In the far distance, the sky trembled, and fissures tore through the heavens, stretching across every corner of the world. Cracks spread like jagged veins, bleeding spiritual power into the land—a rich and potent energy that both invigorated the world and destabilized it. The dimension groaned beneath the strain, quaking as if on the brink of collapse. If this fragile pocket dimension were to shatter with the countless sects and people still within, it would swallow everything—leaving not a single soul alive to tell the tale.
The only hope was to escape. But the faces of the elders in one particular sect were ashen with dread.
Nestled within snow-capped mountains, this sect was a kingdom of ice and elegance. Every figure that walked its pristine halls was a vision of ethereal beauty, for this was the Immortal Ice Palace—a sect known for its graceful disciples, most of whom were women of unmatched allure.
