Chapter 33

  Adam and the trio stood quietly at the training plateau’s edge, the wind tugging at their robes as four figures descended from the sky on streaks of silvery light.

  Elder Guo touched down first, his long white beard fluttering as his feet met the stone with practiced grace. Just behind him landed Mu Qing Li, her robes pristine and her gaze steely. She was flanked by two young cultivators, both Foundation Establishment disciples, their crimson sashes marking them as core disciples of Crimson Peak.

  As the light faded, the two inner disciples stepped forward with respectful bows.

  “I am Lin Fan,” said the taller of the two, smiling with easy charm. “Welcome to Crimson Peak.”

  “And I am Meng Yao,” added the second with a polite nod. “We’ve heard quite a bit about you.”

  Xiaomei bowed back instinctively, followed by Xiaoyan and Aria with measured grace.

  Adam gave a short nod.

  Mu Qing Li, however, barely spared them a glance. Her eyes brushed past Adam with chilly disinterest, lingering instead on Lan Xiaoyan with the faintest flicker of curiosity—then drifting elsewhere.

  Adam raised an eyebrow.

  Elder Guo chuckled from the side, folding his arms behind his back.

  “Looks like you’ve already met my granddaughter,” he said, glancing toward Adam with a knowing grin.

  Adam scratched his cheek. “In a manner of speaking.”

  “Ha! Don’t worry about her too much. Qing Li’s always been the disciplined sort. Proud. Focused.”

  Mu Qing Li’s posture didn’t shift, but Adam could practically feel the silent glare she wasn’t giving him.

  Without further delay, Elder Guo unfurled a palm and summoned a gleaming, jade-inlaid flying sword from his spatial ring. With a single breath, he poured Qi into it—causing the sword to hum and expand, growing wide and long enough to carry all seven of them comfortably.

  “Come,” he said. “You’re among the lucky few.”

  The wind around them thickened with spiritual pressure.

  “You’re getting front-row seats to watch Sect Leader Han Wuqing break through to the Soul Transformation Realm.”

  Aria’s brows rose slightly. Xiaoyan’s eyes narrowed in thought. Xiaomei’s breath caught.

  Even Adam felt a quiet ripple of anticipation stir in his chest. A breakthrough like that… it wasn’t just a cultivation milestone. It was a shift in power, a storm behind a sealed door about to be unleashed.

  They boarded the sword in silence. Elder Guo stood at the front, robes billowing. Mu Qing Li stood near the back, arms crossed, gaze fixed on the distant mountains.

  As the sword rose into the sky with a pulse of Qi and cut across the clouds like a crimson arrow, one of the two disciples leaned in toward Adam with a conspiratorial smirk.

  “What’d you do to piss off Senior Sister like that?” he whispered.

  Adam sighed. “I gave a very bad first impression.”

  Lin Fan snorted. “Must’ve been really bad.”

  Meng Yao chuckled. “Senior Sister Mu’s known for her composure. You could light a spiritual beast on fire in front of her and she’d just adjust her robes and tell you to clean up the mess.”

  Lin Fan elbowed Adam gently. “Whatever you did… respect.”

  Adam shrugged. “Honestly, I think she’s holding back. She hasn’t tried to kill me yet.”

  They both laughed, drawing a sharp look from Mu Qing Li that quieted them instantly.

  Adam grinned anyway.

  He looked ahead—toward the towering peak where the sect leader’s tribulation would soon erupt.

  Whatever this breakthrough entailed, it wasn’t going to be ordinary.

  And in a world where even the mountains were bones of a dead god…

  Nothing ever was.

  The flying sword cut through layers of drifting cloud, the wind hissing past like a thousand whispering spirits.

  After a time, they began to descend.

  The landing site was a vast clearing nestled between jagged cliffs, surrounded by dense forest and untouched wilderness. No signs of civilization, no smoke, no road, no structure—just the occasional cry of a spirit beast echoing from the woods. The air here was unnaturally still, thick with spiritual energy, yet wild and untamed.

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  Adam looked around. “Remote,” he muttered.

  “No one within twenty miles,” Elder Guo confirmed. “Wouldn’t want a tribulation of this level flattening a village.”

  They stepped off the sword and joined the growing gathering.

  Five other flying swords and spiritual beasts had already landed in the clearing. A handful of cultivators—each radiating their own intense aura—stood in quiet formation.

  Peak Master Ying, graceful and composed, her sharp eyes scanning the skies.

  Peak Master Yao, burly and bearded, arms crossed with two enormous swords strapped to his back.

  Peak Master Lu, dressed in scholarly robes, sipping tea as if attending a garden party.

  Peak Master Lin, with eyes like ice and a hawk perched on her shoulder.

  And finally, Peak Master Ai, a solemn woman with prayer beads wrapped around her slender fingers, her presence quiet but vast.

  Each was accompanied by their own personal disciples—some composed, some anxious, some wide-eyed. It was a rare moment, after all. Few ever witnessed the ascension of a cultivator to the Soul Transformation realm.

  Adam stood among the others, eyes shifting between the various masters. The pressure here was almost overwhelming—these were not just strong cultivators, they were foundations of the Grand harmony Sect.

  He turned to Elder Guo, curiosity getting the better of him.

  “Master,” Adam said quietly, “how old is Sect Leader Han Wuqing?”

  Elder Guo chuckled, stroking his beard. “No one knows for sure. The sect leader’s never told us.”

  “But if you had to guess?” Adam pressed.

  The old man glanced toward the distant mountaintop, where swirling clouds gathered ominously. “More than five thousand, I’d say. Maybe older. That’s around how old His Highness Siegfried was when he first joined the sect.”

  Adam frowned slightly. “Wait... His Highness Siegfried was in the Nascent Soul Realm when he joined, right?”

  Elder Guo nodded. “Correct.”

  Adam’s brows furrowed. “Why would someone that powerful even join a sect?”

  The elder’s gaze softened. “Everyone has their reasons, Adam. Even those who seem untouchable from the outside.”

  There was something deeper in the way he said it. A trace of memory. Regret, maybe. Or awe.

  Adam didn’t press further.

  Instead, he looked toward the heart of the clearing—where the earth had been scorched into a perfect circle. In its center, a single stone platform awaited. Faint traces of a Tribulation Formation pulsed beneath the soil, and the clouds overhead rumbled with early signs of heaven’s wrath.

  Whatever was about to happen...

  It was going to shake the heavens themselves.

  Elder Guo glanced at the sky, sensing the shift in the spiritual pressure around them. The clouds above twisted like coiled serpents, flashes of silver flickering within.

  He raised his voice just enough for those nearby to hear.

  “Ten minutes,” he announced, “Prepare yourselves. It begins soon.”

  The atmosphere grew heavier. Even the beasts in the forest had gone silent. The very earth seemed to hold its breath.

  Adam took the chance, stepping closer to Elder Guo.

  “Master,” he asked in a hushed tone, “how do heavenly tribulations actually work?”

  Elder Guo looked at him for a moment, then gave a slight nod, his expression turning serious.

  “Heavenly tribulations,” he began, “are not just tests—they are judgment. When a cultivator attempts to surpass mortal limits, the heavens descend to challenge them. If they succeed, they rise. If they fail…” He trailed off, tapping his walking stick lightly on the ground. “They perish.”

  Adam’s eyes narrowed, already imagining the weight of such a moment.

  “There are four known types of heavenly lightning,” Elder Guo continued. “Yellow. Blue. White. And Red. Each is stronger than the last. According to sect records, yellow is rare already. Red… is more of a legend than a reality.”

  Adam blinked. “You’ve seen one?”

  The old man chuckled, then shook his head. “No, no. I’ve only ever seen yellow. That was during Peak Master Ai’s breakthrough to the Nascent Soul Realm. She was struck five times by yellow lightning.”

  Adam’s jaw twitched. “And she survived that?”

  “Barely,” Elder Guo said. “The land for ten miles around her was reduced to ash. That was decades ago, and the trees still haven’t regrown there.”

  He paused, letting the weight of that settle.

  “The lightning doesn’t strike randomly. It judges the talent, the foundation, the Dao heart of the cultivator. The more gifted you are… the more it will try to kill you.”

  Elder Guo’s grip tightened on his staff. “And if the sect leader fails…” He glanced at the distant mountain. “That lightning won’t stop until the earth beneath us is glass.”

  Adam swallowed, then asked, “So… what’s the highest number of strikes recorded?”

  “Seven,” Elder Guo replied. “No more has ever been recorded—at least not in our sect’s history.”

  Adam turned his gaze skyward again, watching the dark clouds churn as if something colossal stirred within them.

  He spoke again after a pause. “Then… this is our first time seeing a Soul Transformation tribulation?”

  Elder Guo nodded solemnly. “Indeed. His Highness Siegfried had his tribulation in a distant, isolated region. Circumstances… required it.”

  Adam thought about that for a moment but didn’t press further. He could tell there was more to the story, but now wasn’t the time.

  Instead, he joined the others in silence, as the sky above began to darken, and a distant rumble echoed like the breath of the heavens themselves.

  Ten minutes.

  And then the sky would fall.

  As the ten minutes passed, an unnatural silence fell over the isolated valley.

  Sect Leader Han Wuqing, who had been sitting in serene meditation, suddenly opened his eyes.

  His pupils reflected the heavens.

  Without a word, without a gesture, his body shimmered—and in the blink of an eye, he ascended.

  A streak of silver light flashed, and he vanished upward—so fast, it tore the clouds apart in his wake.

  "Did he just—" one disciple gasped.

  "Five thousand miles..." Elder Guo muttered, his voice trembling with disbelief. "He’s risen five thousand miles into the sky."

  Everyone looked up.

  Then it came.

  Darkness.

  A dome of pitch-black night fell upon the land, stretching 2000 miles in every direction, swallowing the sun and stars alike. No light pierced the void. The air grew heavy, time seemed to slow, and for a breathless instant, it felt like the heavens themselves were holding still.

  From the heart of the darkness, the sky churned like an ocean.

  A hum filled the air—deep, primordial, like the universe drawing breath.

  And then…

  It descended.

  Lightning—not the forked lashes of a thunderstorm, but divine light—cascaded through the clouds, forming patterns older than language. The sky screamed as raw power bent to one will.

  The clouds split apart—and something emerged from the center.

  Something impossibly large.

  A hand.

  A hand of blue lightning, so vast that the colossal sea serpents that he saw would look like ants beside it. Its fingers alone stretched for hundreds of miles, glowing with divine fury.

  And then the rest of it followed.

  A giant, a celestial giant, one thousand miles tall, formed entirely of crackling, sky-blue lightning, stepped out of the roiling stormclouds.

  Its body pulsed with runes carved by lightning itself, each step echoing like thunder in the hearts of those below. Its eyes glowed with judgment. No anger. No hatred.

  Only authority.

  Divine judgment.

  It looked upon Sect Leader Han Wuqing like a god beholds a mortal.

  The giant raised its arm slowly, conjuring within its palm a bolt of pure blue lightning—concentrated power that made even the Peak Masters instinctively raise protective barriers.

  The bolt was not thrown—it was pronounced, like a verdict.

  And then—

  It hurled it.

  The blue lightning streaked across the heavens, tearing the sky in two. And Sect Leader Han Wuqing—

  He didn’t dodge.

  He didn’t flee.

  He stood his ground, channeling every ounce of his cultivation, body, and soul into resistance. A sphere of golden Qi burst to life around him as he raised both arms.

  And then the bolt struck.

  The world held its breath—then the blast hit. Even five thousand miles below, the ground lurched. A furnace-hot wind screamed across the clearing, tearing at robes and hair. Xiaomei staggered; Aria’s eyes flashed with reflexive light. For three heartbeats, no one dared blink against the afterimage burned into the sky.

  A detonation beyond comprehension bloomed in the sky—a sphere of annihilation 3,800 miles in radius, painted in sacred blue. The clouds were vaporized. The heavens screamed. The earth trembled.

  The entire world saw it.

  From distant empires to the depths of the oceans, all looked up and witnessed a second sun—a blue, wrathful sun that was not meant to warm, but to test.

  And below it all, on the ground, they stared in silence.

  Peak Masters who had seen the rise and fall of dynasties.

  Core Disciples trained for centuries.

  A dry heave sounded behind Adam. Lin Fan’s smirk had vanished, replaced by a pallor that made him look half-corpse. Even Peak Master Yao—a man who’d laughed off beheading—stood rigid, his knuckles bleeding where they gripped his swords.

  Elder Guo, his knuckles white around his staff.

  Mu Qing Li, her eyes wide for the first time.

  Mu Qing Li’s hand spasmed once, then again, before she forced it to still around her sword hilt. Her lips parted, a breath away from a word she’d never admit to voicing: awe

  Adam’s breath locked in his throat. His fingers twitched—not from fear, but from something deeper, something that recognized the Giant’s judgment as kin to the abyss he’d once seen. For the first time since crawling from the cave, he felt the weight of true

  divinity… and it made his bones ache.

  “…So this,” he whispered, voice raw, “is what it means to stand before heaven itself.”

  No one replied.

  Because in that moment, none of them were cultivators.

  They were just witnesses—watching the clash of giants above the sky.