After Snow Kui returned to the city,
Morax remained in Guizhong's territory for more than three full moons—
only leaving once he'd begun drifting into absent-mindedness.
He had never imagined that merely three months would change things so much.
From teacher instructing a student,
to equals discussing the Way.
In two months, Snow Kui had already absorbed most of the teachings of:
alchemy
rune arts
What remained was outer-scape formation —
a method requiring special conditions, difficult to practice without opportunity.
The final month?
Fully impossible to explain to outsiders.
Because… they spent it sparring.
Physically.
And when both abandoned elemental power and "Law,"
Morax—yes, the future Geo Archon—
was beaten senseless by the white-haired yaksha.
Morax remembered the boy's impassive expression while he was being pummeled.
He almost preferred Snow Kui jumping around, laughing and calling him "old man."
Strictly speaking…
Snow Kui had mastered the Three Immortal Arts in two months.
Morax took to the skies, lost in thought.
The last person with such terrifying talent was—
Ah.
Right.
Him.
On the city wall, patrol guards watched a white-haired child dismantling a repeating crossbow—
Guizhong's prototype siege weapon.
Years had erased their memories of a young, silver-haired healer who once tended the sick like a wandering immortal.
To them, this boy was just a silent, hollow-eyed child.
They should have stopped him.
They should have removed him immediately.
But their Archon had spoken that morning:
"Whatever that child does, do not interfere."
A god's orders left no room for questions.
Snow Kui plucked the crossbow apart piece by piece.
He rubbed a finger along the main support beam.
Quesha wood.
The finest mortal wood—hard, resistant to rot.
But mortal is mortal.
It could not withstand too much power.
He reached into his sleeve.
A dull copper bead—a metal pill refined by alchemy—landed on the wooden frame.
Silently, impossibly,
it sank into the wood.
There was no hole, no sawdust—
as if the material swallowed it of its own will.
Snow Kui tapped the newly reinforced crossbow body.
—Not the hollow thud of wood.
But the weight of stone.
A thin current of ice trickled between his fingers.
A snowy talisman appeared in his hand, etched with strange script.
He thought for a moment.
Then split it into two.
One went on the mid-frame,
the other near the end of the mechanism.
The paper melted into light,
leaving white etched lines burned into the weapon's body.
A voice drifted behind him.
"I never imagined the Dan-ding and Fuzhuan arts could blend with mechanical craft."
Snow Kui's hands paused.
He didn't turn.
He didn't need to.
Guizhong had arrived.
"A talisman stores the user's power through script.
It can strengthen the body, release spells, even store the power of others."
Guizhong stepped closer, gaze fixed on the crossbow.
"One talisman to store.
One to channel.
Very few realize this instinct we carve into our bodies—can itself become a technique."
Her voice held admiration.
And something else—something far more fragile.
"You refined the wood with alchemy so it could bear the weight of power."
Snow Kui finally turned, eyes shadowed and unreadable.
"I've mastered metal pills.
But Quesha wood can only endure copper.
Anything stronger will break its body."
Guizhong stared at him.
Somewhere, across memory and time,
she saw another figure—
cold, distant, devoted to strength yet ignorant of emotion.
Just like Morax used to be.
"You learn these techniques… to give humans more ways to protect themselves?"
Snow Kui shook his head.
"Not only.
While I grow stronger, I want them to have some ability to survive."
He opened his palm.
Two talisman glyphs flickered in the air—the gifting of knowledge.
"Strength is the root of survival."
He sounded so much like the old Morax
that Guizhong's chest ached.
"How long… have you not rested?"
"We do not sleep."
"I said rest, not sleep. Do you need me to define it?"
"I don't need rest."
He spread his wings—
like fleeing.
But the sands rose before him, stopping his takeoff.
Guizhong stepped out of the swirling dust.
Her voice trembled.
"Just stay with me for one day.
Is that… acceptable?"
Snow Kui looked at her.
Something flickered in his eyes—something fragile.
Then—
Extinguished.
"I have things to do."
He launched into the sky.
A few crystal dust-flakes from his wings fell into Guizhong's waiting hand.
Her fingers closed around nothing.
Wind swept through the empty air—
covering a god's sorrow.
Advance Chapters available on P@treon
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