Chapter 40: Clash of Qi and Will
Wu Yuan said nothing at first, letting Lei Hanwu's arrogance spill like bile into the silence. But beneath that still expression, his mind was razor-sharp—dissecting every word, every movement, every subtle cue.
His gaze shifted, unblinking.
Left foot slightly forward—too aggressive, exposing the rear. Right shoulder dips just a fraction each time he speaks—likely the dominant hand, or maybe a past injury throwing off his balance.
His qi surges unevenly, Wu Yuan noted. Explosive and fast… but unrefined. His raw power might be above mine, but his rhythm—there's a delay. His body moves with a delay, reacting only after his mind finishes the command.
That alone told him volumes. Lei Hanwu fought like someone used to overwhelming force, not precision.
He mentally compared the man's stance to Wu Cheng's structured discipline or the fluid grace of Lightning Punch. Lei Hanwu was thunder—loud, powerful, chaotic. But thunder always came after the flash.
He's betting everything on brute strength. On level difference alone.
Wu Yuan's lips curved into a quiet smile, eyes rising to meet Lei Hanwu's gaze without fear.
Then let him.
Because if he slipped even once— I'll bury him beneath the weight of that arrogance.
"So you were hiding your strength all along…" Lei Hanwu narrowed his eyes, voice laced with suspicion. "But how did you manage to reach the peak of the Body Tempering Realm in such a short time?"
There was a probing edge to his tone, clearly fishing for clues. He couldn't accurately gauge Wu Yuan's level—something about it didn't sit right.
Wu Yuan said nothing. He simply smiled.
That quiet smirk, too calm for the moment, triggered a flicker of realization in Lei Hanwu's mind.
"So that's it…" Lei Hanwu muttered grimly, his eyes narrowing. "All this time, the Wu Clan was hiding you. Faking your condition. Pretending you were weak, while training you in secret."
His voice carried a twisted mix of accusation and admiration, like someone uncovering a conspiracy far deeper than he'd expected.
The Wu Clan's image—a fallen genius lost in slumber, pitied and forgotten—had been a clever, deliberate lie.
But Wu Yuan didn't bother to correct him.
Let him think what he wants. Misunderstandings could be far more useful than truth.
Wu Yuan moved first.
A sudden step forward, wind curling around his footwork like threads of silk. His right fist came up, coiled tight, then snapped forward like a released spring. Lei Hanwu tilted his head just enough for the punch to whistle past his ear—but Wu Yuan had already turned, spinning into a backfist with his left.
Clang!
The sound of flesh striking lightning-forged defense echoed like metal on metal.
Lei Hanwu didn't even budge.
"Tch." Wu Yuan twisted away as a retaliatory palm shot toward his ribs. He barely brought his forearm up in time to deflect it, but the sheer force still sent him skidding back three steps, boots carving shallow trenches into the forest floor.
Too much force. I'm still not used to this new strength.
Wu Yuan clenched his jaw. My stance breaks too easily when I overextend. My center of gravity isn't stable yet.
This was the drawback of a rapid breakthrough. His power had surged forward like a flood—but his control, his foundation, was still playing catch-up.
It felt like piloting a war beast with reins meant for a cart horse. The slightest overstep, and his stance would crack open like dry earth under weight.
But he didn't stop.
He darted low, his leg sweeping toward Lei Hanwu's ankles—but it was a feint. In the same breath, he shifted his weight and launched upward, elbow rising toward the underside of Lei Hanwu's chin.
Lei Hanwu smirked, leaned back, and caught Wu Yuan's elbow with an open palm. "Predictable."
But Wu Yuan's smirk mirrored his. "Wasn't aiming for you."
A sudden burst of power surged through his heel as he stomped the ground, causing the soil to explode upward in a burst of dust and pebbles, temporarily blinding his opponent.
He was learning on the fly. Every exchange sharpened the edges of his newly risen strength, sanding down the instability in his core.
The way Lei Hanwu parried—overcommitted, sharp, linear. The way his back foot always dragged a hair slower after shifting his hips. Weaknesses disguised as habits. Wu Yuan didn't need to overpower him—he needed to outthink him.
Read. Adjust. Disrupt.
The elbow was a test, not a strike. The dust, a distraction—yes—but also a probe to measure Lei Hanwu's reaction speed in limited vision.
He reacts fast, but not smart. Good.
Lei Hanwu cursed, stepping back with a flick of his sleeve to clear the air—but Wu Yuan was already there again, launching a palm thrust toward his solar plexus.
This time Lei Hanwu grunted as he blocked it—and actually slid half a step back.
He wasn't laughing anymore.
Wu Yuan saw it—the shift behind those narrowed eyes. A flicker of caution. The first ember of uncertainty.
That half-step back? It wasn't just to clear dust. It was instinct.
That hit landed. Not full power… but enough.
Even a glancing strike like that revealed more than words ever could.
Lei Hanwu was beginning to understand.
This wasn't the half-dead brat from Wu City's rumor mill. This wasn't some sheltered heir playing at recovery.
This was a cultivator who'd sharpened in silence. Who'd adapted to weakness by mastering every detail of movement, breath, and intent.
Wu Yuan's heart pounded with excitement beneath his calm expression.
I see now. Spirit Initiation or not, he's relying too much on raw strength. He's not used to opponents who adapt mid-fight. He's not used to people like me.
But that moment of satisfaction faded quickly. Lei Hanwu's expression darkened.
"Enough games, you pest."
With a sudden burst of speed, Lei Hanwu lunged forward—this time, something was different.
Crack. Sizzle.
Tiny arcs of lightning danced across his clenched fists, crawling up his forearms like living serpents made of pure energy. The air itself vibrated with a high-pitched hiss, as if unwilling to touch him.
Wu Yuan's eyes widened slightly.
The shift was subtle at first—barely perceptible.
A thin crackle in the air. A prickling heat crawling across Wu Yuan's skin. The scent of ozone, faint but sharp, like the sky before a summer storm.
Lightning qi…?
It wasn't just ordinary qi anymore. He could see it now—actual lightning particles clinging to Lei Hanwu's skin, pulled in from the surrounding environment like iron shavings drawn to a magnet.
His body shimmered with a pale electric glow, faint but deadly. The static charge was not so dense but still it made the fine hairs on Wu Yuan's arms rise instinctively.
"So this is what real elemental affinity looks like."
This was no technique. No external talisman or flashy showmanship.
Lei Hanwu had already begun fusing his body with the essence of lightning itself. His skin crackled with raw power, and faint trails of white-blue sparks fell behind every movement he made—traces of a Spirit Initiation Realm cultivator who'd begun to harmonize with natural qi particles.
Wu Yuan tightened his fists.
I've read about this… but to see it in person…
In the manuals passed down through the Wu Clan, elemental body tempering was considered a rare accomplishment—something only a handful could achieve, even at the peak of the Spirit Initiation Realm. Most cultivators, even those praised as prodigies, could at best attract a few scattered elemental particles—and only while meditating in high-density qi environments, like elemental springs or deep caverns attuned to their affinity.
But to do it mid-battle?
To draw lightning qi from the open air, during combat, and mold it into a second skin?
Still, even with all that, Lei Hanwu moved like someone who had never truly struggled.
He hit hard because he always did. He expected things to fall because they always had.
That made him dangerous. But it also made him readable.
Wu Yuan narrowed his eyes.
I can't block this head-on. Not unless I want my bones to crack. But… it's not perfect. His skin may be tougher, but he still needs to move, still needs to breathe—and every flash of lightning shifts his balance just a little.
He took a deep breath, heart pounding.
"Fine. Let's test just how far that lightning can carry you."
Wu Yuan's instincts screamed.
He barely crossed his arms in time.The glowing fist collided with his guard like a bolt of heaven's wrath. The impact erupted in a shockwave, snapping low branches and rippling through the trees like a violent gust.
Too fast. Too heavy.
Wu Yuan's body reacted before thought could fully form—arms locking, breath bracing, knees coiling to absorb.
The blow sent agony screaming through his bones, but his feet held. He felt the impact ripple outward—through ribs, spine, into the soil beneath him.
The tree caught him like a parent catching a falling child—brutally, but enough to stop the momentum.
He slid down the bark, teeth grit against the ringing in his skull.
Dust settled.
For a moment, silence.
Then—
Cough.
He straightened slowly, one foot digging into the ground to stop his next stumble. His arms throbbed, and there was a faint sizzling sensation under the skin—his arms spasming from the residual lightning.
That was something else entirely.
His gaze lifted, sharper now.
Arcs of pale blue light danced lazily across Lei Hanwu's forearms, crackling with a rhythm that matched his heartbeat. Wu Yuan exhaled slowly, his breath steady even as his chest protested.
So this is what separates the outer-circle prodigies from the clan's core heirs...
He's tempered his body with lightning qi, Wu Yuan realized, eyes narrowing. That's rare—even in the Spirit Initiation Realm. His qi isn't just coating his fists. It's inside his skin, laced into his muscles, humming with each movement.
The sparks weren't for show. They disrupted energy flow. With every clash, they sought to overload, to numb, to paralyze. It was like being hit by a storm wrapped in flesh.
Still...
He looked down at his arms. Bruised. Trembling.
But not broken.
The pain burned, but it kept him grounded—reminding him he was alive, still learning, still dangerous
He welcomed it—because every second he lasted, every blow he deflected, was a lesson he can't get anywhere.
I didn't get crushed. I blocked it. I'm surviving hits from a Level 7 Spirit Initiation Realm.
All that pain while cultivating… it wasn't wasted.Every hour under the Heaven-Eating Pulse Conduction Technique, every moment of refining body, every drop of blood coughed during silent training in the dead of night——they had all led to this.
A strange calm settled in his chest.
His knuckles cracked as he flexed his fingers, the pain anchoring his focus rather than fraying it. His stance firmed.
He raised his gaze, meeting Lei Hanwu's with steady eyes. A slow smile crept across his face.
"Is that all?"
Lei Hanwu's brow twitched.
The twitch was minor. Barely there.
But Wu Yuan caught it.
The first crack in his confidence. The moment he realized this wouldn't be over in a single strike.
And that meant one thing—
He could bleed.
The smirk he'd worn so confidently faltered for the first time.
Wu Yuan tilted his head slightly.
"That surprised you, didn't it?"
Lei Hanwu didn't answer—but his fists clenched tighter, qi flaring in short, unstable bursts.
Wu Yuan took a step forward. His eyes were calm, but sharp as broken glass.
"That was your best shot… and I'm still standing."
Lightning sparked again around Lei Hanwu's body—but it was less like a storm now. More like static on a blade.
Wu Yuan raised one hand, beckoning.
"Try again."