Snow fell silently in the glacier hollow, each flake a shard that settled on ice-slicked stone, weaving a veil that dulled the world to a whisper of white. The air was brittle, a cold that didn't merely bite but pierced, locking breath in the lungs and thoughts in crystal cages. Towering ice walls gleamed faintly, their surfaces etched with patterns too precise for nature, reflecting a sky drained to pale silver. Beyond a crevice where frost glittered like trapped stars, a rift pulsed—a sapphire scar that radiated a force so absolute it could still time itself. The Glacial Monarch, the fifty-fifth force, had awakened, its boundless freeze of infinite power a quiet oath to bind Lin Feng's spirit in frost.