The wound on his shoulder burned like fire.
When Leng Tian awoke the morning after the snow wolf hunt, his arm was swaddled thick in poultices of crushed herbs, but pain still surged with every twitch. Even breathing felt tight, as though the wolf's claws still raked across his chest.
His mother hovered by his bedside, spooning warm broth to his lips, her eyes damp as she scolded breathlessly.
"Why must you chase death so? One day, your stubbornness will leave me childless, Tian..."
Tian tried to smile, though his lips trembled. "If I run from death now, Mother, I will only meet it sooner."
Those words silenced her. In her heart, she hated them… but part of her saw her boy's fragile eyes glowing with a strength far greater than his skinny frame.
The Village's Whispers
By noon, word of his deeds had spread through Coldwater like wildfire. Children who once mocked him now followed with wide-eyed looks; women whispered his name in kitchens; men in the hunting square nodded faintly when they saw him walk past.
"The boy saw the wolf's approach."
"He tricked it into a pit, bought us a chance!"
"He may not have strength, but his mind... sigh, it's sharper than ours."
For the first time, the words "useless child" faded from their lips.
But Tian knew. He hadn't defeated the wolf. He hadn't even landed a killing strike. That victory belonged to the hunters. He had bought them but a moment, and in a world as cruel as this, moments rarely lasted forever.
Still… even a moment carved into fate was worth something.
Even weak, I can alter things.
Caged in Fragile Flesh
That night, while the village celebrated again around cracking bonfires, Tian sat at the edge of the crowd. His shoulder throbbed; his body felt hollow. Absorbing even a trace of soul power had drained him beyond measure.
If he had been born with stronger innate energy… if his martial spirit had been complete…
But no. There was no "if." His path would always be uphill, every step dragging him through snow, every breath stolen by the cold.
Yet deep in his soul, where the Eternal Ice Spirit Tome slumbered silently, something faint stirred. During the wolf's strike, when he had chosen not to flee but to face death head-on, a sliver of growth had been etched into his martial soul.
The Frost Crystal flickered within him, weak but becoming a shade clearer. Still fragile, but no longer merely an incomplete shard. It was as if his courage had polished a grain of frost hidden in stone.
For Tian, that faint shimmer was worth more than any celebration.
The Elder's Visit
The following day, while he rested, the village elder entered the hut. The man was white-haired, bent with age, but carried the aura of authority with every step. His martial spirit had long since weakened, yet his wisdom was the spine of Coldwater.
He studied Tian quietly. "Boy," he spoke, voice gravelly, "others fight with body and spirit. You fought yesterday with will and wit. That is strength too."
Tian bowed his head. "I only wanted to do my part, Elder."
The elder chuckled, though it ended in a cough. "A noble answer. But hear me—strength is not only one's rings or flesh. A clan, a family, a village… they survive through unity. Alone, even tigers starve in snow. But a pack thrives. Yesterday, you showed us this truth."
His wrinkled hand touched Tian's forehead gently. "Do not despair over what you lack. Cultivate what you have. Even weak frost can preserve meat through winter, yes?"
Tian's chest trembled. Even weak frost has use… then perhaps…
The elder left, but the weight of those words remained.
Even if his spirit was incomplete, even if his soul power barely flickered, perhaps there were ways to sharpen what little he had.
The Path Forward
That night, Tian sat cross-legged in his hut. Pain gnawed his body but he ignored it, guiding threadlike soul power through his veins as diligently as a farmer watering dry roots.
The Frost Crystal responded faintly, exhaling soft threads of chill. He pictured his martial spirit not as a broken shard, but as a seed buried in snow — waiting for patient spring.
He whispered into silence:
"If heaven won't grant me talent, then I shall carve it myself. If this crystal is incomplete, then I will complete it. And if this life is destined to be frail, then I will ensure my descendants never know such pain."
The flicker of frost within him pulsed once, weak, but resolute.
Leng Tian's cultivation journey had begun. It would not be bright, nor fast, nor resplendent. But like ice forming layer upon layer, enduring where lesser waters melt — it would be unyielding.
And thus, the "useless child" laid the first stone of his path.
🔥 End of Chapter 3