Xuan Continent.
Northern lands.
Green Sword territory.
Yang Clan territory.
A land vast beyond measure, where mountains stretched endlessly and cultivation determined the rise and fall of clans and sects. Dynasties faded, names vanished, yet the pursuit of strength never ceased.
In the northern regions lay the lands governed by the Blue Sword Sect.
Within its domain, spiritual qi was unevenly distributed. Cultivation lands were defined by spirit qi veins, each graded by density and purity. Powerful sects occupied regions where qi gathered abundantly, while smaller clans survived in areas where qi was thinner and slower to recover.
The Yang Clan endured upon a Tier Two spirit qi vein.
Such a vein was considered stable, capable of supporting Foundation Establishment cultivators, yet lacking the richness needed for rapid advancement. Progress here was slow and methodical, demanding patience more than talent.
Near the edge of the clan grounds, a boy stood quietly.
Snow gathered on his oversized robe and dark hair, melting only after lingering in place. Against the frozen land, the figure appeared small, almost fragile.
Yang Tianhen
Twelve years old.
An orphan.
His parents had died years ago, leaving behind little more than a name. The Yang Clan did not mistreat him. He was given food, shelter, and instruction like any other junior. Still, warmth could not replace blood ties.
Cold wind swept across the open ground, biting through thin cloth. Sleeves were drawn tighter as the chill crept in.
Cultivation remained distant.
Before the awakening of a spirit root, spiritual qi was something spoken of by elders, not grasped by children. Bodies were tempered, minds disciplined, and patience learned.
Tomorrow, that patience would face its first trial.
What kind of spirit root will awaken?
Within Blue Sword Sect lands, talent revealed itself early. A strong root could lift one beyond the limits of clan and land. A weak one meant remaining bound, cultivating slowly upon thin qi.
The Yang Clan could shelter him—but only within its means.
Below, training sounds drifted upward—wood striking wood, instructors calling corrections, brief laughter quickly stilled.
Snow continued to fall.
Clouds drifted across the sky, unmoved by the quiet worries forming beneath them.
Standing alone at the edge of the clan grounds, Yang Tianhen gazed toward the distant horizon, uncertain whether tomorrow would open a path forward—or silently define the boundaries of his future.