The forest was silent.
Too silent.
Lin Feng woke to the smell of smoke and the sound of the world trembling.
He sat upright, every instinct screaming. The embers of his campfire had long died, but the air crackled with Qi so dense it made the night shimmer.
The wind howled through the trees — and then stopped.
Even the insects went mute.
The pressure that followed wasn't natural.
It pressed down on his lungs, his bones, his soul.
This… Jin Jue's voice whispered in his mind, sharp and hushed.
This is power beyond your comprehension, mortal.
The stars above flared suddenly, as if Heaven itself had gasped — and then the sky tore open.
Two streaks of light shot across the heavens, colliding in a blinding explosion that turned night into day.
Lin Feng threw himself to the ground as the shockwave ripped through the forest. Trees bent like grass. Leaves ignited midair. The mountain ridge behind him split, rock cascading in thunderous roars.
When he dared to look up, he saw them.
Two figures, suspended in the sky.
One cloaked in crimson flame, the other shrouded in silver lightning.
Their presence alone warped the air around them — reality bending beneath their will.
Heavenly Stage combatants, Jin Jue breathed. Peak-level cultivators. Both beyond Core Manifestation…
Lin Feng's heart pounded. He'd heard of cultivators who could fly, but to stand upon the sky itself? To duel amidst the stars? It was like watching gods at war.
The man of flame struck first. His hand carved through the air, and a pillar of fire erupted from the heavens, roaring downward.
The lightning figure raised a hand — not in defense, but in contempt.
A single spark blossomed into a thousand arcs, weaving into a web that caught the inferno mid-descent.
The sky screamed.
Thunder shattered the clouds, and the flames split apart, raining down as meteors that set the horizon ablaze.
Lin Feng shielded his eyes, feeling heat sear his skin even from miles away.
Run, Mo Xuan growled. Now.
But he couldn't move.
He couldn't even breathe.
This was cultivation in its purest, rawest form — not philosophy, not alchemy, not sermons about enlightenment. This was dominion.
Power so immense it could rewrite nature itself.
The man of lightning spoke, his voice cutting through the chaos like a blade:
"You have crossed Heaven's decree, Flame Sovereign. Return the Celestial Core, or your soul will be erased."
The Flame Sovereign laughed — a terrible, resonant sound that set the sky aflame anew.
"Heaven's decree? I am Heaven's flame! Let it burn!"
His aura exploded outward. Mountains crumbled in the distance. Rivers boiled.
Lin Feng barely had time to react before a chunk of molten rock slammed into the forest nearby, scattering fiery debris across the clearing.
He rolled aside, coughing through smoke and ash.
Fool! Jin Jue barked. Do you wish to die watching gods? Move!
Lin Feng forced his trembling legs to move. He stumbled through the burning trees, smoke clawing at his lungs, vision blurring.
Each step was agony — every breath felt like swallowing knives.
And yet, even as he fled, his eyes kept darting upward, drawn to the apocalyptic duel above.
Lightning and fire intertwined, forming a storm that split the heavens apart. The clouds themselves screamed with light.
The two figures clashed again and again, each impact shaking the land.
BOOM!
BOOM!
BOOM!
Every strike was a world-ending calamity.
But then, something shifted.
The air changed — the kind of silence that only exists right before the end.
The Flame Sovereign raised his hand, gathering every ember in the sky into a single burning sphere — a miniature sun, pulsing with annihilation.
The lightning expert answered with a cold gesture, summoning a spear of pure stormlight that pulsed with divine runes.
"So be it," the lightning cultivator whispered.
"Burn, then perish."
They hurled their powers.
Light met light.
Heaven split in two.
For a heartbeat, the world ceased to exist.
The explosion that followed turned night to dawn.
Lin Feng was thrown backward, slamming into the ground so hard he saw stars. The earth around him cracked like shattered glass, trees uprooted, rocks turned to dust.
When the shockwave finally passed, everything was silent again.
Smoke blanketed the valley. Ash fell like snow.
And from above, a single silhouette descended — slowly, deliberately.
The lightning cultivator. His robes were torn, his left arm scorched, but his eyes burned with cold fire.
He landed amid the ruins, feet touching earth as lightly as falling feathers. His aura alone made the ground tremble.
Lin Feng froze where he lay, barely daring to breathe.
Don't move, Jin Jue whispered. He's still sensing for survivors.
The man's gaze swept the forest. The flames dimmed around him as if the world itself bowed in submission.
And then Lin Feng saw it — a flicker of movement behind the smoke.
A hand.
Burned, trembling, clawing its way out of the ashes.
The Flame Sovereign.
He was still alive.
"Impossible…" the lightning cultivator murmured.
The burned man rose, eyes glowing like molten gold.
Half his body was gone — but his Qi burned hotter than before.
"Heaven cannot erase flame," he said hoarsely. "Flame becomes Heaven."
The air rippled.
The world groaned.
He was about to self-detonate.
He's going to— Jin Jue began.
The rest was lost in the roar.
The Flame Sovereign's body erupted, releasing a blast of energy so violent it cracked reality itself.
Lin Feng didn't even hear the sound. One moment he was staring, and the next, he was flying — trees, dirt, and air swirling around him in chaotic fury.
He hit the ground miles away, sliding through mud and broken branches until everything went black.
When he woke, it was morning.
The forest was gone. Only ashes remained — gray dust stretching to the horizon.
He sat up slowly, body aching, head ringing. The Wandering Spirit Gourd hung from his belt, miraculously intact.
You're lucky, Jin Jue said quietly. Even a wisp of that explosion should have erased you from existence.
Luck? Lin Feng croaked. Feels more like punishment.
Mo Xuan's voice rumbled darkly.
You witnessed true cultivation. Remember that. Power isn't found in peace or prayer — it's taken through storms like that.
Lin Feng stared at the scarred sky.
Two faint streaks of light were still visible, vanishing toward the east.
He didn't know who they were. He didn't understand their power.
But in that moment, he made a promise to himself.
Someday, he would stand there too.
Not as a spectator.
Not as prey.
But as someone whose will could shake the heavens
He rose, brushing soot from his torn robe. The gourd at his waist pulsed faintly, a soft golden glow within.
"Looks like we've got a long way to go," he said softly.
The wind carried his words into the wasteland — a whisper that mingled with the dying embers of gods.
And far away, in the fading distance, thunder answered.