My Arts Evolve When Perfected

Chosen Ones were born between heaven and earth, possessing from the very start a wisdom unattainable by their peers. Pile had heard the many legends and knew of the greatness of the Chosen Ones.

He stood in the front row before the Altar, hot breath jetting from his nostrils like fire, his eyes shot with blood.

Ever since the tribe first settled in the Northern Boundary, the legends of the Chosen Ones had been told. Across the vast, snowy expanse, every clan and tribe knew of the Chosen Ones’ power and yearned to find one for themselves.

The arrival of each generation of Chosen Ones heralded great change in the Northern Boundary. They would lead their tribes to prosperity, securing more territory and resources.

Only a Chosen One could cultivate to the Realm beyond Jade Sinews!

No one but a Chosen One could reach that pinnacle Realm. It was as if all who lived in the Northern Boundary had been forsaken by their ancestors, with only the Chosen Ones being the favored children of heaven and earth.

’But why?’

Pile had displayed considerable Talent from birth. A natural Warrior, he loved to fight. By the time he was six months old, he already dreamed of wielding a spear to slay the Demon Race. The first time he heard the legends about the Chosen Ones from the Elder Witch Priest, he had asked a question:

"If the one still standing when the Witch Fragrance burns out is the Chosen One, then what if I last until the very end? Wouldn’t that make me a Chosen One?"

The term "Chosen One" had always referred to those foundling infants, born in the snow, who possessed innate wisdom the moment they opened their eyes.

’But if there’s a standard—if enduring until the Witch Fragrance is gone makes you a Chosen One—then why can’t I be one?’

’Does the tribe’s rise truly have to depend on some fluke we’ve prayed for over millennia?’

’No!’

Ever since he started joining the hunting parties, Pile had been waiting for the bloodline test. He believed that through constant tempering, he could prove his bloodline was superior. He just needed the tribe to gather enough resources for the test to unleash his potential.

He had finally gotten his day. Because of the appearance of Qiu, a likely Chosen One, the tribe had moved the bloodline test up from next year. And now, the Witch Fragrance was more than two-thirds burned!

CRACK!

Pile’s fists cracked, and his heart felt as if it were being crushed by a meteor, forcing him to gasp for every breath.

He lifted his face, already etched with a killer’s intensity, and stared hard at the Witch Fragrance on the Altar. Ash flaked away as each wisp of white smoke consumed a piece of his life.

The effect of the Water of Origin was like a tsunami, wave crashing after wave, each higher than the last. If his focus wavered for even an instant, he would collapse and lose consciousness.

But there was less than a third of the Fragrance left to burn!

HMMMM—

His eyes, widening, were completely masked by a web of red veins, like a piece of Jade enveloped in a crimson spiderweb. His vision was awash in red.

The white snow turned red. The cold wind whipped up a bloody mist. The Elder Witch Priest’s figure dissolved into a pool of blood. A single wisp of white smoke drifted upward, the only color that stood out in his pupils.

He felt a hunger as if a vicious beast were devouring his insides, a pain as if his body were adrift at the border of ice and magma. His very Soul was being compressed into a single thread.

All was silent. The only thing he could see was the Witch Fragrance turning into white smoke.

In the Netherworld of his mind, he saw a vision from the depths of his consciousness: an ancient elder stood atop a snowy peak. With a casual wave of his hand, the ice and snow melted. Green shoots sprouted on the summit, and sunlight beamed down upon the vast, frozen forest.

The elder planted a seed, and his figure dissolved into light, vanishing from the world. For tens of thousands of years, suns rose and moons set, the stars wheeled across the sky. Ice once again covered the peak, but the green shoot had broken through the soil. Its trunk grew tall and its branches spread wide. On the great tree that gradually overshadowed the land, the first fruit grew. It was simple and unadorned, yet when night fell, it shone as brightly as Polaris...

BOOM!

Staring at the fruit, Pile’s consciousness drew closer and closer. He felt he was seeing the truth, that he had found the key for his tribe to escape the endless winter. But just as his "hands" were about to embrace the fruit, his consciousness was annihilated by a peal of Thunder.

THUD...

The child closest to the Altar collapsed. The tribe’s able-bodied men, who had been waiting, rushed forward to carry him aside to rest and cool down.

Before his eyelids shut completely, Pile’s gaze slipped through the narrow slit of his eyes for one last look at the Altar. The Witch Fragrance stick had just burned down completely. The final wisp of white smoke was drifting into the sky.

In his peripheral vision, he caught sight of Qiu. The kid, three years his junior, stood perfectly still, like a sculpture carved from ice, refracting the daylight in a dazzling display.

He remembered the Elder Witch Priest’s words from the classroom: "Among the native peoples of the Northern Boundary, no one can last until the Witch Fragrance is spent. The only one who can cross that threshold is a Chosen One."

’The Elder Witch Priest was right...’

As a final, stubborn breath escaped his chest, Pile’s eyes closed. The heat he had been clenching in his fists suddenly slipped through his fingers.

"May heaven bless the North Snow Tribe! That boy, Pile, lasted for so long! How long has it been since someone with such an outstanding bloodline has appeared among us!"

"When he grows up, he’ll surely follow in his father’s footsteps and become a powerful Warrior!"

"Wonderful! Wonderful!"

Pile could no longer hear the onlookers’ praise, but the Elder Witch Priest’s gaze lingered on him. Surprise, mingled with a thread of sorrow, brewed in his murky eyes.

He let out a slow breath and turned to look at Jiang Qiu, who now resembled a sculpture of ice. The corners of his mouth quivered with joy. "He lasted until the Witch Fragrance was gone. A true Chosen One... A true Chosen One..."

A Chosen One, appearing on average once a millennium, had come to the world once more. This meant a new round of conflict between the clans was about to begin. The clans that had secretly found a Chosen One would seize this opportunity to rise up, while the great clans that had not would do everything in their power to crush any potential rivals.

The War for the Northern Boundary Mountain, held once every twenty years, would become the once-in-a-millennium struggle for supremacy among the Chosen!

In most cases, a tribe with a Chosen One would endure to the very end. Even if the Chosen One never returned after ascending the Northern Boundary Mountain, the tribe would prosper for over a millennium.

Only in a few Extreme cases would a Chosen One be killed in the cradle by their enemies, causing the entire tribe to suffer a devastating blow and fall into decline.

Or... the Chosen One would personally annihilate the tribe that had raised them...

"His entire body is covered in frost. This must be a sign of Qiu’s awakened Bloodline Talent. It seems to be physical. Will he now possess a powerful physique?"

The Elder Witch Priest murmured, his quickened breaths betraying his excitement.

A Bloodline Talent related to the body, one that even frosts the skin... He might have some unconventional defensive abilities. That would be an extraordinary advantage in a Hunt or a fight.

Among all the Chosen Ones in history, he would rank in the upper echelons!

Once such a powerful Chosen One is fully grown, the tribe is certain to prosper. It might even have a chance to win the final contest of the Chosen!

As the Elder Witch Priest was lost in his reverie, the crowd erupted in joyous surprise, shouting that the North Snow Tribe would surely rise. A lame old man’s eyes went wide as he hopped on one foot, raising his cane like a torch.

Flower clapped her hands in excitement, jumping up and down.

Only Jiang Qiu took a deep breath, staring at the two panels that had appeared in his mind.