The storm had passed.
The sky was wide and empty, its quiet heavier than thunder. There were no clouds anymore, only streaks of crimson and silver tearing across the sky, like wounds the world itself could not heal.
In the courtyard below, the disciples stirred. Some clutched their chests, weeping softly. Others were on their knees with their foreheads to the stone, unable to stand. Even the elders, centuries-practiced, were pale and shaken.
Never in their lifetimes had they seen a tribulation fail.
Never had they seen Heaven itself recoil.
---
Li Xian entered.
His red wings shut slowly, their pulses scattering sparks throughout the ruined courtyard. His body was drenched in blood, his flesh cracked and giving off a faint glow from the lightning. Still, he stood upright, each step echoing like a war drum.
Next to him, Su Yao leaned against him. Her hair was burnt, her white robes tattered and barely draped over her scorched body. Yet her eyes blazed brighter than before, silver flames dancing in her eyes.
They didn't look so much like survivors as royalty.
---
Gasps broke the silence.
"That's impossible…"
"He should be ashes. She should be dust…"
"Yet they live."
The Sect Master was in the lead, his face as pale as parchment, his lips trembling. He had enjoyed unchallenged supremacy for a century, but at that moment, his knees nearly gave way.
"That power." he whispered. "Not even I would be able to withstand one blow of such wrath. What has he become?"
---
Zhao Feng staggered out of the darkness, his once-arrogant face twisted in shock and madness. His voice cracked.
"No, this cannot be! He was crippled! He was nothing! How can trash challenge Heaven itself?"
His bellow became a scream, tearing from his throat like an animal in a trap.
Li Xian's red eyes shifted to him. Cold. Amused.
"Still alive, Zhao Feng? Good. It will be sweeter when you kneel."
The words were soft, yet they hit harder than thunder. Zhao Feng's knees buckled, though pride kept him from falling completely.
For now.
---
The system's voice whispered in Li Xian's ear, faint as a dying fire being fanned back to life:
> [Tribulation survived.]
[Host ascended: Heaven-Defying Dual Core stage.]
[All witnesses marked: Fear, Desire, Obsession.]
Li Xian's lips curved up. Fear. Desire. Obsession. Perfect. These were the stuff of empires.
---
Among the disciples, one figure stood out.
Mei Ling.
She had not moved since the final blow, her dagger forgotten, her eyes fixed on him. Her breathing was ragged, her chest convulsing with each desperate intake of air. Blood still smeared her pale face, but her