150: Chapter 150 Eight Thousand Years of Standoff

On the Ice Cliff. Before dawn.

The ice-shard storm slowly dissipated. The ice layer on the Ice Cliff was cracked by the shockwave, creating over a dozen new fissures that extended from the edge to the heart of the cliff. From the depths of the fissures, a faint, icy blue glow seeped out—it was the core shard of the Ice Dragon remains, still glowing at the bottom of the crevice.

The Night King stood at the edge of the Ice Cliff. His ice-crystal longsword still pointed forward. His icy blue eyes held no fluctuation—not out of calmness, but because eight thousand years of waiting had worn away all emotion. The Ice Dragon had shattered; he was not surprised. He knew the shard had chosen a dragon. He knew that dragon, through the Fusion of Ice Fire, could shatter the core. He was not waiting here to protect the Ice Dragon—but to see with his own eyes how the evolution shard performed in battle.

Drogon landed slowly from the air, alighting on the other end of the Ice Cliff. His dragon form's wings retracted slightly in the ice-shard storm; a few fine cracks on the left wing membrane, frozen by the Ice Fire, were faintly oozing blood—the dark golden dragon blood congealed into extremely fine golden threads in the cold air of the Ice Cliff. But the newly reborn counter-scale remained intact. The dark golden veins on the counter-scale emitted a faint, warm glow under the glimmer of the ice-shard storm.

He switched to dragon-man form. Standing on the Ice Cliff, his tail swayed slowly. His slit pupils met the Night King's icy blue eyes directly across a fissure filled with ice shards. The fissure was not wide—less than ten steps away.

The Night King spoke first. It was not the ancient language of the White Walkers, but the common tongue used by the First Men and the Children of the Forest eight thousand years ago. Every word sounded like ice crystals shattering on their own in the deep abyss—not out of emotion, but the very texture of the language itself. Cold. Brittle. Devoid of any warmth.

"evolution shard. The Old Gods promised it to the Ice. The Children of the Forest used my heart as an anvil and obsidian as a hammer to Seal the shard into the ice. I have guarded it for eight thousand years. You are not the shard's vessel. You are a dragon that stole the Ice."

Drogon took a step forward. His dragon claw cracked the Ice Cliff, creating new fissures—the cracks extended from beneath his feet toward the crevice, stopping at its edge. His voice was equally low and steady.

"The Old Gods promised it to the Ice—that was a promise from eight thousand years ago. When the Children of the Forest created you, the plan was to preserve another possibility for the evolution shard within the ice. The experiment went out of control. You are not the master of the shard—you are an experimental subject. The Old Gods confessed their guilt in the forbidden book of evolution. The Storm Ancestor Dragon died at the hands of The Tribunal for the shard. Within me, there is more than just the shard—there is the six-thousand-year will of the Storm Ancestor Dragon, the Orys Targaryen Bloodline, the White Mane Brand, Sansa's bracelet, Missandei's notes, and the scars left by Daenerys's chains. You only have ice. Ice is not enough."

A flicker of confirmation, spanning eight thousand years, flashed in the Night King's icy blue eyes. It was not anger. Not a rebuttal. It was the silent admission of one experimental subject being told the truth by another. He slowly raised his ice-crystal longsword, the tip pointing at the counter-scale on Drogon's chest.

Then he spoke a sentence in the ancient language of the White Walkers that caused the System to trigger three consecutive warnings in Drogon's consciousness space. The voice was extremely low and cold, like the final muffled sound before ice layers deep underground fracture.

"Evolution cannot be erased. The Tribunal—that is what they told the Storm Devourer. Before the Storm Devourer died, it said—Evolution will fly up from the lower planes and use Evolution to backlash against your Karma. It guarded it for six thousand years. I have waited for eight thousand years. The shard that The Old Gods promised to the Ice is inside you—The Tribunal's comprehensive lockdown is initiated today. You have won—but The Tribunal's Era Purge has already begun. Whether it is you or me—whoever holds the shard must face The Three High Judges. You have defeated the Ice. The Tribunal's Karma chains—can you withstand them?"

System pop-up. Yellow text. Three consecutive ones. First warning, second confirmation, third suggestion.

"Warning: The Heavenly Dao Arbitration Tribunal's comprehensive lockdown has been initiated. A sharp increase in Karma law fluctuations has been detected from the direction of the Sea of Myriad Cosmos. The Three High Judges have entered the plane boundary. Estimated time of arrival at the lower plane: Unknown. However, the omen signal of the Karma chains has appeared above the Ice Cliff—space folds are unnaturally distorting the starlight."

"Confirmation: The Night King's understanding of The Tribunal far exceeds initial estimates. He not only knows of the existence of the comprehensive lockdown—but also knows the last words of the Storm Devourer. He may have had contact with The Tribunal before being transformed by the Children of the Forest. Or—the Children of the Forest themselves are agents of The Tribunal in the lower plane. There is a deep connection between The Old Gods' experiment gone out of control and The Tribunal's Era Purge protocol that the host is not yet aware of."

"Suggestion: The obsidian shard in the Night King's chest is the remnant of the original dagger used by the Children of the Forest when transforming White Walkers. The shard contains the source of the Night King's power—and was also the vessel into which the evolution shard was originally implanted. If the host can shatter or obtain this shard, you may obtain first-hand information regarding The Old Gods' experiment going out of control—as well as the original terms of The Tribunal's Era Purge protocol. But please note—the Night King will not voluntarily hand over the shard. He has waited eight thousand years, just waiting for the evolution shard to return to the ice. You must seize it by force."

Drogon did not answer the Night King's question. He aligned his counter-scale with the tip of the Night King's sword and took the final step forward. This step landed on the edge of the fissure; his dragon claw crushed a layer of thin ice.

Ice Fire and Dragon Flame ignited simultaneously from the edges of his wings—Ice Fire on the left wing, Dragon Flame on the right. The two-colored flames cast two distinctly different shadows on the Ice Cliff: the Ice Fire shadow was deep blue, and the Dragon Flame shadow was dark gold. The two shadows intertwined on the Ice Cliff, looking like two dragons fighting simultaneously.

"The Storm Ancestor Dragon can withstand it. Orys Targaryen can withstand it. I can withstand it."

He paused for a beat. The silver-gray trim in his slit pupils flashed with a cold light under the dual reflection of the Ice Fire and Dragon Flame.

"You have waited eight thousand years—do you want to try the shard's answer with your own hands, or continue waiting on the Ice Cliff for another eight thousand years?"

The Night King did not answer. He answered in the way of ice.

The ice-crystal longsword cut through the ice-shard storm and collided with Drogon's dragon claw on the Ice Cliff. The instant the sword edge and the dragon claw collided, the ice-shard storm on the Ice Cliff was shattered into a diffuse ice mist. The ice mist did not dissipate slowly—it was blasted outward from the center by the shockwave, forming an expanding sphere of ice mist above the Ice Cliff.

In the mist, there were only two figures: one icy blue, one dark gold.

Every slash of the ice-crystal sword edge cut extremely fine ice marks in the ice mist, and every block by the dragon claw caused a small burst of mixed sparks and ice-crystal dust in the mist. The Ice Cliff constantly shattered beneath their feet. Fissures spread outward from where the two stood; broken ice fell from the edge of the Ice Cliff, plummeting into the Wall's crevice below. The Ice Dragon remains deep in the fissure were struck by the falling ice, emitting a low, clashing sound.

The System popped up a calm prompt in the ice mist. Dark golden text—more urgent than white text, more focused than yellow text. It was not a warning, but real-time tactical analysis.

"Night King's base combat power assessment: Approximately equivalent to a Dragon Clan Bloodline of 3000 points. The ice-crystal longsword contains the eight-thousand-year frost will of the White Walkers; being scratched by the sword edge will trigger 'Frost Erosion'—similar to the ice spear curse the host encountered on the walls of Meereen, but with higher intensity. The host's current Bloodline is 2400, with approximately 65% of fused Dragon Breath energy remaining. Frontal engagement suggestion—use Ice Fire to counteract Frost Erosion, and use Dragon Flame to attack the obsidian shard in the Night King's chest. Ice Fire can temporarily freeze the spread of Frost Erosion, and Dragon Flame can cause thermal shock to the obsidian shard. Combining both—freeze first, then burn—can temporarily Seal the source of the Night King's frost power without shattering the shard."

Drogon clashed hard with the Night King for several swords in the ice mist.

Every collision between the dragon claw and the ice-crystal sword edge caused new fissures to explode on the Ice Cliff. The Night King's swordsmanship was not human or White Walker swordsmanship—it was the most primitive combat style from the war between the First Men and the Children of the Forest eight thousand years ago. Direct. Lethal. Without any unnecessary feints. Every sword thrust aimed at the counter-scale. The landing point of every sword was the same location—left chest, center of the counter-scale, the exact coordinate where the evolution shard was located.

The Night King was not fighting a Dragon Clan vs. White Walker battle. He was performing surgery—trying to dig the shard out from under the counter-scale.

Drogon's left shoulder was scratched by the ice-crystal sword edge. The sword edge pierced into the gap between the scales, and Frost Erosion instantly spread along the scales—an extremely cold, numbing sensation transmitted from the left shoulder to the chest, faster and deeper than the ice spear curse on the walls of Meereen. When the frost spread to the edge of the counter-scale, it was neutralized by the dark golden Ice Fire that simultaneously ignited on the left shoulder. The Ice Fire and Frost Erosion stalemated at the edge of the counter-scale for less than a heartbeat, then the Ice Fire suppressed the erosion, forcing the frost back below the shoulder. A very fine ice mark remained on the scales of the left shoulder—not a scar, but thin ice formed by the residual cold water after the frost was neutralized by the Ice Fire.

His tail sting pierced into the Night King's left arm ice armor during close-quarters combat. The Ice Fire at the tip of the tail sting did not pierce—it froze and shattered. The ice armor cracked from the inside under the extremely low temperature, and fissures spread in all directions from the point of entry. The Night King's left arm ice armor shattered in less than a heartbeat, the fragments reflecting the dual colors of dark gold and icy blue in the ice mist as they flew in the air.

The White Walker skin beneath the ice armor was exposed—it was a layer of translucent, ice-crystalized skin, covered with eight thousand extremely fine frost rune lines, identical in weaving method to the core runes on the Ice Dragon's throat.

The Night King did not retreat. His left arm ice armor was frozen and shattered, but the ice-crystal longsword still accurately thrust toward Drogon's counter-scale. The sword tip carved extremely fine ice marks in the ice mist, and the air around the ice marks condensed into fine ice crystals under the extremely low temperature.

Drogon did not block—he met the sword tip directly with his counter-scale.

It was not suicide. It was a gamble. The counter-scale was the hardest scale on the dragon's entire body. It had been pierced by an ice spear in Meereen and torn by a Space Rift in King's Landing. This scale had shattered twice, and each time it regrew, it was harder than the last. He wanted to try—could the third-regrown counter-scale withstand the Night King's ice-crystal longsword?

The sword tip struck the counter-scale. It emitted an extremely sharp metallic screech.

The counter-scale did not shatter.

The sword tip left a tiny white dot on the surface of the counter-scale—it was a tiny nick caused by the ice-crystal sword edge being rebounded by the hardness of the counter-scale. The white dot lasted less than a breath on the edge of the dark golden veins of the counter-scale before being melted by the body temperature on the surface of the counter-scale.

A very subtle fluctuation flashed in the Night King's icy blue eyes. It was not anger—it was the re-evaluation of a surgeon who discovers their scalpel has gone dull.

Drogon seized the opportunity to counterattack. His right claw swept upward from below, and the Dragon Flame at the tip of his dragon claw burned a scorch mark on the ice armor on the Night King's chest, extending from the abdomen to the sternum. The ice armor's surface melted under the Dragon Flame, but it did not burn through—a jet-black object was revealed in the depths of the scorch mark.

Obsidian.

It was not the obsidian of Dragonstone. It was primitive obsidian tempered with weirwood ash and dragon fire by the Children of the Forest eight thousand years ago; its surface had no luster and absorbed all surrounding light. The shard was embedded in the center of the Night King's chest—exactly at the heart position. Around the obsidian shard, a circle of extremely fine frost runes rotated slowly, like a Seal.

The Night King retreated half a step while being struck by the dragon claw—the first time in eight thousand years he had retreated in a one-on-one duel. But he immediately stabilized his figure; the ice-crystal longsword slashed down from above, the sword edge carving an ice mark on Drogon's right wing from the middle of the wing bone to the wing tip. Frost Erosion spread along the wing membrane, temporarily suppressing the Dragon Flame at the end of the right wing for two beats. Drogon's right wing flapping frequency was forced to decrease; he turned his body in the air, using his left wing to compensate for the right wing's thrust.

The battle between the two moved from the Ice Cliff to the crashed Ice Dragon remains, and then from the remains to the edge of the Wall's fissure. Ice shards and Dragon Breath intertwined into a chaotic storm of ice and fire. Drogon's Ice Fire froze the Night King's ice-crystal sword edge several times, and the Night King's frost power froze his dragon wing membrane into temporary stiffness several times. Each time the Ice Fire and frost clashed, it blasted new broken ice on the Ice Cliff, and each collision between the sword edge and the dragon claw stirred up a low-frequency ice-crystal resonance deep in the fissure.

The fight was extremely deadlocked. Neither would retreat even half a step.

The Night King wanted to dig out the shard. Drogon wanted to shatter the obsidian. The two forces pulled back and forth repeatedly on the Ice Cliff, turning the entire Ice Cliff from a flat ice surface into ruins filled with fissures, broken ice, and scorch marks.