His very existence was distorting the surrounding reality, and tiny cracks appeared in the space around him. Through those cracks, countless wriggling stars and indescribable colors could be vaguely seen.

His movements seemed slow and graceful, and each step seemed to be measuring some ancient ritual, but in fact his figure was moving at an inhuman speed across the snowfield.

The surrounding scenery twisted and stretched around him, then quickly collapsed, as if time and space were surrendering at his feet.

After walking for an unknown amount of time—perhaps a moment, or perhaps an eternity—he finally stopped.

At that moment, he lowered his head slightly, his chest heaving, and he exhaled gently like a human.

The breath condensed into frost mist in the cold air, but turned into countless tiny black particles the moment it dissipated, flashing with strange dark light, as if some indescribable existence was peeking at the world through his breath.

His hands were long and pale, with bones clearly defined to the point of being sharp, like fragments of some ancient sculpture.

The pitch-black mist wrapped around his fingers like a living thing, flowing viscously, occasionally dripping, but then solidifying in mid-air and turning into tiny black crystals.

What was even more strange was that there was a kind of light flowing between his fingers. It was not reflected light, but a dark glow that seeped out from deep within his skin, as if what was flowing beneath his flesh was not blood, but some unknown energy from deep space.

The air around him twisted violently, and the falling snow melted silently the moment it was about to touch him, as if repelled by some invisible field.

But what was even more terrifying was that the glacier itself seemed to be waking up - a low hum came from deep within the ice, as if some giant creature was slowly breathing.

Strange lines began to appear on the ice surface, spreading like blood vessels, as if some ancient runes were being reactivated.

The iceberg in the distance was wriggling strangely, as if it was not ice, but the shell of some dormant creature, which seemed to be gradually reviving due to Si Weijun's arrival.

He stood quietly, his black hair floating slightly in the windless air like seaweed in the deep sea.

His shadow was no longer projected on the ground, but split into countless tiny black tentacles, stretching out in all directions and then quickly retracting, as if testing the boundaries of this world.

Then, he raised his eyes slightly, his dark eyes staring into the void.

In that pure darkness, something seemed to be slowly moving - not a pupil, but some larger, more ancient existence, looking through his eyes at this reality that was about to collapse.