"This thing is resistant," Shi Yang muttered, his body gliding aside as the cursed sword spun past like a rogue saw. "To think it can even cut through that vulture's threads… damn it, I underestimated this blade."
It was growing stronger—hungrier—each swing trying to shred him apart. The more he tried to suppress it, the fiercer its will became. Feeding it Qi only deepened its madness, creating a vicious cycle of devouring and resisting, their struggle feeding on itself.
"Within my spirit sea, thunder roars and lightning strikes. The wind howls like a wolf unchained. Clouds veil the night, swallowing sun and moon alike." His mantra steadied him, his voice carrying a calm resonance. For a breath, the weapon halted midair.
His index and middle fingers pinned its spine, his other hand closing on the hilt before it broke free of his chant. The blade quivered violently.
"Bind it!"
The vulture obeyed, threads of blood-red silk weaving around the sword.
"Rust. Rust. Rust."
The word cracked out between his teeth as rain lashed down in sheets. The storm raged harder, winds screaming, waves twisting into violent spirals. Currents churned beneath him, whirlpools forming like open maws in the sea.
Below, the fishing trawler groaned in the chaos. Men clung to rails, their faces pale, frozen in place—not by choice, but by something beyond their control. They couldn't steer, couldn't even scream, trapped between terror and awe as the ocean itself seemed to writhe.
Then the sword burst free once more. With a shriek of steel, it ripped through the threads and shot upward like a lightning bolt, faster than before.
Shi Yang's eyes narrowed. Save them, or chase it?
His decision came like thunder. Both.
"Go!"
The vulture tore after the blade, wings slicing rain, its blood-threads unraveling from the mortals below. The fishermen collapsed where they stood, released, while Shi Yang remained hovering in the storm, his gaze fixed not on them, nor the fleeing weapon—
—but on the ocean itself, black and endless, as though it were waiting for him to descend again.
His eyes closed, palms pressing together.
Within my spirit sea, thunder roars and lightning strikes. The wind howls like a wolf unchained. Clouds veil the night, swallowing sun and moon alike. No matter the time—day or night, tribulations or raging seas…
His aura shifted. The mantra took form, and his Dao began to move. Images rose and dissolved in his mind: rain slowing, clouds thinning, waves calming. The roar of thunder retreated to a distant murmur, replaced by the hush of a gentle breeze.
When his eyes opened, the sea reflected that change. The storm hadn't vanished, but it had bent. Rain softened to a steady drizzle. Waves, though restless, no longer clawed to capsize the trawler. The chaos had settled into something bearable.
The fishermen, pale and trembling, looked up at him. His body was faint—barely visible, as though not of this world—but the pale-blue aura wrapped around him shone clearly against the dark sky. It flickered like lightning, then steadied, serene.
A metallic chime echoed from the streamer's device, loud enough for all to hear. A donation message blared, robotic and clear:
"This… this guy's an Immortal! No mortal can do that!"
The words carried across the deck, piercing through the silence. The chat exploded on the unseen stream, lines racing faster than eyes could follow, though they understood the weight of what they'd just witnessed.
If what that chatter said was true, then the ghost in the sky might have been an Immortal Daoist master.
The men's eyes filled with awe. One by one, they dropped to their knees, pressing their foreheads to the slick wood of the deck.
"Master, thank you for saving us!"
"Daoist Immortal, please accept our gratitude!"
"Bless us, Immortal, we'll never forget this debt!"
Their voices overlapped, rough with salt and fear, yet sincere to the bone. In their hearts, they believed they had glimpsed the path of a higher being, and they could only kneel and pay their respects.
"You need not thank me," he murmured. The words pierced into their souls, yet none of them came from his lips. Instead, they echoed from the storm itself, as though the sea and sky had spoken for him.
The fishermen stiffened, wide-eyed, glancing at one another before raising their gaze again to the figure suspended above.
"I have no use for mortal gratitude," his voice drifted through the air, calm and unshakable. In the blink of an eye, he descended, landing upon the deck. The suddenness of it startled those nearest to him, forcing them back a step.
"I came here for one reason," Shi Yang continued, his tone flat, unbothered. "That purpose is half fulfilled. Now, I'll be taking my leave."
He seized the slain corpse of the undead, hefting it effortlessly over his shoulder. His eyes flicked once toward the horizon, where his vulture had pursued the cursed blade. Then, with a final flicker, his form vanished from the ship, leaving only the whisper of his presence in the sea breeze.
The trawler drifted in uneasy silence. Rain still fell, but the storm had lost its teeth—no longer a raging beast, only a tired growl. The fishermen remained on their knees, too shaken to rise. A few whispered prayers, others pressed their foreheads to the slick boards, all afraid to move as if the ghostly figure might return at any moment.
The corpse was gone. The vulture was gone. But the echo of Shi Yang's words clung to the air like incense smoke.
Up near the bow, the streamer stood rooted in place, his phone still clutched in white-knuckled hands. The lens was cracked, the screen smeared with salt and rain, but the red "LIVE" icon still glowed. His camera had caught everything—from the first scream, to the rusted sword's slaughter, to the Immortal who bent the storm itself.
His voice broke as he croaked into the mic.
"Chat… tell me you saw that too."
The flood of comments was blinding, lines racing too fast for the human eye to follow.
SkyHigh77: IMMORTAL!!!
Lotus_Eater_12: Daoist cultivator??
GhostHunter94: That wasn't human, bro.
ClipLordXD: I clipped it already, it's all over T-Tok and Ingram.
StreamStats_Bot: 10 million views in under half an hour…
Donations rolled in nonstop, robotic voices stuttering one after another until they blurred into a monotone hymn of awe.
"We witnessed an Immortal."
"Daoist Master, accept me as your disciple!"
"This proves it—cultivation is real!!"
The young man's hand shook so badly he almost dropped his phone again. "A-a million of you already watching live? No… Ten? Ten point three?!" His voice cracked, disbelief battling with terror.
Behind him, one fisherman rasped out, "An Immortal really saved us… we really saw him, didn't we?" Another clutched at his chest, tears cutting tracks down weathered cheeks. "Not a dream… this isn't a trick… he calmed the sea itself with a slight gesture."
The eldest among them sat down heavily on the wet deck, head bowed. "The stories are true. Immortals truly walk among us, hiding away from the world and only resurfacing when needed. I can't tell if we are blessed… or cursed." His words quivered, carrying more weight than any livestream donation.
And still the numbers climbed. The stream didn't just ripple outward—it tore across the world like a tidal wave. Clips flooded every platform, news anchors shouted over breaking footage, scholars and skeptics alike scrambled to explain the impossible.
But for the men who had felt the storm twist around them, who had heard his voice echo from the sky and sea, there was no debate. They had looked upon a Daoist Immortal with their own eyes.
And deep in their bones, they knew: the world would never return to what it was before tonight.