The central courtyard of the ancestral estate was built from heavy, weathered grey stone—slabs shipped from the mainland decades ago that had grown smooth under the coastal salt air.
Veer stood in the center of the courtyard, his massive frame casting a long shadow across the rock. Even without actively channeling his aura, the physical presence of a high-tier Hunter was overwhelming. His muscles were like coiled steel wires, a testament to a century of surviving a world shaped by violent evolution.
"Alright, Krishak," Veer said, dropping a pair of small, padded training weights onto the stone with a heavy thud. "Before a Hunter ever learns to swing a weapon or hunt a Beast, he must temper his vessel. The spiritual wave altered our bones, making them denser, but if you don't forge them through sweat, they remain brittle. Today, we start with the absolute foundation: the iron stance."
Krishak looked down at the simple iron-weighted bands, then up at his father.
An iron stance, Krishak mused inwardly, a ghost of a smile touching his childish lips. How nostalgic. In the Heavenly Universe, low-level immortal cultivators began their journey by absorbing pure, liquid Qi to instantly refine their marrow. But Earth was a barren desert. To grow strong here, one had to use the planet itself.
Without a word, Krishak stepped forward, slipped his tiny feet into the straps of the weighted bands, and dropped his hips into a perfect, low horse stance. His back was straight as a spear, his shoulders relaxed, and his center of gravity locked perfectly into the earth.
Veer blinked, his eyes widening in genuine surprise. He had expected his three-year-old son to struggle, to complain about the weight, or at least ask how to position his legs. Instead, the boy had executed a stance so flawless, so structurally perfect, that it looked like it had been carved from marble by a master sculptor.
"Uh... good," Veer coughed, clearing his throat to hide his astonishment. "Excellent form, son. Keep your core tight. Try to hold it for ten minutes. If it hurts, you speak up, understand? Your mother will skin me alive if you get a muscle tear."
"Yes, Father," Krishak replied smoothly.
As Veer stepped back to observe, Krishak closed his eyes. It was time to begin.
He completely ignored the physical weight of the iron bands. To an ancient Celestial, physical discomfort was nothing but a passing thought. Instead, Krishak initiated the first mnemonic sequence of the Universe Origin Body Art.
He didn't try to draw the thin, polluted spiritual energy from the air. Instead, he did something far more radical—he reached his consciousness downward, past the stone courtyard, deep into the tectonic bedrock of the planet. He interfaced directly with Earth's incredibly compressed, rigid World Laws.
Gravity, Krishak commanded in the silent chambers of his mind.
Instantly, the world responded. Because Earth's laws were locked down in a tight, mathematical grid to prevent reality from collapsing under the weight of the global awakening, the planet's gravitational pull was absolute and unforgiving.
Using his soul as a conduit, Krishak subtly anchored his internal energy pathways to that absolute gravitational grid.
BOOM.
To Krishak's internal senses, it felt as though an invisible, cosmic sledgehammer had violently crashed down onto his tiny body. The atmospheric pressure around him didn't change, but internally, every muscle fiber, every capillary, and every microscopic cell was suddenly subjected to ten times the standard gravity of Earth.
A sharp, agonizing burn flared through his legs and spine. His tiny heart hammered like a war drum, and a bead of cold sweat immediately broke out on his forehead.
Good, Krishak thought, his eyes remaining closed, his expression a mask of absolute serenity despite the blinding pain tearing through his toddler form. This is exactly what I needed.
Ordinary cultivators sought soft, abundant energy to gently nurture their bodies. But the Universe Origin Body Art was a revolutionary technique designed to thrive on pure, unadulterated friction. It required a pressure cooker.
Under the crushing, invisible weight of Earth's rigid laws, Krishak's tiny, fragile cells were compressed to their absolute limits. The impurities within his mortal bloodline were being systematically ground to dust, forced out through his invisible spiritual pores. Every breath he took felt like inhaling liquid fire, but as his lungs strained against the pressure, they were being forged anew, growing denser, tougher, and incredibly resilient.
Inside his sealed spiritual core, the locked reservoir of stolen Origin Energy felt the massive external pressure. A microscopic wisp of that brilliant blue energy leaked through the seal, drawn out by the sheer vacuum of his straining cells.
The moment that wisp of cosmic Origin energy met his compressed mortal flesh, a miraculous reaction occurred. Under Earth's absolute pressure, the energy didn't blow him apart; instead, it fused perfectly into the marrow of his bones, turning them into something that defied human biology.
"Krishak?"
Veer's voice broke through the silence of the courtyard. The high-tier Hunter was staring at his son with a mixture of awe and growing concern.
Ten minutes had passed. Then twenty. Now, it was approaching forty minutes.
The three-year-old boy hadn't wobbled once. He stood there, locked to the stone floor like an ancient mountain. But what truly unnerved Veer was the faint, almost imperceptible distortion in the air around the boy. The dust motes floating near Krishak weren't falling normally; they were accelerating toward the ground around his feet, as if the gravity in his immediate vicinity had become heavy and dense.
What kind of monster talent is this? Veer thought, a shiver running down his spine. He hasn't even awakened a trait yet, but his physical density is already reacting with the environment!
"Alright, Krishak! That's enough for today!" Veer called out, stepping forward hastily. He reached down and gently placed a hand on his son's shoulder to break the stance, terrified the boy would permanently damage his joints through sheer stubbornness.
The moment Veer's hand touched his shoulder, Krishak severed his connection to the planet's gravitational grid. The invisible hammer lifted.
Krishak opened his eyes, exhaling a long, thin stream of hot, white vapor that dissipated into the morning air. He felt an agonizing soreness radiating from every bone in his body, but beneath the pain, he felt a profound, terrifying solidity. A single drop of his refined power now carried the compressed density of a boulder.
"Are you alright, son?" Veer asked anxiously, kneeling down to look him in the eye. "Does anything hurt?"
Krishak looked at his father, his eyes clear and full of gentle, childish warmth. "I am perfectly fine, Father. It was... very refreshing."
Veer stared at him for a moment, then let out another booming laugh, scooping the boy up into his arms and lifting him onto his massive shoulder. "Hahaha! Refreshing?! You truly are a chip off the old block! A born warrior! Come on, let's go get some water before your mother suspects I'm torturing you."
As he rode on his father's shoulder back toward the mansion, Krishak looked back at the courtyard.
The foundation had been laid. Earth's barren nature was no longer a limitation; it was his greatest weapon. At this rate, by the time he reached ten years old, his physical body would be strong enough to withstand the first true awakening of his inner cosmos.
Suddenly, a tiny, familiar figure came tumbling out of the mansion's back door.
"Bwo-bwo!" Luna squeaked, her mismatched socks sliding across the stone as she spotted them. She ran toward them with her arms wide open, completely disregarding the rules of walking.
Krishak's ancient eyes softened completely. He slid down from his father's shoulder, running forward with a gentle smile to catch his little sister before she could fall. As he held her close, feeling her innocent, joyful laughter against his chest, the heavy weight of his cosmic cultivation vanished.
He was home. And for this small piece of peace, he would gladly endure a thousand cosmic hammers.