Tianhan stepped out of the cave just as the night began to retreat from the mountain peaks. The mist shifted like the breath of some ancient beast, coiling across the rocks and trees. The cold bit into his skin, sinking deep into the wounds carved across his body—yet his crimson-tinted eyes were calm, still, as though truly seeing the world for the first time.
He was no longer the lost boy lingering at the edge of a tribe.He was no longer the child afraid of facing himself.
He was something new—something he had not yet understood.
Before him loomed a towering rock cliff. He raised his hand, testing the strange power coursing through his veins. He had no proper way to measure his cultivation level. No elder to judge. No testing stone. No spiritual mirror to reveal his bones.
But there was one thing he knew:
Mountains do not lie.
A massive boulder—three times his size—rested near the cliff's edge. Tianhan approached slowly, placed his palm against the stone, and began to push.
The sound of rock grinding against earth was heavy… ominous.
At first, the boulder didn't move.Then—after a long, steady exhale—it trembled.
He pushed harder.
It shifted—an inch, two inches—before sliding across the scattered gravel.
Not the strength of a beast.Not the power of a prodigy.But certainly not the strength of a boy his age.
He knew he wasn't remarkable among true cultivators of the continent. Not yet.But he sensed something far more valuable:
his resolve no longer wavered.
He descended the mountain slope, each step testing his rebuilt body. Pain lived within him, clung to him like a heavy shadow—but it no longer frightened him.
After an hour of walking, he reached a barren rocky plain.The ground bore the scars of battles—scratches, pits, dried blood long turned brown.
A silent, foreboding place.
But perfect for one thing:
a real test.
He sat upon a flat stone and closed his eyes.He did not want to test only his physical strength.
He wanted to measure himself—before facing the wars ahead, before challenging the mountain, before challenging the world.
Drawing a strained breath, he summoned the cultivation art gifted to him by the blood:
War Demons.
Crimson energy gathered in the center of his chest, seeping outward through his limbs.It was less painful than before…but nowhere near gentle.
It felt like iron fingers prodding at his muscles, rearranging them with brutal force.
"This art… isn't meant for the weak."
He opened his eyes slowly—and in the distant fog, shadows moved.
At first he thought them stones shifting with the wind.
But the silence stretched too long.Then came the sound—
Shhrrk… Shhrrk…Slithering, breathing—waiting.
Dozens of small eyes flickered like embers within the mist.
Another pack.But this time, he had no intention of fleeing.And no intention of relying on the blood.
He rose carefully, his battered body groaning in protest.He lifted his hands, calling upon his first combat art:
Devil Claws.
His fingers trembled from the lingering pain, but still—moment by moment—the calm inside him hardened into focus.
The first spiritual wolf emerged from the fog—its fangs bared, aura aggressive.A second followed.Then a third.Soon the whole pack revealed itself, larger than the one before.
Tianhan smiled—small, but completely different from any smile he had worn before.
For the first time, he would fight with his own strength.
He shifted his stance, grounding himself.Even the mountain seemed to watch him—its silent breath cold on his neck, as though it had become a witness to the coming battle.
No borrowed blood.No monstrous outburst.No strange awakening.
This time… Tianhan would discover who he truly was.
He closed his eyes for a single breath.
And when he opened them—
the battle had already begun.