When Tang Xiaoqi proactively gathered all radiance and stepped into that dead gray cold tide like a devout pilgrim, bone-deep cold and despair instantly wrapped around him.
This was not physical low temperature, but a chill reaching the depths of the soul, sufficient to freeze all vitality and thoughts. Countless tiny, pain-filled whispers and wails, like cold tides, attempted to flood into his sea of consciousness—those were the remnants of the despair thoughts of countless northern beings composing this cold tide.
"My child... my child died under the demon's claws..."
"The tribe is gone... home is gone... what's the point of living..."
"So cold... so hungry... no tomorrow in sight..."
"Why... why must we endure all this..."
These voices overflowed with helplessness, sorrow, anger, and utter nihilism. They gathered into a powerful spiritual torrent, battering Xiao Qi's dao heart, attempting to drag him into the same abyss of despair.
However, Xiao Qi's dao heart had been tempered through the fall of Xu Lan Manor, the rebirth of Qingxu Temple, the decisive battle at the demon nest, and the enlightenment at the Gui Xu—tempered a thousand times, solid as bedrock. He did not resist these voices, nor attempt to disperse them with force; he simply stood like a boulder, letting the tide of despair batter against him while remaining unmoved.
He walked step by step toward the sacred mountain's core, toward the frozen sacred ground. His steps were steady, his gaze clear and resolute. Where he passed, the gray cold tide still churned, but those despair thoughts attempting to erode his mind crashed against an invisible yet warm wall, unable to truly intrude even slightly.
At last, he arrived at the sacred mountain's summit, that most sacred, originally brilliant core. Now, there was only deathly gray here, a massive gray ice block radiating extreme cold, completely sealing the sacred core. The ice spirit's fluctuations beneath that ice were faint to the point of imperceptibility.
Xiao Qi slowly sat cross-legged before that massive gray ice block. He closed his eyes, hands naturally forming a serene meditation seal, resting on his knees. He did not activate his Green Lotus source to attack the ice, nor attempt to purify the surrounding cold tide. What he did was something unprecedented—he completely immersed his spirit into the deepest part of his dao heart, to awaken and condense that "protection" thought, tempered through hardships yet never extinguished: his love for life, his faith in light, his hope for the future.
He recalled his mother placing the jade pendant around his neck on Xu Lan Manor's final night, that reluctant yet hopeful gaze; recalled his master Xuan Ling True Man drawing star power and burning his divine soul to protect the sect, that resolute yet sorrowful silhouette; recalled his father Xu Zhan's final lucid moment, that gaze full of guilt, reluctance, and determination; recalled Qingxu Temple's fellow disciples fighting shoulder to shoulder during the demon calamity, blood staining the battlefield heroically; recalled how he had protected ten thousand alien tribes by sacrificing himself on the western frontier, guarding border peace; recalled that old woman in Wang Gui Town whose eyes rekindled with light from a slim hope...
These memories, these emotions—not power, yet more precious than power. They formed the cornerstone of his dao heart, the very essence of what made him "Tang Xiaoqi."
He extracted these insights, this warmth, tenacity, sacrifice, and hope contained in memory's depths, in their purest, most fundamental form, from his heart—not as energy, but as "intent" and "emotion," like a trickle, like warm sunlight, slowly and continuously radiating from his seated form.
This was no spell, no divine power; it was more like a resonance of souls, a radiation of spirit.
At first, this faint, warm fluctuation seemed so tiny in the boundless gray death, nearly instantly submerged. The surrounding Annihilation Cold Tide still churned ice-cold, seemingly unaffected. But Xiao Qi was not discouraged, nor impatient. Like the most patient farmer, he continuously and devotedly sowed seeds of hope.
He believed that no matter how hard the frozen earth, given enough warmth and time, it would melt one day.
Time trickled by. Perhaps hours passed, perhaps days. The change began to occur quietly.
The first to sense it were those Snow Plains Giant Wolf elders prostrate at the cold tide's edge. In their originally glazed, desperate eyes, they suddenly caught a trace of extremely faint, yet intimately familiar warm fluctuation. This fluctuation didn't come from energy, but directly acted upon their souls, letting them feel a long-lost... stirring.
"It is... the Venerable One's... heart thought..." The most ancient wolf raised its head with difficulty. In its murky eyes, a tear frozen for who knows how long melted and slipped down.
Next, around the sacred core, that thick gray cold tide seemingly also experienced an extremely subtle disturbance. Some of the despair thoughts originally filled with pained wails, upon contact with that continuously radiating warm, hopeful heart thought, like snow meeting sunlight, began to show... loosening and hesitation.
A tribal remnant's despair thought that had lost all family, upon sensing that protection thought of life resilience, in that utter death, seemed to sprout a tiny "refusal to accept."
A dying hunter's remnant thought in cold and hunger, upon sensing that faith in a bright future, in that boundless darkness, seemed to glimpse an extremely faint... starlight.
These changes were minute, like sparks, but they were indeed occurring.
Xiao Qi clearly sensed all of this. He remained seated, his spirit increasingly calm, the hopeful heart thought he radiated becoming even purer and warmer. He was no longer fighting despair alone; he was using himself as the catalyst, attempting to awaken that life itself's vitality and resilience, frozen in despair across this land!
He resonated heart with heart, using his hopeful and protective dao heart to touch, warm, and harmonize with those countless despair hearts frozen in the cold tide.
This was a slow process, a seepage and melting at the soul level. The gray cold tide still existed, but that absolute death was quietly being broken by traces of unnoticeable vitality called "hope."
At the sacred mountain's foot, a weak Snow Plains Giant Wolf cub, sensing something, struggled to raise its head from the icy nest, emitting a weak yet clear whimper. That sound was no longer a despairing wail, but carried a trace of... the will to live.
That whimper, like another stone dropped into a calm lake, rippled outward within this dead gray domain.
Tang Xiaoqi knew he had found the correct direction. The key to purifying this Annihilation Cold Tide lay not in destruction, but in awakening. In kindling that unextinguishable flame of life hidden deep within every despairing heart.
This silent battle had just begun, but he had already glimpsed the dawn's first light.