The chill in the air was knife-sharp, the kind that made lungs ache as they dragged in each breath. It was hunting season, when the men of Coldwater Village braved the snow-covered forests to bring back meat and fur — lifelines that determined whether the community would survive another cruel winter.
This year, however, fate brought a dangerous omen: a rogue snow wolf had been spotted prowling the outskirts. Snow wolves were among the most cunning of the northern spirit beasts, known not only for their savage teeth but for their patience in stalking prey for days.
For Coldwater Village, such a beast was no mere nuisance; it was a predator that could bleed their fragile population dry.
Thus, a hunting party was formed.
Over twenty men gathered in the square, spears and bows in hand. Their breaths frosted in the early dawn air. Among them stood a small, frail figure, hands gripping a crooked wooden spear too long for his arms.
That figure was Leng Tian.
"Why is he here?" one of the hunters muttered, his voice thick with disdain. "That boy's bones snap if he stumbles on loose snow."
Another snorted. "If the wolf doesn't kill him, the cold will. Useless child should stay home."
Tian felt the weight of every word like stones pressing into his chest. Yet he tightened his hands on the spear, nails digging into splintered wood until they cut his skin.
From beside him, his father's calloused hand fell on his shoulder, heavy and uncertain. "Tian… you don't have to come."
"No, Father." His voice trembled but did not waver. "If I run now, I'll always run. Let me face it too. Even if I fall, I'll fall as a hunter of our village."
Silence passed among the men. Mockery lingered in some eyes, pity in others. But no one pulled him back.
The hunt began.
The northern forest stretched endlessly, trees laden with frost, wind carrying scents sharp as steel. Every creak of snow beneath boots echoed like thunder to Tian's keen ears. His martial spirit, that faint Frost Crystal, flickered weakly within him, barely warming his blood. He had no grand skills, no strength to boast, but what he did have was awareness.
"Tracks," Tian whispered suddenly, crouching low. Small paw prints dotted the snow, pressed deep, heading eastward. He traced them further, noticing how they circled forests rather than cut through them. "It's walking around us, not fleeing."
The hunters frowned. "Boy, you imagine too much."
But Tian's eyes were sharp. He pointed to the snow. "See the depth? A full-grown wolf. Alone. If it were tracking prey, the patterns would differ… this is scouting. It's watching us already."
A sharp intake of breath followed. The eldest hunter narrowed his eyes, inspecting. Finally, he nodded. "He's right. The beast knows we're coming."
For the first time, glances shifted toward Tian—not with mockery, but acknowledgment.
Hours passed. The snow wolf revealed itself at last near dusk. Its fur gleamed like moonlight, its eyes burned with hunger, and frost-laden breath curled from jagged jaws. It was bigger than any man — and faster than the wind itself.
With a howl that split the trees, the wolf lunged into their formation.
Chaos erupted.
Spears jabbed, men shouted, snow churned red beneath claw and blade. Yet the wolf was no ordinary beast; each strike of its claws ripped through wood and flesh alike. One hunter fell, torn shoulder spraying blood. Another staggered back, bow broken.
Tian's heart hammered violently. Every instinct screamed at him to flee, yet his body refused to move. His grip on the spear trembled so violently it could snap.
This is death… but I've died before.
Memories of void and frost flashed through his mind. He would die again, yes — but if he ran now, his family-to-be, his descendants, would never know the courage of their founder.
Face pale, he roared hoarsely and ran forward.
Compared to the wolf's speed, Tian was nothing. The beast's eyes turned to him as if mocking. With a snarl, its paw slashed —
Tian dropped flat into the snow. The claw tore the air above him but missed by inches. Using the fall, he drove his spear upward awkwardly, not into flesh, but into the ground beneath the wolf's forepaw.
The snow sank with his weight, and beneath had been hidden a frozen pit — a hollow space Tian remembered from past hunts. The wolf stomped forward, its paw breaking through the thin crust of ice. For a heartbeat, it stumbled.
That single falter was enough.
"Now!" the elder hunter roared. Spears flew. Arrows loosed. Blades struck.
Though wounded, the wolf lashed out with desperation, its claw ripping Tian across the shoulder as it pulled free. Pain exploded through him; blood flowed hot against cold skin. But the beast was trapped in the hunters' flurry, and finally, beneath a barrage of blades, it collapsed lifeless into the snow.
Silence.
The men breathed hard, eyes darting first to the slain wolf — then to the boy lying in crimson-stained snow.
Leng Tian pushed himself shakily to his knees, his wooden spear broken, blood dripping down his arm. His face was white, lips trembling, but his eyes held only stubborn light.
"I… told you…" he gasped, voice weak, "…it was already watching us."
A strange hush blanketed the hunters. Then the elder spoke, voice deep.
"This boy is no warrior yet. But today, without him, many of us would not leave alive." He looked at Tian long, his expression unreadable, then nodded solemnly. "From this day forward, no man of Coldwater will call him useless."
That night, the village feasted upon wolf meat. A great fire roared in the square, warmth rare and precious. Tales of the battle spread — but always, always with mention of the boy who had seen what none other did, who faced the beast though knowing his weakness.
Leng Tian sat quietly at the edge of the firelight, his arm bandaged, body aching. His mother fussed over him, tears streaking her cheeks as she whispered thanks to heaven. Beside him, his father sat silent, but when Tian glanced at him, he saw pride glimmering in those weary eyes.
For the first time in this life, Leng Tian was not useless.
He was still weak. Still small. Still barely clinging to cultivation.
But a single step had been taken.
And deep within his soul, the flicker of the Frost Crystal Martial Spirit pulsed faintly stronger, as if answering his unyielding will.
This is just the beginning.
🔥 End of Chapter 2