The second Nathan, Uriel, and Mateo achieved the Foundation Establishment realm, the pocket realm itself convulsed. The plateau trembled violently, fissures spider?webbing across its surface as the runes at the formation’s center blazed with violent light. What had once been a stable conduit now writhed like a living thing. Stone lines fractured, the carved array splintered apart as if torn by unseen hands. With a deafening roar, the formation shattered—its pillars collapsing, inscriptions unraveling into streams of broken qi that bled into the air like smoke.

  The lesser sect disciples and wandering cultivators froze in horror. The shimmering currents of qi they had been absorbing for days guttered out in an instant, vanishing as though the vein itself had been slain. The essence was gone, drained completely, leaving only dead stone and fading runes. Shock rippled through the crowd, disbelief giving way to panic. Whispers spread like wildfire: Nathan, Uriel, and Mateo had been swallowed by the collapse. Whether they lived or perished, none could say.

  Amid that chaos, the three were not consumed but carried elsewhere. They opened their eyes to find themselves in a hidden sub?realm—a blank expanse stripped of landmarks, filled only with silence and light. As they steadied themselves, three small lights descended from above, piercing into their bodies with a brilliance that defied understanding.

  Uriel’s mind blazed as one of the lights fused with his spirit sea. An innate mental bone formed, crystalline and jagged, etched with runes of fire and thunder. It glowed like a shard of lightning trapped in crystal, pulsing with clarity. His thoughts sharpened to razor edges, illusions shattered before him, powerless unless cast by cultivators at least a realm higher. And as his cultivation grew, so too would this immunity. Yet the gift did not end there. Against all precedent, Uriel awakened a sub-spirit root far earlier than intended. Normally such a root only emerged upon reaching the Core Formation realm—and even then, it was rare. But Uriel was an exception. His flame aura now intertwined with lightning, his qi carrying both fire and thunder. His bones hummed with dual resonance, each strike promising devastation.

  Mateo’s body shook as the second light sank into his legs. Two innate bones awakened, flooding his limbs with speed beyond mortal comprehension. They gleamed emerald, translucent like jade carved by storms. Wind qi coursed through them, bending to his will, sharpening his movements until his steps blurred faster than the eye could follow. His legs became conduits of tempestuous power, each stride carrying the weight of hurricanes. For one born half?beast, this was a blessing that sharpened his bloodline into a weapon. His scales shimmered faintly, harmonizing with the bones, his beast heritage refined into something sharper, purer.

  Nathan clenched his fists as the third light merged with his bones. His hands burned with silver qi, hardened into weapons of destruction. Each knuckle shimmered like polished steel, veins of light threading through them, promising strikes that could shatter mountains. The innate bones in his fists were unlike any seen before—neither jade nor crystal, but silver forged from law itself. Each strike carried the force of a cultivator one realm higher—the strength of a first?stage Core Formation expert. Like Uriel and Mateo, his gift would scale with his growth, ensuring his fists would always strike beyond his current realm.

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  The three gifts were the realm’s prize. And as soon as they received them, the blank space began to dissolve, rejecting their presence days before the pocket realm’s natural closure. But the marble intervened, its pulse altering their path and knocking the three off course.

  They did not emerge at the pocket realm’s entrance as others would. Instead, the realm’s rejection hurled them off course, casting them into another exit far from the expected path. When their vision cleared, they stood upon a jagged mountain range where mist curled around black cliffs. The air was sharp, cold, and heavy with qi. Snow drifted faintly from the peaks, though no storm stirred above. It was as if the mountains themselves exhaled frost, breathing out a silence that pressed against their skin.

  Nathan glanced around at the surroundings. “Where are we?”

  Uriel scanned the peaks. “I’m not sure.”

  Mateo stood apart. He wished to split from them, to walk his own path. Yet he was as lost as they were. And though he despised mortal cultivators, these two were different. They had not treated him as a disease nor looked at him with disgust. More than that, he knew the truth: without Nathan, he would have died in the vein. His pride was broken, but his mother’s words echoed in his heart—always repay debts. Mateo owed Nathan one, and he would repay it. He did not say it aloud, but the vow burned silently within him.

  Nathan leaned closer, his voice low and needling. “Little brother, do you have any idea where we are?”

  But Mateo kept his gaze fixed on the horizon, refusing to answer. Nathan draped an arm across his shoulder anyway. “After everything we’ve been through, you’re still acting like a stranger?”

  “I don’t know,” Mateo muttered, turning away. “And get your filthy hands off me.

  “What’s that? Didn’t catch it,” Nathan teased, pressing closer.

  “I said I don’t know!” Mateo snapped, shoving him back.

  Nathan’s grin widened. “That’s more like it.”

  Uriel sighed. “Let’s just travel together until we find somewhere recognizable—or civilization.”

  Nathan agreed. Mateo not so much, but in the end he traveled with them on this unknown journey to wherever.

  As the three approached a clearing, they stumbled upon a brawl between five Foundation realm experts—ranging from first stage to fourth—fighting against a spirit beast of the sixth stage. The beast was a snow tiger, its fur glistening white as frost, its breath exhaling storms of ice. Each roar summoned shards of frozen qi, spears of snow that pierced the air. Its claws carved trenches into stone, its tail whipped blizzards that froze flesh and spirit alike.

  The experts fought valiantly—swords clashing, flames burning, lightning crackling—but the beast’s aura dwarfed them. Their techniques struck, but the tiger’s hide shimmered with icy resilience, deflecting blows. Its eyes glowed with primal intelligence, each strike calculated, each roar shaking the clearing. When its massive paw struck, the cultivators were hurled aside, bones cracking, qi scattering. Soon all five were hit by a powerful slash from the beast, their bodies pinned, unable to move. They thought they would be finished.

  Then Nathan stepped forward, silver qi cloaking him like a tempest. He invoked Silver Step, his body flickering forward, and unleashed Silver Strike. His fist slammed into the tiger’s chest, and for the first time the beast staggered, its icy breath breaking into mist.

  The experts gasped in disbelief—this youth, cloaked in silver, had done what they could not.

  Yet the strike only landed because the snow tiger had underestimated him. Nathan’s speed was nothing compared to its own; under normal circumstances, it would have evaded with ease. In truth, the beast had allowed him closer, intending to crush him with a single counterblow. But in that moment of arrogance, its guard faltered, and Nathan’s fist connected. The tiger’s eyes narrowed, frost qi swirling more violently around its frame. It now understood—this boy was dangerous. Still, it had countless ways to deal with him, and its next strike would not be so careless.