The Summons

The next morning, the cold bit deeper than usual, the kind of cold that seemed to creep through the thickest furs and into the bones. My breath misted the air as I stood beside my mother, feeling the tension that rippled through the tribe. We had all been summoned to the center of the encampment, where the Coldwind Clan's cultivator was waiting. The entire tribe was gathered, elders at the front, the rest of us forming a wide circle around them. The cultivator stood tall and imposing in the middle of it all, his robes fluttering lightly in the breeze that seemed to come from nowhere. His presence demanded attention, and the air itself seemed to hum with the power he carried.

As we gathered, I couldn't help but glance up at the symbol of the Coldwind Clan still faintly visible in the sky. The energy of the Qi Condensation Realm had left an imprint on the world around us, a reminder of the difference between mortals like us and those who had stepped onto the path of cultivation. The cultivator, whose name I hadn't yet heard, surveyed us with a gaze that seemed to pierce through flesh and bone. When he spoke, his voice carried a cold authority that sent shivers down my spine.

"I am Feng Tao of the Coldwind Clan," he announced, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. "I have come to assess your tribute, and to see if there are any among you worthy of serving the Coldwind Clan." His words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of what they implied. Serving the Coldwind Clan was both an honor and a burden, a path that could elevate one's status or break them under its demands. I felt my heart quicken, unsure whether to hope or dread what might come next.

The elders stepped forward, offering the customary gifts—herbs, pelts, and other resources that our tribe had painstakingly gathered. Feng Tao barely acknowledged these, his interest clearly focused elsewhere. "Tributes are expected," he said dismissively. "But what I seek are talents." His gaze swept over the crowd, lingering on the younger members of the tribe. My pulse raced as his eyes passed over me, and for a moment, I thought I saw something flash in his expression—curiosity, perhaps, or something more unsettling.

"I will test you," Feng Tao declared, "to see who among you is worthy of joining the Coldwind Clan." His words sent a ripple of unease through the crowd, but there was also a murmur of excitement. For many, this was a chance at something greater, an opportunity to step out of the shadows of the Northern Wastes and into the world of cultivators.

Without further ado, Feng Tao began his assessment. He called forth several of us, including me, to step forward. The first test was simple but grueling—enduring the cold with only our bare skin exposed to the elements. We were made to strip down to our undershirts, the biting wind immediately cutting through what little fabric remained. I had trained in the cold before, but this was different; it was as if the wind itself was a weapon, trying to force us to yield. I focused on my breathing, steady and controlled, just as I had been taught in the Winter's Grasp. The cold was an adversary, but it was also a teacher. It would not break me.

Next came the test of skill. Feng Tao had us demonstrate our martial arts, and I went through the forms of the Winter's Grasp as I had done so many times before. But this time, under the scrutinizing gaze of the Coldwind Clan's cultivator, every movement felt heavier, every breath a struggle. Yet, as I moved, I found my rhythm, the cold no longer biting but flowing through me, empowering each strike, each block. When I finished, there was silence. Feng Tao nodded, though his expression remained unreadable.

Then came the final challenge—a trial by combat. We were paired against each other, the objective being not to win but to prove our resilience, our willingness to fight despite the odds. My opponent was one of the older boys, stronger and more experienced. He came at me with a flurry of strikes, his fists moving like hammers. I dodged and countered as best I could, my mind racing to keep up. The Winter's Grasp was my only shield, its techniques the only thing standing between me and defeat.

At first, I struggled, but then something clicked. I stopped trying to match his strength and instead used his power against him. I let his momentum carry him past me, and with a quick twist, I landed a solid blow to his side. He stumbled, surprised, and I pressed the advantage, using the cold to sap his strength. The fight ended with him on the ground, breathless but unhurt. I stood over him, my own chest heaving, but there was a fire in my veins that had nothing to do with warmth.

Feng Tao watched me with those cold, calculating eyes, and I couldn't help but wonder what he saw. Was it potential? Or was it something else entirely? He said nothing as the elders helped my opponent to his feet, but the look he gave me before turning away sent a chill down my spine. The tests were over, and now came the waiting.

As the tribe dispersed, the elders gathered to speak with Feng Tao. I could see the worry etched in their faces, the lines of age deepened by years of hardship and responsibility. Some of them glanced at me, their expressions unreadable, and I felt the weight of their expectations more than ever. My mother placed a hand on my shoulder, her touch warm and reassuring, but I could sense her own unease.

That evening, the tribe was quieter than usual. The excitement from the day had faded, replaced by a tension that seemed to seep into everything. The elders had made no announcements, and the Coldwind Clan's cultivator remained secluded, speaking only to those he had chosen to consult. I sat by the fire with my mother, her presence a comfort in the uncertainty that loomed over us.

"What do you think he'll decide?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

My mother's gaze was distant, thoughtful. "It's hard to say," she replied. "The Coldwind Clan is powerful, and they see the world differently than we do. Whatever decision he makes, it will be in their interest, not ours."

I nodded, understanding the truth in her words. The Coldwind Clan had little reason to care about the well-being of a small tribe like ours, beyond what we could offer them. Still, the idea of leaving, of being taken from the only home I had ever known, filled me with a sense of dread. Yet, there was also a flicker of something else—curiosity, perhaps even excitement at the thought of what lay beyond the borders of our encampment.

That night, I couldn't sleep. I lay on my bed, staring up at the ceiling of our tent, listening to the wind howl outside. The cold was a constant presence, but it was the uncertainty that gnawed at me, the not knowing what would come next. As my eyes began to drift shut, I felt a strange sensation, like a whisper at the edge of my mind. A vision, or perhaps a dream, took hold of me.

In this dream, I was standing alone in the midst of a vast, frozen wasteland. The sky above was a deep, unbroken black, and the only light came from a distant star, shining with an intensity that seemed to pierce through everything. The wind howled around me, but I felt no cold, no fear. Instead, there was a sense of purpose, a pull towards that distant star. I began to walk, each step taking me closer, though the star remained impossibly far away.

As I walked, the landscape around me began to change. The ice beneath my feet cracked and shattered, revealing glimpses of something deep below—power, raw and unformed, waiting to be claimed. I felt it calling to me, urging me to reach out, to take hold of it. The sensation was overwhelming, almost intoxicating, and I could feel the stirrings of something within me, something ancient and powerful.

But before I could reach out, the vision shattered. I woke with a start, my heart pounding in my chest, the remnants of the dream lingering like a shadow in my mind. I didn't understand what it meant, but the feeling of that power, so close yet unreachable, stayed with me.

The next morning, the tribe was gathered once more. Feng Tao stood before us, his expression as cold and unreadable as ever. He had made his decision, and now it was time for him to announce it.

"Jinlong," he called, his voice cutting through the morning air like a blade. My heart leaped into my throat as I stepped forward, every eye in the tribe on me. "You have shown potential. The Coldwind Clan will take you."

The words hung in the air, heavy and final. I glanced back at my mother, her expression a mixture of pride and sorrow. The decision had been made, and there was no turning back.

As I prepared to leave, the reality of what was happening began to sink in. I was leaving my home, my tribe, everything I had ever known. But there was also a sense of inevitability, as if this was the path I had been meant to walk all along.

With one last look at my mother and the tribe, I turned and followed Feng Tao into the unknown, the cold wind at my back and the memory of the falling star burning bright in my mind.