House Arrest

The cluster of igloos spread across the valley like a white beehive, with cooking smoke weaving a dense net under the lead-gray sky.

Following Batu, Li Guanglong arrived at the snowman tribe.

Led by Batu, the group passed through the bustling streets. The ice beneath their feet had been worn smooth as glass by tens of thousands of steps, reflecting the snow hawks circling overhead.

Snowmen along the way paused to salute, while children clung to icy windows, peering curiously. Around their necks hung bone necklaces of varying styles --- some set with turquoise, others sealed with dark-red resin.

“This is Snowfang Valley,” Murong Xue whispered, keeping his voice low. “The tribe numbers eight thousand three hundred, divided into twelve hunting parties.”

He lifted his hand, pointing toward the massive ice sculpture carved into the Cliffside --- a three-eyed figure with glowing crystals set in its sockets. “The highest point is the Ice Temple, where rituals are held. The chieftain lives by the reindeer pens to the east.”

Li Guanglong noticed the arrangement of the igloos concealed deliberate order: radiating outward from the three-eyed sculpture as the center. The closer to the center, the larger the igloos, their walls carved with intricate spiral patterns.

Batu led them into the largest igloo, where firewalls had been built to ward off the chill. A dozen snowmen in feathered cloaks bustled around a copper cauldron, where broth bubbled, releasing a fragrance of pine and beast bones.

“Please,” Batu gestured to a stone bench draped in reindeer hide, then personally ladled a bowl of steaming broth and handed it over.

Floating in the soup were strange red berries. Its taste carried a peculiar sweetness, and the warmth sliding down his throat instantly dispelled the bone-deep cold.

At that moment, an elder draped in white bearskin lifted the curtain and entered. His long fur had turned pure white, his eyes sunken yet sharp, and at his waist hung a talisman made of human finger bones.

Batu immediately rose and saluted, and all the snowmen in the igloo bowed their heads.

“This is Chieftain Monk,” Murong Xue whispered, “the tribe’s second in command. But the one with true authority is the High Priest in the Ice Temple.”

Monk studied Li Guanglong with cloudy eyes before uttering a short phrase. Murong Xue translated: “The chieftain asks whether you have kept the Ice Soul Flower given to you by the spirit deer safe.”

Li Guanglong instinctively touched the ornate box at his waist. “It is well preserved. I will never forget that flower’s life-saving grace.”

Monk nodded, signaled Batu to continue hosting, and then carried a bowl of broth into the inner chamber.

Watching his departing back, Li Guanglong noticed the hem of Monk’s feathered cloak was embroidered with the same three-eyed totem as the ice sculpture. He silently marked the symbol in his memory.

Midway through the feast, Li Guanglong seized a toast as an excuse to casually ask: “I’ve heard that Penglai Island holds an immortal elixir. Has Mr. Murong ever seen it?”

“The elixir is but legend. Surely Your Highness doesn’t take it seriously?” Murong Xue half-smiled, his words dripping with mystery.

Li Guanglong knew he was withholding something. He pressed on: “If Mr. Murong could help me obtain the elixir, I would reward you most generously.”

Murong Xue’s eyes flickered. Glancing left and right, and seeing that Batu and the others were drinking merrily without paying attention, he lowered his voice: “To tell the truth, I do know a little about the elixir. But before that, I need Your Highness’s help to free me from this place.”

“Free you? What do you mean?” Li Guanglong frowned in puzzlement.

“I have been put under house arrest by the tribe’s High Priest. Though I move freely within the tribe, I cannot leave it alone,” Murong Xue said grimly.

He had once attempted escape, only to be beaten half to death, bedridden for three months.

Since then, he dared not act rashly, forced to lie low in silence. But now, seeing Li Guanglong and his men break into this icy world, he saw a chance at last.

“So, if I help you escape this tribe, you will tell me where to find the elixir?” Li Guanglong’s eyes narrowed.

“Exactly!”

Murong Xue nodded firmly. “Once I am free, I will reveal every secret about the elixir at once!”

After ten years on this island, he was nearly driven mad. Compared with freedom, the elixir’s allure no longer mattered as much.

“Good! Then it’s a deal!” Li Guanglong laughed.

So long had he searched without success, only to stumble on a lead so easily --- it was truly Heaven’s favor!

“If we are to escape, tonight is the best chance.”

Murong Xue leaned even closer, lowering his voice: “The hunters brought back the largest ice bear of the year. The High Priest will perform the Spirit Dance himself. At that time, the Ice Temple’s guards will be at their weakest. We can slip through the secret path behind the reindeer pens and head straight for the island’s boundary gap.”

Li Guanglong looked out the window at the rising bonfires. Snowmen danced wildly around the flames, the booming of beast-skin drums shaking the igloo walls.

“Very well --- tonight it is!”

Li Guanglong didn’t hesitate. For the elixir, the risk was worth taking. - Ton

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