"Is this the true power of the Ice Hero Gao Han? He lives up to his name in every sense," a villager murmured under his breath.
They had all wondered at the strange title bestowed upon him. For nearly a thousand years on the Tianwu Continent, no hero had ever borne a title tied to ice. A handful had been linked to water, yet ice remained unheard of—until now.
After witnessing his prowess firsthand, they finally understood. Gao Han's mastery of the ice path was unrivaled. Every strike he unleashed carried frigid true essence, and each wave of frost plummeted the surrounding temperature by more than ten degrees.
More than half of the villagers had likely caught a chill, and some who had stood too close were frozen stiff, trapped in a state of suspended animation. Left much longer, they would surely perish.
The bandit chief stared at the dozen or so ragged survivors at his side, his heart encased in a layer of ice so bitter that his entire body trembled.
He knew he stood no chance against Gao Han. Though both were at the Third Layer of True Essence, the gulf in their power was immeasurable.
Brigands like him lived only slightly better than wandering swordsmen of the jianghu, yet in terms of combat prowess, they were even inferior to those humble warriors.
They lacked the courage to press forward fearlessly and the will to innovate their cultivation. They had turned to banditry for nothing but pleasure and luxury, having long abandoned the relentless dedication required of a true martial artist.
They were the dregs of brigands, content to plunder villages, hoard treasure, and indulge in carnal delights without seeking to grow stronger.
The gap between their power and Gao Han's was beyond compare. Any random cultivator from the top hundred of the Grand Tournament could have held their own against this chief, let alone the champion himself.
Gao Han's initial concern had not been the few Third Layer True Essence bandits, but the risk of being caught off guard by a coordinated assault from the entire horde, which would have put him in grave peril.
Yet the chief had been foolish enough to believe Gao Han truly coveted the villagers and their belongings, gathering his men into a tight cluster.
At such close quarters, even a blind man wielding Frost Forged Mountain would have struck down dozens.
What was more, most of the bandits were at the Qi Condensation realm, utterly unable to resist Gao Han's biting frost. Many perished before the ice mountain even crashed down upon them.
Additionally, Gao Han's frost thickened the very air, freezing their bodies and slowing their movements by half, making evasion all but impossible.
"Hold! Lord Ice Hero, I surrender all these villagers and their wealth to you! Spare our worthless lives, I beg of you!"
The bandit chief was terrified out of his wits, his will to fight broken entirely. He kowtowed violently, pleading for mercy.
Seeing their leader yield, the remaining bandits dropped to their knees as well, bowing their heads repeatedly.
"Spare us, Lord Ice Hero!"
"Master Gao, treat us as a passing breeze and let us go!"
Gao Han's expression suddenly softened into a warm smile, all trace of his earlier killing intent and frost vanishing. "Please rise, all of you. What kind of talk is this—"
He paused deliberately, and the bandits let out a collective sigh of relief, relaxing the true essence they had coiled within them.
Without warning, Gao Han's face turned as cold as ice, his eyes flashing with murderous resolve. "Did you truly believe I would spare you? You jest."
In an instant, he drew the longsword at his waist, crouched low, and drove the blade into the ground. His forty percent Ice Momentum erupted in full, and sheets of ice burst forth from the spot where he stood.
The ice layer stretched a full foot thick, spreading outward in all directions at blinding speed, growing thicker and denser as it advanced.
In the blink of an eye, fifty zhang around him had turned into a frozen domain. The air overhead condensed so heavily that tiny snowflakes began to drift down.
Though only a dozen flakes swirled around Gao Han, the feat was extraordinary. The frost was so bitter that it froze the moisture in the air solid, forming the delicate snowflakes.
The temperature plummeted most severely close to Gao Han's body, easing slightly farther away.
To alter the weather entirely and summon a blizzard would require breaking through momentum to comprehend artistic conception—a realm still far beyond Gao Han's reach.
Every bandit was trapped in place by the foot-thick ice, their lower bodies locked fast. The layer was so rigid that their weapons could not pierce it.
Only the True Essence cultivators retained the strength to struggle; many Qi Condensation bandits froze to death outright, becoming living ice sculptures, while others slipped into unconsciousness.
"Strike!"
Gao Han remained crouched, letting out a low cry as his soul power burst forth in tandem with his minor-attainment Ice Momentum. Sharp ice spikes erupted from the frozen surface.
The spikes were flat and blade-like, as keen as treasured swords, their edges sharp enough to split hair. Their glistening points radiated a bone-chilling menace.
Shrill screams rang out endlessly. Each bandit was impaled by multiple spikes, turning the fifty-zhang frozen expanse into a hellish mountain of blades.
Frigid gusts lashed outward. The villagers were ordinary mortals, their strongest barely at the Third Layer of Qi Condensation, unable to withstand the bitter frost. One by one, they fainted.
A quarter of an hour later, Gao Han ceased channeling true essence and Ice Momentum, his soul power having long been exhausted. The ice layers, deprived of his energy, lost their extreme cold.
These ice formations differed from Frost Forged Mountain. The mountain had been a visual illusion forged from condensed frost, its essence still pure cold energy.
The ice sheets, by contrast, were solidified from Gao Han's profound true essence, tangible and enduring.
Had he not cultivated the Sunset River Art, Gao Han could have frozen no more than twenty zhang at most.
With the art supporting him, however, he could cover fifty zhang—for his total true essence now matched that of an ordinary Fifth Layer True Essence cultivator, the very reason he could challenge opponents above his rank.
Yet Gao Han harbored a quiet concern. For all its power, the Sunset River Art was merely a top-tier Mortal Rank technique, destined to be outgrown. He worried whether he could obtain a Profound Rank art focused on amassing inner power.
Night had fallen. The bright moon illuminated the scene, revealing the bodies of bandits strewn haphazardly across the ground.
The twenty surviving guards trembled violently, half from terror, half from the cold.
Gao Han's unrelenting frost had dropped the temperature across a hundred zhang significantly. It was nearly summer, and their thin clothing offered no protection against the sudden chill.
"Ah!"
The twenty men could endure no longer. They shrieked and fled toward the mountains. By now, Gao Han was nearly drained of strength.
For all its devastating power, Frost Forged Mountain consumed thirty percent of his true essence per use. Unlike other techniques, which merely borrowed energy temporarily, the strike burned through his inner power completely.
To recover, he would have to slowly absorb spiritual energy or frost from the air.
Combined with his two Ice Momentum eruptions and the strain of soul power, Gao Han swayed unsteadily on his feet, barely able to stand.
Yet he understood one unshakable truth: weeds must be uprooted to avoid future trouble.