"Who?" Suddenly hearing this voice in his mind, Evan Yang was terrified, scanning his surroundings warily. Apart from the sleeping man before him, there was no one else.
He stared curiously at the person inside the ice and asked, "Is it you?"
"It's me." That hoarse voice echoed again.
"Huh." Evan Yang was shocked, his pores tightening as he stared at the ice block man. "You—you aren't dead?"
"Who said I was dead?" The hoarse voice sounded again. This time, Evan saw clearly that the other person hadn’t moved his mouth at all—the lips were tightly shut, no movement whatsoever—yet the voice was real, echoing directly in his mind.
"Are you... human or ghost?" Though Evan Yang looked only thirteen, the hardships he’d faced had already made him as resilient as any adult.
"Of course I'm human, just a sleeping one." The man, as if unused to speaking, became much smoother after a few exchanges. Evan Yang was now sure the person inside was fine, but couldn’t understand why he’d ended up sealed in ice like this.
"Who are you? Why are you here?" Everything before him felt too sudden, and Evan Yang couldn’t quite grasp how a living person could be inside the ice—especially one who didn’t speak aloud, but could still make his voice heard.
"I come from a very distant place. I happened to arrive here by chance, but was gravely wounded. The only way to recover was to rest inside this ice. Right now, I'm only able to speak with you through my spiritual sense." The man explained one thing after another.
"Spiritual sense?" Evan Yang muttered curiously, not knowing what the man meant by that.
"Don't you cultivate?" The man, seeing Evan Yang didn't understand 'spiritual sense,' asked curiously.
"I..." Evan Yang started, but stopped abruptly, unsure how to explain. Instead, the man seemed delighted, as if he'd discovered something, and laughed, "So that's it—turns out you have Flameblood."
"Flameblood?" Evan Yang had no idea what the man was talking about. But the way he spoke was a little terrifying—a single laugh from a living person could rival an immortal, Evan thought to himself.
"It's not surprising you don't understand. But let me ask you one question—just answer yes or no." The man stopped laughing, turning a bit serious.
At this moment, Evan Yang already regarded the man before him as a mysterious expert. He nodded and replied, "Senior, please ask."
Seeing Evan Yang's answer, the man let out a soft "Mm" and, using his unique method, sent his voice directly into Evan's mind: "Do you want to cultivate?"
"Cultivate?" Ever since his father was taken to the Rising Sun Sect, Evan Yang had dreamed of cultivation—of overturning fate and walking the path to greatness. But born less than a mortal, he could only dream, never having the ability.
Seeing Evan Yang's thoughts, the man smiled again. "It's because of your blood—your Flameblood—that you can't cultivate in this realm at all."
"This realm?" The more the man spoke, the more confused Evan Yang felt. One moment it was 'Flameblood,' the next it was not being suited for cultivation in this realm.