As Chrysanthemum Douluo finally prepared to get serious in midair, Yunchuan, strangely, still seemed completely calm. His tone was relaxed, almost casual.
"Elder Yueguan," he said, "I know you've been going easy on me. You've never really used your full strength."
"Given that," Yunchuan continued, "you must've realized my attacks weren't capable of hurting you. So don't you wonder—why did I keep wasting so much soul power on meaningless moves?"
Chrysanthemum Douluo raised an eyebrow. "Mm? Now that you mention it… Why?"
Yunchuan smiled faintly, then asked another seemingly unrelated question:
"Do you know how lightning is formed in nature?"
Before Yueguan could reply, Yunchuan went on—his tone like a scholar reciting from a textbook:
"Lightning is created when positive and negative charges between clouds, or between clouds and the ground, attract each other and generate friction with the surrounding atmosphere. This process rapidly overheats the air, causing it to expand and produce a loud sound—that's the thunder we hear. Thunder and lightning usually appear in the late afternoon or evening of summer, when rising warm air carries moisture upward to form cumulonimbus clouds. These storm clouds accumulate large amounts of charge… and when that charge is sufficient, it discharges as lightning."
Chrysanthemum Douluo blinked.
He understood every word—but somehow had no idea what was being said.
"…So what exactly are you trying to say?"
Yunchuan didn't answer directly.
Instead, his gaze shifted upwards.
Chrysanthemum Douluo tilted his head—instinctively following the line of sight.
And saw it.
At some point, the previously clear sky had grown dense and gray. Towering cumulonimbus clouds—thick, heavy with water—rolled across the sky like a tide.
"…Strange," Yueguan thought to himself. "Where did these storm clouds come from...?"
Yunchuan finally spoke again, voice distant and calm.
"This is a technique I developed through a flash of inspiration. In the past, I could only use it on naturally stormy days—artificially creating this condition cost too much soul power and wasn't worth it compared to its payoff."
"But for this test," he added with a smile, "I didn't mind spending more."
Up above, raindrops had begun to fall—light, scattered… but growing heavier by the second. And between the clouds, streaks of lightning began to dance.
⚡ BOOM!!! ⚡
The thunder cracked deep in the heavens.
Chrysanthemum Douluo's pupils shrank ever so slightly.
Even he—at the rank of Titled Douluo—felt a faint twinge watching this storm gather above him.
"This technique," Yunchuan said slowly, "I've named—Heaven's Wrath."
With that, a tiny orb of lightning flickered into existence in his palm—its crackling arcs flashing erratically across the sky-blue glow. He flicked his finger.
The orb soared skyward.
A silver streak—silent, clean.
The moment it pierced the cloud layer, the entire sky responded.
CRACK—!!!
Lightning roared.
Bolts like heavenly spears tore through the clouds, and their first target was the figure floating in the sky: Chrysanthemum Douluo!
⚡ Too fast. ⚡
Chrysanthemum Douluo's eyes widened—he didn't even think. His instincts screamed. That primal sense of death washed over him.
Without hesitation, he shouted:
"Seventh Soul Skill—Martial Soul True Body!"
All five black soul rings shone at once—and his body bloomed into his chrysanthemum form in an explosion of radiance.
But the thunder cared not.
The storm came crashing down.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOOM!!!
Bolts slammed into his defenses one after another, forcing him to zigzag erratically through the air to escape. Even with resistance skills active and a high cultivation base, these were no ordinary lightning bolts.
This was nature itself.
This was the fury of the clouds.
Lightning kept chasing his trail—relentless, like a judgment passed by heaven!
On the ground, Yunchuan watched it all, smiling softly.
'Passed.'
He'd forced Chrysanthemum Douluo to use his seventh soul skill—his Martial Soul True Body.
That was the condition for victory.
He exhaled, satisfied.
All the planning, all the mana spent… had all paid off.
'Heaven's Wrath' was no ordinary move. It required the right combination of environment and physics. Unless it was already raining, he had to create the storm.
And to do that?
He needed rising columns of heated air—needed convection.
That was why he'd been releasing wave after wave of flame-based soul skills earlier—not to hurt Yueguan, but to heat the atmosphere.
Sap the moisture.
Feed the sky.
And then? Once the rising moist air fed the clouds, cumulonimbus formed on their own—and lightning charged.
Without the perfect conditions, this technique was impossible.
And strangely? Chrysanthemum Douluo himself had unknowingly helped.
Those floral soul techniques of his? Full of moisture and cold.
All that assisted in deepening the condensation cloud mass—making the artificial storm easier to summon.
Yes—none of it could've worked without the flamboyant Douluo's help.
⚡ BOOM… RUMBLE… ⚡
But even that storm had its limits.
The last streak of lightning faded, the roll of thunder softened, and the thick cloud mass above began dissolving.
The rain lightened... then stopped.
The clouds grew pale… and vanished.
And in midair atop weakened soul rings, Chrysanthemum Douluo descended—his hair standing on end, robes scorched in places, skin faintly smoking, face blackened like a thunder-scorched gourd.
His elegant aura?
Completely gone.
The distinguished elder now looked like he'd been mugged by the weather.
And Yunchuan?
He bowed politely.
"Many thanks, Elder Yueguan, for going easy on me. Without your forbearance… I wouldn't have had the breathing room to prepare this move."
"..." Chrysanthemum Douluo took a long breath.
Then finally asked: "…What do you call that stunt?"
Yunchuan grinned.
"I named it Heaven's Wrath," he said. "The concept is simple: by inducing the formation of storm clouds through precise methods, I can then trigger a chain-reaction of atmospheric lightning and direct it downward at the target."
"If you hadn't been in the sky," he added, "it wouldn't have looked nearly so dramatic."
Yueguan clenched his teeth.
'Easy for you to say.'
He didn't have time to strategize up there! The moment lightning started raining down, any normal Titled Douluo would've been charred within seconds—he only escaped because decades of instinct took over.
And all of that, because this brat thought cooking up a storm for a test sounded fun.
Incredible.
Insufferable.
And maybe...
A little impressive.
(End of Chapter)