The lightning line did not explode.
It flowed.
It slid from the sky into Heavenpiercer like bright water, clean and cold and heavy. The sword did not shake. The blade did not scream. It accepted the lightning like it had been waiting for it.
And then the lightning did not stop at the sword.
It touched Qi Shan Wei's hand.
It tasted his blood.
It tested his bones.
The crowd outside the dome held their breath, because they all knew this part.
Lightning loved to burn.
Lightning loved to punish.
Lightning loved to kill.
But Qi Shan Wei did not flinch.
His face stayed calm. His eyes stayed steady. His breath stayed even.
The lightning moved up his arm.
It reached his shoulder.
It tried to enter his meridians like a wild beast forcing its way into a cage.
And Qi Shan Wei made one small movement.
He tightened his grip on Heavenpiercer.
That was all.
But inside that grip was his will.
A ruler's will.
A builder's will.
A will that did not beg heaven for power.
A will that told heaven where power was allowed to go.
The lightning hesitated.
For one heartbeat, it felt like the sky itself paused.
Then the lightning slid into his meridians anyway—only now it did not feel like an invasion.
It felt like a path being placed inside him.
A path that the lightning itself respected.
Above the dome, the sky-ring turned again, slow and cold, like a lock choosing a new setting.
The hunting lightning spear trembled.
The words it had written before still hovered in the air like scars.
FIRST RULE: LIGHTNING HUNTS THOUGHT.SECOND RULE: LIGHTNING PUNISHES PANIC.THIRD RULE: LIGHTNING RESPECTS CLARITY.
Now the air brightened near the spear, like it wanted to write a fourth rule.
But it did not write yet.
It watched.
As the lightning moved deeper into Qi Shan Wei, a strange shape formed inside his chest.
Not a simple core.
Not a pill.
Not a technique.
It felt like a small crown made of thunder.
A seed.
A seed of authority.
The Silent Bell envoy's face changed again. He looked like someone who had just seen a mountain stand up and start walking.
"That is… a Thunder Crown Seed," he said, voice tight. "A first breath of Primordial Lightning Authority."
A Court elder snapped, trying to sound brave. "Authority is Court-approved! This is illegal!"
The envoy's eyes cut toward the elder. "Illegal?" he repeated softly. "You think the sky cares about your law?"
The elder's mouth opened, but no words came out.
Because the hunting lightning spear twitched again, and the elder's mind flashed with a quick thought.
Stop him.
Lightning struck.
Not down.
Sideways.
A thin bolt snapped through the air and kissed the elder's forehead.
The elder froze, eyes wide.
Then he fell out of the air like a broken puppet.
The crowd screamed.
The sky did not care who was Court.
It only cared who could survive the rules.
Inside the dome, Qi Shan Wei's eyes did not change.
He did not smile.
He did not show victory.
He simply accepted reality the way an emperor accepts rain.
Zhen's voice came out calm and blunt. "Observation: the sky is deleting disobedient thoughts in real time."
Drakonix's cracked cocoon gave a low, unhappy sound. "Sky… bossy…"
Qi Shan Wei did not answer with humor.
He looked at Elder Tian Lei.
Elder Tian Lei still did not speak.
But the lightning line around Heavenpiercer tightened, like a leash becoming real.
Then it sank again—deeper—into Qi Shan Wei's body.
His meridians lit up one by one, like thin lines of gold mixed with bright white.
Some cultivators outside the dome cried out just from seeing it.
Because that light did not look like "lightning cultivation."
It looked like lightning agreeing to become part of a person.
The Silent Bell envoy stepped forward quickly, as if he knew time was about to run out.
"Court Elders," he called, voice sharp now, no longer soft. "The Monastery's emergency law is active."
The remaining Court elders turned, angry and afraid. "You dare command the Court?"
The envoy raised his hand, and the bell on his chest rang once—clear, sharp, and final.
A thin line of silver law appeared in the air, like a sealed scroll opening by itself.
It wrote one sentence.
If a World Elder chooses a target, the Court must obey.
The sentence glowed.
Then it burned into the air like a brand.
The Court elders went pale.
Outside the dome, people gasped. Some sect leaders whispered, "That law is real…" Others whispered, "It can only be used when time is at risk…"
One Court elder tried to resist. "We do not answer to—"
The bell rang again.
The elder's words died in his throat.
Not because the envoy attacked him.
Because the law itself forced silence.
The envoy's eyes were cold. "You are not being punished by me," he said. "You are being held still so you do not break the realm."
A Court elder's lips trembled. "Then what do we do?"
The envoy looked straight at Qi Shan Wei. "You do what the sky is doing," he said. "You select. You follow the rules. And you stop touching the Six Consort Threads like greedy hands."
At the mention of the threads, the air above the Court platform shivered.
The Time-Debt Ledger line still floated there, thin and bright, like a wound that refused to close.
The words PAY ONE THREAD still existed, faded but not gone.
And the Frost Thread—Ling Xueyao's thread—trembled again, like it could feel the sky watching it.
Ling Xueyao's breath tightened.
Her Lunar Frost Domain was locked for now, but her heart still felt that invisible hook.
It was not just fear.
It was a warning.
The bell wanted payment.
And the bell had tasted her thread already.
Qi Shan Wei felt it too.
The lightning inside him moved again, and it made his senses sharper.
He could feel lines in the air.
Not only the Frost Thread.
All six.
He could feel their pull like quiet strings tied to his heart.
The court platform held them like trophies.
But now the trophies were shaking.
Because the sky was near.
Because time was shaking.
Because someone had stolen Bell-Wax and used it to bait heaven.
Qi Shan Wei's voice stayed calm. "The Thousand Masks Pavilion," he said. "They are not the true hand."
The envoy's gaze flicked to the shadows beyond the dome. "No," he admitted. "They were used."
Outside the dome, the Pavilion watchers were no longer calm.
They were trained to look calm.
But now their contracts were failing.
Now the sky was reading their thoughts.
Now lightning was punishing panic.
Two masked watchers backed away from the fallen Bell-Wax coin.
Their hands were shaking.
One whispered, "We were promised 'kill without karmic debt.'"
The other whispered, "That clause is turning into a death sentence."
A third watcher stepped forward, voice low and angry. "Who put Bell-Wax in our hands?"
No one answered.
Then one of them thought something dangerous.
We should silence the others.
Lightning flickered.
Not striking yet.
But leaning toward them like a hungry animal.
The watcher froze.
Their breathing broke.
Panic rose.
Lightning struck.
The mask exploded into powder, and the watcher collapsed.
The remaining Pavilion members stumbled back.
And then they did the one thing their organization hated most.
They turned on each other.
One grabbed another by the robe. "Tell me who hired us!"
"I don't know!"
"Liar!"
A blade flashed.
Then lightning flashed too.
Because panic was punishment.
Fear spread through the Pavilion watchers like fire in dry grass.
Some fled.
Some tried to hide.
Some tried to erase their own memories.
But the sky did not care.
It hunted thought.
And the Pavilion's entire life was built on hidden thought.
Inside the dome, Zhen's eyes lit brighter.
His mind moved faster than before, like someone had poured storm-light into his head.
He lifted both hands.
Thin lines of light appeared in the air around him—dozens, then hundreds—like a map being drawn too fast for human eyes.
"Thunder-Path Map constructing," he said, blunt and steady.
A Court elder stared. "That's impossible. Lightning has no map."
Zhen replied without emotion. "Correction: lightning has many maps. Humans cannot see them because they die too early."
Drakonix hissed weakly from the cocoon. "Rude… but true…"
Zhen did not react. He simply kept drawing.
The lines in the air did not look pretty.
They looked strict.
They looked like rules.
Then Zhen paused.
He turned his head slightly, like a hunter listening to a leaf fall.
"Next strike is not based on current thoughts," he said.
The crowd outside the dome did not understand.
Even the Court elders did not understand.
Qi Shan Wei understood.
His golden eyes narrowed slightly. "It will strike based on the thought that is about to be born," he said.
Zhen nodded once. "Confirmed."
That sentence made the air feel colder.
How could anyone defend against lightning that moved before a thought even formed?
The Silent Bell envoy whispered, "This is why most cultivators die just witnessing a convergence."
Ling Xueyao swallowed hard. "Then how do we survive?"
Qi Shan Wei's voice stayed calm. "We do not fight the sky," he said. "We become stable enough that the sky has nothing to punish."
That sounded simple.
But it was not easy.
Stability was harder than strength.
Then the dome shook slightly.
Not from an attack.
From the cocoon.
Drakonix's prismatic cocoon cracked wider, and a full wing pushed out—bright, sharp, and layered with colors that did not look like normal fire.
The wing trembled, then spread.
When it spread, prismatic flame fell like feathers.
Those flame-feathers touched the air.
And the air burned.
Not like wood burns.
Like words burn.
A contract word appeared near the dome—leftover ink from the Pavilion's clause, still trying to crawl back into the world.
CLEAN.
Drakonix's flame touched it.
The word screamed without sound.
Then it did not just vanish.
It left a scar.
A dark mark in the air, like a burned letter carved into the law itself.
The Silent Bell envoy's eyes widened. "He burned the word… behind the word," he whispered. "He scarred the contract law."
A Court elder breathed, "That should not be possible…"
Drakonix growled, pain and pride mixed together. "Stop… writing… on… my… world…"
Zhen spoke at the worst timing, in his flat voice. "Young lord has successfully vandalized contract law."
Drakonix snapped back, weak but fierce. "Good."
The humor did not last.
Because the hunting lightning spear above the dome leaned down again.
It aimed.
Not at the crowd.
Not at the Court.
Not at the Pavilion watchers.
It aimed at Qi Shan Wei.
The lightning leash tightened around Heavenpiercer.
It pulled.
Like it was testing if Qi Shan Wei would be dragged like a servant.
Qi Shan Wei did not move.
He let the leash pull.
He let it test.
Then he held it still.
Not with force.
With control.
The Thunder Crown Seed in his chest pulsed once.
The lightning line stopped pulling.
The spear hesitated, as if it had just met something it did not expect.
Elder Tian Lei's eyes watched everything.
And for the first time, he spoke.
His voice was quiet.
But it hit the realm like a hammer.
"Good."
One word.
That was all.
But it was enough to make the Court elders tremble.
Enough to make sect leaders outside the dome stare like children seeing a god nod.
Enough to make the Silent Bell envoy's throat tighten, like he had been waiting for that word for a thousand years.
Then Elder Tian Lei lifted his finger again.
The sky-ring above the realm turned faster.
Lightning began to move in strange ways, twisting around invisible points, like it was shaping a new rule.
The hunting spear brightened until it hurt to look at it.
Qi Shan Wei's Thunder Crown Seed pulsed again.
His meridians accepted more lightning.
His body did not burn.
It tempered.
His bones felt heavier.
His senses felt clearer.
He could hear the movement of the sky like distant drums.
He could feel the threads above the platform like strings on an instrument.
And he could feel the bell—far away—like a giant thing walking closer.
The Silent Bell envoy's eyes narrowed. "He is pushing the selection," he whispered.
A Court elder whispered back, "Selection of what?"
The envoy did not answer right away.
Because the air began to write again.
A new sentence formed.
Slow.
Cruel.
Clear.
FOURTH RULE: ONLY ONE MAY WALK BETWEEN STRIKES.
The words burned into everyone's mind like ice.
Only one.
That meant the path between lightning flashes could belong to only one person.
Only one could move where time was thin.
Only one could take the leash and not die.
The crowd outside the dome broke into terrified whispers.
"So if someone else tries…"
"They die."
"Or they get erased."
Ling Xueyao's breath caught.
Her eyes flicked toward Qi Shan Wei.
Then upward, toward the Frost Thread.
Because she understood the danger.
If the sky chose only one to walk between strikes, the sky might take payment from everyone else.
The bell might strike harder.
The court might try to cut threads faster.
The Pavilion might panic and do something stupid.
Everything was about to get worse.
Zhen's voice came out calm, but fast. "Prediction update: selection rule will create conflict. Probability of forced sacrifice increased."
Drakonix's wing trembled, and his flame rose, angry and protective. "No… sacrifice…"
Qi Shan Wei stayed calm.
He lifted Heavenpiercer slightly.
The lightning leash tightened again.
And this time, it did not feel like a test.
It felt like a demand.
Choose.
Accept.
Or be erased.
Qi Shan Wei's golden eyes sharpened to a single point.
He did not look at the Court elders.
He did not look at the crowd.
He did not look at the sky-ring.
He looked straight at Elder Tian Lei.
And he spoke one simple line, quiet but heavy.
"I will walk."
The moment he said it, the hunting lightning spear moved.
It dropped.
Not like a strike.
Like a crown being placed.
The spear's tip stopped a hair away from Qi Shan Wei's forehead.
The entire realm froze.
Even the bell-sound seemed to hold its breath.
Then the spear touched him.
Just barely.
A bright mark formed on Qi Shan Wei's brow for one heartbeat—thin, sharp, and shaped like a lightning line inside a circle.
A Thunder Crown brand.
The crowd screamed.
The Court elders went pale.
The Silent Bell envoy whispered, "It marked him…"
Ling Xueyao's throat tightened. "Shan Wei…"
Qi Shan Wei did not flinch.
He did not smile.
He stood like an emperor wearing a dangerous crown.
And the moment the brand appeared, the words in the air changed.
They added a second line under the fourth rule.
IF ONE IS CHOSEN… THE OTHERS MUST PAY.
The Frost Thread trembled violently.
Like the bell was laughing.
Like time was hungry.
And then the realm shook again—not from lightning—
But from the far-off bell.
A deep ring rolled through the sky like a giant heart beating once.
The Time-Debt Ledger line brightened.
PAYMENT WINDOW OPEN.
Qi Shan Wei's calm gaze turned colder.
Because now he understood.
This was not only selection.
This was a trap.
A trap that used heaven to force payment.
A trap that tried to cut his bonds.
A trap that tried to make him walk alone.
And he would not allow it.
To be Continued
© Kishtika., 2025
All rights reserved.