The ninety-nine white jade steps of Pope Palace gleamed coldly in the fading light as Qian Lingche climbed, pulling his fur cloak tighter around himself.
Soul Power stirred restlessly inside him, and the lingering chill of his Martial Soul frosted the edges of the stone steps.
"Sorry for the trouble, but please inform my mother..." He looked up at the three-zhang-tall gilded palace doors. The angel crest on the guards' breastplates reflected a blinding glare.
The guard captain, clad in heavy armor, barred his way with a halberd. "Sorry, Your Highness. His Holiness the Pope is in seclusion."
A burst of laughter suddenly came from within the palace. Through the carved doors, Qian Lingche saw the slender figure of a girl holding his mother's arm.
"Teacher, I can release my Martial Soul freely now!"
"Nana is wonderful. Tomorrow, I'll take you to hunt for a Soul Ring."
Qian Lingche's fingertips dug deep into his palm. He felt that even the pain of absorbing a three-thousand-year Soul Ring was nothing compared to this. His mother's gentle voice was like an Ice Cone from the Far North, piercing through his eardrums and straight into his heart.
As dusk drenched the final step, he reached the entrance to the Worship Hall.
The setting sun gilded the statue of the Six-Winged Angel, while his sister's sweet laughter drifted over on the evening breeze. The crisp clink of dishes mingled with his grandfather's deep praise.
Qian Lingche didn't know why. Why was he the only one who didn't belong?
But he didn't ask again. He simply turned in silence and walked back to his palace.
Fortunately, as the young master of Spirit Hall, he still had everything he was supposed to have, even if he wasn't valued. But that was all...
The twelve ice-cracked windows of Frost Snow Palace reflected a solitary figure. Qian Lingche curled up on the bed carved from dark ice.
The dinner his maid had brought as usual slowly grew cold on the side table. Ice beads gathered along the edge of the golden-thread nanmu tray, then slid slowly down the wings of the angel carved into it.
Above the sea of clouds, Qian Yuhan's six wings unfurled beneath the stars in Angel God Palace.
The divine mirror showed Frost Snow Palace on Douluo Continent, where ice crystals were growing along the lashes of a sleeping child.
"A Six-Winged Angel of extreme cold..." She touched the mirror, and ripples revealed the scene from the day Qian Lingche awakened.
Snow God Qian Shangyi's silver lashes trembled. She brushed her fingers over the child's ear, red from the cold in the mirror. "It's been thirty thousand years. He's the only child whose Martial Soul is the same as mine."
Frost flowers formed beneath Qian Shangyi's fingertips on the surface of the divine mirror. Ice crystals spread along Qian Lingche's curled-up outline.
"Look at the way he clutches his cloak. It's exactly like me at twelve, when I was shut out of Spirit Hall."
Qian Yuhan's hand trembled slightly as she watched the scene appear in the mirror: a girl wrapped in a shabby fox-fur coat trudged through a blizzard, one difficult step at a time.
Beyond the colored-glass windows of Pope Palace, the other heirs gathered around the brazier to share honey cakes.
"Of all my father's children, I was the only one..." Qian Shangyi brushed the ice from the mirror, revealing herself as a girl, kneeling in the snow.
A cold wind suddenly swept into the palace. Qian Lingche shivered in his sleep.
Qian Shangyi's divine consciousness became a phantom and gently stroked the child's back. The gesture reminded Angel God of a snowy night ten thousand years ago. Back then, newly ascended as Angel God, she had passed through the snowfields and seen the girl Qian Shangyi using her own body to warm an Ice Plains Wolf frozen stiff with cold.
"People's troubles can be summed up in just a few words." The Snow God's voice shattered the frozen moment. "Unable to let go of blood ties, unable to understand why they're rejected, unable to see through the warmth and coldness of the world, unable to forget the lingering warmth in their palms."
Qian Yuhan's gaze turned to a spot in the mirror. Beside Qian Lingche's pillow lay half a crushed Snow Honey Cake. Guang Ling had slipped it to him yesterday, but he couldn't bear to eat it all.
"If someone had left me a piece of honey cake back then..." Ice crystals coated Qian Shangyi's silver lashes.
"How much his experiences resemble yours." Qian Yuhan saw Qian Shangyi's regret reflected in her eyes. "In the end, will he too become that light in a pitch-black night where no one shines a light?"
"But my ice shattered the shackles that bound me!" Ice crystals formed the Snow Soul Sword around her, the blade with which she had fought for ten thousand years. "And he's still waiting for someone else to grant him warmth and light."
Qian Yuhan shook her head, and holy light smoothed the cracks in the mirror.
A new image appeared: Qian Lingche was gathering ice crystals with his Soul Power, then shaping them into sunflowers as they swirled around his fingertips.
"Look. He actually understands everything. He just wants to give it one more try."
Qian Shangyi stared blankly as Qian Lingche placed the ice flower he had carved opposite the cold dinner tray, as if the family he imagined were sitting there.
"Life is like snow. The tighter you try to hold on, the faster it slips through your fingers."