Alina and Ariana arrive at the village less than two minutes later to a gruesome sight. Two mangled corpses lay on the center road running through the village, clothes completely soaked with crimson and innards, now outtards, strewn about.

“Is that…”

“Hunter Jene, yeah. And his wife.”

The two sisters look around apprehensively, trying to see what caused the scene. Alina catches the baker’s eye through a window, his eyes wide with fright and frustration as he swipes his hand in front of his face forcefully to the left over and over. She turns her head to the left.

A direwolf.

Thirty paces away, staring at her through the open door of a shed. The beast’s intelligent gaze pierces through her and has her stiff, rooted to the spot. It shouldn’t be here, in the village. They never come this far out of the mountains. They don’t attack population centers, no matter how small. They don’t… hunt alone.

Unrooted, Alina grabs her sister’s wrist and runs. Too late. Adrenaline slows time as she sees movement out of her peripheral vision. Her head slowly turns to see the open maw of a beast, large canines and hot breath, a mound of fur behind the bloodsoaked teeth. And then she hears words that resonate with her soul and send a literal chill across her skin.

“Ice Breathing. Third Form: Cragged Glacier.”

The open maw next to her face is split. She can see straight through the creature, as its upper jaw, shoulders, and spine are separated from the lower jaw, throat, chest, and legs. Split in half longways a quarter way down to the center, the top half of the beast flies over the sisters’ heads while the bottom half of the beast stands frozen in place. The direwolf’s dark gray fur glints with frost and its heavy paws are frozen to the ground.

A single strike froze the creature so thoroughly that its heart didn’t even get to spurt blood out of all of the now-exposed flesh.

Still looking left, she sees him behind the direwolf’s frozen corpse. A swordsman, a cultivator, dressed in white robes with sky blue filigree stitched into it. A leather traveler’s backpack on his back and a long, thin, curved sword being held with both hands perpendicular to his body, snow lightly drifting down from the blade. He must have been to their right when he started the attack, and he traveled that distance in an instant.

“Honored Cultivator.” Alina immediately addressed him, doing a Palm Hold Fist in front of her face and bowing her head. Even here in this backwater, everyone is taught how to respectfully address a cultivator. It’s a survival tactic, after all. Her sister follows her example after a moment of being shaken up.

The cultivator tsks, clicking his tongue against his teeth, scowling at the frozen direwolf corpse. “Waste of qi.”

A moment of silence goes by, the two sisters still holding their bow, unmoving. Then he turns his gaze to them. “This is a beastkin village. What are you? I might have thought you a Yuki-Onna at first, but now that I get a closer look at you, it’s clear that you are not. You look closer to an Angel, but that isn’t right either.”

Confused, Alina peeps open one of her eyes to see that the long hair covering her face in her bow is currently pure snow white. A result of the relief of being saved and not a mauled pile of organs like the Hunter, no doubt. Fear wells up inside of her at the cultivator addressing her, however, and then even more fear as her hair turns jet black right in front of him. Shit.

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“I… I’m a Demon, Hon-Honored Culti-vator.”

The cultivator swordsman takes an audible deep breath in, as if savoring the scent of a freshly baked pie. “That might explain it... Does this village often get attacked by beasts or monsters?”

“May-... Maybe a bit more often than usual, in the last few years, Honored Cultivator.”

“The Crone told me that I’m the first cultivator to come to this village in a couple of generations.”

“Yes, Honored Cultivator.”

“You’re a mortal, then, Demon Girl?”

“...Yes, Honored Cultivator.” Alina replies, thoroughly confused by the line of questioning.

Yet another moment of silence goes by as the cultivator seems lost in thought, and the two sisters still hold their bow. The cool autumn winds, made even worse by the cultivator’s chilly “Ice Breathing” attack, causes them to begin slightly shivering. That, and the fear.

Her sister hasn’t spoken a word either, which Alina is glad for. She hasn’t been addressed, she might as well not exist to the cultivator. Until she does something disrespectful. Every mortal child grows up with stories of cultivators. They are like gods, the strongest of them able to wipe out continents, and even the weakest failures of them can rip your head off with no effort. They’re arrogant and prideful and demand the respect of Emperors, each of them.

“I told the Crone already, but I came to this village as a Wandering Cultivator, following the scent of qi. For some reason, this village has a higher density than the surrounding wilds. I figured maybe another cultivator resided in this village. Maybe you’re the reason.”

“Me?!” Alina starts and looks up at him, her blood red eyes locking with his pale blue irises for a moment. Widening her eyes, she averts them once again. “I humbly apologize for my outburst, Honored Cultivator, and beg for your forgiveness.”

“Hmm. Yes, you.” The cultivator says again, amusement tinting his voice. “You’re a B rank species, in the Mortal Layer, and somehow you have as much qi as someone in the first level of the Body Layer. Are you a Twinned Soul, maybe…? No, even they wouldn’t have as much qi as a mortal. Maybe you just have incredible talent. Or a combination of the two.”

“You should ask him.” Her sister, Ariana, whispers, speaking up for the first time since the direwolf’s death.

“Ari!” Alina hisses.

“You can drop the bow, both of you.” The cultivator replies, even more amusement tinting his voice now. “Who is this one?”

As the two girls raise from their bows and drop their arms, still averting their gazes, Alina’s sister speaks up. “I am Ariana Blake, Alina’s older adoptive sister, Honored Cultivator.”

“Hmm. How old are you two girls?”

“I am fourteen years old, Honored Cultivator.” Alina replies. Ariana follows, “Eighteen, Honored Cultivator.”

“Alright then. I’ll teach you.”

The two girls looked up, startled. Obviously, they expected to do some begging, groveling, and paying for the opportunity. That he accepted basically instantly after meeting Alina set her guard on edge.

“Only Alina. Sorry to say, Ariana, but you lack any talent that I can tell. I’ll stay in this village for four years, hopefully we can get Alina to the second level of the Second Layer by then. That will have her prepared enough to do the Third Layer by herself. You, on the other hand, Ariana. I don’t think we could even get you to your first Tribulation in four years.”

“I would never dream of asking for such an opportunity, Honored Cultivator. Besides, you are right. I don’t think it is for me. I do think it is for my sister, however.” Ariana bows again, but doesn’t hold it this time.

“You girls go home and get some rest. I’ll go talk to the Crone. Alina. Meet me by the stream at daybreak, first thing in the morning.”

Shell-shocked, all Alina can do is bow in gratitude.