He had finally reached the distance needed for a clean shot.
But—
Stone's vision was already blurring.
The serpent's massive silhouette doubled, splitting into ghostly afterimages.
Just a few more steps…
Closer… just a little closer…
He didn't stop.
Sweat never even had time to fall—
it evaporated into nothing on his burning skin.
Closer.
Here.
He had already stepped within the range where both combatants could sense him.
Snow Kui froze.
"...Big brother?"
Hot, scorched-red skin.
Life leaking from him like water from a shattered vase.
Snow Kui didn't know why Stone had come.
But he could feel it.
Stone's life was pouring out of him—
draining away at a terrifying speed.
On the other side—
The Ash Serpent didn't seize the opening when Snow Kui faltered.
Because it was shaken.
The human had lifted his crossbow.
And the arrow—
was pointed directly at its eye.
The serpent's pupil trembled.
Under normal circumstances, a mortal bow meant nothing.
Even letting it hit would never pierce its skin.
But the man wasn't aiming for the body.
He was aiming for—
the eye.
Half its body was frozen.
It couldn't move.
It couldn't shut its eyelid.
Because the serpent had melted the ice around its eyes earlier
—wanting to glare at Snow Kui with full vision.
Regret came too late.
Stone smiled.
Moments earlier, his vision was fading.
But now—
He clearly saw the terror in the god's eye.
Didn't you want to "watch humans break"?
Who's laughing now?
Hot air scorched his lungs.
His skin sizzled like heated iron.
Yet Stone—
the head hunter among mortals—
drew the trigger with steady hands.
Hunter and prey.
Which is which now?
Thwack.
The bolt lodged deep into the exposed eye.
A piercing cry split the air.
The serpent's consciousness shook.
Its control over "Law"—its Truth—began collapsing.
Born of humans.
Defeated by humans.
It had relied on manipulating human fear to overturn a losing battle.
And now, because of a human's arrow,
it plunged back into despair.
The serpent stared, bewildered.
How did this man endure my "Law" long enough to get here?
Even dying, Stone laughed.
With a crack, the rock trapping Snow Kui's legs shattered.
He didn't rush to strike.
He reached for Stone—
whose arm hung limply, eyes dimming.
Stone didn't have much time left.
Snow Kui could feel it.
I'm too slow.
What do I do? What do I do—
"Truth."
Yes—his Truth.
Was ice's Truth only to slow movement?
No.
At its core, ice freezes.
Snow Kui clenched his fist.
Blue light erupted in his eyes.
His ice mingled with his Truth and surged outward.
Change Heaven and Earth.
Replace this space with* my** law.*
Flames died.
Ash dispersed.
A crystalline world of frost swallowed everything.
Time halted.
Ash stopped midair.
The serpent's blood froze into suspended rubies.
Even the wind became a sculpture of ice.
Snow Kui roared:
"Freeze his flowing life!"
The world obeyed.
Stone's fading life—
stopped.
He did it.
As long as Stone didn't die instantly,
Snow Kui could later feed life energy into him and slowly heal him back—
He could still live.
Relief washed over him—
Then dread.
Snow Kui turned toward the frozen serpent.
The dread hardened into fury.
He moved in a blur, spear plunging into the serpent's body.
Ice power surged, spreading from inside its wounds.
He was right—
in saving Stone, he should eliminate the threat immediately.
But there was one thing Snow Kui didn't know.
When a god dies—
the energy and "Truth" inside its body—
erupts.
"...Eh?"
The serpent was dead.
But its Truth kept rising.
Its Truth broke through Snow Kui's frozen world—
shattering his incomplete control.
Time resumed.
Life resumed.
A streak of ash—
faster than Snow Kui could move—
shot toward Stone.
Stone, barely conscious, opened his eyes.
He saw Snow Kui reaching for him—desperate, frantic, wild.
And he smiled.
His lips moved.
Snow Kui understood the silent words:
"See? Told you I'm not useless with a crossbow."
Snow Kui's wings never reached him.
Ash brushed past.
Stone's life—
the last spark—
was extinguished.
If only he had run.
For the first time—
the white yaksha wanted to flee.
Darkness.
Where… was he?
It looked like Guizhong's city.
Snow Kui blinked.
He remembered fighting something.
Then bringing people back.
The memory felt like a fever—blurred and unreal.
What was this?
White slips of paper fluttered around him.
Funeral papers.
He looked up.
White paper filled the night sky like snow.
Something sharp and cold pierced his heart.
He dropped to his knees.
One hand clutched his chest.
One hand covered his mouth.
He wanted to vomit.
There was nothing inside.
Just an aching hollow where something used to be.
Pain.
For yaksha, pain was meaningless.
But this—
This hurt.
He'd attended three funerals.
For a stranger—
he didn't understand sadness.
For someone familiar—
he didn't feel the pain.
For someone precious—
there was no escape.
In white mourning clothes, red-eyed with exhaustion, Frost approached him.
She opened her mouth—
but no words came.
She sighed… and quietly left.
On the rooftop, Guizhong held a slip of paper between her fingers.
Her gaze was gentle, aching.
"So… you finally understand."
Snow Kui lifted his head.
A scrap of white paper brushed his cheek, dancing away in the cold wind.
He stared, dazed.
Muttering words he once heard—
"Even Heaven's will… cannot be defied?"
Advance Chapters available on P@treon
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