The ice mist on the stage had not yet dispersed. Fine particles of ice crystal powder hung in the air like floating dust under the moonlight, refracting faint specks of cold light here and there.
The wind swept across the arena from the sea, but it could not disperse the stagnant chill, only sending the floating dust into gentle, swirling eddies.
Han Muchun's fingertips turned slightly, and the ink-blue surface of the bronze mirror trembled gently, absorbing all the suspended ice dust.
Within the mirror, the rotating spiritual light suddenly accelerated, turning into an extremely fine stream of light. It traced increasingly complex patterns deep within the mirror's surface, each expanding line accompanied by a faint hum from the mirror itself.
Yet, as she looked at the stream of light before her, Bai Qingxue remained as cool and detached as ever, showing not a single trace of distress at being pushed back by the replicated spiritual technique.
The hem of Bai Qingxue's frost-white robe fluttered gently in the night wind, and her silver hair hung over her shoulders like cascading moonlight.
She still held the flute horizontally to her lips. Her pale pupils reflected the fake, ink-blue ice crystals within the mirror. There was no ripple in her eyes, only a deep, bottomless calm.
It was as if everything before her was nothing more than passing clouds.
Seeing this, Han Muchun tapped the mirror's surface with her fingertip once more.
The bronze mirror vibrated slightly. The dozens of replicated ice crystals within the mirror suddenly accelerated, pressing back toward Bai Qingxue from even trickier angles and with sharper, fiercer speed than before.
The trajectory of every single ice crystal was identical to the ones Bai Qingxue had just conjured, yet their power was even greater than her original ones.
This was the essence of the Falling Star Pavilion's secret Mirror Abyss Technique.
By copying the form, one could use that form to suppress the original.
Yet Bai Qingxue merely lowered her eyes, watching the howling ice crystals that supposedly belonged to “herself.”
Her gaze did not even focus on the sharp edges of the ice spikes. Instead, she looked deep into their trajectories, targeting the pathways of spiritual power that had been so vividly replicated.
The flute's tone suddenly shifted at her lips. The melody of 《Ice Condensation》 receded like the tide, replaced by a more restrained and tranquil rhythm.
《Returning to the Source》.
As the notes of 《Returning to the Source》 rang out, the cold energy that had been dispersing outward suddenly stalled before frantically contracting inward.
At this moment, the cold energy was no longer an overwhelming wave of frost or a sky full of dancing ice crystals. All the chill was forcibly compressed and refined, ultimately converging onto the body of the Frost Moon Chant and Bai Qingxue's fingertips resting on the flute's holes.
With her as the center, the air within a three-foot radius seemed to be instantly vacuumed out. Only an extremely compressed, nearly frozen chill remained, in which even light itself seemed to slow down.
The replicated ice crystals from the mirror howled as they arrived, but the moment they touched that three-foot boundary, they were like a reflection of flowers in a mirror falling into boiling water. Web-like cracks suddenly spread across their surfaces. There was no loud collision, only a faint cracking sound.
Immediately after, those fake, ink-blue ice crystals crumbled inch by inch, turning into fine powder. Not a single trace was left under the moonlight, as if they had never existed at all.
Han Muchun's pupils contracted imperceptibly.
However, even though her Mirror Abyss Technique had been broken, she did not panic. Instead, a deeper glint of light flashed in her eyes.
She pressed her fingertip hard onto the center of the mirror. An ancient rune suddenly lit up at the bottom of the mirror. Twisted and complex, it exuded a desolate aura that did not belong to this era.
Under the influence of the rune, the bronze mirror vibrated slightly. The mirror's surface no longer reflected real objects; instead, a hazy mist of light rose from its depths, as if some seal had been lifted.
The mist of light slowly condensed, actually outlining a blurry phantom.
The phantom wore a frost-white Daoist robe, its silver hair cascading like a waterfall as it held a flute to its lips. Its posture was almost identical to Bai Qingxue's, save for its more ethereal figure and more blurred facial features.
“The Mirror Spirit Technique.”
Below the stage, the crowd erupted into hushed chatter.
There was awe, skepticism, and even wariness.
This was the secret technique that had truly made the Falling Star Pavilion famous. Using the bronze mirror as a medium, it reflected the opponent's Dao Heart and spiritual origin, materializing them into a physical form.
However, this technique was extremely difficult to master. For Han Muchun to be able to perform it at such a young age naturally drew admiration from the crowd.
The phantom held the flute horizontally, adopting a playing posture. Though it was silent, an invisible chill spread out, faintly beginning to resonate with Bai Qingxue's own Ice Spirit power, even attempting to suppress it.
That chill was older and purer, carrying an unquestionable authority from the very source, like the natural suppression of an elder over a junior.
Facing this “other self” reflected from her own origin.
For the first time, a tiny ripple appeared deep within Bai Qingxue's pale eyes.
But soon, Bai Qingxue also held up her flute and began to play once more.
This time, the sound of the flute was no longer the solemn chill of 《Ice Condensation》, nor the restraint of 《Returning to the Source》. It was a brand new, colder, and more ethereal melody.
Bai Qingxue's fingertips moved gently, opening and closing the flute's holes.
This piece was called:
《Divine Oracle》.
The moment the first notes fell, they were like the first breeze of dawn over an ice field. It did not carry any offensive intent, yet it held an unquestionable sense of dominion originating from the source itself.
The musical notes condensed in the air into visible, pale blue ripples, expanding outward ring by ring. Wherever they passed, even the moonlight seemed to freeze for a fraction of a second.
The moment the phantom inside the bronze mirror heard this music, it trembled violently.
It maintained its flute-playing posture, but the cold aura around its body began to grow chaotic. The intent that had tried to resonate with Bai Qingxue was forcefully suppressed and subdued by this melody, which was of the same origin but far more powerful.
The phantom's outline flickered in the moonlight, looking as if it might disperse at any moment, or as if it were bowing in submission to the true source.
At the end of the day, the Mirror Spirit Technique could mimic the form, but it could not mimic the intent.
It could reflect the origin, but it could not control it.
Bai Qingxue's ice heart had never been a flower in a mirror or the moon in the water; it was the peak of an eternally frozen mountain.
The music drifted on, and the moonlight flowed like water.
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