After a good rest I woke up, the morning sunlight filtering through the thin rice paper windows casting long shadows across the wooden floor of my small dwelling. Despite consuming an enormous amount of energy during yesterday's cultivation session, I didn't feel particularly hungry—a curious sensation that I noted with mild interest. My gaze drifted to my wrists and torso, noticing immediately that my weight bracelet and vest had disappeared completely, leaving not even an imprint on my skin where they had once been.
"So that's how it works," I murmured, running my fingers across the now-empty space. "If I lose consciousness, every creation will be undone." The realization wasn't particularly troubling—I had suspected as much. With proper awareness or mental strength, I could manage this limitation.
I stretched languidly, feeling an odd sensation ripple through my body. Something felt different—changed—but I couldn't quite place what it was. My reflection in the small bronze mirror across the room showed the same face I'd always known, there's something different but I can't spot it, but still recognizably me. Whatever this strange feeling was, I decided to ignore it for now. There were more pressing matters at hand.
"Now is the time," I declared to the empty room, my voice clear and determined, "to create a proper martial spirit."
I'd given this considerable thought. Creating a weapon from its very foundation would demand an extraordinary amount of energy—far more than simple manipulation or enhancement—but once completed, subsequent recreations would be significantly easier. The blueprint would exist in my consciousness, ready to be called forth whenever needed. As for choosing ice as my attribute, the decision was twofold: it aligned perfectly with my martial soul's innate property, and it would pave my way to the prestigious Tian Shui Academy—an institution known for accepting only women with water or ice attribute martial spirit.
Taking a deep, centering breath, I closed my eyes and extended my hands before me, palms facing each other as though holding an invisible object. I began by visualizing a long metal rod, feeling its weight and substance form between my palms. The air between my hands shimmered, molecules condensing and rearranging themselves according to my will. Slowly, deliberately, I compressed the rod, my fingers making subtle shaping gestures as the metal began to take on the dull outline of a sword.
Beads of sweat formed on my brow as I concentrated, channelling more soul power into the emerging weapon. The edges, initially blunt and undefined, gradually sharpened under my focused attention. I called upon my analysis of numerous sword martial souls—entities far more profound and complex than any ordinary weapon martial spirit. The subtle balance of weight distribution, the perfect tapering of the blade, the precise angle of the edge—all these elements came together under my guidance.
"Balance," I whispered, feeling the spiritual energy flow through my fingertips into the sword.
Thanks to my meticulously studied blueprints of various cold weapons, I could maintain perfect proportion throughout the sword, ensuring each segment complemented the others. The blade lengthened, catching the morning light and reflecting it in glints of silver. Then came the most crucial step—infusing it with ice attribute. I reached deep within myself, to where my own natural affinity for ice resided, and drew that essence outward.
A chill permeated the room as frost patterns briefly appeared on the floor around me. The temperature dropped noticeably, my breath becoming visible in small white puffs. The blade responded to my calling, its silver surface slowly transitioning to a deep, ethereal blue—starting at the hilt and flowing like water to the tip. The transformation was mesmerizing, like watching midnight descend upon the surface of a mountain lake.
With the blade complete, I turned my attention to the remaining components. Following the elegant design of a traditional katana, I crafted a suitable sheath—midnight blue and black that seemed to shift and dance when viewed from different angles. The handle I wrapped in grippy material the colour of black. The guard I shaped into a normal and practical design, intricate yet functional.
Finally, drawing upon nearly all my remaining soul power, I infused the completed weapon with one powerful surge of energy—the catalyst that would complete its transformation from mere construct to pseudo-martial soul. The sword levitated before me, spinning slowly in the air as blue-white energy coursed through it like lightning. The room filled with a blinding light, and for a moment, I felt the sword's essence resonate with my own spirit—not quite a true bonding, but something undeniably profound.
[Gold rank Achievement: Create artificial Pseudo-Martial Soul || Claim: Frost Moon sword style.]
As the light faded, I reached out and grasped the handle of my newly created weapon. It felt perfect in my grip—as though it had always been an extension of my arm. Looking inward at my soul power reserves, I estimated that I had maybe ten percent remaining—reckless, perhaps, but worth the cost. What stood before me now was not just a weapon but a proper pseudo-martial soul. The only thing separating it from a true martial soul was my inability to add a soul ring to it—but this wasn't necessarily a disadvantage. I could use it in conjunction with my original martial soul, effectively concealing my true abilities behind this more conventional facade. And with my newly claimed reward, I could easily cover up as my soul skills.
I spent the next hour testing the blade, moving through the forms that had appeared in my mind upon its creation. The Frost Moon sword style was elegant yet deadly, comprising numerous techniques: lightning-fast slashes that could barely be tracked by the eye; powerful downward chops capable of cleaving through armor; broad cleaving sweeps designed to engage multiple opponents; concentrated bursts of sword energy that extended the blade's reach; and perhaps most impressive, the iaido-inspired drawing techniques that could strike an opponent before they even registered the blade had left its sheath.
"Perfect," I murmured, executing a particularly complex drawing slash that left a thin line of frost in the air for a brief moment. "Each movement complements my pseudo-martial soul perfectly."
After running through the basic forms several more times, I felt satisfied with my creation. Taking a step back, I studied the weapon with pride, its blue blade gleaming in the midday light that now filled the room. Even with basic foundation with kendo, I need more practice to master the Sword style, and at minimum it will take about 5 years of daily practice and I completely have time for that.
"From this day forward, you shall be known as 'Shimotsuki'," I proclaimed solemnly, using the term that translated roughly to 'Frost Moon.' Then, considering practicality, I added, "Or simply 'Ice Blade' for registering in Martial Hall."
The morning had passed quickly during my intense work. Feeling the grime of exertion on my skin, I decided a bath was in order before venturing out. I heated water over the small fire pit in the corner of my dwelling, adding a few dried herbs to create a pleasant aroma. As I bathed, I continued to plan my next steps. Registration at a Martial Soul Hall was essential—without official recognition, my path forward would be significantly more difficult.
Clean and refreshed, I dressed in simple but well-made clothing that wouldn't draw undue attention—sturdy dark blue pants, a light gray tunic, and practical boots.
The village streets were busy with midday activities—merchants hawking their wares, children playing between market stalls, adults going about their daily business. Despite my young age, few paid me much attention. My slightly mature appearance thanks to the Herrscher Eye of Truth effects on my body.
The Martial Soul Hall stood at the northern edge of the city—a modest building by the standards of larger cities, but still imposing compared to the surrounding structures. Its white stone walls gleamed in the sunlight, and the symbol of the soul masters was prominently displayed above the main entrance: a spiraling vortex representing the endless potential of the soul.
Two guards flanked the entrance, their expressions neutral but alert. As I approached, I noticed their gazes sharpen slightly, no doubt assessing whether a child posed any threat to the hall.
"Excuse me," I said, making my voice sound slightly older than my six years. "I'm here to register my martial soul."
One of the guards—a broad-shouldered woman with a scar across her left cheek—looked me up and down. "New awakening?" she asked, her tone professional rather than friendly.
I nodded. "No. I have recently became soul master. And as I was from far away village, I also need to register and receive official recognition."
She studied me for a moment longer, "Wait here," she said finally, before turning and disappearing inside the hall.
I stood patiently, aware of the remaining guard's occasional glances. The wait wasn't long—perhaps five minutes passed before the door opened again, and a different person emerged.
She was tall and slender, with gray-streaked black hair pulled back in a severe bun. Her robes marked her as an official of the hall, though not of the highest rank. Her eyes—sharp and assessing—reminded me of a hawk's.
"I am Instructor Lin," she stated without preamble. "You wish to register your martial soul?"
"Yes, Instructor," I replied with appropriate deference.
She nodded once. "Come with me."
I followed her through the imposing doors and into the hall proper. The interior was cooler than outside, the stone walls keeping out the midday heat. We passed through a large entrance hall decorated with murals depicting famous soul masters throughout history. Several people—mostly adults, though I spotted a few older children—waited on benches along the walls, presumably for their own appointments.
Instructor Lin led me down a corridor to the right, eventually stopping at a modest office. Inside was a desk covered with scrolls and records, two chairs, and various instruments I recognized as tools for measuring soul power. She gestured for me to take one of the chairs while she seated herself behind the desk.
"Name?" she asked, picking up a brush and preparing to record my information on a fresh scroll.
"Xiao Qingxue," I responded without hesitation. The family name "Xiao" I borrowed from Xiao Wu on a whim—or perhaps more accurately, to make myself more trustful to Xiao Wu. Though I had no actual title or lineage, this seemed as good a choice as any for establishing my new identity.
"Age?" Instructor Lin continued, her brush poised above the parchment.
"Ten," I answered confidently.
She glanced up, her eyes narrowing slightly as she assessed me. I maintained a neutral expression, meeting her gaze steadily. After a moment, she seemed satisfied and continued writing.
"Village of origin?"
"Holy Spirit Village," I said, at thsi point even I didn't care how much fake can I make my identity.
"Martial spirit?" she asked, her tone growing slightly more interested.
With a smooth motion, I summoned Ice Blade with its sheath, holding it horizontally before me so that the blue blade caught the light from the window. "Ice Blade," I stated. "A weapon-type martial spirit with ice attributes."
Instructor Lin's eyebrows rose slightly—weapon-type martial spirits weren't uncommon, but they weren't the most frequently encountered either. She set down her brush and extended her hands.
"Excellent Martial Soul," she commented. "Any thought of joining Martial Hall?"
"I will think about it later," I answered smoothly. "Though I've been told that my Martial Soul is more suitable to Tianshui Academy."
She nodded and then asked. "And your cultivation level?"
Here was where I needed to be particularly careful. My true level as a spirit master wielding the Herrscher Eye of Truth was 26, but revealing such advancement at my supposed age would raise far too many questions.
"Level 12 soul master," I replied, allowing a single yellow spirit ring to become visible around me—just enough to confirm my status but not so impressive as to invite unwanted scrutiny.
"Very well," she said, making a few final notes on her scroll. "Your registration is complete, Soul Master Xiao Qingxue. As a recognized soul master, you are entitled to certain privileges and stipends."
She reached into a drawer and withdrew a small pouch, which she pushed across the desk toward me. "Hundred gold coins, your monthly allowance as a level 12 soul master. You may collect this amount on the first day of each month at any official Martial Soul Hall by presenting your soul master certificate."
From another drawer, she produced a certificate with intricate engravings—my official identification as a registered soul master. She handed this to me as well.
"Thank you, Instructor Lin," I said, accepting the certificate with appropriate respect.
"Well then," she said, rising from her seat, "I wish you success in your cultivation. Though if you ever change you mind, you can visit Martial Hall."
I stood as well, bowing slightly. "I'm grateful for the Martial Hall's recognition."
As I left the Martial Soul Hall, badge and gold secured safely in an inner pocket, I allowed myself a small smile of satisfaction. The first stage of my plan had been executed flawlessly. With an established identity as Xiao Qingxue, level 12 soul master with an ice-attribute weapon spirit. The path to Tian Shui Academy lay open before me, and I now need to prepare for my second spirit ring for my Herrscher Eye of Truth.