"When I swing with full force, the elemental power still distorts a little.
Maintaining it as a flat plane… is harder than expected."
Snow Kui looked at Morax.
Morax: Why are you staring at me?
Snow Kui continued, completely serious:
"You've used this before, right?"
Morax blinked.
Used what?
I've never done any of this.
But he maintained a calm expression, as if he understood perfectly.
Snow Kui rolled his wrists, spear in hand.
"I'll try again. I have a rough grasp of it now.
I want to refine it."
His posture shifted.
Something—wild and ancient—rose from him.
An oppressive aura rolled off his body like a beast prowling a barren plain.
In Morax's numb gaze, Snow Kui swung his ice spear.
Not like a spear.
Like a massive club.
And in that instant, Morax saw an illusion—
a mountain-sized brown bear raising its paw and smashing the world.
CRASH!
The inward-curving cliff wall shattered, pulverized evenly from center to edge.
Morax: "…"
He was… adapting.
After watching Snow Kui master the Three Immortal Arts in merely two months,
Morax found himself developing a stoic tolerance to absurdity.
He eventually named this new technique:
Honghuang — Primordial Force.
The flood.
The wilderness.
Power untamed.
Back underwater—
Snow Kui hammered the massive dragon through the depths,
up toward the surface.
The world exploded in spray.
A tremendous plume of water erupted as the dragon breached the surface,
still accelerating upward.
A smaller splash followed as Snow Kui shot out after it,
ice-winged and relentless.
The dragon flailed midair, bound tightly by frost-ribbons.
Snow Kui tossed his spear skyward—
a rune flared across it.
The floating spear absorbed gathering ice.
Crystals whirled, layering and fusing.
Soon, a spear far too massive for human hands
hung suspended in the air like an executioner's blade.
Blue-white runic patterns pulsed faintly.
Snow Kui's eyes narrowed.
Morax's rock spears had inspired him—
but his own version was built from ice, runes, and killing intent.
Not elegance.
Destruction.
The spear descended.
Snow Kui twisted his body, hands at his waist, then—
SLAMMED both palms into the base of the spear.
It shot downward like a falling star.
SPLASH!
The spear pierced the dragon and carried it downward in the same motion,
dragging it until—
THUD!
It nailed the dragon to the peak of a mountain.
Snow Kui landed softly on the wet stone.
He formed a new spear with a flick of his wrist
and began walking toward the pinned dragon.
Every step echoed.
Rain fell gently around them.
The dragon writhed weakly, trying to break free.
Snow Kui's eyes glowed blue.
Runes along the massive spear pulsed in response.
A suppressive force washed over the dragon.
Morax… your techniques are too useful.
In that moment, everything finally stilled.
Only the rain continued to fall.
Once he killed it,
the rain would stop.
The dragon looked at him—
then turned its gaze toward the distant southeastern horizon.
Not in hatred.
Not in fear.
But in… longing.
A low, mournful whale-like call rumbled from deep within its chest.
Snow Kui froze.
He recognized that look.
It was the same look he'd worn
when staring up at the night sky after Stone Dust died.
Longing…
Only after losing someone
did he understand the weight of that word.
Images flickered through his mind—
Stone Dust laughing, drinking, stubbornly living.
He clenched his spear harder.
Longing is cold.
Loneliness is a wound that doesn't bleed.
He saw tears leak from the dragon's eye.
What… was it longing for?
Snow Kui followed its gaze through the mist and rain.
And then—
The landscape seemed familiar.
Memory surged.
Night.
Thunder.
The roar of the ocean.
A sea-born god summoning the waters.
Land swallowed.
Villages drowned.
A smaller dragonling—
curious and naïve—
had wandered into a new domain.
Narrow river paths.
Stone walls.
Nowhere to turn.
And then—
Golden jade fell from the sky,
blocking its way back to the sea.
Cut off.
Trapped.
Unable to fly.
Lost between mountains for years,
wandering in circles, searching for the ocean that never appeared.
Until recently—
The wind carried the scent of salt and sea.
Desperate,
it drew every drop of water it could
into the sky.
If no path home exists—
Then I will make one.
Snow Kui looked down at the blood-soaked earth beneath him,
the point of his spear rising slowly.
Enough reminiscing.
He had a crisis to end.
He advanced—
Later—
At the edge of the plains, near sand and surf,
a massive body dragged itself slowly forward.
A horned dragonling.
A water wyrm—still only a juvenile.
It should have been terrifying.
Instead, it curled into itself like a frightened animal,
paws pressed to its chest,
big round eyes wet with confusion.
If it were small,
it might have looked… cute.
Beneath the wyrm's enormous bulk,
a faint silhouette supported it—
holding up the entire dragon by sheer force.
"You're this big—
AND YOU STILL CAN'T FLY!?"
A furious voice growled through gritted teeth.
Snow Kui, soaked and exhausted,
was dragging the entire dragon home.
Advance Chapters available on P@treon
[email protected]/soulrequiem