Thundercrest Sect's thousand-year plaza had never been so quiet.
On the arena floor, Zhou Lie half-knelt in the ruins of his dignity.
His left knee pressed into shattered tiles. His right leg trembled, refusing to fully rise. One hand dug into the stone, fingernails scraping white marks into the rock. Blue-violet lightning skittered uncontrolled over his arms and shoulders, serpent arcs twisting as his Thunder Soul rioted.
Every breath sent needles of pain through cracked ribs. Every exhale tasted of copper.
No one moved to help him.
The disciples packed around the square—Thundercrest robe colors blazing like a field of storm clouds—stood frozen as if the slightest twitch might prove this nightmare to be real.
Across from Zhou Lie, a red spear spun once in lazy circles.
Murong Zi let the haft roll along her palm, the tip tracing a bright arc in the air. Then she stopped and settled the spear back onto her slender shoulder, as casually as if she were resting a broom.
She didn't raise her voice.
"That was disappointing," Murong Zi said.
Her words fell like stones into still water.
At first there was no sound at all. Then the murmurs started at the edges—disbelieving, angry, hoarse—but they died the moment her gaze passed over them.
She tilted her head slightly, ponytail swaying.
"You people call that 'Thunderclap'?" she continued, tone flat. "You can't even take a weak move of mine… and that's what you hang your title on?"
Her spear shifted, the tip angling toward Zhou Lie's half-kneeling figure.
"And you," she added. "You actually dared to see yourself as equal to Divine Phoenix Island?"
That last sentence bit deeper than any spear thrust.
Zhou Lie's cheeks flushed a furious red, but when he tried to stand, his leg refused to obey. Lightning that once had roared through his meridians like an unstoppable tide now knotted and snarled, sparks jumping erratically over his skin.
Around him, Thundercrest disciples clenched their fists until knuckles blanched. Some bit their lips hard enough to draw blood. Their Chosen—the man they had called "Thunderclap"—was on his knees. In front of a girl whose cultivation hadn't even stepped into Xiantian.
Humiliation crawled like fire ants under their skin.
But no one dared step onto the arena.
Even the Extreme Xiantian elders at the edge of the ring, men who had cultivated for over a century, felt a faint chill prickle along their spines whenever Murong Zi's eyes brushed their direction. It wasn't just her spear. It was the memory of the earlier clash still imprinted on their senses—the way thunder had gone silent for a heartbeat when she struck, the way Zhou Lie's Thunder Soul had almost exploded.
On the high platform, Lei Jingtian's fingers tightened on the carved armrest of his seat.
His knuckles cracked faintly.
Thundercrest's Sect Master, Sovereign of a fourth-grade sect, late Revolving Core expert who commanded thunder over an entire mountain range—his eyes grew colder and colder as he stared down at his Chosen's sorry figure.
Before he could open his mouth, Murong Zi moved her spear again.
"You're all too arrogant," she said softly.
The words weren't loud. They didn't need to be.
"You waved your fourth-grade signboard and assumed we would give you greater respect," she went on.
She flicked her spear toward Zhou Lie like one might gesture at a broken tool.
"This," Murong Zi said, "is the result."
Silence pressed on the mountain.
On Thundercrest's viewing platform, Lei Mubai's face darkened a shade deeper.
The demonic aura he kept coiled around his core—always carefully suppressed, always hidden in this righteous sect—stirred like a chained beast that had just been kicked.
Lei Mubai.
Limitless Envoy of Thundercrest Sect.
Saint Son of South Sea Demon Region's Netherworld Demon Mountain.
Bearer of the replicated Forsaken Blood Halberd, inheritor of ancient demonic methods that traced back to the Netherworld Great Emperor himself.
He was not a man accustomed to being ignored.
He had come to Thundercrest because their interests aligned. Because Thundercrest had thunder origins he wanted, and because their leaders were greedy enough to listen when he whispered about "common enemies."
Divine Phoenix Island, sitting alone above the South Horizon Region like a proud flame, was supposed to be a stepping stone. A ladder rung. Something to use, then discard, as he and his Great Desolate Blood Halberd climbed higher.
To be ignored by that stepping stone was irritating.
To be looked down on… in front of Thundercrest's elders… in front of Thundercrest's disciples… on Thundercrest's own mountain…
His lips twisted.
"Mere girl," he thought coldly. "You really don't understand your place."
He rose.
"Murong girl," Lei Mubai said, voice dropping like ice water across the square, "your words are too vicious."
He stepped off the platform.
The arena floor wasn't that far, but the space between seemed to stretch as he walked. With each step, the air thickened. Blood essence surged around him, stained a dark, almost black red by the ancient Devil Tome cultivation art he had walked into the South Sea Demon Region for.
Thunder, once clean and bright, mixed into that blood.
Soft crackling sounds—chi chi chi—echoed across the plaza, as if a storm were striking the surface of a black sea. Tiny lightning arcs crawled in his pupils, licking at the edges of his vision.
He didn't simply drop down.
He floated.
As his boots touched the arena, a halberd appeared in his hand in a burst of bloody light.
The Forsaken Blood Halberd replica roared.
Even as a lower-grade replication of the Great Desolate Blood Halberd, its killing intent was intense enough to choke the throat. The blade was a saturated, sticky red, as if it had been steeped in blood day and night for a hundred thousand years. Faint, twisted symbols crawled along its edge, devil runes drinking in the ambient thunder.
Lightning ran along the halberd's shaft like living snakes. Each crackle of purple light sent a faint tremor through the hearts of Thundercrest disciples.
Many of them felt their spines soften.
Several found their heads lowering on their own, bodies wanting to bow toward the halberd rather than the man.
Murong Zi watched.
Her gaze slid from halberd to man and back again. She took in the dark mark between his brows, the pale skin that never seemed to see the sun, the demonic aura wrapped in Thundercrest's thunder patterns.
Then she laughed.
Short. Sharp.
"You too?" she said. "You people really like taking turns, don't you?"
She shifted her spear slightly on her shoulder, expression completely unhurried.
"Who are you again?" Murong Zi asked. "I heard someone mention a 'Limitless genius' earlier."
Her eyes narrowed, as if trying to see the title written on his forehead.
"Whatever titles you stack on your head," she said lightly, shrugging, "they won't change the result."
Lei Mubai's gaze frosted over.
His smile disappeared entirely, leaving only the narrow, cold lines of a young man who had long since grown used to holding other people's lives in his hands.
"Murong Zi," he said slowly. "You are strong. For a Houtian junior to defeat Zhou Lie so easily…"
He glanced at Zhou Lie's kneeling form without emotion.
"…this Lei Mubai admits you have some ability."
He lifted the halberd.
Blood essence erupted.
It spilled out of him like an opened sea, thick and viscous, rolling across the arena until the world around him turned red. The stone tiles beneath his feet cracked in spiderweb patterns, crimson mist flooding into the crevices.
Thundercrest Sect's neat, symmetrical thunder formation lines were swallowed one by one. Lightning that had for centuries obeyed Lei Jingtian's commands now tinged red, soaked by the invading blood field.
"But to humiliate my Thundercrest Sect again and again," Lei Mubai said quietly, voice dropping to a growl, "and to dare look down on me with such a tone…"
The halberd's blade hummed, hungry.
"I cannot tolerate it."
Above him, the Thunder Soul phantom flared.
The dim clouds brightened; lightning rolled. Thin threads of thunder peeled away from the mountain's phantom and sank into the bloody domain, fusing demon and thunder into an unnatural, twisted storm.
Murong Zi's brows rose a fraction.
"That's his limit?" she thought, amused.
Before Lei Mubai could move, she shifted her weight slightly.
On her back, hidden beneath robe and cloth, something turned.
The lotus opened.
It wasn't a visible phantom that anyone could easily see. It was a shift in how Heaven and earth treated her. To ordinary eyes, Murong Zi's back remained bare; to any expert capable of sensing Dao lines, a dark-rainbow lotus bloomed between her shoulder blades.
Its petals were ink-dark, edges lined with faint bands of blood-red, thunder-violet, dusk-gold. Grandmist seeped from it, that primordial mist from before the world truly divided into Laws—heavy, ancient, oppressive.
Space around her thickened.
The light between breaths seemed to curve, bending subtly toward the lotus, as if the plaza was remembering an older Heaven that had existed long before Thundercrest carved its thunder formation into these stones.
The mountain groaned.
Thunder in the clouds stuttered. Lightning threads that had been leaning toward Lei Mubai's domain paused, quivered… then arced away, drawn toward Murong Zi like iron filings toward a magnet.
At the same time, behind Murong Zi's shoulders, a red-gold rune-wheel slowly turned.
Her Fire Martial Intent awakened.
Flames from every source responded.
The heat of blood in veins. The friction in thunder arcs. The faint lamps burning along the plaza's edges. Even the ember warmth in the bodies of onlookers—all of it was dragged into that rune-wheel's domain and compressed.
Within that wheel, flame wasn't just "burning." It was refined into something sharper, more dominant, a higher order of Fire Law that scorched every lesser flame into obedience.
Deep in her dantian, three seeds pulsed together.
Fire. Spear. Wind. Thunder.
The Fire Seed ignited her true essence, making every strand more eager, more aggressive. The Thunder Seed charged it, lending volatility and impact. The Wind Seed carved away waste, forcing her power to take the shortest, cleanest path through her meridians.
Her true essence chose the most ruthless routes.
Within three hundred feet, every spark of thunder felt a single command:
Submit.
The pressure fell like a descending sky.
Thundercrest disciples buckled.
One after another, their knees hit the ground.
"Wh—what…!?"
"My true essence… it's being suppressed…!"
"I… I can't breathe…"
Even some Xiantian elders found their shoulders rounding slightly, spines instinctively bending under the weight. The thunder Laws they had relied on their entire lives shuddered, tripped, then froze like lesser beasts before a predator.
Lei Mubai's body jolted.
His Blood Sea domain trembled. The rolling red mist around him faltered, fighting against that foreign Heaven pressing down. The Thunder Soul's lightning, which had flowed so smoothly into his field just moments ago, now resisted, dragged sideways by an invisible lotus imprint.
His knees—
—touched stone.
Just for a heartbeat.
Soft, almost inaudible.
But it was there.
For a Thundercrest genius, for the Saint Son of a fifth-grade demonic sect, for the so-called "Limitless" to kneel on Thundercrest's own arena before a girl from Divine Phoenix Island—
Something inside Lei Mubai snapped.
"Me?" he thought, face burning an ugly mix of red and pale white. "Kneel? To a Houtian junior?"
Rage flooded him.
He roared, demonic aura surging so violently that blood veins bulged across his forearms. By sheer will and madness, he forced his own body upright, straining his meridians until thin lines of blood oozed from his pores.
"You…!"
He bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood and spat that blood essence directly onto the Forsaken Blood Halberd replica.
The halberd howled.
The already blood-soaked blade seemed to drink deeply. The blood sea around him boiled, waves surging higher. Thunder crashed as purple lightning fused with crimson waves, birthing bolts that were no longer pure thunder, but mutated "blood thunder."
The world turned red.
"Blood War Throughout the World!"
The halberd slashed down.
The bloody sea exploded outward, rising as a storm. The arena tiles shattered under the pressure, cracks racing in all directions. Stone fragments twisted into the air, caught and pulled into the bloody vortex that now towered over the square.
Within that storm, thunder roared. Demonic Laws coiled—Blood Prison, Blood Thunder, echoes of the ancient Devil Tome's halberd arts—interweaving with Thundercrest's authentic thunder techniques in a distorted, murderous field.
At the edges of the crowd, Thundercrest disciples' hearts pounded.
"Limitless… Limitless Lei Mubai is serious…"
"This is True Essence… even an early Xiantian elder would…"
Lei Mubai's eyes locked onto Murong Zi like a beast that had chosen its prey.
"Murong Zi!" he bellowed. "This… is the gulf between you and me!"
The bloody storm lunged.
It rushed forward like an entire world of blood and thunder collapsing. Thunderclaps melded with screaming faces in the red mist. Each drop carried tearing, explosive force. The storm didn't just want to crush her body; it wanted to grind her soul into nothing.
Murong Zi… smiled.
"Gulf?" she scoffed, voice cutting across the roar. "You call this a gulf?"
Her spear shifted from her shoulder.
She still did not call upon the full, insane potential of the Heavenly Demon Lotus. The imprint on her back remained in its "Rudimentary Success," her foundations held back by Ren Ming's carefully carved limiters so her body wouldn't burn out.
She didn't tear open Heretical God Force to its ultimate limits.
There was no need.
But she did let the lotus' side channels widen.
Grandmist wrapped tighter around her true essence, giving her power weight and inevitability. Fire, Spear, Wind, and Thunder harmonized, their characteristics bleeding together.
True essence passed the Fire Seed and grew more aggressive, eager to burn through obstacles.
It brushed the Thunder Seed and learned to break and leap.
It flowed past the Wind Seed and began to slip along the finest cracks in reality, seeking the most efficient path through the void.
Her Heaven-Piercing Elemental Canon hummed in her bones, circulation patterns aligning to a single, simple truth:
Do not waste distance.
Her spear thrust out.
This time, there was no illusion of weakness. No holding back for Thundercrest's pride.
Heaven-Piercing Martial Intent flashed to life.
From her heart, a strand of multicolored light extended into the world—thin, sharp, wrapped in violet thunder arcs and red-gold flame. A transparent wind halo spun around it, and grandmist clung to its surface like a shroud.
For an instant, a narrow tunnel existed between her will and Lei Mubai's heart.
The bloody storm crashed down from every direction.
The tunnel ignored it.
All the weight of Blood War Throughout the World. All the demonic Laws. All the thunder. It didn't matter. Heaven-Piercing Intent had chosen the shortest path and shaved away everything that was "extra."
Spear and storm met.
They didn't clash.
The spear line drew straight through the heart of the storm.
Blood that had been infused with countless demonic principles and thunder Laws suddenly lost its structure. The condensed killing intent and arts that Lei Mubai had accumulated over his short, genius life… simply unraveled.
The bloody domain collapsed into ordinary scarlet mist, torn aside as the spear rammed through its core.
Above, the Thunder Soul phantom shrieked silently.
The invisible edge of Murong Zi's strike cut across the Thunder Soul's structure, severing key threads that linked it to the mountain formation. Lightning ran wild along its storm body, sparks smashing into each other as the phantom lost control.
Cracks burst across its form.
Each crack spat lightning and fragments of thunder Law, raining down like dying stars over Thundercrest's sacred plaza.
On the arena floor, the Forsaken Blood Halberd replica met the spear.
Metal screamed.
Blood light and Fire essence slammed against each other. Thunder beat like a thousand drums. The shockwave pressed outward with such force that the barrier formations surrounding the arena flared to full brightness, chains of light straining to contain the clash.
For a heartbeat, it seemed the halberd would hold.
Then, almost imperceptibly, its shaft bent.
Not much. Barely the thickness of a hair.
But the Forsaken Blood Halberd replica had been forged to embody relentless slaughter. It was made from rare metals and demonic materials that should never warp so easily. That unnatural bend was like hearing a spine crack.
Fine fractures spiderwebbed along the halberd's shaft.
Its blood light flickered from deep crimson to a dull, sickly red.
Murong Zi's spear didn't stop.
The Heaven-Piercing force rushed past, tearing apart Lei Mubai's protective true essence as if it were wet paper.
Ribs broke under the impact.
Shoulder joints snapped from their sockets. Bones in his arm creaked and cracked, nerves shooting lances of pain into his mind. Lightning in his meridians backlashed; demonic blood essence rioted, crashing into his organs with all the subtlety of falling mountains.
Lei Mubai spat blood.
It wasn't bright red.
It was thick, almost black, laced with dissipating demonic prints—the blood essence he had just sacrificed turned into backlash.
His body flew like a broken doll.
He smashed into the arena barrier, the formation flaring wildly. Cracks spread across the barrier's surface; runes flickered on and off. Then he slid down, leaving a long red smear, finally collapsing in a twisted heap at the base.
The bloody storm didn't even get the dignity of fading slowly.
It simply vanished, shredded into nothing.
Silence closed in again.
Even the thunder above the mountains seemed to forget how to roar.
Murong Zi rolled her right shoulder once, feeling the faint tingle in her wrist.
"That was supposed to be the gulf?" she murmured.
Her lips curved faintly.
"You barely made my wrist tingle."
A hissed intake of breath ran through Thundercrest's ranks.
Even many Divine Phoenix elders, who had long since steeled themselves to Ren Ming's monstrous miracles, couldn't stop the cold air from slipping into their lungs.
"Just true essence…" one of them whispered, eyes wide. "She hasn't even set foot into Xiantian…"
Another elder's mouth twitched.
"No wonder Guest Ren Ming said, 'Let them cause chaos first, then we'll decide if they need help,'" he muttered under his breath. "With this kind of foundation… to them, our so-called enemies are just tempering stones."
On the high platform, Lei Jingtian's face had gone completely ashen.
Zhou Lie, Thundercrest's proud Chosen, crushed to his knees.
Lei Mubai—their bridge to South Sea Demon Region, the quasi-saint talent they had flattered and supported—broken in a single exchange. His halberd nearly fractured. His Thunder Soul almost shattered under a junior's spear.
In front of the entire sect.
"In front of the entire region," Lei Jingtian corrected himself grimly.
On the fringes of the crowd, disciples from allied sects pressed communication jade to their lips, fingers flickering with transmissions. Message talismans flew off the mountain like startled birds. In a matter of hours, rumors would spread through the Five Element Region and beyond.
Thundercrest Sect's thousand-year prestige bled into the air like the scent of fresh blood on snow.
Lei Jingtian felt his heart pound with a mix of fury and a deeper, colder fear.
He stood.
"Enough."
Thunder answered his word.
This time, it wasn't the mountain's formation groaning or the Thunder Soul phantom shrieking.
It came from him.
Arcs of electricity burst from Lei Jingtian's body as he stepped into the air. In a flash, he descended onto the arena, landing in front of Murong Zi with his sword already drawn.
His robes whipped around him, threaded with seven-star patterns that crackled with thunder origin energy. Late Revolving Core true essence surged from his dantian, pressing down like a mountain. Thunder-origin Sword Intent coiled around his blade, each arc a condensed thread of thunder Law honed over decades.
"Murong Zi," Lei Jingtian said quietly.
His voice wasn't loud, but it carried an endless, suffocating killing intent.
"You have come to my Thundercrest Sect, heavily injured my sect's Chosen and core disciple, and humiliated us again and again."
His gaze narrowed, pupils like sword edges.
"This Sect Master originally planned to give Divine Phoenix Island face," he continued. "But your arrogance has gone too far. Today, this old man must discipline you on behalf of your elders."
Divine Phoenix elders exploded into motion.
True essence flared, crimson and icy blue and pure flame rising like a storm behind their seats.
"Lei Jingtian!" one of them shouted, eyes blazing. "You are a late Revolving Core master! To strike at a Houtian junior in public—do you not fear the ridicule of the world!?"
Lei Jingtian didn't bother to look back.
"In my Thundercrest Sect," he said coldly, "those who trample my sect's dignity—no matter their realm—must pay a price."
His gaze never left Murong Zi.
"As for ridicule," he added, voice dropping even lower, "tell me, Elder… after today, will anyone mock me more than they mock my sect for being humiliated by a few girls?"
The words cut like knives.
Divine Phoenix elders' faces tightened.
They all knew the truth: if they forced an all-out fight here, Divine Phoenix Island's war with Thundercrest Sect would erupt ahead of the martial meeting Ren Ming had planned. They had come for tempering, to display Divine Phoenix's new Dao to the region… not to drown Sky Spill in blood just yet.
But Murong Zi's relaxed posture, the lazy angle of her spear, the faint smile on her lips—
They remembered Ren Ming's calm, unshakable trust.
They remembered standing opposite these same Thundercrest elders in the past and feeling pressured by the gap. Now, without Ren moving a finger, one of his "junior disciples" had shattered that pressure in a single afternoon.
Murong Zi's spear twitched lightly on her shoulder.
Her lips curled.
"Old man," she said, eyes glittering with battle light. "You want to 'discipline' me?"
Lei Jingtian's aura exploded.
Thunder formation lines in the entire mountain range lit up one after another. Pathways hidden in stone and cloud responded, pouring their stored thunder origin energy toward him. The Thunder Soul above Thundercrest Sect flared fully awake, its storm body rolling wildly as rivers of lightning poured from the phantom into Lei Jingtian's sword.
For a moment, he did not look like a mere late Revolving Core master.
He looked like a thunder deity wearing human skin.
"Murong Zi," he said, voice booming now like the heavens. "Remember this sword. If you can take it…"
Lightning crawled along his blade, condensing into a single, blinding edge.
"…this Sect Master will let you leave intact."
Thunder Light Sword.
It was Thundercrest Sect's core sword art, the technique Lei Jingtian had used to become Sovereign. Thunder origin energy compressed along the blade until the surrounding air screamed, fine arcs of lightning carving tiny scars into the stone just by existing.
Disciples near the arena staggered back, faces pale, blood roiling.
"Murong—" Bai Jingyun began, taking half a step forward, eyes tight.
Murong Zi did not look back.
She breathed.
The Heavenly Demon Lotus on her back turned.
Dark-rainbow petals shifted, rotating to align with her right arm. For the first time in this battle, the lotus actively fed grandmist into her limb, saturating the meridians from shoulder to fingertip with an older, heavier Heaven.
Her Fire Seed, Spear concept, Wind and Thunder Seeds braided together.
Fire Martial Intent's rune-wheel blazed to full brightness, compressing every strand of flame within a thousand-foot radius into a higher state. Heaven-Piercing patterns traced themselves along her bones, carved there by Ren Ming's careful tutoring; each segment of her arm aligned like gears in a perfected array.
Her spear tip lowered.
Thunder roared.
Lei Jingtian sliced down.
A sword of pure thunder light tore through the air, spanning tens of feet. It carried refined thunder Laws, decades of Sword Intent, and the weight of Thundercrest's accumulated heritage.
Under that sword, the world paled.
Murong Zi stepped forward.
One step.
Heaven-Piercing Intent seized the world.
Again, the shortest path appeared—this time not between two hearts, but between her will and the very core of Lei Jingtian's thunder Dao.
For a heartbeat, the arena, the air, the lightning, even time itself seemed to slow.
To the watching crowd, all they saw was a single line of light.
Red-gold from compressed flames.
Violet from thunder.
Clear and almost invisible from wind.
All of it wrapped in a faint, dark halo of grandmist that made everything around it look dull and lifeless.
The spear thrust followed that line.
Thunder Light Sword met it.
The sound was like a world cracking.
Inside Lei Jingtian's perception, he saw something that should have been impossible.
Forty percent of his Sword Intent—decades of tempering—and forty percent of his thunder Law and protective true essence simply…
Vanished.
They weren't blown apart. They weren't reflected. They weren't devoured.
They were suppressed.
Forced back toward an origin state his cultivation had long since abandoned, pressed into a formless "before" by the grandmist-tinged Heaven-Piercing Intent.
The remaining sixty percent slammed into Murong Zi's spear.
And lost.
The spear burst through Thunder Light Sword, tearing apart its structure. Lightning scattered in chaotic arcs, slamming into the barrier formations, carving black scorch marks into the stone.
In Lei Jingtian's hand, the physical sword screamed.
Cracks raced down its length from tip to hilt. With a sharp, final snap, the blade broke into several large fragments, each fragment wrapped in dying thunder before falling to the tiles with dull, heavy clangs.
Murong Zi's spear did not pause.
It drove straight into Lei Jingtian's protective true essence.
The sound resembled a mountain collapsing into the sea.
His Revolving Core barrier—carefully tempered over a hundred years, layered with thunder Laws and strengthened by countless battles—tore like cloth.
Bones shattered under the impact.
His chest caved slightly inward; ribs splintered. Thunder in his meridians, ripped from Thunder Soul and mountain formations, rioted under the foreign Law wrapping his body. The grandmist-infected Heaven-Piercing Intent forced his thunder to remember that before it was thunder, it had been simple energy.
His dantian flared with sharp pain.
His Revolving Core trembled violently, axis wobbling as if someone had struck his life's foundation with a giant hammer.
Lei Jingtian spat blood.
His body flew backward like a fired cannonball, smashing through the arena barrier this time. The barrier formation groaned and cracked, runes dimming. He crashed into the stone steps leading up to the high platform, carving a long trench through rock before finally coming to a broken stop.
Silence.
Utter, absolute silence.
The thunder in the sky cut off mid-rumble, as if Heaven itself were staring in shock.
On the high platform, elders and guest experts stood frozen, faces blank.
A Houtian junior—a girl at that—had just blown away Thundercrest Sect's Sect Master.
A late Revolving Core master.
The leader of a fourth-grade sect.
Lei Jingtian lay there on the broken steps, chest heaving. Lightning flickered weakly around him, arcs short and unstable. His clothes were torn, purple robe ripped and smoking. Bones screamed in dozens of places. Only the deeply ingrained rotation of his Revolving Core kept his meridians from collapsing altogether.
The sword at his side was a pile of twisted, broken metal.
High above, the Thunder Soul phantom shuddered.
New cracks crawled along its storm body like spreading scars. Lightning dimmed further; its mighty roar turned into a low, aggrieved rumble, barely louder than distant thunder.
The great thunder formation above Thundercrest Sect flickered, losing nearly half its brightness in an instant.
Murong Zi's spear slowly lowered.
Her breathing was calm.
Her cheeks were faintly flushed—not from strain, but from the exhilaration of battle. The lotus on her back dimmed slightly as grandmist flow eased, Ren Ming's limiters quietly locking down excess power before it could overload her mid Houtian foundation.
For an instant, it felt as if the entire mountain range were bowing to the faint lotus imprint glowing along her spine.
No one spoke.
No one moved.
It was as if a deity had descended, delivered judgment, and left the world unsure whether it was allowed to make a sound.
Then—
A choked sob escaped someone's throat.
A disciple's legs gave out completely. He fell forward, slamming his forehead into the cracked stone as he knelt, eyes wide and unfocused.
"Th—the Sect Master…"
"An… Houtian…"
The words wouldn't come.
Because if they finished the sentence, they would have to admit it.
An Houtian girl from Divine Phoenix Island had defeated their Sect Master head-on, under the gaze of their Thunder Soul, in their own Thundercrest Sect.
All their thousand-year accumulation.
All their thunder prestige.
Shattered by the spear of a "junior."
On Divine Phoenix's side, even the elders who had watched Ren Ming condensed the Sun Bird felt their scalps tingle.
"This is…" one elder whispered hoarsely. "Is this truly still Houtian…?"