The astral fire surged through Lu Feng's ruined meridians like liquid starlight, reforming the shattered channels into crystalline conduits of sovereign celestial Qi.

Outside the dilapidated shrine, two scout disciples of the Golden Sun Sect sneered as they approached the wooden gate. They carried execution blades, dispatched to ensure the crippled heir of the Lu clan had perished in the bitter cold.

"Check the corpse quickly. The third elder wants his head preserved in salt before dusk," whispered the elder disciple, kicking the rotten doorway inward.

The splintered wood crashed onto the stone floor, but the sight greeting them made the marrow freeze in their bones. Lu Feng was not lying lifeless on the icy flagstones. He stood tall, bathed in an iridescent aura of rotating constellation sigils.

Before either disciple could draw steel, Lu Feng took a solitary step forward. The air warped. An oppressive cosmic pressure slammed down upon them like the weight of nine mountain ranges.

"Who gave you permission to step into my ancestors' hall?" Lu Feng's voice resonated with the divine authority of an ancient star sovereign.