It was snowing again.

The white powdery substance was swirling gently in the air – its path indeterminable. It formed a stark contrast with the clear dark night sky.

There was no sound – nothing but an all compassing silence spanning the whole world. It did not surprise him when suddenly something warm surrounded him – it had not been the first time nor would it be the last time either.

Every time he saw this particular scene he was filled with an inexplicable sadness which mercilessly gripped his heart.

The firm beat breaking the deafening silence was not surprising either – its steadiness a long sought for source of comfort. A murmur reached his delicate ears – too quiet to be recognizable, yet filled with an unfathomable strength that none dared underestimate. The voice rumbled like thunder, edged with power, yet still giving him no sign of danger.

Another cold gust of wind threw the flakes of snow into frenzied disarray – and like always he struggled to stay a bit longer in this merciless white world that despite everything he loathed to leave.

He struggled even more fiercely, desperately trying to understand the quiet whispers reaching the delicate shell of his ear.

It was futile though.

Eyes still hazy with sleep suddenly snapped open, uncommonly focused for having just woken up. Small hands rubbed away the sleep from his eyes before leaving his warm blanket with only the smallest amount of reluctance.

The boy – looking to be only six or seven years old – frowned as he absentmindedly watched the first rays of sunlight intruding in his room.

It wasn’t the first time the boy had this dream. By now it was extremely familiar to him. They had started only three months ago, just after the beginning of winter and when his previous rows of dreams had barely ended.

Of another life – a previous life where he had lived in a country called America on a planet called Earth. The dreams had been sporadic and terrifying at the beginning, but after several months they had already been assimilated by him.

He wasn’t just a small boy anymore. His gaps in knowledge had been firmly closed by the life experience of a college student. He was neither the American student, nor the young boy, but a combination of both.

He was called Narel in this life.

He was also a six year old orphan whose parents died only two years ago due to a spirit beat attack. Regarding them Narel still felt both deep sorrow and profound affection. Still it was only due to their demise that luckily his changes in behaviour thus went unnoticed.

He was now a ward of his clan – left mostly to his own devices by the other members. He had a small room in the clan compound and was expected to be mainly independent. This was very normal though.

This world had only one rule.

Might is right!

A world where humans could become so powerful that they could fly through the heavens, split the earth and dye rivers and seas red with blood of millions – a world where immortality was not merely a dream.

The world was divided into five continents situated in a vaguely star like form around a massive ocean. On those five continents there were two large factions controlling the lives of the people.

Clans and Sects.

Clans consisted of members of the same family, all sharing at least common blood. Outsiders would only be accepted if it benefitted the clan in some significant way.

Sects were a place of cultivation where practitioners would gather to learn how to successfully walk the path of cultivation.

Each immortal had power beyond comprehension and stood at the peak of the world. They were extremely revered by anyone on this plane.

Narel only knew this much because he had already learned how to read and had often indulged in such a past time for the last few months.

Inside his heart there was already an uncontrollable yearning for such a profound way of life. To forge your own way of life and let one’s name be known by anyone under the wide Heaven.

In his previous life he had died unknown, with nary but a whimper. This time he had another chance – he did not fear death but to waste another lifetime merely existing! What a waste it would be to deny this chance granted to him by the very Heavens!

Narel fingered his pendant with his nimble fingers, a determined expression in his eyes that had no place on someone his age.

He would either succeed or die trying!

That was his resolve!

The Raging Winds clan was small, but undoubtedly fierce and respected. Their name came from their founder whose sword technique was said to be as fierce as a thousand blades of wind.

This was the clan Narel belonged to. The Patriach of the clan was his second grand-uncle, a stern but mostly fair man who was greatly respected by all members of the clan. He was supported by his three sons, all Narel’s maternal uncles as his advisors and representatives. Regarding Narel’s affections, it was undoubtedly his third uncle who he admired the most.

After his parents’ death, he had taken care of Narel and was always trying to spend as much time with him as possible even though his uncle Daren was responsible for the clan’s soldiers.

His uncle was a strong warrior, though Narel knew not what level his uncle had actually reached. His knowledge still did not extend that far.

It was also that man that he had approached for earlier training. Narel knew that until the sixth year – no youth was allowed to cultivate! It would simply damage their future potential by introducing the energy of Heaven and Earth into one’s body too early.

Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

This much was common knowledge in the clan – and was told to every child!

Narel stepped out of the house, his small robes securely tied around his body. The morning wind was chilly, yet Narel ignored it, too excited to pay attention to such a minor detail. Even though the sun had barely gone up, his uncle was already in the courtyard – his sword a mere blur as he exercised his body.

Knowing that those were only the most basic exercises – Narel’s respect could only grow.

When he noticed that Daren had already sheathed his sword – Narel cupped his hands in greeting, bowing slightly as appropriate.

‘’Greetings, uncle.’’

Daren was a tall man with weathered skin, dark short hair and beard – yet his eyes were bright and sharp, able to perceive even the most minute of details.

‘’Little Narel…’’ The tall warrior’s lips tugged upwards into a small smile. Daren had no children, so his nephew was naturally very important to him. His only lament was that his many responsibilities prevented him from taking care of Narel. That is why he had not hesitated to approve of Narel’s request for training. ‘’Finally time to start training, hm?’’

‘’Yes, uncle. Please advise me!’’ Narel answered respectfully. His uncle waved him to a small secluded corner of the courtyard.

‘’Narel, as you probably already realize there are different levels of cultivation. Right now you are merely mortal, so only when you have strengthened your body and inner qi to a sufficient degree will you enter the First Realm – the starting point for every warrior. Your qi will then liquefy in your dantian. Until that point in time I will teach you how to cultivate the qi between Heaven and Earth.’’

Narel nodded in gratitude. It was important to know the proper methods to cultivate, otherwise the process could become either harmful or ineffective.

‘’Sit down and listen to me!’’

Narel hurried to follow his uncle’s directions excitedly, sitting cross-legged on the cold ground.

‘’Close your eyes, relax your body and calm your mind. Slowly breathe in and out. Do not let anything distract you. Try to look inside your body and sense the qi. Every body already contains slight traces of worldly qi.’’

Narel tried to let his tense body relax, regulating his breathing so that air flowed smoothly his body.

In and out. In and out. An eternal repetition. Soon Narel could no longer even hear his uncle’s voice. He only focused on his breathing. In and out. Unconsciously his body relaxed completely, his face donning a peaceful expression as he turned his whole focus inwards.

He couldn’t see anything.

He couldn’t hear anything.

He couldn’t feel anything.

Only the eternal cycle in and out of his body. Narel did not know how much time he had spent in such a state of mind. It might have been eternity or merely a second.

In and out.

A flicker of insubstantial light attracted his focus. And even though he was unable to see, he was sure it was a blinding white in colour. It reminded him of the voice rumbling like thunder in his snow filled dreams.

In and out.

Narel expanded his focus, and soon countless small flakes of flickering light could be sensed by him. They were not stagnant, but constantly rotating in one direction.

Narel felt joyous when he realized that this must be his inner qi. It was not powerful yet, only small drops of water in a vast ocean but for Narel who had spend a lifetime being an ordinary mortal this much was already a great success.

Narel spent another moment merely observing those flickering lights, before awareness slowly returned to him.

When his eyes flickered open, he was surprised to find that the sun had already completely gone up.

Daren was still standing in front of him, an expectant glint in his eyes.

‘’How did it go, nephew?’’

Narel grinned excitedly. ‘’It was only due to your guidance that this one succeeded, uncle.’’

‘’You succeeded then?’’ Due to Narel’s excitement he completely overheard the unveiled astonishment colouring the elder man’s words.

‘’Yes, uncle. But I have a question. Do the colour of the lights have any meaning?’’

Daren was unable to hide the shock at the question. To sense one’s affinity was usually only done at the very peak of the First Realm, not on the first day of training! Every human had an inclination towards a certain style of martial arts. Every style of martial arts could be divided into those categories. Speed, strength, complexity, defence and offense potential all of those aspects varied with each technique.

Fire was destructive, but short-lived. Wind was gentle, yet fierce. Earth was strong, but slow. Water was flowing and gentle. Lightning was fast and precise.

Red, green, yellow, blue, white. There were always exceptions, but every technique contained the spirit of those five elements.

‘’They do, Narel. But to you this is still too advanced. As your uncle again when you have reached the fourth level of the First Realm.’’

Narel was puzzled, but still nodded obediently. Towards his uncle he had complete trust.

Still, why did this light inside his body remind him so much of that voice in his dreams? Even as his uncle dismissed him shortly afterwards, Narel’s mind continued to race endlessly.

Just who did that voice in his dreams belong to?