Life Simulation: I Caused the Female Sword Immortal to Regret Forever-Chapter 324:
“Sylvia, your strength has improved rapidly.”
“Yes, it’s all thanks to your guidance, Master Sorcerer.”
[You have reached the final stage of Sylvia’s initial training.]
[As long as she continuously absorbs soul fire, she will naturally ascend to the First Ring. For you, soul fire is the least scarce resource.]
[Your goal has been achieved.]
[However, as you watch the endless snowfall, you decide to wait until the spring of the following year before setting out on a new journey.]
[The fierce blizzards, mixed with the deathly aura of the Netherworld, would severely hinder your vision and the effectiveness of your detection spells.]
[You don’t want to sacrifice comfort just to save a little time.]
[Snow falls heavily, and the cold wind howls.]
[Due to the undead calamity, what should be pure white snowflakes take on a faint gray hue as they land in your palm.]
[Standing in the remote outskirts, you gaze at the pitch-black sun suspended in the sky, merging with the frozen landscape, casting an equal stillness of death upon all things.]
[Winter has arrived, and the frigid temperatures wear down people’s spirits.]
[Defending against the undead is already a grueling task, and having to fight in such severe cold only makes it even more unbearable.]
[In past years, this nameless small city, along with the old sorcerer trapped in the First Ring realm, would have struggled through the bitter winter.]
[But this year is different.]
[Thanks to your relentless harvesting of soul fire and your rigorous training of Sylvia, the number of undead in the surrounding area has remained at a significantly low level.]
Laughter and cheers filled the air.
Tears of joy were shed.
Even from a distance, Xu Xi could hear the sounds of celebration coming from within the city.
People were rejoicing, grateful that they would survive this harsh winter, offering prayers to the gods, cheering for their lord, and paying their respects to the local sorcerer.
“The gods must have blessed us!”
“Haha, that’s right, it must be divine grace!”
“It’s been so long since we’ve had such a peaceful winter! I’m going to drink three more cups to celebrate!”
“Shut up, Woking! You idiot, you don’t even know how many ways there are to write the word ‘wine’! You’re going to squander all of our commission money!”
“Ugh, damn it! If you keep nagging, don’t blame me for kicking your fat ass with my sharpest boots!”
Xu Xi stood outside the temporary workshop, quietly watching the bustling city.
The wind and snow swirled around him, yet his soul energy shielded him completely, blocking out the cold.
That was the nature of a Second Ring sorcerer—the ability to manipulate reality with soul power alone.
In a way, it could be understood as an extension of the Sorcerer’s Hand, performed without the need for spellcasting.
“The Netherworld’s erosion of the Sorcerer’s World is accelerating. I haven’t seen a celebration like this in a long time.”
Through the glow of his soul vision, Xu Xi saw the snow-covered streets of the city, filled with people smiling in joy, chasing each other through the frost, celebrating their survival.
Winter was nearing its end.
A new year was about to begin.
However, the people of the Sorcerer’s World did not celebrate the new year.
With vast territories and countless kingdoms, customs varied greatly.
Only one festival was recognized across the entire continent—
The Winter Snow Festival.
It was the very festival being celebrated in the city right now.
“Praising the purity of the sky, giving thanks for the cleansing snowfall—that was the original meaning of the Winter Snow Festival. But now—”
Xu Xi paused, catching a few of the grayish snowflakes in his hand.
In a world ravaged by the Netherworld, snow was no longer pristine white.
Most of the festival’s meaning had been lost.
But the people in the city didn’t care about that.
They just needed a reason to celebrate—to vent their emotions, to express their joy at making it through another year.
And so, the festival evolved into what Xu Xi saw before him.
“Master Sorcerer, are you interested in the Winter Snow Festival?”
Her voice was like a spoon gently tapping against a porcelain cup.
A sword hung at her waist, a cloak draped over her shoulders. Beneath the rough brown fabric, half of a delicate face was visible.
Her words carried a natural rhythm, the elegant refinement of nobility.
Sylvia looked curiously at Xu Xi. “I thought you wouldn’t be interested in such things.”
“Rather than interest, it’s more like nostalgia,” he replied.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen such a lively scene.”
As he spoke, he picked up a cup of hot tea from the table and took a slow sip, letting the warmth spread through his body.
At the same time, he handed a lit necrotic mushroom to the undead girl.
“Ah, thank you.”
Sylvia took the necrotic mushroom, bringing it close to her nose to take a light sniff.
In her current state, she couldn’t consume normal food.
Her entire existence was sustained by soul fire.
Holding the necrotic mushroom in her hands, she absorbed its faint, ethereal fragrance, letting it seep into her soul fire like a meal for the undead.
“Mm—”
The girl made a strange noise.
“Is there a problem, Sylvia?”
“Yes… I was wondering if these mushrooms could be cultivated further.”
Hesitating slightly, Sylvia shared her idea.
When ignited, necrotic mushrooms released a scent that comforted the undead.
If different variants could be cultivated, would it be possible for undead to experience different scents?
Sylvia wanted to try growing necrotic mushrooms with different flavors—sweet, sour, bitter, spicy.
Xu Xi considered it for a moment.
It was a good idea.
But it was still far less important than restoring her physical body.
Whoosh—
Whoosh—
The wind howled.
Gray snow blanketed the world.
A profound silence covered everything, muting even the celebrations in the city.
Only the flickering firelight served as proof that the festivities continued.
Xu Xi and Sylvia stood apart from it all, observers from the outside.
The difference between them was clear.
Xu Xi was merely watching.
Sylvia, on the other hand, carried memories.
“The Winter Snow Festival here seems different from the one I remember,” she murmured.
Her emerald-green eyes shimmered in the snowy night like a frozen lake fracturing under pressure, scattering light in brilliant ripples—echoes of memories long past.
“Maybe too much time has passed, and people no longer follow the old customs.”
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“Master Sorcerer, did you know? In the past, the Winter Snow Festival involved ice sculptures. It was a very enjoyable tradition.”
“When I was little, my father and mother would take me to the grand plaza in the capital to witness the unveiling of the king’s ice sculpture alongside the crowd.”
“That was… over a thousand years ago now.”
“I see…”
Sylvia’s voice faltered slightly, her face reflecting an expression she didn’t even realize she was making—one of quiet sorrow.
“No wonder no one does that anymore.”
She was the only one left alive.
Was this fate’s mercy, or a demon’s curse?
Even now, the hero couldn’t find an answer.
“That sounds interesting, Sylvia,” Xu Xi said, listening attentively.
She blinked in surprise.
Then, watching as he nodded slightly, he spoke again.
“If we get the chance, can you tell me more? About the past?”
“Yes! Of course, as long as you don’t mind listening.”
In the midst of the howling snowstorm, the hero felt a little more at ease.