The next morning brought rain, thunder, and flashes of lightning—just like every day before. Today, though, Ishin considered the weather with fondness. His soul trembled with excitement as he watched the lightning dance across the sky from beneath the shelter of the fallen roof. Soon, he would use the lightning to begin his journey down the Immortal Path.

  “Are you ready to go?” Akira asked from behind him.

  Ishin nodded. “I am.”

  “Good.” Akira held out a metal pole. The pole had been separated into segments along their journey. Last night, Akira had assembled it into a single piece—twice the length of Ishin’s spear. She’d explained that the tool would be vital to his success. Akira pointed to a tall, mostly intact column a hundred feet away. It was easily the largest remaining structure, standing almost fifty feet tall, with a wide enough shaft for three people to stand on comfortably. “Now we just need to get you up there.”

  The side of the column was smooth marble, despite years of being battered by rain and weather. Ishin didn’t see any grooves or ridges he could use to scale it. Then it dawned on him. “You’re going to carry me up there, aren’t you?”

  Akira placed a hand on his shoulder. “Precisely. Now take this.” Ishin accepted the metal pole, surprised by its rigidity despite the length. Still, its size made it awkward to hold. He could only imagine the challenge he’d face trying to maneuver it in the howling wind.

  “Once you’re on the column,” Akira explained, “immediately assume a sitting position. If you don’t, the force from the wind will knock you straight off. Only after you're stable should you hoist the pole toward the heavens. With the Heavens’ blessing, it should attract a bolt of lightning soon enough.”

  Ishin felt his grip tighten on the pole. “What will happen then, Mother?”

  Lightning flashed in the background. “You’ll either become a cultivator… or die.”

  The rainfall intensified, its noise now rivaling the booms of thunder. Death or cultivation. Ishin’s heart pounded as he finally faced his reality. But it wasn’t fear that stirred within him—it was anticipation.

  "Let’s begin, Mother."

  Smiling, Akira motioned him outside. Rain immediately soaked Ishin’s clothes, and he had to adjust his grip on the pole, holding it with both hands to keep it from slipping now that it was coated in water. Then he felt his mother wrap her arms around his waist. The two burst upward into the sky, carried by wind qi. A minute later, Ishin found himself deposited atop the tall column.

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  As Akira had instructed, he immediately dropped into a seated position. Even then, the overwhelming pressure of the rushing wind at this height battered him from every side. Twice, the pole almost blew from his grasp, but he managed to secure it each time.

  I have to lift this up here!

  “Remember to keep the pole held high until lightning strikes,” Akira instructed. She stood on the edge of the column, apparently immune to the forces of the storm. “Next time I see you, you’d better be a cultivator.” With that, she fell backward off the column.

  Ishin knew she would be fine. Instead, he focused his attention on the task ahead.

  His legs were crossed beneath him as he sat in the center of the column’s flat shaft. Finally feeling stable, Ishin stared up at the roaring heavens. Dark clouds. Brilliant blue lightning. Furious wind. Rolling thunder.

  The heavens were filled with power—and he intended to seize it for himself.

  Determined, Ishin lifted the pole high into the sky. He felt the ceaseless wind push against it, but using every ounce of his strength, he held it firm. The effort was grueling, and within minutes his forearms ached from the strain. Half an hour passed as he watched in vain—lightning continued to dance through the sky but never struck the metal pole.

  His arms trembled. His body started to yield under the pain.

  As he was about to lower the pole, Ishin remembered the struggles he’d faced his whole life. The quiet insults. The looks of disappointment. The pity—even from those he had once called mentors.

  He thought back to his confrontation with Jun Wu and Pang Feng. The humiliation of his defeat. His suspension from the Martial Hall.

  Defeat!

  Then, the journey here. He had felt fear at the sight of the streak of Sun Tigers, while his mother had slaughtered them with ease. She had been forced to go on the defensive against Lou Heng—because he was a liability.

  He was weak. A liability.

  Weak!

  He remembered struggling to climb Tyrant’s Rest. Without Akira, he would have turned back at the first chasm—or more likely, died in a landslide. Even now, he could never have reached the top of the column on his own.

  Helpless!

  Rage, anguish, and shame roared through Ishin. He heard a faint growl echo from his soul—a manifestation of his pride.

  I will not quit here. I’ve seen the power of cultivators. I want it. No… I need it. And I will take it here.

  Ishin yelled up at the heavens, refusing to back down until he claimed what was his.

  As if in answer, lightning descended upon him—striking the metal pole.

  Ishin’s body shook with pain greater than anything he’d ever experienced. His blood boiled from the heat, his flesh beginning to char. Despite his best efforts, he let go of the pole and was blasted off the column’s shaft.

  Darkness took him as he flew through the air, forced to accept his failure.