Chapter 41: From Flesh to Thunder
The air cracked as both figures launched forward, no more games—just raw force.
Lei Hanwu's previous laziness had vanished. His expression sharpened into something colder, more focused. With each step, faint arcs of lightning shimmered across his skin. He was done playing.
Wu Yuan didn't retreat. He surged ahead as well, fists clenched, eyes steady.
And then—
Their fists collided.
One arm wreathed in drifting qi particles, the other reinforced by lightning-hardened flesh.
Boom!
A shockwave tore through the surrounding trees. The ground shuddered.
Wu Yuan was the one forced back, feet skidding across the soil, knees bending under the strain. But he didn't fall. His body held.
Lei Hanwu pressed forward, relentless. He darted in again, another blow whistling through the air, aimed straight at Wu Yuan's chest.
He's faster now… more refined than before.
But Wu Yuan didn't flinch. He ducked, parried, deflected.
His arms trembled from the force—yet a change had begun.
Deep inside him, something stirred.
"His blood surged. Bones throbbed with heat. Muscles screamed—yet welcomed the strain.This wasn't resistance. It was acceptance."
The energy that had been boiling beneath the surface… the buildup of cultivation, the force held back during weeks of silent growth… now began to fuse with every fiber of his being.
His breakthrough wasn't just arriving.
It was anchoring.
Every collision, every parry, every ounce of pressure from Lei Hanwu—
—was tempering Wu Yuan's foundation.
He was being reforged.
Each punch cracked the air.
Lei Hanwu's fists gleamed with volatile lightning essence, sharp bursts of blue-white arcs lashing out with every motion. His body moved with practiced rhythm—refined in the inner mountains of Stormrise, where brutal combat forged prideful geniuses into monsters.
But Wu Yuan didn't falter. His body was battered, his bones humming from repeated clashes, but his eyes—his eyes burned brighter than ever.
This pain… this pressure… it's not something to fear.
Lei Hanwu stepped in with a thunderclap, rotating his waist and delivering a brutal spinning elbow aimed at Wu Yuan's temple.
Wu Yuan dipped low, his feet sliding across cracked earth, narrowly avoiding the strike. He twisted, bringing his forearm up in time to parry the follow-up knee that came roaring into his ribs.
He's fast. Stronger. But he's still predictable.
Lei Hanwu's style was aggressive, overwhelming—but there was rhythm to it. Arrogance had forged habit.
As Wu Yuan was shoved back once more, skidding across the grass, his heel slammed into a stone, halting his retreat. Blood trickled from his lip. He wiped it away slowly and exhaled.
My body's not just holding… it's growing. This pressure is forging it. The surge from the last level-up—it didn't just raise my realm. It made my foundation harder to crack.
Lei Hanwu charged again, fists out, eyes wild with superiority. The crackle of lightning rang out once more as he screamed through clenched teeth:
"You're just a bug dressed in iron! Do you think blocking some hits means anything?!"
The blow came—a straight punch coated in arcing lightning. But this time, Wu Yuan didn't just brace.
He moved.
In one swift step, he turned his body diagonally, parrying the fist with an angled forearm deflection. His other hand struck upward, slicing through the air with shocking precision. The motion was simple—clean, but devastating.
Lei Hanwu's head jerked back, eyes narrowing in shock as Wu Yuan's palm grazed his jawline.
Not a full strike—but it landed.
Lei Hanwu growled. "You dare—!"
Good, Wu Yuan thought. You felt that.
His muscles ached, sure. His body was strained. But beneath it all, something deeper was taking shape.
Each exchange was awakening buried strength within him.
I wasn't just holding back. I didn't even realize how much of this power wasn't mine yet. But now it is.
The next clash came faster.
Lei Hanwu's fist met Wu Yuan's again—but this time, the shockwave was smaller.
Lei Hanwu frowned.
Their arms rebounded. Wu Yuan advanced without hesitation. His punch struck Lei Hanwu's shoulder—not enough to injure, but it forced the older boy to retreat two steps.
That had never happened before.
For the first time since the fight began, Lei Hanwu looked uncertain.
"You… are you growing stronger while fighting me?! That's absurd!"
Wu Yuan's breath was heavy, but his smile was calm. "Absurd? No. I'm just catching up."
Every fiber of his being felt like it was tempering under a forge's hammer. The Heaven-Eating Pulse Conduction technique ran rampant beneath his skin, greedily absorbing the combat pressure as nourishment.
This isn't just a battle. This is tempering—true tempering.
Finally, Lei Hanwu halted mid-charge.
His breath came in short bursts, his chest rising and falling. The faint crackle of lightning still danced along his forearms, but his feet no longer advanced. Instead, he stood still—eyes locked onto Wu Yuan, burning with cold fury.
Across from him, Wu Yuan also came to a stop, fists still clenched, his stance loose but coiled. He didn't speak. He didn't flinch. His eyes, sharp and watchful, traced every subtle twitch in Lei Hanwu's body—the way his shoulders rolled, the sparks gathering at his wrists, the controlled tension in his legs.
He's getting serious now, Wu Yuan thought, his pulse steady. That casual arrogance… it's gone.
"…Enough," Lei Hanwu said.
His voice rang out sharp and clear, slicing through the silence.
"I've humored this long enough."
Wu Yuan's brows drew slightly together. So far, Lei Hanwu had been aggressive but measured—holding back, testing the waters. But now… now the air itself was changing. The battlefield seemed to contract, like the eye of a storm forming around Lei Hanwu's figure.
Wu Yuan shifted his footing subtly, aligning his center of gravity. Not out of fear—but preparation.
Lei Hanwu rolled his shoulders, and the air around him shimmered faintly, the pressure subtly rising like a heavy fog pressing in from all sides.
"That was just warm-up, child. A little game to test your spirit." He spat to the side and straightened his spine, posture sharpening like a blade drawn from its sheath. "Do you really think this is all I have?"
Wu Yuan remained silent, his gaze unblinking.
He didn't bite at the provocation. The more Lei Hanwu spoke, the clearer it became—his pride had been bruised.
His gaze turned cruel. "You've been fighting like a beast, I'll admit that. But there's a difference between stubbornness… and ignorance."
He raised a hand slowly, pointing one finger directly at Wu Yuan's chest.
"You don't understand the gap between the Body Tempering Realm and the Spirit Initiation Realm. That gap isn't just about strength. It's about qi particles control, reality itself bending to your will."
Wu Yuan's expression didn't change, but his mind was razor-sharp.
He thinks I don't understand the gap? I live in it. I've clawed my way through it. That's why I haven't been crushed. That's why I'm still standing.
Lei Hanwu's tone dropped to a venomous whisper.
"And in this life… you'll never understand that yourself."
He took a step forward. Thunder rumbled low in the distance—though no clouds stirred above.
"So let me show you what it means… before you die."
Wu Yuan exhaled slowly, the ache in his bones mixing with something else. Something rising.
Resolve.
With a sharp breath, Lei Hanwu thrust his right hand forward—and suddenly, the lightning that had been dancing passively along his limbs converged.
Hundreds of fine sparks, previously scattered across his arms and torso like a loose garment, now rushed inward, spiraling toward his right arm. The particles whirled faster, tighter, until they began to compress—coalescing with force and purpose.
Wu Yuan narrowed his eyes.
Something's changing.
This wasn't just passive reinforcement anymore. The lightning wasn't simply enhancing Lei Hanwu's speed or strength—it was taking shape.
Before, Lei Hanwu's lightning had behaved like a shroud, like a robe made of crackling energy. It had amplified his movements and reflexes, yes—but it had remained scattered, formless. Typical of a Level 7 Spirit Initiation Realm cultivator: able to attract qi particles from the surroundings, but not manipulate them into true form.
But now...
Those same particles were aligning.
They began to stretch and elongate from his hand, forging a jagged, ethereal blade of condensed lightning. The faint hum of energy deepened into a shrill resonance as the qi began vibrating at a different frequency—not natural lightning, but a technique-formed weapon.
Then Wu Yuan heard it—low, almost beneath hearing.
A chant.
Lei Hanwu's lips moved with deliberate rhythm, his eyes gleaming with condensed focus. The air around him trembled in response to the words, as though reality itself was listening.
"First Form—Lightning Blade Manifestation…"
It wasn't just brute strength now.
It was a battle technique.
"Now you'll see," Lei Hanwu said coldly, his voice crackling with static. "At the Spirit Initiation Realm, we don't just rely on the body. We command qi itself. This—" he raised the shimmering blade of lightning, which pulsed with deadly promise "—is what you'll never reach."
Wu Yuan's eyes flicked across the weapon. The blade itself wasn't solid, but the edge shimmered with lethal instability, like a storm barely held in shape. One wrong move and that energy would carve through flesh and bone alike.
So he's capable of this much already… not bad, Wu Yuan thought, his own breathing calm despite the rising pressure.
But don't mistake technique for invincibility. You're not the only one who's been hiding things.
Wu Yuan exhaled slowly.
The pain across his ribs, the tightness in his shoulders, the ache in his legs—he ignored it all. He had no room left for distraction. His eyes locked onto Lei Hanwu's lightning blade, but his focus sank inward.
He drew in a breath… and began to gather everything.
From every corner of his body—from the tips of his fingers to the base of his spine—he called forth every ounce of strength. Muscle, bone, blood, tendon. All of it. Not just raw force, but refined, tempered strength, honed through countless cycles of pain and recovery.
He clenched his right fist.
I can't attract qi particles like him. Not yet.
But I don't need to. My path… is different.
Lightning essence stirred—quiet at first, then building—from deep within the body it had slowly claimed through relentless cultivation. It was faint, subtle… but it was there. Not qi particles from the world, but something deeper—something forged inside him.
As his breathing slowed, his thoughts sharpened. He began to chant, not aloud, but in his heart.
Lightning Punch – First Form…
The technique. He had studied it, memorized it. Practiced the stances and the breathing methods. But never—not once—had he successfully executed it. He lacked the necessary qi.
But now—
He felt it.
As he concentrated on his right arm, the lightning essence within his muscles stirred.
It flowed toward his fist, guided not by qi control, but by sheer will and resonance. The pattern of the technique aligned with the rhythm of his tempered body. It was as if the essence had been waiting for this moment.
His fist began to thrum softly, veins glowing faintly under his skin.
It's moving…
I'm using the lightning essence directly—without qi particles.
So it really can be substituted!
A flicker of astonishment crossed his face, quickly followed by a determined grin.
This… this changes everything.
It was still crude. The control was far from perfect. But it worked.
His first true Lightning Punch—not powered by external qi, but by the internal, tempered lightning essence buried in his flesh—was taking form.
Others borrowed power from the world. He was forging it within.
And with it, Wu Yuan's confidence soared.
He looked up at Lei Hanwu again.
His fist clenched tighter.
"You wanted to show me the difference between Body Tempering and Spirit Initiation," Wu Yuan said quietly.
"You showed me qi. Now I'll show you lightning made flesh."