The Ice in His Veins

Where is Xueyin?

The emperor's voice rang with suppressed fury, echoing through the official court.

One of the guards instinctively stepped forward, then froze mid-motion. A visible shiver ran down his spine as a vivid memory struck him—of the time he had foolishly wandered into the garden Xueyin had personally sealed with mechanisms and elemental traps. He had barely escaped with his life.

No one, absolutely no one, dared enter Xueyin's domain.

Only four people had ever stepped foot in that secluded space without suffering the consequences: the emperor himself, his late mother, his younger sister... and Master Liang. Anyone else risked losing their way, or worse—being crippled or killed if Xueyin's traps mistook them for intruders.

The garden was not just a retreat. It was a fortress of solitude—a reflection of Xueyin's cold detachment from the world.

"M-My Emperor," the guard stammered, sweat pooling at his temple. "P-Perhaps... you should summon him personally. You wouldn't want another unwanted death on your hands... would you?"

Fear crept into his voice—not just fear of the emperor's wrath, but the deep, paralyzing fear of Xueyin himself.

The emperor's gaze darkened. Without another word, he extended his hand and released a pulse of qi—sharp and deliberate, a message carried on spiritual waves.

"Your presence is required in the official court. Now."

The message pierced through the layered wards surrounding the garden, but by the time it reached Xueyin, the emperor's voice had softened—almost like a whisper caught in the wind. The spiritual barrier and Xueyin's intense cultivation made it so.

Yet... Xueyin heard.

And that alone was enough to shift the air.

The court was deathly silent, so quiet it could swallow a pin drop whole. Not a single minister dared to breathe too loudly. The cold air biting through the grand hall wasn't natural—it came from the presence of one man.

Xueyin.

He walked into the court with his usual indifferent gaze, robes billowing like silent thunderclouds. The pressure of his spiritual energy made the room feel like a burial ground. Even the Emperor had to adjust his posture subtly—not from pride, but caution. It wasn't every day a father feared his own son.

"What's the problem?"

His voice was low, calm, yet sharp like a blade drawn without a sound. Even the birds outside stopped chirping, hovering mid-flight as though nature itself recognized the danger. Ministers who moments before raised their heads in pride now swallowed gulps of fear.

Unable to stand the tension, the Emperor finally exploded.

"Can't you explain to him what happened in the village?!" he roared at the ministers.

None dared move.

The Emperor's lips trembled in anger, but before he could utter another word, Xueyin turned slightly, not even offering a full glance. "Yin Er… do the necessary—"

"You have no right to call me that name," Xueyin interjected, his voice even colder now. "You lost the privilege the moment you remarried that vile woman you call Empress."

The Emperor stiffened. Xueyin didn't raise his voice—he didn't need to. His words were transmitted through spiritual qi, reaching directly to the Emperor's mind. A deliberate act to prevent public humiliation—ironic, considering the very words did just that in private.

Tension twisted tighter in the room.

Stubbornly, the Emperor repeated aloud, "Yin Er... I hope you heard what I said."

Without a word, Xueyin turned his back to the assembly and made for the exit. His disdain wasn't loud—it was in the silence, in the dismissal of power. He had no interest in idle commands from a man he barely recognized as father.

But just before he vanished from sight, a message echoed across the court with urgency and power.

"Xueyin!" the Emperor called, this time using his full name. "You are to go to YìchūnVillage and do the needful. I want the head of every Xié Suì Sect member. They dared spill innocent blood and chanted those cursed words against the throne!"

A pause.

"You know what to do."

Swiiish

Xueyin vanished without acknowledgment, his robes trailing shadows behind him as he disappeared into thin air. His mission had begun. Not just to deliver vengeance... but to trace every drop of blood that led to the mystery of his mother's death.