Song Taiyi stood beneath the boiling heavens, his gaze fixed on the gathering storm clouds. Lightning danced in the depths of the roiling darkness, yet his expression remained as calm as still water.
The first rumble echoed across the sky, and just as the first thunderbolt was about to descend, Taiyi's aura shifted.
In a blink, he transformed.
Gone was the restrained presence of a ruler. Now he stood like an unshakable mountain, rooted in the earth, immovable against the coming storm. A tide of power burst forth from him — a sharp, dangerous edge, like a sword finally drawn from its scabbard.
An invisible barrier flared to life around him. It was compressed to the very limit, so dense that not a single thread of his aura leaked out. Then, as if answering some silent command, sword qi erupted from his body, scattering into countless tiny blades that hovered protectively in the air around him.
Only when all preparations were complete did Song Taiyi lower himself into the lotus position, his back straight, his breathing even. His gaze locked on the storm above, and this time, contempt glimmered openly in his eyes.
"I cannot fail," he murmured, the words carrying like a vow. His once-carefree expression hardened into steel.
His aura surged, chaotic and violent, yet the barriers he had erected held firm.
---
Far from the platform, the ethereal voice that governed the trial spoke, its tone laced with suspicion.
"What is he doing?"
The question was directed toward an old man — Taiyi's master — who stood beyond the platform's boundary. Even the master's usually placid features had grown grave.
"He wishes to rebuild his foundation," the old man replied, his voice heavy, "by first destroying his current one, then forging a new one from scratch."
The owner of the voice fell silent for a heartbeat, then spoke again, but with a tremor.
"That technique has been lost for countless years. The Ancient Emperor purged every trace of it, personally erasing all knowledge from the records. How could he possibly have obtained it? That man was meticulous — he would have left nothing behind."
The old man's eyes did not move from his disciple.
"Everyone has secrets. Best not to pry into what should remain unknown."
"Will he survive?" the voice pressed.
The old man exhaled slowly. "It is hard to say. Using the Sixty-Four Thunder Strikes, Forty-Nine Tribulation Swords, and Four Imperial Thunder Strikes is indeed the best method… but doing so in this way will double the tribulation at best — and at worst, triple it. That means he will face one hundred and twenty-eight thunder strikes, ninety-eight swords, and twelve imperial thunder strikes. If he had a ten percent chance of survival before, now he has less than one." His knuckles whitened on the head of his walking stick. "Haaah… the situation has already slipped beyond control. Let us hope he emerges alive."
With a single tap of his cane, an invisible ripple surged outward, forming a dome of isolation over the Emotion Severing Cliff. The barrier concealed the scene from prying eyes, yet the world still trembled beneath the weight of the storm. Thunder roared, clouds churned, and even gods far across the heavenly realm felt the oppressive might gathering above the cliff.
From a distance, celestial deities gazed at the ominous spectacle and sighed.
---
One day passed.
Then another half.
The sky above the cliff was still torn with lightning.
It was now the hundredth strike.
Song Taiyi's outer defenses had been completely annihilated, shards of shattered barriers scattering like dust into the wind. But his expression remained unchanged.
No defense was unbreakable. No fortress impregnable.
The thunder was merely the beginning.
The true danger lay ahead.
In this trial, the thunder stripped away impurities and eroded emotions, but the sword tribulation's true purpose was to sever attachments completely. For Taiyi, however, it would serve another, far riskier purpose — cutting away his spiritual root and foundation. Only by destroying the very core of his cultivation could he rebuild it into something greater.
But once the root was gone, his power would plummet, leaving him exposed to the final and deadliest challenge: the Imperial Thunder Tribulation.
---
Taiyi exhaled slowly, his eyes narrowing as the last of his shields fell. The oppressive weight of the storm shifted — the black thunderclouds dissipated into sudden, unnatural calm.
But calm skies hid deadly intent.
Sword qi began to bloom above the heavens, sharp and suffocating.
Taiyi rose to his feet, his gaze fixed on the forming tribulation. "Come," he called coldly. "No emotion will chain me. Today, I cut away all feeling and return to chaos. I am chaos. The unfettered Lord of Chaos. How could I be bound by emotion… or by a false spiritual root?"
His words, arrogant and unrestrained, rolled across the heavenly realm like a shockwave.
A ripple of fear spread among the gods who heard them.
Then the swords appeared.
---
One colossal blade, vast enough to split the sky, emerged first. Three other giant swords followed, each circling in slow, ominous arcs. Around them, ninety-four smaller swords materialised, locking into a massive, intricate formation.
Not even the heavens could hide the killing intent they exuded.
Yet Taiyi's face betrayed not an ounce of fear. He stood at the heart of the platform, staring back at the blades with open defiance.
The giant central sword shuddered as though provoked, and with a thunderous hum, the formation moved.
One by one, the smaller swords descended, each followed by another layer, two by two.
When they struck, Taiyi's body remained suspended in midair. Not a single visible wound appeared. But the tribulation was not meant to cut flesh.
This was a mental calamity.
Each blade carved away strands of emotion, hacking at the invisible threads binding him to joy, sorrow, rage, and love. At the same time, the swords severed the deep, ancient connection between Taiyi and his spiritual root.
The pain was beyond mortal comprehension. It was the tearing apart of one's soul, the unravelling of self.
Most cultivators would collapse into madness long before the process was complete.
Taiyi endured it willingly.
For him, this agony was a price he had already accepted — not for righteousness, nor for glory, but for the sake of a promise he had sworn to keep.
If not for the faint twitch in his features, one might believe he felt nothing at all.
---
When the three large swords descended, their combined force made his body shudder. Blood welled from his ears, nose, and mouth, dripping into the wind.
Then the final sword — the massive, sky-splitting blade — fell.
The world seemed to stop.
Taiyi's aura plummeted, his divine might crumbling until he was nothing more than a lower god.
And still… his eyes burned with the same resolve.