Ultimate Magus in Cultivation World

She straightened from the deflection as if she'd merely brushed aside rain. "See? Not all cleaning needs to be done with brute force."

Tian Lei didn't answer, already pushing through the fog, his boots gliding over slick roots without slipping. His focus was razor-fine—his Soul Sense flaring, slicing through the poisonous haze like invisible currents.

The toad king croaked again, louder, its throat ballooning to grotesque size. The sound rattled the water itself—ripples racing out like fleeing minnows. Then, with shocking speed for its mass, it leapt.

Its bulk blotted out the pale sun.

Yuxin's eyes widened, but Tian Lei had already moved. His figure blurred—a single heartbeat of motion—and he was no longer beneath the shadow. He was above it.

The crane of his blade cut downward like a descending star.

Steel met flesh with a crack, and a line of searing light split across the toad king's warty hide.

The beast shrieked—a deep, earth-shaking croak—as it crashed into the swamp, sending a wave of black muck and shredded reeds exploding outward.

But it didn't die.

Venom fountained from the wound, sizzling against the water's surface, and the king toad's bulging eyes turned blood-red. Its skin bubbled grotesquely as spiritual energy surged, the mist thickening until even shapes blurred.

"Tch." Tian Lei landed silently atop a broken log, eyes narrowing. "It's mutating."

"Then don't let it finish." Yuxin's tone was soft, but the gleam under her veil was all steel.

She darted in—a streak of pale silk, feet barely touching the water as her sword lanced forward. Her blade struck the swollen throat just as it bulged to spit another venom burst—piercing through with a spray of green ichor. The attack halted the buildup, forcing the toad to choke on its own poison.

Tian Lei was already there when it reeled back, sword shearing through one of its massive hind legs. The limb hit the water with a wet crash, sending a shockwave through the mist.

The toad let out one last enraged roar before Yuxin's voice rang sharp:

"Fall."

Silver qi surged down her blade as she slashed in a perfect crescent, meeting Tian Lei's descending strike. Two arcs of light crossed through the toad king's skull.

It froze.

Then, slowly, its enormous bulk sagged—venom leaking from dead eyes—as it toppled into the mire with a sound like a collapsing hill.

Silence followed, sudden and heavy. The remaining brood shrieked once and scattered back into the murk, vanishing beneath the dark water.

Only the hiss of cooling venom remained.

Yuxin exhaled and lowered her sword, veil lifting faintly with her breath. "…Well. That was dramatic."

Tian Lei stood motionless, blade dripping green, gaze locked deeper into the swamp. "The herb."

She followed his eyes—and there it was: tucked on a half-sunken log behind where the toad had perched, glowing faintly blue like a shard of frozen moonlight. A frost blossom, untouched by the chaos.

"Stay," she said lightly, and for once, he didn't argue.

Yuxin stepped carefully across the churned mire, her movements precise despite the mud. She plucked the frost blossom with delicate fingers, its icy petals releasing a cool mist that swirled around her hands.

When she returned, she cradled it with the kind of reverence usually reserved for fragile dreams. "One frost blossom, intact."

Tian Lei sheathed his sword, only nodding.

Her eyes curved in quiet amusement. "You could try sounding proud just once."

"I am relieved," he said flatly.

"That," she decided, slipping the blossom into a jade case at her waist, "is close enough."

The mist around the swamp began to thin as the two made their way back to the cloud crane. Its feathers shimmered faintly, as if impatient.

They rose into the brightening sky moments later, the swamp shrinking beneath them—a fading scar of black water and silver fog.

And for a brief stretch, as the wind pulled at her veil and the blossom's cold glow shimmered at her waist, Yuxin allowed herself a soft smile unseen.

Another mission done. Another wall in Tian Lei's armor chipped—just a little.

They did not land immediately.

The cloud crane soared high above the rolling mist-belts, riding the jetstream like a silent arrow as Tian Lei unfurled a spirit map between his fingers. Threads of silver light traced across the parchment, flickering to life under his Soul Sense.

"The next one," he said at last, voice as even as ever, "is further north. Frozen uplands. Old battlefield."

Yuxin tilted her head, curiosity piqued. "Battlefield…?"

"Where two sects annihilated each other centuries ago," he replied, eyes narrowing on the flickering coordinates. "The residual hatred turned into a malignant spirit storm. It anchors around the fallen banners. That's where the snow lotus should grow."

"Ah." She settled her chin delicately in her hand, eyes glimmering behind the veil. "So we'll be wading through lingering grudges of long-dead sword maniacs. How refreshing."

Tian Lei didn't respond. He simply adjusted their course.

The uplands rose from the mists like shards of broken ice. Jagged black cliffs clawed at the low gray clouds, and the wind howled with a hollow, mournful pitch. The crane's wings beat harder as it descended toward a plateau glazed with frost.

The moment Tian Lei stepped off, his boots cracked through a thin layer of frozen ash. Weapons littered the field like skeletal flowers—half-buried swords, shattered spear shafts, and rust-choked helmets. A few banners still stood, frost-cloaked and tattered, their sigils obscured.

And everywhere, the air hummed with a cold, buzzing malice.

Yuxin landed lightly behind him, veil fluttering. Her breath came out in delicate wisps. "Charming. I can already feel the homicidal nostalgia."

Tian Lei crouched and pressed a palm to the ground.

The earth thrummed with old blood.

"Keep your Spirit Veil active," he said. "They'll try to get inside your mind."

"They always do," she murmured, eyes glinting. "They never succeed."

They advanced slowly across the plateau, boots crunching over frost-sheathed bones. The first shade rose before they reached the banners—a flicker of gray flame that coalesced into a spectral warrior, half his skull missing, eyes hollow pits of black light.

It screamed—a sound like steel screaming on steel—and charged.

Tian Lei met it in a blur. His sword cleaved through its form, the spirit shrieking as it unraveled like torn paper. Another came from the flank; he spun and crushed it with a downward strike of his palm, Soul Qi detonating like a thunderclap.

Yuxin danced between the howling remnants, her blade tracing luminous arcs. Where her silk brushed them, they froze mid-lunge, shattering into drifting frost petals.

But for each they struck down, more rose.

Dozens. Then hundreds. A tide of sword-shaped hatred.

The air howled with their screams.

Yuxin's voice was steady, though her veil whipped like a banner. "If you have a clever plan, beloved blade, now would be the time."

Tian Lei simply closed his eyes.

His Soul Sense flared outward like a sun, blazing across the battlefield. The frost screamed as cracks split the ground. A circle cleared around them—pure, burning silence as every fragment of spirit energy bent under his will.

"Anchor point," he said, opening his eyes again. "There."

At the center of the ancient carnage, half-buried in ice, stood a single untouched banner. Its fabric was colorless, yet glimmered faintly—as though woven of trapped moonlight. Around its base bloomed a single pale flower, crystalline and impossibly pristine.

The snow lotus.

Yuxin's lips curved. "Always surrounded by theatrics."

"Stay close."

They surged forward together—Yuxin slicing through the storm like a streak of winter lightning, Tian Lei cutting gaps with ruthless precision. Spirits wailed and shattered in their wake, unable to hold form beneath the weight of their joined aura.

They reached the banner.

Tian Lei plunged his sword into the frozen ground. Spiritual sigils erupted outward in a ring of silver fire, carving a sanctuary amid the storm. Yuxin knelt, her movements delicate even amidst chaos, and cupped the snow lotus between gloved fingers.

It came free without resistance, its petals glimmering like stars on fresh snow.

The spirits screamed one last time—and then, as though a cord had been cut, they dissolved.

Silence rolled back over the battlefield.

When they rose once more on the cloud crane, the storm was gone. The sun broke through the clouds, striking the uplands in stark silver light. The battlefield below was still and empty, as if they had walked through someone else's dream.

Yuxin cradled the jade case now holding the lotus, a smile just barely tugging at her lips.

"Another mission," she said softly. "Another successes."

Tian Lei merely nodded, gaze fixed forward.

But his grip on the hilt at his side was just a touch looser.

And Yuxin, catching that, let her smile bloom fully behind the veil—soft, unseen, but quietly victorious.

The cloud crane's wings folded as they descended toward the city nestled in the valley below—a place of vermilion roofs and golden lantern light, blooming like a warm ember in the dusk.

The contrast was almost jarring after the frost-scorched uplands. The air here was soft, heavy with the scent of plum wine and sizzling street food. Music drifted from distant teahouses—strings and flutes weaving together like lazy river currents.