His hand was only a foot away from the flower.
The instant his fingertips touched the petals' chill, the wind howled behind him. He did not turn around. His body instinctively leaned forward, but a stream of cold had already coiled around his ankle and crawled upward through his meridians. Ice chains burst from the ground, winding around his knees, waist, abdomen, and arms, wrapping him layer upon layer and pinning him in place.
The Snow Demon Queen stood three steps away, one palm raised, her fingers slowly curling inward. There was no trace of reverence left in her eyes—only cold resolve.
"You're too greedy," she said. "The Mystic Ice Lotus can only be used by the Snow Demon Clan. For an outsider to touch it is sacrilege."
Chen Wuya's throat moved, and the taste of rust spread through his mouth. He did not struggle. He merely lowered his head and looked at the crisscrossing ice chains over his chest. They clung tightly to him, pressing down on his acupoints as the flow of Misaligned Force was frozen bit by bit.
He knew what she was waiting for—waiting for him to beg for mercy, to give up, to admit that he should never have come.
But he had not come here for rules.
"You call it a sacred relic." He spoke, his voice hoarse as gravel scraping together. "Then tell me: guarding something that can't save anyone to the death, or taking it to save people—which one is sacrilege?"
She did not answer, only curled her fingers tighter. The ice chains creaked as they bit into his flesh.
Chen Wuya gritted his teeth as the remaining qi in his body was forced to its limit. He did not dare move recklessly, afraid that disturbing his meridians would cause the Misaligned