strike tore through the cold like a storm of fire and frost.
But the Frozen Abyss was merciless.
From the shadows stepped the realm's guardian: the Frost Reaper, a towering figure clad in armor of glacial ice, wielding a massive scythe that dripped with freezing energy.
Its hollow eyes glowed with merciless blue fire, and with every step it took, the ground froze solid, cracks spreading like spiderwebs across the ice.
Yan's heart pounded fiercely.
This was no ordinary foe.
He raised the Supreme Sword, now blazing with combined golden and icy light.
The clash was titanic.
The Frost Reaper swung its scythe in a wide, sweeping arc of pure ice energy. Yan rolled beneath, sparks flying as the blade sliced mere inches from his side.
He countered with a furious combination of Golden Dragon Slash and Glacial Dragon Slash, each strike a deadly fusion of heat and cold. The air cracked with power, light and ice clashing in violent explosions.
Their battle tore through the frozen landscape, shaking the realm to its core.
At the edge of his strength, Yan remembered the lessons of the previous realms—speed, precision, and control.
He focused, centering the volatile energies within him.
The golden seal on his chest flared, now intertwined with icy blue lines like dragon scales glowing beneath his skin.
With a mighty roar, Yan unleashed his ultimate move: the Dragon's Heart Tempest.
His sword spun rapidly, radiating waves of fire and ice in perfect harmony—a swirling storm of destruction that engulfed the Frost Reaper.
The guardian's form cracked and shattered under the tempest's assault, fragments of ice exploding into sparkling dust.
Silence fell once more over the frozen realm.
Breathing heavily, Yan stood tall, his body humming with the balanced fury of fire and ice.
The Elders' voices echoed faintly, carried by the cold wind: "You have mastered the Frozen Abyss. The balance you forged is rare—fire and ice, destruction and control. You have proven your will is unbreakable."
Yan sheathed the Supreme Sword, feeling the pulse of his evolving power sync with the blade's heartbeat.
The journey through the Nine Realms was far from over.
Beyond the Frozen Abyss awaited the Realm of Storms, the fourth test—a place where thunder roared and lightning danced, demanding even greater mastery over sword and soul.
Yan Xuanlanbin took a deep breath, feeling the cold and fire burning within him.
The legend of the Bearer of the Supreme Sword was just beginning.