“Rectangular in form, its surface smooth and wide,

  Both firm and solid, in substance it abides.

  To words, it is true, it cannot speak or vent,

  But when touched with ink, it always gives assent.”

  “Wait, wait, wait,” Bai Ning protested. “That’s too fast. Can you give it to me line by line?”

  The great face on the wall glared down at her in silent judgment. Only after a long pause did it finally reply, sounding profoundly displeased to be doing so. “Very well.”

  Its voice swelled again, booming through the green corridor and making Bai Ning take an involuntary step back. “Here is the first line: Rectangular in form, its surface smooth and wide.”

  Bai Ning frowned thoughtfully. “That could be anything rectangular. Honestly, it makes me think of… well, bricks, considering where we are. But I get the idea. I’ll revisit that later. Next line, please.” She waved hurriedly for it to continue.

  Another long pause. The face opened its mouth, closed it, opened it again, then finally gave up on whatever protest it had been trying to muster. Its voice dropped back to normal. It sighed. “The second line: Both firm and solid, in substance it abides.”

  “That-” Bai Ning began, then hesitated. She resumed, a touch uncertain. “That could still be almost anything. Basically a solid object. So… a brick is looking more and more accurate.”

  The face, anticipating another interruption, immediately recited the third line. “To words, it is true, it cannot speak or vent.”

  Bai Ning nodded. “Right. It can’t speak or reveal anything on its own. Makes sense.”

  “And the final line,” the face intoned. “But when touched with ink, it always gives assent.”

  “When touched with ink…” Bai Ning murmured, a smile spreading. “That makes it obvious. If ink is involved, it must mean writing. Something rectangular you write on…”

  “A sheet of paper,” she declared triumphantly.

  The great face sighed, and its eyes, composed of shifting geometric patterns, folding and unfolding in weary synchrony. “Correct,” it boomed, its voice resuming full volume. “Are you ready for the next one?”

  Bai Ning lifted her chin in her best imitation of a haughty princess. “Bring it on.”

  This time, the face spoke slowly and clearly, as if afraid she might make it recite the riddle line by line again.

  “Eyes though it has; eyeballs it has none, and empty it is inside!

  The lotus flowers out of the water peep, and they with gladness meet,

  But when dryandra leaves begin to drop, they then part and divide,

  For a fond pair they are, but, united, winter they cannot greet.”

  Bai Ning frowned. This one made far less sense to her. She paced up and down the width of the corridor, trying to fit the puzzle pieces together in her head. Something that had eyes but no eyeballs? And the part about being empty, that sounded like a hollow socket. A circular opening, maybe.

  But how did the rest fit? “Lotus flowers… meet with gladness…” she muttered, unable to make sense of it. She decided she could come back to that part later. “The next line was… dryandra leaves… part and divide… Wait, dryandra leaves represent autumn, so lotus must represent spring or summer. That means…”

  She reached a wall, turned on her heel, and continued pacing. “I’ve got it,” she announced after a moment. “Something that comes together in spring and separates in autumn.” Her smile faded. “That… doesn’t actually narrow it down.”

  She nodded to herself. “Okay, the last line: a fond pair, can’t greet winter… Hmm.” She pursed her lips. “So it’s a pair of items, used only in the warmer seasons, and put away during winter.”

  “Chopsticks?” she guessed aloud, before immediately grimacing. That made no sense. Chopsticks weren’t seasonal. Unfortunately, the face heard her.

  “Is that your final answer, contestant? Chopsticks?” it boomed, sounding far too enthusiastic.

  Bai Ning shot it a withering glare. “Give me a moment. I’m still thinking.”

  Silence returned, but she still couldn’t find an answer. A pair used in warm months but stored in winter… Warm clothes? No, those were for winter. And whatever it was needed hollow sockets, the gaping “eyes” from the first sentence. A pair of spectacles? No, that didn’t fit either.

  The face interrupted her thoughts again. “Give me your answer, or forfeit and suffer the penalty. I allow only so much time for a riddle.”

  Bai Ning bit her bottom lip, grimacing. Fine. Better to answer, even if wrongly, than to take a penalty blindly. “A pair of spectacles.”

  The face split into a wide grin, its stone lips stretching back to reveal blocky teeth. It looked disturbingly delighted. “Wrong,” it rumbled. “Prepare to face the penalty.”

  “Wait!” Bai Ning yelped, throwing up a hand.

  A long pause followed. The face managed to look even more judgmental. “What?” it said at last, sounding deeply put out.

  “At least tell me the proper answer before unleashing whatever penalty you’re about to throw at me,” Bai Ning said.

  The face considered this. Then, with the air of someone who hardly cared either way, it said, “Very well. Heed my words: the answer is a pair of sandals.”

  Bai Ning’s expression twisted into outrage. “What kind of answer is that? It makes… no… sense.” Her voice grew softer as she thought it through. Then, sheepishly: “Oh. It makes total sense. My bad.”

  The face ignored her entirely. It drew in a deep breath, so deep that the entire wall seemed to shiver, and then exhaled.

  The Crimson Parasol flew open behind Bai Ning with a sharp crack, unfurling like a blossom of living light. Its protective barrier shimmered into existence, a curved shell of crimson radiance encasing her just as the breath washed over it like a blizzard: ice lancing across the corridor in jagged veins, frost spiderwebbing over the green walls, snow billowing in thick spirals that swallowed the air. The temperature dropped violently, and even within her shield, Bai Ning felt the cold bite deep.

  Then, just as abruptly as it began, the blizzard died. Snowflakes hung suspended for a heartbeat, then drifted lazily to the ground.

  Except, now there was someone standing in front of her.

  It was a woman with pure snow-white robes and a pair of pitch-black hairpins holding up her equally snow-white hair. She didn’t look old though; her face was unlined and fair, and she stood with the straight-backed poise of someone accustomed to being obeyed, chin lifted just a fraction, giving her the look of a noblewoman or a priestess. In her hands, she held a lotus flower carved entirely from ice. Each petal was a shard of crystal, translucent and gleaming, arranged in perfect symmetry. And at the center of the flower, a softer glow pulsed, like a heart of deeper, purer white, as if a drop of moonlight had been frozen in place.

  She stared at Bai Ning with a startled expression, her pale brows lifting ever so slightly, as though she had not expected to be standing here any more than Bai Ning had expected to see her.

  Behind them, the stone face that had brought her rumbled to life again.

  “Defeat the person before you,” it proclaimed, voice booming through the corridor, “and the victor shall earn the right to hear my third riddle. Succeed in answering it, and you may pass ahead.”

  The woman of winter narrowed her eyes, her fingers tightening ever so slightly around her crystalline lotus. A faint ring of frost curled outward from where she stood. “So, I was not the only one tested with riddles. I see.” She studied Bai Ning closely, then offered a shallow bow. “Well met, Fellow Daoist. I am Yue Shuangyi of the Grand Ice Tower. And you?”

  “Bai Ning, of the Greater Dharma Sect,” Bai Ning replied, returning the bow with equal precision. Whatever humor she’d carried earlier, she pushed it aside. This was going to be a real fight; there was no chance the stone face would give her anything easy after she’d annoyed it.

  Yue Shuangyi raised an eyebrow but showed no recognition. She only nodded and allowed a faint smile to form.

  Bai Ning placed a hand on her sword’s hilt and unfurled it from her waist. The ribbon-like length whipped through the air before settling on the floor in loose coils. That was signal enough.

  Yue Shuangyi lifted her lotus and blew gently across the petals. They scattered immediately, breaking apart as if they had been held together by a breath. Bai Ning reinforced the Crimson Parasol’s barrier just in time. Each lotus petal expanded mid-air, turning into razor-thin blades of ice that slammed against her shield like a storm of knives. Ice shattered and sprayed in every direction. Bai Ning grimaced; each of those attacks were strong enough to break through if she stayed on the defensive.

  She raised her hand sharply, then brought it down like a thunderstrike. The Green Karma Sword responded at once, rising and twisting with swift, serpentine motions as it lashed toward Yue Shuangyi.

  Yue Shuangyi leapt back, scattering a dozen more lotus-like shards as she gave ground. As each shard flew outward, it expanded into a solid slab of thick, pale ice that hung in the air like floating shields. The Green Karma Sword sliced through them effortlessly. The first shattered cleanly. The second and third split diagonally. The fourth was pierced straight through as the sword twisted mid-strike. Yue Shuangyi’s eyes widened, but she had no time left. The sword’s next strike would hit her directly.

  She raised her lotus just in time. The blade of the Green Karma Sword met the lotus at her palm.

  A blizzard exploded from the point of impact.

  This time Bai Ning was forced to retreat, barrier blazing with red light as she backed away. A torrent of cold surged outward, with what felt like an entire glacier erupting from Yue Shuangyi’s lotus. Ice covered the corridor in an instant, swelling outward in jagged formations. The Crimson Parasol held, but the cold intensified until it buried itself into Bai Ning’s bones. The air turned painfully sharp; her breath froze against her lips.

  When the storm finally ended, Bai Ning steadied herself, channeling qi through her body until the shivering stopped. She looked around and saw the aftermath clearly.

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  The moment her sword had struck the lotus, Yue Shuangyi had released a wave of cold that swallowed the corridor. The resulting avalanche had cracked apart under its own weight, leaving the green stone blocks buried under ice and snow. Worse still, Bai Ning’s sword had frozen solid: the once-malleable length was now rigid and snake-shaped, stuck in a warped pose on the floor.

  Yue Shuangyi had not escaped unscathed either. The ice hadn’t harmed her directly, but her lotus now bore a deep wound where the petals had failed to shield it, still leaking cold mist. Thin scratches lined her arm where the explosion of frost had scraped past her defenses.

  Her composure had shifted as well. The serene confidence she had carried earlier was gone; in its place was a wary alertness. She regarded Bai Ning with a new seriousness, her posture guarded. “Your attainment in the sword path is quite extraordinary, Fellow Daoist,” she said quietly. “I had believed my Ever-Frozen Silkworm Lotus immune to anyone at my realm.”

  Bai Ning felt much the same wariness. Compared to every other opponent she had faced at her stage, Yue Shuangyi was the most dangerous by a wide margin. They were both at the peak of Foundation Establishment, but even among peaks, there were summits higher than others.

  “You praise me unnecessarily, Fellow Daoist,” Bai Ning replied, keeping her tone respectful. “Your artifact is truly remarkable. There is very little I can’t cut through at my realm, yet it withstood me.”

  Yue Shuangyi nodded slowly. “Unfortunately, only one of us can pass. Under other circumstances, I would have enjoyed sharing a cup of tea with you.” Her fingers tightened on the cracked lotus. “But right now, I can only fight. And I intend to win.”

  She lifted the damaged lotus and met Bai Ning’s eyes before blowing gently across it. Bai Ning braced herself and reinforced her barrier, but this time, no attack came.

  Instead, the remaining petals drifted from the lotus like brittle shards of glass. Beneath them, revealed at the core, was a delicate cocoon woven from icy threads. As Yue Shuangyi continued to exhale, the cocoon began to unravel, threads loosening and reshaping in her hands.

  Whatever she was planning, Bai Ning couldn’t allow it to complete.

  She flicked her wrist, forming a fireball, and hurled it at the frozen length of her sword still stuck on the floor. It struck, scattering snow and melting a thin strip of ice from the blade. She cast again. And again. Fireballs burst one after another, peeling away ice chunk by chunk until a usable section of metal gleamed beneath. The instant enough of the blade was exposed, she raised her hand, pouring qi into the Green Karma Sword. For a heartbeat nothing happened. Then the sword shuddered violently. Ice cracked and fell away in brittle shards as the blade hissed back to life, twisting into motion.

  Without hesitation she lashed out once more, sending the sword streaking toward Yue Shuangyi.

  It was already too late.

  The cocoon swelled in an instant, growing from something small enough to cradle a real silkworm into a mass large enough to envelop its wielder. It wrapped around Yue Shuangyi in a single breath, sealing her completely behind layered sheets of icy silk. Bai Ning’s sword struck the cocoon head-on… and rebounded with a sharp clang, thrown so forcefully off-course that it ricocheted into the ceiling before she could wrench it back under her control.

  Worse, a new layer of ice began to form around the cocoon, spreading across the floor inch by inch. This ice was different. It shone with an inner light, and the chill it released radiated a palpable, instinctive dread. Even at a distance, Bai Ning felt fear twist coldly inside her chest.

  If that ice touched her, she realized, she might end up frozen in place forever, a statue perpetually entombed in this frozen corridor.

  Bai Ning retreated immediately. The Imperial Flying Steps activated beneath her feet, carrying her away in a series of backward leaps until she had gained enough distance to breathe. Yue Shuangyi did not pursue. Or… perhaps she could not.

  Bai Ning narrowed her eyes. It made sense. Cocooning herself in that technique likely came with the price of losing mobility. Yue Shuangyi was gambling that the spreading ice would catch Bai Ning first, or that the stone face would declare her the victor once the advantage became too obvious.

  Bai Ning couldn’t allow that.

  Unfortunately, this was where her chosen weapon became a disadvantage. With a flying sword she could keep her distance and bombard the cocoon from afar, probing for weaknesses. But with her soft, ribbon-like sword, a powerful strike required proximity. Its length was designed to mitigate that limitation, but it wouldn’t work in this scenario. If she wanted to pierce that cocoon, she needed to close the distance and strike true.

  But, could she even get close enough? Her barrier would need to withstand that terrifying ice creeping inch by inch along the corridor, advancing toward her with every breath she took. Speed, defense, and offense; she would need all three in one decisive blow. If she could split the cocoon, the fight would almost certainly end in her favor. This did not feel like the sort of technique Yue Shuangyi could use again.

  Bai Ning forced herself to focus. She had everything she needed; she simply had to assemble it, kind of like solving the maze she was currently in. First, the offense. She jerked her hand backward, calling the Green Karma Sword toward her. The long, flexible blade whipped through the air loop after loop. Bai Ning caught it and folded the soft metal over itself, again and again, like an accordion, until she held a single compact length of steel that was straight and rigid, like a conventional sword forged from layered segments.

  She poured her qi into it, binding those segments together, locking the blade into that straightened form. Then she sank into the mindset she had been slowly mastering: the world is something meant to be cut.

  A memory arose – of that nameless swordsman standing on a mountain road, seeing a broken bridge ahead. How he had drawn his sword, sliced the empty air from one end of the gap to the other, and walked across that cut as though it were solid stone.

  That was the sensation she needed. The essence she had attempted to infuse into the Green Karma Sword before, though only on a superficial level. It made her techniques smoother, cleaner, but this time she had to wield it deliberately and fully.

  She exhaled slowly.

  Next, defense. This part was straightforward, at least in theory. Dragon scales were monstrously tough. Embedding them in her Crimson Parasol had already multiplied its defenses; channeling qi directly into them now made the barrier ripple and solidify, taking on a faintly scaled pattern reminiscent of a real dragon’s hide.

  The qi cost was brutal. Even with her enhanced reserves, she could maintain this heightened defense for only a few minutes at most. No matter. She didn’t intend for this to last long.

  Finally, speed.

  The Divine Water Lightning Technique surged beneath her skin. Activating it was always difficult, but doing so while maintaining her sword technique and her reinforced parasol made the process nearly impossible. For several agonizing heartbeats, the three techniques clashed inside her, pulling her qi in different directions. Then, suddenly, they aligned.

  Bai Ning opened her eyes.

  In that instant, she felt like she could cut through the world itself. Her qi was draining rapidly, her thoughts hovering between serenity and fury, but she felt powerful. She locked her gaze on the cocoon.

  The icy shell had grown thicker during the time she spent preparing. The radiant frost surrounding it pulsed like a heartbeat, and the air around it was so cold it shimmered and warped the light. The ice creeping across the floor was only a few steps away from brushing the tips of her shoes.

  Bai Ning kicked off the ground. Lightning exploded from her feet, propelling her forward. The scaled barrier flared brilliantly, its crimson glow deepening as dragon-scale patterns shimmered in and out of existence, repelling the encroaching frost. She crossed the distance so quickly that between one blink and the next she was standing before the cocoon, sword already raised. She had moved faster than she could perceive.

  She brought the sword down. A sound like a mountain cracking apart echoed through the corridor.

  Her blade struck the cocoon, and the icy shell simply parted. Her sword slid through the outer layer with effortless ease, like slicing bamboo with a qi-infused blade. Snow and shards of ice exploded outward in every direction.

  Then, just after-

  Between one heartbeat and the next, a wall of ice surged from the cut and slammed into her.

  The Crimson Parasol reacted instantly. The barrier met the deluge head-on and held, though the impact shoved Bai Ning backward several steps, her feet sliding on the frost covering the green stone floor. Snow and ice swallowed the world, leaving only the glowing sphere of her shield untouched. Even within it, the cold reached deep, gnawing into her bones.

  Bai Ning raised her sword again, poised to finish the battle, when-

  “Fellow Daoist Bai Ning… enough. I lose.”

  The storm stopped. The ice stopped spreading. The corridor fell silent. Yue Shuangyi lay sprawled on the floor, gasping, her skin nearly as pale as the snow around her. The lotus in her hands had disintegrated entirely, and her qi felt like a guttering candle; faint and flickering, as if on the verge of going out.

  Bai Ning was also breathing hard, but far better off. She cut the flow of qi to her parasol, letting it fall back into its normal state, and lowered her sword, though still ready, just in case. The faint nimbus of white and blue light that had surrounded her faded away, and her perception slid back to its ordinary pace.

  Even exhausted, Yue Shuangyi managed to maintain a trace of poise. She lifted her hand weakly and repeated, “I lose. It’s your victory.”

  Before Bai Ning could speak, the face on the wall stirred. It had remained untouched during their battle, but now a long tongue – made of the same green stone as the corridor – slithered from its mouth. It wrapped around Yue Shuangyi, tightened once, and yanked her in.

  The woman vanished into the giant mouth, swallowed whole.

  Bai Ning stared, both repulsed and horrified. “Please tell me you didn’t eat her.”

  The face glared down at her again. She had the distinct impression that it had very much wanted the other contestant to win.

  Its stone eyelids creaked as they narrowed, and its rumbling voice finally spoke: “She has been returned to the beginning.”

  “That sounds like eating to me,” Bai Ning muttered.

  The face’s expression did not change, but somehow it looked even more offended. Instead of responding further, it drew in a deep, unnecessary breath-why? It was a stone face, surely it did not need to breathe-and finally said, “Here is the third and final riddle. Answer it and pass, or fail and be barred. Either way, this shall be good riddance.”

  Bai Ning rolled her eyes.

  The face ignored her entirely. Its voice swelled once more, echoing down the frozen corridor, cold and commanding:

  “The pluck of devils to repress in influence it abounds,

  Like bound silk is its frame, and like thunder its breath resounds.

  But one report rattles, and men are lost in fear and dread;

  Transformed to ashes, it’s what time to see you turn the head.”

  Bai Ning’s brows furrowed. She had to answer this one, no matter what. She needed to pass. She exhaled slowly, letting her qi settle, and whispered to herself, “Alright, Bai Ning. Think… think carefully. Every word matters.”

  She went over the riddle line by line. “Devils to repress… that could mean, well… a lot of things. So, something that keeps evil and harm at bay. Something holy or powerful. Then the next line… bound silk as frame, and thunder its breath.”

  She resumed pacing, leaving footprints in the snow as she walked widthwise across the corridor. “Something made of silk, or cloth, but sounds like thunder… hmm.”

  She tapped her chin. “Thunder… lightning and thunder are used to ward off evil, that matches. But bound silk? And the third line… one report rattles, men are lost in fear, also fits lightning. Yet neither bound silk nor the last line matches. And… ashes, and time to turn the head…”

  She reached one end of the corridor, then turned. The snow beneath her feet squelched, melting slightly under her boots. Misty breath curled in the cold air, but she felt no chill, only a growing sense of exhilarated clarity. She was close. This riddle wasn’t as obscure as the second, nor as simple as the first.

  “Think, Bai Ning, think,” she murmured. “Something made of silk, or cloth, that sounds like thunder, turns to ashes, and makes you look. What is it?”

  The answer hovered on the tip of her tongue. Then her steps slowed. Of course – of course. She had just seen it. A cherished memory came unbidden: the city of festivals, lights blooming across the night sky, reflections dancing on the lake below. A toast, the crackle of sparks, and the joyous clamor of celebration.

  She grinned, triumphant. “Fireworks,” she declared, certain of her answer.

  The face remained silent for a moment. Then it exhaled, the stone panels of its features creaking. “Correct, contestant. You pass. The way out of this trial is just ahead. Let us never meet again.”

  With that, the face sank back into the wall. The green stone blocks folded in on themselves, the corridor shifting until a clear path opened where there had been none before.

  Bai Ning watched, amazed at the speed and precision of it. A twinge of embarrassment struck her; perhaps she had been too irreverent with the guardian. Still, she muttered under her breath, “Rude!” and moved forward, stepping into the path that had finally opened.

  The revealed passage was surprisingly short. Even as she advanced, she could make out a square of light at its end, hinting at somewhere beyond. Another trial? Or…

  Her steps quickened, though she kept her guard up. She wouldn’t put it past the organizers to dangle false hope, only to ambush the contestants. Yet the corridor remained calm. In mere moments, she reached the square of light. It was a gateway, its surface rippling like liquid sunlight.

  Cautiously, she poked a finger through it. Nothing resisted; the light parted easily. Satisfied, she yanked her hand back and, grinning, stepped through completely.

  She emerged into open sunlight. The wind tugged at her robes and hair, and she drew in a deep, invigorating breath of crisp, clean air. In front of her, a white wall curved gradually; the side of the tournament arena, a pale circle of stone designed for the final battles. Behind her, the green blocks of the World of a Million Cubes shimmered faintly, a verdant reminder of the trials she had just conquered.

  She had emerged into the inner curve of the arena’s ring. The first round was behind her. She had passed.