The next morning, Ishin stood at the western gate of Pale Fang Fortress with Akira. Both wore green and silver-stained leather armor, crafted from Sun Tiger hide. Fur lined their armor, offering warmth that would be needed on their journey. Each also carried a spear, with Ishin having exchanged his damaged one for a fresh replacement from his house’s arms room.

  On his back, Ishin carried a large travel pack. It was filled with food rations—mostly dried jerky—several waterskins, bedrolls, spare clothes including a rain cloak, a tent, and other travel supplies for both him and Akira.

  He stared out at the hilly grasslands of the Nine Striped Hills. The lush green terrain appeared to stretch endlessly. The grass itself rose all the way to his waist. All manner of creatures could hide beneath those tall blades, but while dangerous, those weren’t the ones Ishin worried about. Ahead to the west, gray stratus clouds had begun to gather—ominous signs of a coming storm. It was in that direction they needed to travel to reach the massive hill known as Tyrant’s Rest.

  “We will be fine until you return, First Warrior,” said a tall warrior of about forty, dressed in cultivator robes and wearing silver armor. His name was Tang Wei, Captain of the Silver Fang Guard.

  After the Tribal Chief and First Warrior, Tang Wei was widely regarded as the third-strongest fighter in the tribe. He led the elite warrior unit known as the Silver Fang Guard. Ishin had once dreamed of joining their ranks. Now, for the first time in years, that hope felt possible again.

  “I’m sure you will,” Akira replied. “It’ll only be a month, but make sure to continue patrolling our northern settlements. I don’t trust the Hongse Tribe’s activities.”

  Captain Tang nodded. “I’ll see to it that any Hongse found are made a harsh example of. Are you sure you don’t want a squad with you on your journey for protection? The Sun Tigers are migrating southwest right now.”

  Akira smiled. “I’m sure but thank you.” She extended her spear. “If we encounter any foes, I’ll take care of them myself.”

  Captain Tang offered a salute. “Understood, First Warrior. May the Heavens bless your journey.”

  After exchanging farewells, mother and son passed through the gate, leaving Pale Fang Fortress behind as they began their journey. It would take twelve days to reach Tyrant’s Rest—and the road ahead would not be easy.

  Tyrant’s Rest was the tallest hill—practically a mountain—in the Nine Striped Hills. Steeped in legend, cultivators across the region made pilgrimages there in search of enlightenment, though never in summer. The Sun Tigers’ migration patterns made the journey especially perilous during this season.

  “Are there concerns about the Hongse Tribe?” Ishin asked once they were a mile beyond the fortress. The Hongse Tribe, to the north, had clashed with the Daihu Tribe repeatedly over the last century. Three wars had been fought between them.

  “We caught their scouts near one of our northern settlements two weeks ago. A skirmish broke out, and they were killed, but it’s possible they were preparing for a raid.”

  “Isn’t that too risky to attempt in summer?”

  “Risky, yes—but not impossible.” Akira glanced northward. “Like I told Captain Tang, I’m not concerned, and neither should you be.” She smiled up at her son, now grown taller than her by a full inch. “All you need to focus on is preparing yourself for Tyrant’s Rest.”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  Ishin tilted his head. “You haven’t told me what to prepare for.”

  Akira pointed at the gray clouds ahead. “You, my son, need to be struck by lightning.”

  “Lightning?” Ishin echoed.

  “Yes,” Akira affirmed.

  “Lightning?” he repeated, incredulous.

  “What part of that do you not understand?”

  “Forgive me, Mother, but I don’t see why I need to get struck by lightning to form my chakra.”

  “It’s… an unfortunate part of our clan’s bloodline. We seem to have a natural affinity for lightning qi, so those who’ve struggled were sometimes able to stimulate chakra formation by using lightning as a catalyst.”

  Ishin blinked. “The other members of our clan”— it was still strange to think he had family somewhere —"who did this, it worked for all of them?”

  “Not always,” Akira admitted. Seeing the disbelief on her son’s face, she added, “I never actually knew anyone who had to do this, Ishin. Please understand, it’s a very rare problem—even in our clan. All I know are the stories I grew up hearing. And even among those, it was known that some people died… or were crippled.”

  “I thought you said this was what was needed for our bloodline?” Ishin’s voice grew tight. He didn’t like what he was hearing. It was one thing to try and fail to form his chakra—but another to learn that the attempt might kill or cripple him.

  “It is,” Akira said. “But the reality is you will be struck by lightning.” She looked at him directly. “Did you think being struck by lightning would be painless or risk-free?”

  “I... no, I didn’t think about that part. I thought it would be fine once I became a cultivator, but now…”

  Akira’s tone softened. “Son, from what I’ve heard, not everyone who tried this died—or even suffered severe injury. If that were the case, I wouldn’t have revealed this possibility. Those who did succeed in forming their chakra were said to be completely fine. I just didn’t want to lie to you and pretend it was guaranteed to work.” She turned her gaze back to the distant walls of Pale Fang Fortress. “Now that you know the truth, do you still want to continue? We can turn back if not.”

  Ishin considered her words, but not for long. I’ve been unable to cultivate my entire life. He knew what was required. Greatness demanded risk. I won’t turn back now—not at the first sign of danger. “No. I want to continue.”

  The next several days passed with a steady rhythm. Mother and son rose with the sun and walked until dusk. They survived on dried meat rations, and during the evenings, Akira would run Ishin through different spear stances. Occasionally, they sparred—but Ishin never managed a win.

  Afterward, they’d take turns watching their camp through the night. As they continued toward Tyrant’s Rest, Ishin couldn’t help but notice the clouds growing darker with each passing day. Yet fortune remained on their side. Despite the deepening overcast, they had not yet been caught in rain or storm.

  That repetitive routine continued until the sixth day, when Akira suddenly commanded a halt.

  Ishin stopped immediately. He looked ahead and saw Akira staring at a large green hill, five hundred feet tall and three hundred feet wide.

  “There is a streak of Sun Tigers beyond that hill,” she said after several quiet seconds. “Four in total.”

  Ishin frowned. How can she possibly know that from here? “You can tell that from this distance?” The hill the streak of Sun Tigers was behind stood more than a hundred feet away.

  Akira tapped her temple. “The third eye is very useful. You’ll understand that soon—hopefully.” Turning her attention back to the hill and whatever waited beyond it, she said, “It’s time to go hunting.”