That spring, hunters again gathered for boar hunt. Frost melt left terrain treacherous, beasts hungry. They ventured far beyond the frozen ridges.
Tian joined, spear shaking faintly. Many doubted him still.
"You distract us more than help," muttered one man grimly.
Yet when wild boars charged from thicket, heavy as boulders, Tian suddenly stepped forth. He triggered **Frost Veil** — his aura chilled the air across mere paces. Fangs glistened as beasts roared forward, but in that instant their hooves hit the slick frost-coated ground— just slightly slowed, but enough.
Hunters dodged, landed blows, evaded tusks. A second later would have meant cracked ribs—but that heartbeat of delay saved them.
Again and again, Tian weaved in and out, timing his weak aura to stagger beasts in critical lunges. Though he never landed killing strikes, every slow breath turned disaster into survival.
When the last boar fell, hunters wiped sweat, panting—and then realized who had spared them more wounds than ever before.
One muttered, half grudgingly: "Useless? That aura spared my stomach from tusks."
Another whispered: "Weak alone—but placed right, more precious than spears."
Tian only leaned on his weapon, shuddering, exhaustion overwhelming. Yet pride glinted in his eyes.
On return, villagers actually cheered their bounty. And for the first time in years, several children approached Tian not with jeers, but wide eyes:
"Brother Tian, your frost slowed the beasts, didn't it? Can you teach us?"
His lips curved faintly. "Yes. I will."
Perhaps this was how it began: not with heroics, but with simple acts that saved others.
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🔥 End of Chapter 9
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