Cultivation starts with picking up attributes

The next morning rose crimson over the jagged peaks of the Feilun mountains, as though the heavens themselves had bled in anticipation of what was to come.

The plateau, once cracked and scorched by the battle's fury, now lay coated in fresh frost. Mist curled over broken ridges and spent battlefields like ghosts reluctant to leave.

Yet despite the quiet beauty, every breath carried tension, every motion a reminder of the gathering storm on the horizon.

The Feilun Sect had not slept. Through the night, disciples drilled, elders repaired wards, and spirit beasts were tended with meticulous care.

Even the wounded, bandaged and weak, found ways to aid in fortifying defenses, refusing to remain idle while the threat loomed.

At the heart of the plateau stood Tian Shen, spear planted deep into the earth, its silver flame burning low but steady.

His eyes scanned the horizon once again, analyzing the distant banners that rippled like dark waves across the land.

His posture was calm, but the restrained energy in him crackled with barely contained force.

Feng Yin approached from the ridge, clad in armor that gleamed despite the frost, her sword sheathed at her side.

Her presence was both serene and formidable, and even hardened warriors felt their courage return at the sight of her. She paused beside Tian Shen, studying him for a long breath.

"Do you feel it?"

She asked quietly.

Tian Shen's eyes flickered toward the horizon, then back to her.

"They gather like wolves scenting blood."

He hesitated for the briefest instant, the storm within his core stirring at the thought of the coming battle. "But we are not prey. We are the mountain itself."

A slight smile touched Feng Yin's lips, but her eyes remained intense. "Then let the wolves come."

The sun climbed higher, and the army of the Feilun Sect stood arrayed like a field of steel and flame. Rows upon rows of cultivators, spirit beasts, and formation nodes spread across the plateau.

The Root Division stood closest to Tian Shen, their eyes fixed on him with unwavering trust. Behind them, support squads readied talismans, healing elixirs, and defensive sigils. Even the elders had taken their place, flanking the ranks to offer guidance and strategic adjustments as needed.

Sect Master Feilun stood atop the central rise, his white hair flowing like frost in the wind. He surveyed the preparations with deep satisfaction tempered by concern. At his side, Elder Su remained composed, though his eyes followed every movement with practiced precision.

Lian Hua of the Azure Phoenix Sect moved among the squads, offering advice, redistributing supplies, and reinforcing morale with words of encouragement. Even the younger disciples, those who had only seen Tian Shen's rise and not his trials, stood firm beneath the weight of responsibility.

At last, as the wind carried the scent of iron and blood from the distant banners, Sect Master Feilun raised his staff and spoke. His voice rang clear across the plateau.

"Today, we do not fight for glory," he declared, his eyes locking with Tian Shen's and Feng Yin's. "We fight for the survival of every root, every stone, every breath of our land. The foreign scourge seeks to uproot us. We will stand against it until our last drop of blood has been spilled or the last breath has been drawn. The mountain does not bow!"

A roar erupted from the gathered ranks, a sound that shook the cliffs and echoed across the valleys.

Tian Shen stepped forward, spear lifted high. His silver eyes burned with quiet fury and unwavering resolve.

"Stand with me!" he called, his voice sharp as a blade. "The storm will break against our walls, but it will never tear us apart! Today, we fight not as scattered blades, but as one! Let the mountains tremble and the heavens bear witness!"

The Root Division thundered in response, their war cries rising like waves crashing against the shore. Even the spirit beasts bellowed, their cries reverberating through the valley as they stamped their feet and beat their chests in fury.

The foreign banners began to surge forward, distant at first, then swelling like an approaching tide. Their colors were dark, stitched with strange runes and bearing jagged sigils that twisted unnaturally against the morning light. Waves of soldiers advanced with measured precision, formation lines sharp and disciplined.

The earth itself seemed to shudder as the first wave of invaders reached striking distance.

Tian Shen closed his eyes briefly, centering himself. The silver threads within his core flared once, feeding strength through every fiber of his being.

When his eyes opened, they gleamed like twin stars, unwavering and bright.

With a single motion, he thrust his spear forward, sending a wave of silver flame spiraling outward. It cut across the first rank of advancing enemies like wildfire, searing shadows into ash. The foreign soldiers stumbled, some collapsing, others scrambling to reform their lines.

"Advance!" Tian Shen commanded, his spear carving arcs of energy that deflected incoming attacks.

Feng Yin moved alongside him, her sword flashing in perfect rhythm with his spear. Every strike she made was precise, efficient, never wasted. Together, they formed a deadly dance, a wall of steel and flame that repelled every assault wave with calculated ferocity.

The foreign leader, clad in fractured armor and wielding dark, corrupted artifacts, glared at Tian Shen with hatred burning in his eyes. He raised his gauntlet once more, summoning torrents of jagged qi that darkened the sky.

But Tian Shen met him with unshaken poise.

"Come," he whispered, his lips curling into a faint smile. "Let us see who stands when the dust settles."

The battle raged through the day, each wave more desperate than the last. The plateau shook beneath the fury of clashing forces, mountains groaned, and even the clouds above split as spells collided.

Yet the Feilun Sect held firm. With Tian Shen and Feng Yin at the heart of the defense, every strike was met, every formation repaired, every threat countered with unyielding resolve.

The storm had arrived—but the mountain stood.

And as the sun sank toward the western ridges, painting the sky with streaks of red and gold, it was clear to all who watched—the battle had only just begun, but Feilun's roots would not be broken.

The battlefield was a whirlwind of clashing forces, silver fire, and dark qi. The frost-covered plateau beneath their feet shattered with each step, yet no one retreated. The roar of the disciples echoed off the mountainside, blending with the cries of spirit beasts and the unnatural screech of foreign constructs that tore through the air.

Tian Shen stood at the center like a pillar of light amid the chaos. Every thrust of his spear sent arcs of pure qi slashing outward, cutting down corrupted constructs before they could close the distance. His movements were effortless yet unstoppable, like water flowing around stone yet eroding it with each pass.

Feng Yin was no less fierce. Her sword, sharp as moonlight, danced through enemy ranks with fluid grace, each strike precise and decisive. Her presence beside him steadied the front line, bolstering wavering disciples and reviving spirit beasts on the brink of collapse with whispers of encouragement and fleeting touches of healing qi.

The foreign leader, unbroken despite his losses, hurled another wave of dark force toward Tian Shen. Black shards of corrupted qi screamed like sharp teeth, clawing through the air toward the Root Division's core.

Tian Shen's eyes narrowed. His silver flame intensified until it seemed to ripple outward in waves, illuminating the battlefield with an otherworldly glow. He lifted his spear high, summoning the full depth of his cultivation. The energy around him contracted, forming a barrier that pulsed with crystalline light.

The shards struck the shield—and exploded in bursts of darkness and sparks that scattered like broken meteors. The ground where the shards had fallen cracked but held firm, as if the very earth recognized its protector.

The foreign leader's eyes widened in disbelief, then hardened with rage. He bellowed a guttural command, summoning elite warriors who surged forward through gaps in the defense lines. Their weapons bristled with cruel runes and sharp edges that glowed with malevolent intent.

Tian Shen did not flinch. His spear cut through the first wave with a swift spin, and the silver fire burst outward in spirals that neutralized the enemy's formation. His core pulsed with strength, not merely fueled by rage but by purpose—the knowledge that retreat would mean annihilation.

Feng Yin lunged beside him, her blade carving lightning arcs that severed incoming threats. She glanced briefly at Tian Shen, and though they exchanged no words, the silent communication between them deepened. Their strikes synchronized, their defenses layered, their wills aligned.

"Hold the line!" shouted Elder Su from the ridge, his own formation stabilizing with calm precision.

"Do not yield!" bellowed Sect Master Feilun, his staff radiating with protective sigils that shielded exhausted disciples.

The battle stretched into twilight, the sun's dying rays catching on shards of steel and frost, painting the battlefield in crimson and gold. Even the spirit beasts, though bloodied and exhausted, fought with renewed ferocity, sensing the will that drove their leaders forward.

At last, the foreign leader, face twisted with fury, unleashed his final gamble—a colossal wave of shadow qi that surged like a tidal wave, aiming to engulf the entire front.

Tian Shen planted his spear deep into the frozen ground. His eyes blazed brighter than ever, silver light pouring from his core like a second sun rising from within. The air thickened, charged with power, as waves of golden energy radiated outward.

With a roar that seemed to shake the heavens, Tian Shen thrust his spear toward the sky.

A spear of pure, condensed light shot forth, exploding into hundreds of blades of silver flame that rippled outward in all directions. The shadow wave struck them—and disintegrated into nothingness. The battlefield, once choked with corruption, cleared like a storm blown away by the wind.

The foreign soldiers recoiled, their formation splintered. Their leader, staggering from the backlash, clutched his shattered gauntlet and snarled, but even his fury could not conceal the dawning realization in his eyes.

The tide had turned.

The Feilun Sect's banners, though torn and bloodstained, now fluttered defiantly across the plateau. Their warriors, breathing hard but unbroken, rallied around Tian Shen's spear like branches of an ancient tree bending but not breaking in the wind.

Feng Yin's eyes softened briefly as she watched him. "The mountain stands," she whispered.

Tian Shen's lips curved into the faintest smile. "And it will not fall."

The battle was far from over—but hope had been rekindled. And with that flame burning at the heart of the defense, the disciples of the Feilun Sect prepared to stand against whatever storm the foreigners would bring next.