Chapter 7: Skin of Ice and Snow, Bones of Jade

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Lu Xing woke once again, feeling as if he had slept on a cold, icy stone. A faint chill seeped through his thin garments into his body. He quickly realized—he had indeed traveled through time and space again.

Fortunately, this time the room was not dark; he didn’t need to search for a light source.

Unfortunately, Lu Xing found himself inside an ice chamber, surrounded by thick, crystal-clear blocks of ice in every direction. Even the bed beneath him was carved from cold ice and jade.

“Where am I?”

He looked down at himself—or rather, this body he now inhabited. He wore a flowing white robe that concealed a delicate, snowy figure. His feet, pale as white jade, were exposed to the icy surroundings, sending a shiver through him.

It was freezing cold!

No—his body wasn’t cold; it was a chill deep within his soul.

As an ordinary man from southern China, he rarely saw snow, let alone slept inside an ice cavern wearing such a sheer garment that revealed his skin beneath.

Calm down!

I can withstand this cold now!

After affirming this to himself, Lu Xing tried to move and took in his surroundings.

He was in a sealed ice chamber with no visible door.

The room was small—about ten meters in length and width, and three meters high, roughly the size of a hundred square meters.

Apart from the icy jade bed, the room held very little furniture. Against the ice walls stood two bookshelves filled with roughly a thousand books. Near the bed was a pile of items—precious swords, bottles, scrolls, a guqin—all casually stacked.

A mirror hung at the head of the bed, but there was no dressing table.

Beyond that, there were no cooking pots or utensils, no teapot or cups, no towels or bathing tubs, no calligraphy brushes, ink, paper, or inkstone, no alchemical furnaces or spiritual herbs for cultivation, no prayer plaques or deity statues—nothing at all.

No food, no bathing, no restroom, no prayers, and no internet!

“Is this… a temporary retreat for a cultivator in seclusion?”

Lu Xing pondered for a long time before arriving at this conclusion about the female immortal’s identity and situation.

There was no food or drink in the abode, but the presence of the guqin and sword indicated she was a cultivator.

The absence of daily necessities like tea or towels suggested she was only temporarily residing here.

Moreover, the ice cave seemed to have no door, strongly implying she was in the midst of a breakthrough during seclusion.

“Cultivators are truly ruthless!”

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Lu Xing couldn’t help but comment.

When reading books or watching TV, cultivators’ long seclusions were often glossed over, but now experiencing it himself, he realized enduring such isolation was no ordinary feat!

Not to mention, simply being unable to use the internet could drive a modern person mad, let alone other hardships.

Lu Xing, barefooted on the cold jade bed, just like Annie who had no shoes, stepped onto the icy floor. Lowering his gaze, he noticed the coolness touching his feet.

Beneath the plain white robe were the immortal’s delicate feet.

If Lu Xing were to describe their beauty, he could only say that even if these feet were stepping on muddy ground and then lifted toward him, he would instinctively cradle them—

No, he was a model youth of the new era, without such strange inclinations!

Yet, the jade-like feet of this icy immortal were indeed stunning enough to captivate anyone’s gaze.

Composing himself, Lu Xing approached the mirror.

He had prepared himself, but upon seeing the icy immortal’s visage reflected back, he was still struck with awe.

She seemed to hail from the heavens above, her form a blossom, her spirit the moon, her bones like jade, her skin like ice and snow, her poise like autumn waters—radiant and unadorned.

Words such as "sinking fish and falling geese," "shying moon and ashamed flowers," "beauty that could topple a kingdom," or "innate elegance" could only describe mortal beauties; they fell short in capturing an immortal’s ethereal presence.

However, Lu Xing’s astonished expression severely undermined the icy immortal’s dignity, making her seem like a startled, mundane being who had fallen from the heavens.

Though he had never met her, from her appearance and the items in the chamber, Lu Xing inferred this icy immortal’s demeanor—aloof and distant, untouched by worldly dust.

“Are all female immortals this beautiful?”

Lu Xing lifted one slender finger to gently touch her face, still caught in the shock of her beauty, unable to fully regain his composure.

Suddenly—

“My dear daughter!”

A woman dressed in red appeared in the mirror, facing Lu Xing directly, startling him into stepping back with a look of alarm.

“Who… who are you?!”

The woman in red spoke with surprise and suspicion, as if she immediately sensed that Lu Xing’s soul inhabited her daughter’s body.

Then, the mirror shifted to show a young maiden in her blossoming teens, previously idle and squatting, who now leaned closer to the glass, curiously staring at him.

“No! You all come out!”

The girl shouted, and one after another, figures appeared in the mirror—some voluptuous women, some innocent girls, some in coarse linen, others in ornate robes, some noble in bearing, others simple and naive. They crowded the mirror densely, all staring at Lu Xing in unison.

Their expressions varied—some surprised, some puzzled, some hostile, some intrigued, others indifferent.

“Ghosts?!”

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Lu Xing snapped back to reality and stepped forward, swiftly flipping the mirror over.

The voices of the women vanished as if they disappeared with the mirror’s reversal.

The ice chamber fell silent once more.

Lu Xing waited a moment to ensure the mirror no longer showed any strange activity before relaxing slightly.

If this mirror was a cultivator’s communication device, akin to a cellphone, it should only contact one or at most a dozen individuals, like a remote conference.

Not like before, when countless figures packed the mirror’s surface, leaving only a pair of eyes visible, making the mirror eerily resemble a creature from Lovecraftian mythos.

“I still don’t know what this mirror is for.”

Lu Xing shook his head after staring at it for some time.

Logically, it wasn’t dangerous—for the icy immortal, at least, since she had hung it by her bed. But until he understood it better, he had no intention of touching it again.

After circling the ice chamber, Lu Xing found nothing else of value.

He dared not touch the ancient paintings or the guqin; he hesitated to unsheathe the sword, fearing those magical instruments might activate uncontrollably.

Nor did he find anything identifying the immortal’s identity. The books on the shelves were a chaotic mix—ghost stories, Taoist scriptures, Buddhist teachings, geography records, and Confucian texts on governance.

None were marked with notes that might reveal her identity.

Additionally, Lu Xing confirmed the ice cave had no door—it was completely sealed by thick ice of unknown depth.

“Forget it. If I cross over here again next time, I’ll figure it out then!”

Lu Xing gave up, intending to leave a message, but then remembered there was no paper or pen.

In the end, he raised his hand and wrote with his fingertip on an ice wall.

Surprisingly, the immortal’s strength was formidable; her slender fingers easily left marks on the hard ice, even easier than writing in sand.

“My name is Lu Xing. When you see these words, I believe you already understand what has happened…”

After finishing, Lu Xing admired his inscription for a moment before turning to select a few interesting books from the shelf and sitting on the icy jade bed to read.

Yet, as he glanced downward, his eyes involuntarily lingered.

How could the immortal be so large?

Wait—was she… not wearing anything?