The sacred mountain of the clan was veiled in perpetual snow, its peaks reaching so high they pierced the sea of stars. Here, within a secluded courtyard built of ancient blackstone, Feixue sat cross-legged. She was only seven, yet her posture was calm and upright, like a sword planted in the earth.
Before her, a jade slip floated, glowing faintly with runes of ancient script. It contained the clan's most profound foundation technique, Snowheart Sutra—a method that allowed mortals to absorb spiritual energy and condense their first immortal essence.
Ordinarily, one would spend years memorizing its incantations, decades stabilizing their breathing, and centuries before forming their foundation. But Feixue only needed to glance once. The runes carved themselves into her mind, dissolving into pure understanding.
The moment she closed her eyes, the world shifted.
The snow around her no longer fell naturally—it swirled in spirals, as though answering her breath. The courtyard grew silent, so silent that even the heartbeat of heaven seemed absent. Her tiny body drew in spiritual energy at a speed that terrified even the elders watching from afar.
"What… what is she doing?" whispered a middle-aged cultivator, his face pale.
"This isn't absorption," the Grand Elder muttered. His pupils trembled. "She is devouring the qi of heaven and earth."
And yet, Feixue remained calm.
Her body glowed faintly, her meridians expanding at impossible speed. Threads of qi condensed into ice-blue rivers, flowing through her veins with terrifying clarity. She felt pain, sharp as blades cutting into her bones, but she did not cry. Instead, she sat like a statue of snow, enduring silently.
Hours passed.
The sky above the mountain darkened unnaturally. Clouds gathered, and lightning flickered without sound. A celestial pressure descended—Heaven's Trial.
"No!" shouted one elder. "She's too young! Heaven will crush her body!"
But the Grand Elder raised a trembling hand. His voice was solemn. "No… she must face it. If she cannot withstand Heaven's notice now, her path will end before it begins."
And so, the clan did not intervene.
Bolts of lightning, silent yet devastating, fell from the sky. They were not ordinary thunder—they were tribulation arcs woven from the very laws of the world, meant to erase anomalies.
Feixue raised her head. Her silver eyes glowed like frozen moons, calm even as the heavens raged. With a small movement, she lifted her wooden sword.
The snow around her rose like a tidal wave. Each flake sharpened into a blade of ice. Thousands of crystalline swords formed a barrier above her head, clashing against Heaven's wrath.
Boom.
A thunder arc shattered her defense, slamming into her body. Blood traced down her lips, staining the snow crimson. Yet her eyes never wavered.
Boom.
Another arc descended. Her body trembled violently, her bones cracking. Still, she sat unmoving, clutching her wooden sword.
Within her dantian, something stirred. Amid the storm of qi, a single seed of light bloomed—a core of icy brilliance, pulsing with the rhythm of eternity.
Her Foundation was forming.
The heavens struck once more, but this time Feixue's gaze sharpened. She raised her wooden sword, and for the first time, she swung.
The strike was clumsy, childlike—yet the snow answered her. A sword of pure frost formed in the sky, cleaving downward. It split the lightning apart, dispersing Heaven's decree.
Silence followed.
When the storm faded, Feixue sat within a circle of frozen earth, her hair fluttering in the icy wind. Her aura was no longer that of a child. It was the first step of an immortal path, the foundation of a journey that would one day shake countless realms.
The Grand Elder fell to his knees, trembling with awe. "She has stepped into cultivation… and already defied Heaven."
The other elders exchanged fearful glances. Some were moved to reverence. Others, to dread.
But Feixue herself did not rejoice.
She merely looked at her wooden sword, her lips faintly parting to whisper—
"Too weak."