The snow had grown thinner. Not melted—but gentler, as though the heavens themselves chose to watch in silence.
Kell remained seated within the first circle. His back was straight, but not tense. His breath slow, but not forced. Around him, the twelve circles still glowed faintly with the memory of Fuzi's hand.
Above them, the twisted pine whispered in the wind.
Fuzi stood there for a long while, his eyes not on Kell, but on something far beyond the mountains. The horizon where sky kissed nothingness. As if time itself were waiting for him to remember.
Then, softly, he turned.
"You asked," Fuzi said, "how one begins the path of cultivation within the Twelve Pillars."
Kell nodded. He remained seated, unmoving—an instinctive stillness, like a disciple before a temple bell.
Fuzi took a breath, slow and calm.
"You begin not by rising upward, but by going downward," he said. "You do not climb the heavens. You return to the ground. And through the ground, you remember the laws that shaped your bones."
He knelt beside the first circle, running his finger once more through its center.
"There is no qi to gather here. No aura to refine. You must learn to belong before you can transform."
He looked at Kell, and something softened in his gaze.
"The first steps are not about strength. They are about surrender."
Kell frowned, thoughtful. "Surrender… to what?"
"To stillness," Fuzi replied. "To silence. To the memory of being human—before Dao, before destiny."
He stood, stepping backward.
"You must eat. Sleep. Bleed. You must feel your lungs burn, your limbs ache. You must know hunger, and not cure it with pills. You must walk until your feet split and the wind cuts your lips raw—and then still, listen. Because the Foundation Node is not a technique. It is a return."
Fuzi's voice carried the weight of ages now. Not harsh. Not sorrowful. But clear.
"I will not be with you for what comes next," he said.
Kell's head snapped up. "You're leaving?"
Fuzi gave a soft nod. "The Immortal God Realm calls. Duties left untended too long. Old debts. Older storms."
Kell stood slowly. The snow no longer clung to his robes. He looked into Fuzi's eyes—not as a boy to a master, but as a soul seeking its guide in a world of mirrors.
"Will I see you again?"
Fuzi's smile was small, but eternal.
"If your path remains true, then yes. When you set foot in the Immortal God Realm—when your soul breaks through the veil between stars and silence—I will know."
Kell's breath caught.
"I will come to you," Fuzi said. "Not as your master. But as one who waited."
He reached forward and gently touched Kell's chest, right above the heart.
"When you stand before that world, you'll see no gates. No throne. Only silence. And in that silence, remember this: you belong—not because you are strong, but because you listened."
He stepped back. Snow stirred around his boots but did not touch him.
"I leave no scrolls. No maps. Only circles in the snow, and a truth buried in your marrow."
Kell bowed deeply, the gesture not forced, but flowing from within.
"Thank you, Master."
Fuzi inclined his head. Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, "There are no shortcuts on this path, Kell. No applause. Only skyless nights, and footsteps."
And with that, he turned.
No light took him. No wind stirred. He simply walked—into the snow, into the mountain's spine—until even his shadow forgot to follow.
Kell stood alone.
But the snow no longer felt empty. The air no longer pressed.
He looked down at the first circle again. And for the first time, he saw not snow…
…but a beginning.
Snow fell like threads of forgotten silk as Kell sat in the center of the twelve circles. The sky overhead shimmered with faint aurora, and the traces of Fuzi's presence still lingered like the scent of burned sandalwood.
But Fuzi was gone.
Kell's heart beat in slow reverence. He looked at the first circle—the Foundation Node—and stepped forward.
The moment the sole of his foot touched the rim, a soft hum passed through his bones. Light flared from the snow, not blinding but intimate, as if the world itself had cracked open to whisper.
A figure emerged—half-shadow, half-celestial flame. It was not Fuzi. It was tall, eyes closed, robed in starlight. A god. Or a memory of one.
The shadow spoke in a voice that echoed between stars.
"You have entered the first circle. The Foundation Node. Within this circle lie twelve substages. Each one a layer of awakening. Each one a breath closer to the original contract between flesh and cosmos."
Kell knelt instinctively. "How do I begin?"
The god-shadow raised a hand, pointing to the earth.
"By listening."
---
And so began the first substage: Stillness of Flesh.
The god-shadow taught Kell not through scrolls or techniques, but by returning him to his own body. "Sit in meditation position for three days and three nights.Focus on your centre part of forehead," it said. "Do not move. Do not resist cold or hunger. Let the earth know you have returned."
Kell obeyed.
The snow numbed him. Hunger clawed. Yet he remained.
On the fourth day, warmth stirred at the base of his spine—a pulse of forgotten vitality. He wept, not from pain, but recognition. He had never truly inhabited his body until now.
"You have completed the first substage."
---
Second substage: Rooting Breath.
"Stand barefoot upon stone," the god-shadow whispered, "and breathe as trees do. Long. Slow. Without hunger."
It took Kell one hundred and thirty-two days to master this breath. His chest often cramped. His balance faltered. But slowly, his breath anchored. And as it did, his shadow thickened beneath him—tied to the land.
"You are no longer drifting," said the god-shadow. "You are beginning to root."
---
Third substage: Weight of Memory.
Kell was shown his own memories—of fear, of helplessness, of his childhood wounds.
"You must not run from these," said the shadow. "To build upon a foundation, you must first repair the cracks."
Kell spent years revisiting each pain, sitting with them beneath moonlight. Not to erase—but to remember with clarity.
When he accepted even the worst of his past, his body grew denser. His steps began leaving deeper prints in the earth.
"You are beginning to exist," said the god-shadow.
---
Fourth substage: Pulse of the Cosmos.
"Sit by the river," the shadow instructed, "until your heartbeat matches its current."
It took Kell another decade. But one dawn, he heard it: his heart, the river, the wind—one pulse.
"You have made your body a vessel," said the god-shadow. "Now, make it a temple."
---
Fifth substage: Temple of Bone.
Kell learned to align each bone with a star, each joint with a season. The god-shadow spoke ancient anatomy, not of man, but of universe:
"Your spine is the mountain range of your soul. Your ribs are its gates. Protect them. Know them."
Each night, Kell meditated on a different bone. Pain rose. Visions came. He endured.
His body grew stronger—not just muscular, but sacred.
---
Sixth substage: Silken Flow.
"You must move without disturbing the air," the god-shadow said.
Kell trained in wind tunnels conjured by the shadow. Any disruption sent him flying.
It took years, but eventually, his movements became seamless. Effortless.
"You now carry stillness even in motion."
---
Seventh substage: Voice of the Core.
Kell was instructed to scream—not in fear, but in alignment.
"One day," said the god-shadow, "your voice will shake stars. But for now, let it shake your ribs."
He screamed every dawn into the mountain valleys, until echoes returned with harmony. He learned the resonance of his own existence.
---
Eighth substage: Heat of the Blood.
"To awaken your foundation fully," the shadow said, "you must raise your body's fire."
Kell meditated inside frozen lakes. He learned to heat his core, to burn gently but constantly.
His blood became an ember-stream. Cold never touched him again.
---
Ninth substage: Stillness Within Chaos.
The god-shadow created storms. Avalanches. Earthquakes.
Kell was placed in the center.
"You must hold your breath steady. Your stance calm."
After decades, Kell could stand within a tempest and feel nothing but quiet.
---
Tenth substage: Touch of the World.
Kell was blindfolded.
"You must sense all things not with sight, but with skin, with bone, with presence."
He walked forests, crossed streams, fought blindfolded.
Eventually, he could hear a leaf fall from a mile away.
---
Eleventh substage: Return to Birth.
The god-shadow said nothing. Kell was buried beneath earth for one full year.
He meditated in the dark womb of soil. Learned silence.
When he emerged, his breath carried the scent of root and rain.
---
Twelfth substage: Seal of Foundation.
A symbol burned into the earth beneath him.
"You are ready," the shadow said. "The foundation is not a platform—it is the world itself. You walk it now. You carry it."
Kell bowed.
The first circle dimmed, its lesson complete. But eleven remained.After sometime passes all 11 circles also dimmed.
Master Fuzi create all circles have different purposes rather than 1st circle. Some circles delays the time passing in snow flower sect. Some circles give life energy to kell for living and to complete his training. Some circles convert spiritual energy into life energy to supply Kell for his body remained in it's original version. By help of this circles Kell's look as it is same before he looks. Some circles help to healing his body after the training.
Although some circles slow the time in the sect , thirty thousand years passing.(3 years in immortal god realm).
---
Thirty thousand years passed like starlight drifting through space. Each circle held twelve substages. Each a trial. A return. A memory.
And Kell walked them all—not as a warrior seeking strength, but as a soul remembering its origin.
When the final circle glowed and faded, the earth beneath his feet no longer resisted him. He was one with it.And his heart barrier cracked.
And far away, in the Immortal God Realm, Fuzi lifted his head from a scroll of time.
He smiled.
"He is coming."