Nga_Kani

Left for dead on a snowy mission, cast aside by her own master and the disciples she once called family, Li Shuang should have fallen into obscurity. But instead, she rose.

Severing her past, she cultivates the Supreme Forgetting Love Technique, a path of clarity forged through heartbreak—not detachment. In abandoning the soul-bound Frostcut Sword, she finds something far older, far darker: the Black Abyss Sword, an artifact of lost history and buried power.

Taken in by a new master and siblings who see her for who she truly is, Li Shuang begins to rebuild. But the world is far wider than one peak, and the continent is only the beginning.

Cultivators travel between nations and empires. Mysteries simmer beneath the surface of every sect.

Cut From Ice: A Cultivator’s Rebirth

The duel ended, but the silence lingered.

Li Shuang left Moonfall Platform without another word.

She didn't look back at Sheng Yuan, who still knelt in stunned silence, his sword lying cold on the stone beside him.

The watching disciples parted to let her pass, many of them lowering their eyes—not out of fear, but out of awe.

A cultivator who stood above grievance.

Someone who had transcended pettiness.

Back on Wuqing Peak, Luo Mingyue greeted her with a wide grin.

"You were incredible," she said, practically skipping beside her as they walked. "Did you see how all the disciples looked at you?"

Li Shuang simply nodded, her expression unreadable.

"You didn't even use your full strength," Mingyue continued, tone gleeful. "He's probably questioning everything about his life right now."

That earned a small smile from Li Shuang.

Just a flicker—but it was there.

"You're not wrong," she said softly.

Then her gaze turned back toward the distance.

At Lingxu Peak, Sheng Yuan sat alone inside the meditation hall.

His sword had been returned to him—but it felt heavier than ever before.

He wasn't angry. He wasn't bitter.

The sister he once looked up to had walked away from him, not in hatred, but in silence.

She had made her stance clear—he no longer mattered.

And somehow, that hurt more than any blade.

Lingxu Zhenren stood at the door, watching him.

Just stared, a flicker of disappointment in his eyes.

Meanwhile, inside her personal chamber, Ye Zhaozhao was seething.

The system's voice echoed in her ears:

"Warning: Target's influence has increased among sect disciples."

"Public favor toward Host has decreased."

"Luck assimilation stalled."

"Why?" she hissed. "Why is she getting everything again?"

She had worked so hard to isolate Li Shuang. To turn the sect against her. To steal her sword, her standing, her place.

And now—she was slipping behind again.

"System," she said coldly. "Is there a way to accelerate luck absorption?"

"Yes. But it requires destabilizing the target's mental state."

"The Supreme Forgetting Love Technique suppresses negative emotions. However, it is not immune to trauma."

"Force a confrontation with her past. Stir what remains buried."

"She thinks she's above pain. But everyone has a wound they can't forget."

"System," she said, "Prepare to access the memory core."

"Let's bring her mother into this."

That night, Li Shuang stood outside under the starlight.

The air was cool. The platform was quiet.

She practiced slowly, each swing of Frostcut precise and silent.

Her spiritual flow paused for just a moment.

As if something—far away—had stirred.

A thread of disturbance. A whisper of unrest.

The night felt heavier than before.

But she didn't yet understand why.

Chapter 18: Ripples After the Storm