Cultivation starts with picking up attributes

The storm did not announce itself with thunder.

It came with utter silence.

A suffocating stillness settled over the Feilun peaks, so profound that even the spirit beasts quieted. The wind carried no scent, the air no sound.

The lantern flames that lined the terraces flickered once, twice—and then steadied, burning thin and tall, as though holding their breath.

Tian Shen stood at the northern edge, his spear planted beside him, eyes fixed on the horizon. The silver light within them pulsed faintly, catching the reflection of distant ridges.

Around him, the Root Division disciples waited in silence—hundreds of disciples, armor gleaming faintly in the moonlight, formation lines carved beneath their feet.

Every man and woman had trained for this night, this moment. Every beast had been bound, every rune woven, every breath synchronized to the same purpose.

The world trembled once.

"Hold the Formation!"

Tian Shen commanded softly.

A hum rippled across the plateau. Qi lines awakened beneath the stone, forming an intricate lattice that connected disciple to disciple, master to mountain. The very air thickened with energy, pressing down like the weight of a stormcloud.

Then, from beyond the horizon, the first sound came—a low, metallic groan, as though the world itself were grinding its teeth.

Silver fire flashed briefly across Tian Shen's eyes. "They're coming."

From the darkness rose a faint glow, then another, until dozens of distant lights shimmered through the fog. At first glance, they looked like torches—but the glow was cold, mechanical, pulsing in rhythm. The earth began to rumble under a measured march. The foreign army had returned.

Feng Yin stepped beside Tian Shen, her sword already drawn. The reflection of the enemy's lights danced across her blade. "Their formations are denser this time," she murmured. "No loose lines. They've learned."

Tian Shen's expression did not change. "Then we'll teach them again."

The first figures emerged from the mist—warriors clad in obsidian armor, their bodies grafted with glowing sigils. Each carried a weapon humming with restrained power, qi-laced with something foreign and sharp. Behind them, towering obelisks moved on their own, pulled by chains of metal and blood. Each obelisk emitted a dull red light, spreading corruption into the air like ink in water.

At the rear of the enemy formation, a figure rode atop a stone palanquin. His presence was unmistakable—the same foreign commander whose gauntlet Tian Shen had shattered weeks ago. His new armor glowed faintly, repaired but not humbled. His gaze, even across distance, was filled with cold, calculating hatred.

"Tian Shen of Feilun!" his voice thundered across the valley, carried by qi. "You survived when you should have fallen. Tonight, you'll finish what you started."

The Root Division bristled, weapons raised. But Tian Shen merely stepped forward, planting his spear firmly into the earth. "You've brought a larger army," he said calmly. "Good. It'll save me the trouble of hunting you one by one."

The foreign commander's lips twisted into a thin smile. "Arrogance is a flame that burns brightest before it's snuffed out."

With a single motion, he raised his gauntleted hand.

The obelisks pulsed red.

A wave of corruption surged forward—an invisible tide of qi that struck the Feilun barrier like a hammer. The mountain shook violently, formation lines flaring to life. Lightning coursed through the ridges as defensive arrays engaged, casting the night in flashes of azure and gold. The smell of burning ozone filled the air.

"Shields!" Tian Shen roared.

Dozens of disciples thrust their spears and talismans skyward, forming overlapping domes of light. The first impact struck like thunder, splintering stone and air alike. The Root Division held firm, but the pressure was immense.

Feng Yin's blade flared with a crimson sheen as she cut down the first wave of approaching soldiers. Their bodies shattered into fragments of qi, reforming and dissolving in equal measure. "They're bound to the obelisks!" she shouted. "Kill the anchors or they'll keep regenerating!"

"Understood!" Tian Shen's voice rang like iron.

He leapt from the ridge, his form blurring into streaks of silver light. The spear in his hand ignited, its flames cutting through the night. With a single thrust, he pierced through three advancing warriors, their armor cracking under the surge of elemental power. His momentum didn't slow—he landed amidst chaos, spinning the weapon in a sweeping arc that severed a dozen more.

Around him, the Root Division surged like a living tide. Every motion was trained, every movement exact. Qi flared in intricate synchrony—spears, swords, talismans, and elemental arts weaving together into a seamless front.

Feng Yin descended beside him, her sword cutting through a corrupted warlock. Silver and crimson light crossed as they fought back to back, their breathing perfectly timed.

An explosion split the mountain as one of the obelisks unleashed a burst of black flame. The barrier faltered for a moment. Cries echoed through the ranks as several disciples were thrown back.

Tian Shen's silver eyes narrowed. He could feel it—the obelisk feeding off the battlefield's death, growing stronger with every drop of blood spilled.

"Feng Yin!" he shouted. "Hold the line. I'll take the obelisk."

Before she could argue, he was already gone.

Tian Shen shot upward, his body propelled by condensed qi, silver fire streaming from his feet. The obelisk towered ahead, an unholy monument of metal and bone, pulsating with veins of crimson light. At its base, warlocks chanted in a guttural tongue, their hands weaving corrupted sigils.

He struck like lightning.

The first spear thrust impaled the nearest warlock through the chest, shattering the sigils mid-incantation. His second strike cleaved through the chains that fed energy into the obelisk. Sparks and blood erupted in all directions. The warlocks screamed, their control slipping.

But the obelisk retaliated.

A wave of raw corruption exploded outward, slamming into Tian Shen like a tidal surge. His body was thrown back, silver flames flickering under the weight of alien power. He landed hard, the ground cracking beneath him.

"Your defiance is meaningless," the foreign commander's voice echoed through the chaos. "You stand against laws you cannot comprehend!"

Tian Shen's breathing steadied. He pressed a hand to his chest, feeling his Core ignite. Silver fire surged up his arm, wrapping around his spear.

"Then let me show you," he said softly, "what defiance truly means."

He leapt again. This time, his movements were faster—each strike an extension of his will. The spear's point glowed white-hot, tearing through the layers of corruption that shielded the obelisk. The earth trembled, formations crackling. His Core roared, burning through reserves he had not yet tapped since his breakthrough.

The obelisk began to crack.

Below, Feng Yin sensed the shift and raised her sword high, shouting to the ranks. "Push forward! Support Tian Shen!"

Disciples surged with renewed vigor, the Root Division's formation shifting seamlessly into a forward assault. Elemental blasts rained down upon the enemy lines—earth spears impaling, wind blades slicing, firestorms roaring through corrupted troops.

Tian Shen drove his spear into the heart of the obelisk. Silver fire erupted outward, consuming crimson light in a violent clash of laws. The mountain shuddered as the monument exploded, shards of burning metal raining like comets.

A ripple tore through the enemy ranks. Their cohesion broke, bodies collapsing as the energy binding them was severed.

But victory did not come without price.

Tian Shen dropped to one knee, breath ragged, his vision swimming. The corruption he had pierced still clung to his veins, trying to devour his qi from within. He forced his Core to circulate faster, burning it out with sheer will. Silver fire flared around him again, cleansing, defiant.

Feng Yin reached him seconds later, cutting down two stragglers before kneeling beside him. "You're burning yourself out," she hissed.

"Better me than the Sect," he rasped, forcing himself to stand. "We're not done."

She caught his wrist briefly. "You can't carry the mountain alone."

Tian Shen met her gaze, and for a heartbeat, the chaos faded. "I don't," he said. "We carry it together."

Her expression softened, just for an instant, before she released him and turned back toward the fight. "Then stand, Tian Shen. The storm isn't over."

It wasn't.

A deeper tremor rolled through the valley—the unmistakable resonance of another obelisk awakening. The foreign commander rose from his palanquin, eyes burning with fury. "You dare destroy what was made by blood and empire?"

Tian Shen lifted his spear once more, silver flames reigniting. "Empire or not," he said, "you bleed the same."

And with that, the two forces clashed again—silver and crimson, light and corruption, mountain and storm.

The plateau screamed with the weight of power unleashed. Formation runes cracked, the sky split with lightning, and the very air trembled as Tian Shen met the enemy's blade once more, their strikes echoing across realms.

Somewhere in the chaos, the Hidden Sky Vault pulsed. Its light bled faintly into the night sky, unseen by most, but felt by all.

The world was watching.

And the mountain refused to fall.