This story is renamed to "From Ice to Ashes" because I separated Feng Deming''s subplot and will continue Deming''s plot in "Demon King''s Love". FITA is Ningshun-focused, whereas DKL is Deming-focused.


    ''What the—'' Ningshun stopped dead. His breath caught, and a dry, rasping sound escaped his throat. Speechless—for what he witnessed had changed everything.


    "Ah, finally," Meilin groaned as she pulled her shirt over her head. "Stupid, stupid bra!"


    His power, the very essence of his spirit, shrank as if becoming one with the girl, dwindling in her heart space. He needed to act fast, or else—


    ''Wait. Did she—mention a bra?''


    Her tank top underneath the shirt attracted his gaze, and she moved as though he were a mere shadow in the room.


    Turning around, he faced a pink wall that mocked his gaze. "Zayn..." he murmured as if it pulled out his insides. Yet, he held on, since the alternative was to witness what was happening behind him.


    Images of a half-naked man plastered the wall, a muscular man—no, a fictional man—staring back at him. That smoldering gaze dared him to look longer, the cocky smirk that practically screamed ''her dirty little secret'' in the most obnoxious way imaginable.


    "What the hell." He blinked. "Is this... this thing why she plays the game?"


    "Ahh—"


    Ningshun''s spine snapped straight.


    The sound was... breathy. Soft. Indulgent.


    Another rustle of fabric. A slow, drawn-out sigh. "Mmm... oh, that''s so much better..."


    He stopped breathing, every muscle in his body locking up. This was fine. He could endure this. As a master of control, he would be damned if this distraction—whatever it was—threw him off course. Yet here he was, in the same room with Meilin while she...


    The soft click of the clasp, a faint rustling, the quiet sliding of straps over skin, and the whisper of tension releasing came from her direction—unfiltered, raw.


    ''This wasn''t part of the plan.'' A muscle in his jaw ticked, letting out a heavy sigh. ''Patience.''


    The fabric shifting. The rustling. The clothes hitting the floor.


    She sighed. "Ah, yes... Yes, this is... what heaven feels like."


    Ningshun was going to kill something. Himself, probably. That would be the fastest way out of this hell.


    Meilin let out a slow, deep moan.


    ''What is she... doing?'' His breathing turned uneven—shaky, sharp, and barely restrained—as it pushed through his nose. He needed to get out. Now.


    No! Not until he took what was rightfully his first. The problem was that she would be his teammate and live with him. Making a reckless move now could jeopardize his plan. So, he moved his hands to his ears, attempting to block out the sounds.


    "God, I swear this thing shrunk in the wash... No wonder it suffocated me all day."


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    His thoughts went blank as her muffled voice still reached him.


    Wrecked. Fingers curled at his sides, nails digging into his palms. Pierced. Pain flared through his skin. Good. He needed pain. He needed something to anchor him.


    Standing stiff as a statue, with eyes squeezed shut—her sighs of relief continued to wrap around him, invade his mind, and creep under his skin...


    Closing them did not help at all.


    Eyes snapped open. "I dealt with torture with more dignity than this," the whispers ended with a scoff. "Never have I been tested like this... I''ve survived forces beyond mortal comprehension and outsmarted enemies while drenched in blood... I''m a strategist. I have mastered myself!"


    And yet, this was going to kill him.


    "I swear, they''re like half my body weight," Meilin groaned.


    Ningshun choked on absolutely nothing. ''What!?''


    Blinking and frowning, he let out a sharp exhale as if his ears were offended, his brows twitching.


    "Perhaps leaving isn''t such a terrible idea... for a few minutes." With pressed lips, his fingers rested beneath his chin. "She seems clueless about my power''s presence, which means she may not have stolen it. If she had... I would kill her." Smirking, he chuckled. ''My skills are limited now, but five minutes should be enough to put her to sleep. That way, I can extract my power from her once I''m back.''


    With a swirling gesture of his wrist, a violet mist spread through the room, transforming into a dense haze as it curled in the air, blurring the walls and furniture while dimming the lights.


    "Wh-What is this!?" She shrieked.


    With a roll of his eyes, he stepped back and barely lifted a hand. ''She''ll probably dismiss it as a dream once she wakes up anyway.'' The body started to dissolve into the black and blue mist—


    A flare of light erupted behind him from Meilin''s direction, blinding and vibrant blue, creating streaks through the purple haze.


    Before he could turn, it moved—no, attacked, lunging toward him with unnatural speed and slamming into his chest. A shockwave tore through his body.


    Ningshun gasped.


    The blue light, no longer faint but now a white beam, whirled around him like a tornado. His breath hitched as the light chained around his limbs. His mint-green eyes widened, overtaken by a blinding white light emanating from them. His aura—once blue—now a whirlwind of white against his will, obscuring his form like frost creeping over glass.


    ''No.'' His jaw clenched, muscles rigid as the light refused to yield. It tightened around him, crushing, suffocating, drowning him. He snarled, his aura bursting outward, but it was like trying to fight the ocean with bare hands.


    The force latched onto him, dragging him deeper into its grasp, swallowing him whole until he stopped moving. Then, no trace of him remained—just the blinding light.


    <hr>


    Ningshun opened his eyes to a luminous sphere dissolving around him, scattering glimmers.


    Gasps—sharp, ragged breaths filling his lungs as if surfacing from deep waters. Jerking forward, unsteady, he placed a hand on his ribcage to assess its condition. He seemed fine. No unusual white light. Nothing that made him feel like... No, everything was okay now. Slowly, his breaths steadied, drawing in the scent of... damp earth?


    He had been in Meilin''s apartment. He had been inches from uncovering the truth. And now he was here.


    ''Where am I?'' He leaned his head back. This was no apartment. Not even a cottage.


    A faint buzzing echoed from behind. His senses heightened as he turned toward the two willow trees in the distance.


    Their golden leaves withered, suspended in time like lost lovers bending toward one another—yet remaining out of reach, never to unite in their embrace, with only the sounds flowing through their midst.


    Something tugged at his soul as he marched down the path, mist curling at his feet as if to mimic his mood.


    Positioned between the willow trees, Ningshun pushed aside the leaves and stepped inside, slow and elegant, while his eyes—sharp and calculating—absorbed the new surroundings.


    Was it... inside a building? White walls, a white floor. Everything was white, even the... book covers? This was a huge library. He could have sworn he did not step into a building. Was that an illusion, or had he walked through a portal?


    "Did I die?" he whispered. And to think that Meilin could be responsible for all this. "Hmph." A bitter aftertaste lingered at the back of his mouth.


    Then, he spotted two ghostly, round discs positioned vertically.


    Lips parted, sharp gaze glued onto the one to the left. "That''s... the throne of Parishahr." An ivory sculpture adorned with jewels, resembling shards that emitted the light of dawn.


    He shifted his gaze to the right and lingered. The familiar sight of his power, in the form of a sphere—so close, yet untouchable.


    They resembled windows, but from the side, they appeared like tunnels, one of which had darkness at the end: the right one.


    Was this a trick? After all, everything he desired was there for the taking... But would it really bring him home? Must he make a choice? What if he could have both?


    ''I''ll return to Parishahr right after that by using my left hand as a link.''


    As he brought his hands to both, electric forces jolted, stopping them. Gritting his teeth, he repeated the action but failed again.


    "You''ve got to be..." Ningshun let out a slow breath. Surely, there had to be a reason for all this. Every absurdity he endured, every step that led him here—was it all meant to force him to choose?


    The throne, or his power.