Pain came before awareness.
It was not the sharp, fleeting pain of a strike, nor the dull ache of overtraining. It was something deeper—burning through flesh, gnawing at bone, tearing through meridians like a living thing searching for escape.
Noesin Cheon screamed.
His small body convulsed atop the cold stone platform, lightning bursting from his pores in jagged arcs. The suppression runes carved into the ground flared violently, cracking under the strain. Blood seeped from the corners of his mouth as his Qi spiraled out of control.
This was not training.
This was survival.
"Hold him down."
The command was merciless.
Two Noesin elders stepped forward without hesitation, their palms glowing with stabilizing Qi as they pressed Noesin Cheon's shoulders and back into the stone. The lightning resisted them violently, snapping like feral beasts against their forearms.
"He's exceeding the threshold again," one elder growled. "At this rate—"
"He will live," another snapped. "Or he will break."
Neither sounded apologetic.
Above them, storm clouds churned unnaturally fast, reacting to the chaos below.
Lord Noesin Jin stood at the edge of the platform, unmoving.
His face was carved from stone.
"Release the next seal," he said.
The elders stiffened.
"Patriarch," one said carefully, "he is only six. His meridians—"
"If they shatter," Lord Noesin Jin interrupted coldly, "I will rebuild them."
Silence fell.
The elders obeyed.
A hidden array beneath the platform activated, its ancient symbols glowing crimson. Instantly, the pressure suppressing Noesin Cheon's Qi lessened.
The lightning inside him howled.
Noesin Cheon's eyes snapped open.
They glowed faintly blue.
His scream cut off abruptly, replaced by a strangled gasp as the lightning surged inward, flooding his meridians with unbearable force. Every nerve in his body felt as if it were being flayed alive.
This was the Thunder Body threshold.
And it was not meant for children.
"Focus!" Lord Noesin Jin barked, his voice cracking through the storm. "If you let the lightning rule you, it will tear you apart from the inside."
Noesin Cheon shook violently.
"I—can't—!" he gasped, teeth chattering as blood dripped from his nose. "It's—too much—!"
"Then die," Lord Noesin Jin said.
The elders flinched.
Noesin Cheon froze.
The words struck deeper than the lightning ever could.
Lord Noesin Jin stepped forward, his presence crushing, absolute.
"Lightning is not mercy," he said. "It does not care for age, fear, or tears. It exists to judge. If you cannot endure it now, then you will die later—screaming beneath someone else's blade."
Noesin Cheon's fists clenched.
Something shifted.
The lightning inside him hesitated.
"You are my son," Lord Noesin Jin continued, his voice lowering, growing more dangerous. "The world will come for you. They will not hesitate. They will not pity you."
A pulse of aura rolled outward, rattling the mountains.
"So you will learn now."
Noesin Cheon sucked in a trembling breath.
The pain did not lessen.
But he stopped fighting it.
Instead, he endured.
The lightning surged through his meridians again—violent, scorching—but this time, it met resistance. His Qi, thin and fragile compared to the storm, wrapped itself around the lightning like chains forged from will.
Slowly.
Painfully.
The arcs of electricity beneath his skin stopped thrashing.
The elders stared.
"He's… stabilizing," one whispered.
Cracks spread across the stone platform.
Noesin Cheon screamed again—but this time, it was not from loss of control.
It was from transformation.
By nightfall, Noesin Cheon lay unconscious in a pool of his own blood.
His breathing was shallow. His meridians were swollen, torn in several places. Burns marked his arms, chest, and legs where lightning had escaped his body.
A normal child would have died ten times over.
Lord Noesin Jin knelt beside him, placing two fingers against Noesin Cheon's wrist.
A steady pulse answered.
Alive.
Barely.
"He crossed it," an elder said quietly. "The Thunder Body… incomplete, but real."
Lord Noesin Jin nodded.
"Seal him," he said.
A complex formation activated, wrapping Noesin Cheon in suppressive Qi that forced the lightning within him into dormancy.
As servants carried the child away, one elder hesitated.
"Patriarch," he said. "If Murim learns that a child has reached the Thunder Body—"
"They won't," Lord Noesin Jin replied.
His gaze had shifted again, toward the horizon.
Because the disturbance had grown stronger.
Three hundred li away, within a forest drenched in moonlight, blood soaked into the roots of ancient trees.
A squad of scouts lay scattered across the ground, their bodies twisted unnaturally. Some had collapsed without visible wounds, eyes wide in terror. Others bore marks of lightning burns—blackened flesh, shattered bones.
They had not even seen their killer.
At the center of the clearing stood a man in dark robes, his face obscured by a hood stitched with demonic sigils. He crouched beside one corpse, pressing two fingers against its neck.
"Residual lightning Qi," he murmured. "Pure. Dominant."
He stood slowly.
"This is not the Stormwind Clan," he continued. "Too violent. Too absolute."
Another figure stepped forward, taller, his aura heavier.
"A Noesin remnant?" he asked.
The hooded man laughed softly.
"No," he said. "If it were a remnant, we would be dead."
He looked toward the distant mountains, eyes glinting red beneath the hood.
"This is a heartbeat," he said. "A child's."
Silence fell.
"A child…?" the taller man repeated.
"Yes," the hooded man said. "And Murim will drown in blood because of him."
Back in the Mount Cheonroe, Lord Noesin Jin stood before the ancestral altar.
Lightning danced around the ancient stone tablets bearing the names of past patriarchs. Each one had died violently. None had reached old age.
He placed his palm against the central tablet.
"I feel them," he said quietly. "The righteous sects are restless. The demons are watching."
The air grew heavier.
"They are coming," he continued. "Not today. Not tomorrow. But soon."
Behind him, the shadows shifted.
Six figures emerged, kneeling in perfect unison.
The Six Storm Guardians.
Each of them radiated terrifying pressure, their Lightning Bodies fully awakened. Any one of them could annihilate a sect alone.
"Protect the heir," Lord Noesin Jin commanded. "At all costs."
"Yes, Patriarch," they answered.
"If the barriers fall," he added, "you are to escort him to the Pung Clan."
A pause.
"Even if I die."
The storm roared.
That night, Noesin Cheon dreamed.
He stood alone in an endless sea of clouds. Lightning crawled across the sky like veins across flesh.
In the distance, countless figures knelt—some in reverence, others in terror.
Then the clouds split.
A massive crimson eye opened in the heavens.
It looked directly at him.
Little storm, a voice echoed, neither male nor female.
Why do you exist?
Noesin Cheon tried to answer.
Lightning burst from his chest.
He woke screaming.
The suppression seals shattered.
Outside, the sky lit up in a violent flash of thunder.
Lord Noesin Jin's eyes snapped open.
The storm had answered.
And Murim had been warned.
End of Chapter 2