Kunlun Snow, A Light in the Mortal World

Snow had fallen on the remnant peaks of Kunlun for three hundred years.

The immortal Chen Yan lived in a stone hut with a half-rotten peachwood sword, patiently honing it against a slab of bluestone. The sheen that flowed along its blade bore the traces of three hundred years, yet not a hint of true sword energy had ever emerged. His master had once said, “The sword is an extension of the heart.” But Chen Yan had watched dynasties fall like dust and seen his bewildered fellow disciples turn to earth, their very names worn away by time. He was like a stubborn stone embedded in the flow of ages, unable to understand what it meant to be attached to anything.

Then smoke from the kitchens of Qingxi Town drifted up the mountain. The old herb gatherer Zhou brought not only the sweet scent of date cakes, but also strange tales of children vanishing without a trace. For the first time, Chen Yan locked the door of his stone hut and descended the mountain with the peachwood sword, marked by a snow fox’s claws, at his side. There, he stumbled upon a sinister soul-seizing formation in the Earth God’s temple. Beneath its dark red runes, the remnants of a child’s soul inside a doll were slowly fading away.

When the townspeople surrounded him, pleading, “Immortal, save us!” and the marks on his peachwood sword glimmered faintly red in the morning light, Chen Yan suddenly understood the warm jade his master had pressed into his hands before he died. Cultivating immortality was never about seeking eternal life. It was about keeping that little light in your heart alive amid the mortal world.

This is a tribulation spanning three hundred years, and the story of an immortal who, amid the torrent of time, finally learns to care for others and protect what matters.