The storm hadn't ended.
Thunder rolled endlessly across the horizon, as if the heavens were reliving the chaos that had just erupted. Amid the fractured cliffs and scorched stones, a faint golden shimmer pulsed—hidden beneath the debris of a collapsed ridge.
Beneath that rubble, half-conscious and bleeding, Lin Feng stirred. His chest rose shallowly, breath rattling with pain. The golden gourd at his waist had cracked, its light flickering weakly like a dying ember.
For a long while, there was only silence. Then, through the haze of agony, Lin Feng's eyes opened—faint sparks of lightning flickering within.
"Still alive… hah."
His voice was hoarse, but there was a crooked smile on his lips. "Guess the heavens still owe me a few drinks."
He tried to move but pain lanced through his body, forcing him still. His meridians screamed; his dantian burned like molten fire. The residual aura from the Core Formation expert's attack hadn't faded—it was invading him, pressing against his spiritual core, tearing through his channels like a raging tide.
Any other cultivator would have perished under that pressure.
But Lin Feng's body was no longer ordinary.
The lightning that had once nearly killed him… now shielded him.
Tiny arcs of gold danced across his skin, merging with the crimson essence left by the Scarlet expert. The two forces clashed within him—heavenly lightning against demonic fire—each trying to devour the other. The storm within his body mirrored the one raging above.
So this… is Core Formation energy, Lin Feng thought faintly. So vast… so pure…
He could feel the power pressing down on him, threatening to crush his consciousness. His instincts screamed to resist—but his intuition whispered something else.
Absorb it.
He gritted his teeth. "To hell with hesitation."
Lin Feng drew in a breath and guided his battered qi toward his core. The alien energy surged like a flood, burning through his meridians. His body convulsed, lightning erupting from every pore. Rocks around him shattered, arcs of gold and red tearing through the air.
His veins glowed, his skin cracked with light, and his soul trembled on the edge of collapse.
Then—
Something inside him broke.
And something greater replaced it.
A deafening boom echoed through the ridge as the sky split apart. Lightning speared down, striking Lin Feng directly. Instead of killing him, the bolt vanished into his body, swallowed whole by his newly awakened core.
The ground quaked, and for a brief instant, the storm bowed to him.
A pillar of golden light shot into the clouds, marking his ascent.
Lin Feng's aura expanded wildly—uncontrolled, raw, terrifying.
"Breakthrough…" he whispered, eyes wide. "I… actually broke through?"
He could feel it—his spiritual sea deeper, his qi flowing faster, his control sharper. He had unknowingly stepped into the next realm, his foundation strengthened by the fusion of lightning and the Scarlet expert's residual power.
The Eighth Realm of the Foundation Path—the threshold before Core Formation.
But the cost was severe. His muscles trembled, spirit exhausted, body on the brink of collapse. The lightning subsided, and he slumped back against the shattered rock, panting heavily.
"Didn't expect to live through that," he muttered, closing his eyes. "Guess luck's my real cultivation technique."
High above, storm clouds thinned—revealing a full blood-red moon. Its light bathed the mountain in eerie silence. But somewhere far beyond, that same Core Formation expert had halted mid-air, his expression darkening.
He felt it—
That sudden surge of power, that foreign lightning pulse that dared to challenge his presence.
"Impossible…" he hissed. "That brat's aura—he broke through?!"
Rage twisted his face. His killing intent surged, spreading across miles like a suffocating mist.
"You think a single breakthrough will save you?" he growled. "I'll crush you before you take your next breath."
He vanished into a streak of crimson light, tearing through the clouds in pursuit.
Meanwhile, far below, Lin Feng forced himself upright, his golden eyes burning once again with life. His wounds were severe, but his spirit blazed fiercer than ever. The taste of breakthrough lingered on his tongue—like lightning mixed with blood.
He gazed toward the heavens, chuckling weakly.
"Come on then, old man. Let's see if you can catch the storm you started."
His hand tightened around the cracked gourd at his side. Lightning gathered once more around his palm, wild and unpredictable.
Somewhere deep within the mountain's heart, the faint hum of an ancient formation responded to his energy—something vast, something sleeping.
And as the thunder rolled across the night, the Wandering Spirit rose again—ready to turn pursuit into legend.