This game is way too realistic.

As Lin Nan dashed through the forest, her lightness skill “Flowing Wind” activated, the wind whipped against her face, her ink-black hair fluttered behind her, and the smooth fabric of her clothes brushed gently against her skin—every sensation felt so vivid it was as if she’d truly been transported into this world, reborn as a real woman.

But right now, with the inner sect disciples of Thousand-Bird City actively hunting her, she couldn’t afford to linger and test the limits of this realism.  
After all, the system had already warned her: if she died, her account would be permanently deleted. What difference was that from being an NPC who couldn’t respawn?

Given how effortlessly she’d just wiped out a whole group of righteous sect disciples, it was clear this character was immensely powerful—with near limitless growth potential.  
So even if she had to create a new account, she absolutely needed the system to compensate her with this character’s gear and skills. Otherwise, the loss would be catastrophic.

As she leapt and ran forward, the dense forest around her gradually thinned out without her even noticing. The terrain grew flatter, and here and there, thatched-roof huts began appearing in her field of vision.

Lin Nan quickly glanced back—only to find Wuyun Mountain already shrouded in white mist, its outline fading into obscurity.  
That meant she’d officially left Wuyun Mountain’s territory.

Still, her sharp ears caught a faint, strange sound from afar—like the rhythmic flapping of enormous wings.

She hesitated for a moment… then decided to press onward.  
At her current level, challenging an inner sect disciple one-on-one would be suicide.

Along the way, she deliberately skirted around human settlements to avoid drawing attention. After all, her current appearance radiated an unmistakable aura of a demonic cultivator—how could that possibly compare to the reassuring sight of righteous sect disciples in their spotless white robes?

But to her dismay, the path she’d chosen seemed increasingly wrong.

The farther she went, the more travelers she encountered—even merchant caravans hauling goods appeared on the road.

She immediately froze and leapt up into a large tree by the roadside for cover.

Just then, a thick bank of clouds ahead slowly drifted apart—and Lin Nan realized, to her horror, that she’d made a grave mistake.  
A catastrophic one.

She hadn’t fled from Thousand-Bird City at all. On the contrary—she’d been heading straight toward its heart.

Right before her, a colossal city encased in golden radiance floated in midair—majestic, awe-inspiring, and breathtakingly grand.

Had the clouds not obscured it earlier, she would’ve seen it long ago and stopped in time.

Who would’ve thought Thousand-Bird City was a floating city?

Now what?

Clearly, the disciples hadn’t given up their search. They must’ve used flying mounts—explaining how they’d reached the Spider Cave so quickly from the city. If she were spotted by passersby now, word would reach them in no time, and they’d corner her before she could blink.

It didn’t help that her outfit stood out like a sore thumb. Ordinary women would never wear head-to-toe black—only someone with extraordinary presence could pull off such a look.

She’d already tried removing the black “Rainbow Robe,” but the system explicitly stated: “Bound outfit—cannot be changed.”

With no choice, she stayed hidden in the tree—only to realize the faint sound of flapping wings was growing steadily closer.

How were they tracking her so precisely? What method were they using?  
She couldn’t figure it out—but staying in the tree was no longer an option.

She scanned her surroundings and decided to veer off the main road, angling roughly 45 degrees away from Thousand-Bird City.

After all, that floating metropolis was the sect’s stronghold—home not just to inner and outer disciples, but also to elders, all of whom were surely level 80 or higher. She was just a measly level 5—walking into that place would be pure suicide.

She activated her lightness skill again, darting through the wilderness with fluid grace. To any observer, she’d appear as nothing more than a fleeting black shadow—elegant, elusive, and mesmerizing.

But she hadn’t gone far when a sudden gust of wind surged from behind.

She barely rolled aside in time to dodge a lethal strike. Whirling around, she saw a massive immortal crane hovering in the air, its razor-sharp talons having just gouged two deep trenches into the earth.

Standing calmly on the crane’s back, arms folded behind him, Gong Sun Ding looked down at her with icy disdain.  
“Demoness,” he sneered, “surrender now before you suffer further!”

Lin Nan slowly rose to her feet. Though inwardly terrified by this overwhelming opponent, she forced her expression into an icy, detached mask—for the sake of maintaining her “high-cold” persona.

“Who are you?”

“I am Gong Sun Ding, chief disciple of Thousand-Bird City. Demoness, be wise—come with me willingly, and perhaps you’ll keep your life.”

Lin Nan knew all too well what awaited her if she returned with them. Even if she wasn’t executed, she’d be locked away in a dungeon forever.

And if the system refused to let her transfer her character’s progress to a new account… would she really have to spend the rest of her gaming life rotting in a cell?  
Not a chance.

System Notification: Maintaining composure against a formidable foe—High-Cold Value +20.

Her eyes—clear as autumn water—flicked toward Gong Sun Ding.

Unbeknownst to her, black-and-white snowflakes had already begun drifting from the sky.

It was nearly summer—yet snow suddenly fell, astonishing all nearby players traveling toward Thousand-Bird City.

One such player, a streamer who’d vowed since day one to become the greatest merchant in Path of Inquiry, had been lazily chatting with viewers about roadside scenery, hoping to scrape together a few tips. But then—snow.

“Holy crap! Snow in June? Is someone冤枉 (wrongfully accused)?” the streamer cried.

“Yeah, super weird! Did the game’s weather system glitch?” viewers replied.

“Bugs are normal—this game’s only been live for a month. If there weren’t bugs, that’d be weird.”

“Wait… did you notice? The snow’s… weirdly colored. Streamer, catch some for us!”

The streamer held out his hand—and caught a single flake.

He frowned. Just as the viewer said, the snowflake in his palm was split cleanly down the middle: one half black, one half white.

“Whoa—what the hell? Snow like this? Is the game bugged?”

“Why do I suddenly feel so cold…?”

A player who’d just switched over from “GrindMaster’s” stream immediately recognized it.  
“No way! I remember this! Wherever this snow falls, not even grass survives! This is the Cold Moon Witch—this is her signature!”

“What? The Cold Moon Witch?!”

“Quick! Everyone come! This merchant streamer found her!” The player shouted across the live chat.

Most fans tracking the Cold Moon Witch had been camped in GrindMaster’s stream, waiting impatiently for the epic showdown between good and evil. But that stream had just been following some inner sect disciple endlessly combing through forests—boring viewers to death.

Now, hearing someone had actually spotted the Witch, they stampeded over en masse.

The merchant streamer stared in disbelief as his viewer count exploded.  
“This… this is insane!”

“Don’t just stand there gawking!” viewers yelled. “Go find her—now! Or we’re leaving!”

“Yeah! Find her in five minutes, and we’ll all subscribe and favorite your stream!”

Motivated instantly—no streamer wanted to be a one-hit wonder—he braved the strange snow and marched toward where the black flakes fell thickest.

As he pushed through a grove of trees, his stream feed suddenly revealed a colossal immortal crane… and a lone, black-clad figure standing defiantly beneath it.

The chat exploded.

“NO WAY! IT’S REALLY HER!”

“Of course it is! The moment I saw that black snow, I knew she was near!”

“She’s as distant as snow, as cold as the moon… so lonely… so beautiful… Only I can melt her frozen heart!” — one fan spiraling into fantasy.

The entire chat replied in unison: “GET LOST!”

While the online crowd buzzed with excitement, Lin Nan on the ground felt the pressure mounting.

“Demoness,” Gong Sun Ding said coolly, “you cannot escape.”

He twirled his fingers—and a rapidly spinning crimson flower materialized at his fingertips.

“My Soul-Chasing Bloom never loses your scent. No matter where you flee—across oceans or to the ends of the earth—you’ll never slip from my grasp!”

Lin Nan fixed him with a frosty glare.  
“Oh? Then why waste time talking? Just attack!”

Gong Sun Ding retracted the flower and drew a gleaming longsword.  
“Stubborn fool! Then die, demoness!”

He leapt from the crane’s back, his blade streaking toward her like a falling star.

Lin Nan knew better than to meet his force head-on. Her only hope was her agility.

She sidestepped his full-power strike, her black form weaving like a lotus through the swirling snow. For a moment, even Gong Sun Ding struggled to land a hit.

The snow kept falling.

But the rate at which the white flakes turned black was slowing.

Lin Nan realized why—her High-Cold Value wasn’t increasing anymore.

Last time, she’d been surrounded by dozens of enemies, each one contributing to her High-Cold Value simply by being awed (or intimidated) by her icy allure.

But now? Only Gong Sun Ding stood before her—and he clearly wasn’t impressed.

As his sword pressed closer and closer, she wondered desperately:

What do I do now?