Volume One: The Most Unfeeling Phoenix Parasol Blossom Chapter Five: The Snow Demon

The biting wind and icy frost ride upon the winter snow,
They say the good rains have graced nine years past.
Who among distant friends or honored guests has come?
Without wine or intoxication, what holds us fast?
Brewed tea, warmed wine, and lamb for company,
A brazier stoked with fire, fresh fish for the feast.
You ask what gluttony seeks to gain—
But a sword immortal, close as breath, tips his cup to the clouds.
—From the Lanling Anthology

The blizzard raged relentlessly, showing not the slightest intention of letting up. The four of them pressed forward in silence, making their way through the mountain valley.

Jingmu Han’s voice broke the quiet. “Yuanshang, this white-furred gale—it's not right at all!”

Jiaomu Jiao nodded, glancing around. “This storm’s been howling for three days and nights without a hint of easing up. If you ask me, we should forget about the will of heaven and the laws of nature, just summon a flying beast and soar south—why freeze ourselves in this snowbound night?”

Jingmu Han frowned deeply. “That’s not it. I think someone’s cast a spell to trap us here.”

Zhuo Hua lifted his gaze to the surrounding peaks. They were descending the slopes of Mount Cangwu, where the mountains were blanketed in pure white, not a trace of vegetation in sight—nor even the smallest animal.

For these three days of descent, Zhuo Hua had been lost in troubling thoughts, barely aware of the strangeness around them. Perhaps life in the Cloud Palace had dulled his concern for the world outside. But Jingmu Han’s reminder brought him back to the present. Zhuo Hua closed his eyes and extended his consciousness.

The furious snowstorm faded from his senses, replaced by visions: small beasts huddled deep in snowy burrows, crows and finches nesting in the tallest trees, and, not far away, the unmistakable presence of demonic energy on a nearby peak.

“Most likely a snow demon,” Zhuo Hua said quietly, without turning, to the three behind him.

“A snow demon? Where?” Xiaoyun asked nervously, clutching her bundle more tightly.

“I feel it too—on the mountain opposite us. And it’s no weakling,” Jiaomu Jiao grinned.

“To trap us—what could it want?” Jingmu Han mused.

“Who cares what it wants? Just cut it down—anyone who hinders Yuanshang’s enlightenment deserves death.” Jiaomu Jiao, saying this, drew his Primordial Blade and prepared to summon his Red Cloud Beast.

“Wait,” Zhuo Hua stopped him with a wave. “Don’t act rashly. Let’s lure it out and see what its intentions are.”

The old dragon grumbled, “Fine. But when it shows itself, the first blade is mine.”

So, the four stopped and settled behind a large boulder out of the wind, scattering their packs and compressing their protective energies, holding their breath and calming their spirits, quietly awaiting the snow demon’s appearance.

As expected, before the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, Zhuo Hua sensed three or four spiritual presences drifting toward them. The strongest approached, as if checking whether they still lived.

After a while, a voice spoke, “Looks like they’re dead. These folks have real endurance—lasted three days and nights in the cold. Too bad, these bodies would’ve made fine cultivation materials. Come, haul them onto the pack beasts—we’re heading back.”

At that moment, Zhuo Hua sat up slowly, startling the group.

A demon with the head of an eagle rushed over, shielding a woman from Zhuo Hua.

Zhuo Hua regarded her closely: her hair was styled high in a heart-shaped coil, adorned with a golden hairpin inlaid with a sapphire, delicate pearls strung in the swaying tassels—truly, gold and jade sparkled and emerald plumes fanned in twin arcs. Her features were exquisite, face pale with a flush of pink, eyes bright and clever, their corners long and lifted, nose straight, lips curled into a cold, mocking smile.

When the eagle-headed demon blocked her, the woman, clad in a white fur mantle trimmed with gold, pushed him aside, revealing a white fur dress edged in gold thread.

She stepped forward and bent down to study Zhuo Hua, a chill-laced fragrance drifting from her, oddly pleasant.

“Young master, you have such a handsome face, your brows brimming with spirit.” She pinched Zhuo Hua’s cheek, brows furrowing in regret. “Just look at you, your fair skin nearly frozen stiff. Come back to my lair and let your hostess warm you up.”

“How do you know I’d follow—” Zhuo Hua began, but before he could finish, Jingmu Han, swift as lightning, restrained the snow demoness with his immortal chain, grabbing her collar with his other hand.

In a flash, Zhuo Yun dropped her bundle and shielded Zhuo Hua with her body. The old dragon hesitated, shook his head, and moved toward the remaining eagle-headed demons.

“Don’t move,” Jingmu Han warned, gripping the snow demoness’s collar tighter, his gaze cold.

“Xiaoyun, I’m fine. Step back,” Zhuo Hua reassured her, patting her shoulder. After a moment’s hesitation, she moved aside. Zhuo Hua approached the snow demoness, who, still mocking, regarded him with scorn and derision.

“Yuanshang, be careful,” Zhuo Yun and Qin Ying called out together. Zhuo Hua waved them off and asked, “What’s your name? Why did you capture us?”

The snow demoness did not answer directly. With a coquettish smile and a raised brow, she teased, “Oh! So the young master can speak. You were silent so long, I thought you were mute.”

Crack—a sharp slap landed on the snow demoness’s face. Zhuo Yun had darted forward and struck her. Qin Ying, startled at first, then delivered another slap to the demoness’s other cheek. “Do not be rude to my master,” Qin Ying admonished, her almond eyes blazing with anger.

Rather than anger, the snow demoness only laughed. “Look at that—before the master even speaks, his two maids rush to defend him. Clearly, you’re a man of many affections.”

“Answer me. Your name and your purpose,” Zhuo Hua said coldly, signaling Zhuo Yun and Jingmu Han to step aside.

“Master, don’t waste words on her. Let me finish off these eagle-headed lackeys and see if she’ll talk,” said Jiaomu Jiao. Before anyone could react, he swung his Primordial Blade at the nearest demon. Infused with domineering energy, the blade didn’t even touch the eagle-headed demon before his head rolled to the ground, his body still standing upright, the wound as clean as if sliced through tofu.

The sudden violence drained the color from the snow demoness’s face and set her trembling. In a quavering voice, she replied, “I only saw you caught in the blizzard and thought you might need food and tea, so I came with my followers to assist you.”

She bowed her head, tears springing to her eyes. “I never expected you to attack me without cause, imprison me, and kill my men. My goodwill mistaken for malice...”

Zhuo Hua almost laughed aloud—such clumsy pretense was hardly convincing. He beckoned his companions over. “She’s evading the question—she must have something to hide. Search them for clues.” They responded in unison, “Yes, sir.”

But before they could move, a sudden burst of blinding light flared. The snow demoness chanted, “In the boundless cosmos of Lanling, an immortal maiden arrives from the east.”

Before anyone could react, a powerful force yanked them off their feet, depositing them atop something hard.

As the light faded, they realized they were all seated on a stone table. Zhuo Yun tried to move but found herself completely immobilized, her face flushed with anxiety.

Zhuo Hua was startled, for the stone table looked remarkably familiar. His right hand found a phoenix flower carved into the corner. He thought to himself: Isn’t this the golden-armed stone table I forged for Lanling? How did it end up with this snow demoness?

Jingmu Han smiled faintly. “Such petty tricks—do you think to hold us?” He began to muster his power to break free.

Zhuo Hua sent a silent message to his companions: “Something is off. Don’t act rashly—let’s follow her and see what she’s after.” The others fell silent.

An eagle-headed demon approached, brandishing a demon-marked blade at Zhuo Hua’s throat. “I’ll cleave this pretty boy right now, avenge my dead brother!”

Jingmu Han kicked the demon so hard he flew several yards away. The other demons tensed, blades at the ready, but the snow demoness waved her hand. “Do not fear. This Gathering Immortals Table was left to me by my master. With the right spell, it absorbs all cultivators within five yards—except the caster—onto this stone, rendering them immobile. Even those who have survived small tribulations cannot escape. Bind them and load them onto the beasts.”

“Return to the palace!” came the cry, and, as the words echoed, the company gradually vanished into the frozen wilderness.