Pulling his thoughts together, Tang Yan continued to admire the scenery beyond the pavilion. In the distance, the lake shimmered with rippling light. Countless small boats glided leisurely across its surface, faint strains of silk and bamboo music drifting from the surroundings.

Struck by the serene beauty, Tang Yan murmured, “When you reach the end of the water’s path, sit and watch the clouds rise…”

The old man, who had been gazing at the landscape, froze at Tang Yan’s words. The faint sorrow on his face softened slightly.

Shen Shan’s heart stirred with surprise. *When you reach the end of the water’s path, sit and watch the clouds rise*—these brief lines carried a remarkable openness, instantly broadening his perspective.

Had this young man noticed something amiss with his grandson and recited the verse as a subtle comfort?

“So, the young master has also discerned my grandson’s condition. Your talent is truly admirable!” Shen Shan rose and clasped his hands toward Tang Yan in respect.

Tang Yan blinked, caught off guard. He’d only tossed out a casual line of poetry. Still, from the old man’s words, he gleaned that the boy hadn’t found a suitable cultivation method.

“No need to lose hope, sir. Things aren’t over until they’re truly done. As they say, there’s always a path before the mountain, a bridge when the boat arrives. When mountains and rivers seem to block the way, a hidden village blooms beyond.” Tang Yan rattled off a few more poetic lines. Shen Shan’s eyes sparkled with growing admiration.

“Your open-mindedness is truly inspiring, young friend. I’m Shen Shan. May I have your name?” the old man asked with a smile.

“Tang Huohuo,” Tang Yan replied with a false name.

“Your words just now certainly lifted my spirits. But alas, the ways of the world are unpredictable. Some burdens aren’t so easily let go when you’re caught in the thick of them,” Shen Shan sighed. He pulled a silver dagger from his robes and handed it to Tang Yan. “If you ever leave Tingxiang, come find me at the Artifact Pavilion.”

Tang Yan’s heart skipped a beat. So, this grandfather and grandson weren’t from Tingxiang?

Shen Shan didn’t specify where exactly, and Tang Yan didn’t pry. If he ever heard of this “Artifact Pavilion” in the future, he could investigate then.

“We’ve rested enough. We won’t disturb your enjoyment any longer. Farewell!” Shen Shan clasped his fists again, preparing to leave with his grandson.

Tang Yan toyed with the dagger in his hands. Its body was a weathered, muted gray—unremarkable at first glance—but the surface had been specially treated to reduce reflection, enhancing its stealth. The blade was razor-sharp, the craftsmanship exquisite, and the handle fit perfectly in his grip. He knew it was no ordinary item.

After a moment’s thought, Tang Yan spoke up. “This Ice Marrow Physique isn’t a death sentence. I happen to know two ways to address it.”

The pair, about to step out of the pavilion, froze at his words.

A terrifying aura erupted from Shen Shan, pressing down on Tang Yan until his breath caught, as if a mountain had settled on his shoulders.

*So strong!* Tang Yan’s mind reeled.

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The most powerful person he’d ever met was Zi Yun, but her presence paled in comparison to this old man’s. Could Shen Shan’s strength surpass even the Heavenly Stage?

“You know of the Ice Marrow Physique?” Shen Shan’s voice was low and serious.

“Every three months, the body turns cold as ice. The chill seeps in, and the ice poison accumulates. This young master’s meridians are nearly sealed. If I’m not mistaken, he has, at most, one year left,” Tang Yan said calmly.

Shen Shan’s eyes flashed with profound shock. He’d initially thought this young man had some medical insight, noticing his grandson’s dire state and offering poetry as consolation.

But Tang Yan’s words revealed he’d seen through everything from the start.

Even with a heart tempered like stone, Shen Shan couldn’t hide his excitement. His body trembled faintly as he asked urgently, “Young friend, are you serious?”

The少年 beside him brightened at Tang Yan’s words. Could this youth, roughly his own age, really have a way to cure him?

His grandfather had taken him to countless famed doctors and alchemy masters, all of whom had been stumped by his condition.

“There are two methods,” Tang Yan said after a pause. “The first is to take a pill with potent fire properties to neutralize the ice poison. But that would mean he could never cultivate, and his lifespan would cap at seventy or eighty years.”

For his grandson’s sake, Shen Shan had sought out every renowned healer in the world.

None could make sense of the boy’s illness. Now, hearing a potential solution, his heart surged with emotion. “Young friend, can you refine this pill?”

“With the right ingredients, yes,” Tang Yan nodded.

“Young friend, I beg you—name any condition. If you can refine this pill, I’ll agree to anything!” Tears welled in Shen Shan’s eyes.

They’d traveled far and wide, long resigned to despair. Forget seventy or eighty years—even a decade more would be a gift from the heavens.

Tang Yan gave Shen Shan an odd look. *I haven’t even mentioned the second method, and you’re already this worked up?*

Seeing Tang Yan stay silent, Shen Shan’s heart sank. “Is it the ingredients? Are they hard to find?”

“They are indeed rare and difficult to gather,” Tang Yan admitted with a nod.

“Tell me what you need, young friend. I’ll head back now and search for them. Once I’ve collected everything, I’ll find you immediately,” Shen Shan said eagerly.

Tang Yan scratched his head, watching Shen Shan’s desperation. Just how much hopelessness had this pair endured to lose all composure at the slightest glimmer of hope?

“Young friend, say something!” Shen Shan grew anxious at Tang Yan’s continued silence. “You’re not deceiving us, are you?”

“Senior, I said there are *two* methods…” Tang Yan finally managed to interject.

Shen Shan was no fool. After a brief moment of stunned silence, realization hit him, and his eyes widened in disbelief. “You mean the second method is even better?”

“The second method is to find a cultivation technique suited to the Ice Marrow Physique. With the right method, the cold isn’t a poison—it becomes a peerless elixir, boosting cultivation at an astonishing pace!” Tang Yan said gravely.

*Boom!* Shen Shan felt his body sway.

Cultivation? Not only could his grandson’s condition be cured, but his progress could soar?

Even a man seasoned by life’s storms couldn’t help but pinch his thigh to check if he was dreaming.

The sharp pain snapped him back to reality.

Taking a deep breath, Shen Shan steadied himself. He’d scoured countless places, yet no one could even diagnose his grandson’s condition, let alone find a cultivation method. Where could he possibly turn?

“Such a cultivation technique must exist only in legends, right?” Shen Shan gave a bitter smile. “I’m not greedy. If my grandson can live safely, I’m content. Please, young friend, tell me the ingredients needed.”

“I also have a cultivation method…” Tang Yan said softly.

At those words, Shen Shan wondered again if he’d slipped into a dream.

Tingxiang was just a tiny speck on the continent’s map. He’d come here merely to take his grandson on a final trip, to see the world before the end, passing through by chance.

Yet in this remote corner of the Eastern Domain, he’d not only met someone who recognized his grandson’s condition but also someone offering solutions?

“Young friend…” Shen Shan began.

“Do you have paper and a brush?” Tang Yan asked.

“Yes, yes!” Shen Shan replied quickly. Ink, brush, paper, and an inkstone appeared in his hands in an instant.

Tang Yan’s eyes narrowed as he glanced at the ring on Shen Shan’s finger, a spark of curiosity flickering within him. If he wasn’t mistaken, it was a storage ring, wasn’t it?

Unbeknownst to Tang Yan, this wasn’t his first brush with such an item—Zi Yun’s bracelet served the same purpose, though she’d never shown it off.

Dipping the brush in ink, Tang Yan began to write, his strokes flowing like a dragon in flight…