Cultivation starts with picking up attributes

Night spread its velvet shroud across the Feilun Sect, yet no one rested. The echoes of battle still clung to the mountains, carried on winds heavy with the smell of scorched stone and blood. Lanterns burned bright along the sect's inner walls, their golden glow flickering like watchful eyes.

In the great council hall, the highest peaks of the Central Region seemed to bow beneath the weight of the meeting. Elders filled the room, robes drawn tight, faces etched with fatigue and an uneasy anticipation. At the head of the jade table sat Sect Master Feilun, his presence as steady as the mountain roots that anchored the sect.

Tian Shen stood among the Root Division—his newly formed detachment of elite cultivators—his expression calm despite the faint traces of exhaustion that lingered in his posture. To his left, Feng Yin and Elder Su watched the gathered elders with quiet vigilance. Beside them, Lian Hua of the Azure Phoenix Sect rested her hands on the table's polished surface, her sharp gaze cutting through the haze of incense that swirled in the chamber.

The Sect Master's deep voice broke the silence.

"The enemy came to test us," he said, his tone carrying across the hall like a distant thunderclap. "And we prevailed. But do not mistake this victory for safety. The Void Hand is not broken. They retreat only to sharpen their claws."

A murmur rippled among the elders. Some tightened their fists; others exchanged uneasy glances. The memory of the charred battlefield, of the massive foreign commander wielding the corrupted gauntlet, weighed heavy in their minds.

Elder Su stepped forward, his silver hair catching the lantern light. "The fragments of the gauntlet we retrieved are unlike any artifact I have studied. The runes bear a Western Wasteland origin, but the energy signatures… they are older. Perhaps remnants of a lost immortal array. If the Void Hand possesses more of these weapons, their next strike will not be so easily contained."

His words sent another ripple through the hall. The Western Wastelands were a place of dead civilizations and forgotten warlocks—a graveyard of ancient power best left undisturbed. For the Void Hand to harness such forces meant preparation far beyond petty revenge.

Lian Hua's voice followed, crisp as a sword unsheathed.

"The Azure Phoenix scouts intercepted encrypted transmissions before the battle. The patterns match those used by certain Western cults, but they've been modified. Whoever leads this faction is merging disciplines that should never coexist. They're not only testing their weapons—they're weaving something larger. Perhaps a sealing array… or a summoning."

The word summoning landed like a stone dropped into deep water. The hall fell silent, broken only by the soft crackle of incense.

Sect Master Feilun's gaze hardened. "Then we must treat this as more than war. This is a calamity in preparation. Our response must be decisive."

He turned to Tian Shen. "Root Division will expand. You will lead its recruitment and training personally. We will require cultivators who can adapt to unknown powers, those who can counter not just strength but corruption itself."

Tian Shen bowed. "It will be done." His voice carried no hesitation, though inside, he felt the weight of the task settle like a mountain across his shoulders. The Root Division was already a small, deadly unit—but to face an enemy who could bend forgotten laws of existence, their training would have to evolve beyond conventional cultivation.

Feng Yin stepped forward, her eyes sharp yet calm. "If their techniques merge Western curses with ancient arrays, we need counter-runes capable of cleansing corruption mid-battle. I will lead a team to develop mobile purifying seals and distribute them among the divisions."

Elder Su nodded approvingly. "Good. I will oversee the study of the gauntlet fragments. If we can decipher its binding structure, we may craft wards to disrupt their formations before they take root."

The Sect Master's gaze shifted to Lian Hua. "And the Azure Phoenix?"

She met his eyes without flinching. "We will share our intelligence network and dispatch envoys to the Northern and Southern Regions. The Void Hand is a disease; it thrives in silence. We will not allow it to spread unseen."

The plans formed like a storm map across the table—lines of defense, supply chains, new training regimens. But beneath the strategies, a current of unease ran deep. No one in the hall believed the enemy would give them time to prepare.

Outside the council hall, the night carried a different rhythm. Disciples moved in hurried lines, repairing broken walls, reinforcing spiritual barriers, and carrying crates of talismans to the Root Division's training grounds. The normally serene sect vibrated with urgency, the air alive with sparks of cultivation energy.

Tian Shen stepped into the cold night after the meeting, the moonlight painting silver across his black robes. The mountain breeze brushed against his skin, sharp and clean, yet it carried whispers of distant storms.

Feng Yin joined him, her presence a quiet anchor. "You accepted without hesitation," she said softly, her voice nearly lost to the wind.

"It wasn't a choice," Tian Shen replied. "The Root Division was formed for this. If we falter, the Central Region falls."

She studied him for a long moment, the moonlight catching the faint glow of determination in his eyes. "You've changed," she said finally. "Before, you sought strength to protect those you cared for. Now… you carry the weight of everyone."

Tian Shen allowed a faint smile. "Perhaps strength demands that we grow with it."

A familiar chirp broke the quiet. Little Mei, Tian Shen's beast companion, fluttered down from a nearby tree, her golden feathers catching the moonlight like scattered starlight. She landed on his shoulder with a soft trill, nudging his cheek. Her eyes, though playful, shimmered with a deeper understanding.

"We will protect this home," Tian Shen said, reaching up to stroke her head. "All of us."

...

Far beyond the Feilun Sect, across the barren edges of the Western Wastelands, a different gathering unfolded.

Beneath a sky painted in roiling crimson clouds, a circle of cloaked figures knelt around a massive obsidian platform. The air reeked of sulfur and damp stone. At the center of the platform, a figure stood cloaked in shadows, his presence radiating a pressure so heavy the earth itself seemed to groan.

The remnants of the gauntlet commander knelt before him, their faces hidden behind bone-white masks. "The probe has returned," one of them rasped, voice like gravel dragged across steel. "The Feilun Sect is stronger than our estimates."

The shadowed leader raised a hand. Dark energy spiraled around his fingers, weaving sigils of ancient power. "Good," he said, his voice a deep, resonant whisper that carried to every corner of the wasteland. "The Central Region must reveal its depths before the seal is broken. Let them prepare. It will make their despair sweeter."

A low, inhuman hum answered him—a chorus of distant entities stirring beneath the wasteland soil.

"The next key awaits in the Hidden Sky Vault," the leader continued. "Soon the gate will open. And when it does, the world will remember the name they sought to bury."

He extended his hand toward the horizon, where a faint jade pillar of light pulsed against the night.

"Void Hand will rise."

...

Back in the Feilun Sect, Tian Shen stood upon the highest terrace, watching the same jade light flicker far in the distance. Though separated by leagues of mountains and rivers, he felt the pull—a calling both ancient and ominous.

Feng Yin joined him again, her expression unreadable. "The Hidden Sky Vault," she said. "It opens sooner than we expected."

Tian Shen tightened his grip on the terrace railing. The victory they had earned was but the first step in a far greater war.

"Then we move before the storm," he said. His voice, though quiet, carried the steel of unshaken resolve. "The Root Division begins training at dawn."

And as the first cold winds of autumn swept through the Feilun Sect, the mountain seemed to tremble, as if the world itself sensed the gathering storm.

...

The first rays of dawn bled across the Feilun Sect's peaks, staining the terraces in molten gold. Training bells rang through the misty air, their sharp chimes calling the Root Division to the main courtyard.

Tian Shen arrived first, his black robe still carrying the faint scent of midnight wind. Around him, disciples assembled with restless eyes, each aware that their cultivation methods would soon be tested against dangers beyond ordinary comprehension.

Feng Yin stepped beside him, scrolls of hastily inscribed purification arrays tucked under her arm. "The new formations are untested," she said quietly. "But they may hold against Western corruption."

"They will hold," Tian Shen replied, his voice a calm promise rather than a hope.

As the disciples saluted, the ground beneath the mountain shivered—a tremor too faint for ordinary senses, but sharp to cultivators attuned to the earth's breath.

Tian Shen closed his eyes and listened. Beneath the stone, he felt a pulse, distant yet deliberate, like a heartbeat buried in the world's marrow.

"The Hidden Sky Vault," he murmured.

Feng Yin's gaze sharpened.

"It's waking faster than expected."

Tian Shen opened his eyes, their silver glow steady.

"Then we train until the mountain itself yields."