The world was silent.
Where the storm had once raged, there was only peace now — a strange, sacred calm. The night sky stretched endlessly above the shattered mountains, stars glittering faintly where the clouds had finally cleared.
At the center of the devastation, Lin Feng sat cross-legged on a half-buried boulder. His body was covered in shallow cuts, burns, and dried blood, but his breathing was slow and steady.
Golden sparks flickered around him, rising and fading like fireflies.
It's over… for now, he thought quietly. I actually killed a Core Formation cultivator.
Even thinking it felt unreal. The very idea was madness — a Foundation Realm cultivator killing a Core expert was something that belonged in myths, not in the world of men. And yet, here he was, alive, scarred… victorious.
He took a slow breath, guiding his spirit energy through his meridians. The flow was smoother, deeper — like rivers that had been cleared of debris. His dantian pulsed with newfound vitality. The chaotic lightning energy within him had settled, condensing into a stable core of golden light.
The storm within had become tranquil.
For the first time, he understood what true harmony with the lightning meant.
It's not just destruction, he realized. It's rhythm. Balance. Fury with control.
His aura began to expand again, not wildly as before, but in perfect synchronicity with the pulse of nature around him. His breathing grew slower, heavier, resonating with the thunder that still lingered faintly in the air.
Each inhale drew the remnant lightning from the surroundings into him.
Each exhale refined it into pure, dense qi.
Days passed like that.
The mountains healed. Grass began to grow again between the cracks, and birds returned to the quiet ridges. Lin Feng remained motionless, meditating beneath the open sky.
And then—
On the seventh day, his eyes opened.
A low rumble of thunder echoed through the horizon, answering his awakening. His aura surged outward, vast and steady, shaking the boulder beneath him. The lightning within his veins roared, no longer a storm out of control but a living symphony of power.
He stood slowly, flexing his fingers. His body felt different — lighter, sharper. His senses extended farther than before; he could hear the hum of electricity in the air, feel the faintest tremor of spiritual energy hundreds of meters away.
He jumped once, effortlessly landing on a higher cliff. The movement was smooth, almost weightless.
"So this is what it feels like…" he murmured, eyes wide with wonder. "As if the heavens themselves are holding me up."
He could feel every cell in his body vibrating in rhythm with the lightning. His energy channels were open, his bones infused with thunder essence. Even gravity felt… optional.
He took another step forward — and vanished in a blur of light.
The next instant, he appeared across the ridge, his movement followed by a streak of gold that carved through the air like a comet.
He laughed aloud, exhilarated. "Hah! Flying might still be far, but damn, this feels close enough!"
But that wasn't all. Deep within his dantian, something new stirred — a remnant of the battle, of that final clash with the Core Formation expert.
It was the rage of thunder itself — wild, primal, untamed.
He could feel it urging him to unleash it.
To shape it.
To turn destruction into a weapon of his own.
Closing his eyes, Lin Feng summoned his sword. Lightning gathered along the blade, flickering, hissing, unstable. He exhaled and began to move slowly, striking through the air with measured precision, channeling his understanding of lightning's rhythm.
Once. Twice. Again.
Every slash grew heavier, faster, sharper — until the mountain air itself split apart from the sheer pressure. The energy spiraled around him like a vortex.
Then — a sudden clarity bloomed in his mind, as though the heavens themselves whispered the name.
"Raged Thunder Strikes."
The words echoed through his core.
He swung his sword again, and this time—
the world shook.
A single arc of lightning erupted from his blade, splitting the air in a blinding flash. The strike tore a canyon through the mountain face, leaving molten stone in its wake. The sound arrived moments later — a thunderclap so loud it sent flocks of spirit birds scattering into the night.
Lin Feng lowered his weapon, awe flickering across his face.
"So this is… my creation?"
He looked at his sword, still humming with residual energy.
A smile spread slowly across his lips.
"Raged Thunder Strikes."
"A technique that carries the storm's fury but answers to my will."
He swung once more, the lightning bending around him instead of bursting outward — obedient, refined.
The once-untamed storm within him now served him completely.
For the first time since he began cultivating, Lin Feng felt absolute mastery over his element.
The sky grumbled faintly in response — as though the heavens themselves acknowledged his evolution.
He sheathed his sword, looking toward the horizon where the storm clouds had cleared. In the distance, a faint red glow flickered — the direction of the Scarlet Veil Sect.
Lin Feng's golden eyes narrowed.
"Enjoy your peace while it lasts," he whispered.
"Because when I come next… I'll be the storm itself."