Harem Link Cultivation System-Chapter 72: To Xueya

Lin Tian’s boots pounded against the frost-slicked stone of the mountain path. Each impact sent a jolt of pain through his cursed right arm, a cold throb that pulsed in time with the icy heartbeat in his chest. The other heartbeat, a new and unwelcome warmth, flickered beside it like a guttering candle.

I have to see her.

The thought was a drumbeat, drowning out the System’s quiet warnings about trace activation and energy instability. The rules of the Azure Snow Sect, the carefully maintained facade of a provisional candidate, the entire web of control, but it all meant nothing if the link between him and Xueya shattered. He could feel that silver thread straining, chilled by her hurt and confusion.

Ahead, the path curved around a jagged outcrop of blue-veined rock, a natural choke point before the bridge to the inner peaks. Three figures stepped out from the shadow of the rock, blocking his way.

Lin Tian skidded to a halt, ice scattering under his heels.

They wore the pale blue outer disciple robes, but each had a silver pin shaped like a jagged icicle on their collar, the mark of the Frozen Sword Faction. The one in the center was broad-shouldered, with a sneer that looked permanently frozen on his face. The two flanking him were leaner, their hands already resting on the hilts of their training swords.

"Lin Tian," the broad one said, his voice a gravelly grind. "Going somewhere?"

"Out of my way," Lin Tian said, his breath misting in the air.

"See, that’s the problem," the disciple said, taking a step forward. "You’re not supposed to be on this path. This leads to the inner disciple residences. It’s forbidden for outer trash like you." He cracked his knuckles, the sound like popping ice. "Feng Jian sends his regards. He said if we found you wandering, we should... escort you back. For your own safety."

"I don’t need an escort."

"We insist."

The two lean disciples fanned out, moving with the practiced ease of hunters. They weren’t ranked in the Top 20, Lin Tian could tell. Their auras were aggressive, but lacked the pressure of someone like Chen Rui. These were bullies used to ganging up on isolated targets.

No time. No time for this.

Lin Tian moved.

He pushed off the ground, his body moved by desperation. He went for the disciple on the left first, the one with a narrow face and quick eyes.

The disciple saw him coming and yanked his sword free, a sheet of frost forming along the blade. He thrust straight for Lin Tian’s center.

He twisted his torso at the last possible moment, letting the steel past his ribs. His right hand, the one wrapped in bandages to hide the black veins, shot out. He grabbed the disciple’s extended wrist, his fingers clamping down like iron bands.

The disciple gasped.

Then Lin Tian pulled it hard, yanking the man off balance. At the same time, he drove his left knee up.

It connected with the disciple’s elbow joint from the side.

A wet, sickening crunch echoed off the stone outcrop. The disciple’s scream was cut short as the arm bending at a horrible new angle. The training sword clattered to the ground.

A burst of qi from the shattered technique met the agitated qi simmering under Lin Tian’s skin. Where the energies met at the point of impact, there was a violent hiss, like water thrown on a hot stove. A plume of steam erupted between them.

Lin Tian shoved the screaming disciple aside, already turning.

The second lean disciple was on him, sword sweeping in a low arc aimed at his legs. Lin Tian jumped, the frost-tinged edge grazing the sole of his boot. He landed, pivoted, and lashed out with a side kick.

His heel connected with the disciple’s knee from the side.

Another crunch, this one deeper, muffled by robes and muscle. The disciple grunted, his leg buckling. He started to topple. Lin Tian didn’t let him fall. He stepped in close, grabbed the front of the man’s robe, and drove his forehead forward.

It wasn’t a graceful technique. It was raw, brutal efficiency.

The impact was a dull thud followed by a sharper crack. The disciple’s nose flattened, blood instantly blooming across his face. He went limp. Lin Tian let him drop.

As the disciple fell, the defensive frost aura around him dissipated, hitting Lin Tian. Another hiss of steam, this one brief and misty, rose from the disciple’s collapsing form.

Two down in less than ten seconds.

The broad disciple, the leader, hadn’t moved. His sneer was gone, replaced by a look of stunned face. He watched his comrades writhing on the ground, one clutching a shattered arm, the other unconscious with a ruined face.

"You..." he muttered, his hand going to his own sword. It was a proper spirit weapon, the scabbard etched with runes. "You really are a monster, aren’t you?"

Lin Tian just stared at him. The two heartbeats were warring louder now. The cold one screamed at him to finish this, to remove the obstacle. The warm one sent a warning reminding him of the trace on his wrist. He could feel the mark burning, a circle of ice-fire just beneath his skin.

"Feng Jian said you were tricky," the broad disciple said, slowly drawing his sword. A Frost immediately began to crawl up the blade, thickening it with layers of jagged ice. "He said you used tricks and terrain. But this is just a path. No tricks here."

"You talk too much," Lin Tian said, his voice quiet.

He didn’t wait. He charged.

The disciple roared, meeting his charge. He swung his ice-clad sword in a overhead chop. Lin Tian slid to the side, the massive blade crashing into the stone where he’d been standing, sending shards of frozen rock flying.

Lin Tian pressed the attack. He feinted a punch at the disciple’s face. The man flinched, bringing his sword up to guard. It was exactly what Lin Tian wanted. He dropped low, his leg sweeping out in a arc aimed at the disciple’s ankles.

The disciple jumped back, but not fast enough. Lin Tian’s foot hooked behind his heel, breaking his balance. The man stumbled, his guard opening.

Lin Tian surged up from his crouch, his right fist driving toward the disciple’s exposed ribs. He channelled a qi into the punch, not from Xueya’s icy qi but from the new, Su Lan’s fire-aligned qi.

The disciple tried to bring his ice-armored forearm down to block.

Lin Tian’s fist, wreathed in a faint, shimmering heat haze, met the solid plate of frost.

Then a sudden, explosive HISSSSSSS as fire and ice collided. The frost armor on the disciple’s arm vaporized, turning instantly into a cloud of superheated steam that scalded the man’s skin. Through the steam, Lin Tian’s punch landed cleanly.

A muffled crunch of breaking ribs.

The disciple’s eyes went wide with shock and pain. He wheezed, the air punched from his lungs. He dropped his sword, the spirit weapon clattering uselessly on the ground, its frost melting away into puddles.

Lin Tian didn’t stop. The momentum, the desperation, carried him forward. As the disciple doubled over, Lin Tian brought his left elbow down in a vicious strike on the back of the man’s neck.

Crunch!

The disciple collapsed like a sack of stones, landing face-first on the icy path.

Silence, broken only by the moans of the first disciple and the ragged sound of Lin Tian’s own breathing.

Steam rose from three points on the path: from the shattered elbow, from the collapsed disciple’s aura, and now from the leader’s scorched and broken form. It mixed with the freezing mountain air, creating a strange, foggy halo around the scene.

Lin Tian stood over them, his fists still clenched. The fire-qi in his arm receded, leaving behind a cold pain from the curse.

He looked down at his right wrist. The bandage was stained with a new, darker patch. The skin underneath felt like it was crawling, the black veins pulsing with a life of their own. The fight, the use of conflicting energies, had agitated the curse.

They’ll know. They’ll be coming.

He turned and started running again, leaving the three broken disciples behind. The bridge to the inner peaks was just ahead.

He was almost there.

He hit the bridge at full speed. As his foot touched the far side, a wave of spiritual pressure descended. It wrapped around the entrance to the Frostheart Residence gardens like an invisible wall.

Lin Tian skidded to a stop, the pressure forcing the air from his lungs. He looked up.

Standing between two archways was a woman. She looked young, perhaps only a few years older than him, but her eyes held the glacial depth of centuries.

Her hair was pure white, swept back in a severe style. She wore robes of deeper blue than the outer disciples, edged with silver thread that shimmered with contained power. 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝕨𝕖𝗯𝚗𝚘𝕧𝕖𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝕞

An inner disciple.

She held no weapon. She simply stood there, and the air around her cracked with tiny, floating shards of ice.

"Lin Tian of the Outer Court," she said, her voice the sound of distant glaciers calving. "You are in a restricted area. Your trace is reporting a violent altercation. You will turn around and return to the Outer Quarters to await disciplinary review."

Lin Tian straightened, meeting her gaze. The icy heartbeat in his chest gave a violent, yearning pull. Somewhere beyond this woman, behind the walls of frost, Xueya was waiting.

He took a step forward.

The air in front of him solidified into a solid pane of translucent ice, blocking his path.

"I won’t ask again," the inner disciple said, her expression unmoved. "Take another step, and your action will be considered an assault on the Frostheart Residence. The response will be...."

Lin Tian’s hands curled into fists. The bandage on his wrist was soaking through. The twin heartbeats in his soul hammered against his ribs, one crying for solace, the other screaming at him to stop.

He looked past the woman, past the wall of ice, toward the silent, beautiful prison where his partner was kept.

He took a deep, shuddering breath, the cold air burning his lungs.

Then he took another step.

End of Chapter 72