The bell stayed quiet.
That should have felt like relief.
Instead, it felt like a predator holding its breath.
Above the dome, the cracked sky did not heal. The hunting lightning slid across the clouds like a living eye, slow and patient, as if it was reading everyone's name without needing ink.
Outside the barrier, thousands of cultivators stood frozen. Nobody dared to shout now. Nobody dared to "test" the moment with courage.
Because the moment was testing them.
The Silent Bell envoy stared upward, and the small silver bell on his chest trembled like it wanted to rip itself off and run.
"This is wrong," he whispered.
A Court elder snapped, trying to sound strong. "Speak clearly."
The envoy did not look at the elder. His gaze stayed on the sky crack. "The Bell was scarred," he said. "So the heavens… moved their eyes."
The hunting lightning stopped again.
Right above the Court platform.
Right above Qi Shan Wei.
Then it split.
One line became three.
Three became seven.
They did not fall downward like normal lightning.
They hunted sideways.
They searched.
The dome shook as the first line touched the Court barrier, and the barrier screamed with a thin, glassy sound—like it was being judged for existing.
Zhen stepped forward at once. His voice was flat, but his speed was not.
"Imperial Shield Matrix: Fourth Layer."
The air thickened. A new shield pattern formed inside the dome, like overlapping petals made of hard light. The moving fortress tightened around Shan Wei, Ling Xueyao, and the cracked cocoon.
The hunting lightning touched the shield.
It did not explode.
It did not bounce.
It tried to decide.
The shield's runes flickered, as if the lightning was asking the formation a question.
Zhen's chest core flared crimson.
"Answer detected," Zhen said, calm. "Question: 'Who is allowed to remain?'"
A Court elder's face tightened. "Lightning does not ask questions."
The envoy's voice turned thin. "This lightning does."
A second hunting line moved away from Shan Wei.
It slid toward the Court elders.
The elders stiffened.
One of them lifted a defensive treasure, hands shaking.
The lightning did not hit the treasure.
It hit the elder's shadow.
The elder screamed once—then stopped screaming.
Not because he was brave.
Because the scream was gone.
His mouth stayed open, but the sound did not exist anymore.
His body turned gray, like ash that forgot it was once alive, and then the ash fell into nothing.
A hole remained where he had been.
A hole in the air.
A hole in the world.
Silence crashed into the crowd like a wave.
Someone outside the dome whispered, voice broken. "It erased him…"
Another whispered, "That wasn't a strike. That was a choice."
Ling Xueyao's fingers curled hard. Her breath came out in quick, cold puffs. The frozen law scars around her body flickered again, reacting to thunder like ice reacting to a blade.
The pressure on her Frost Thread returned for a heartbeat, as if the bell and the sky were pulling from opposite sides.
Qi Shan Wei did not flinch.
He lifted his hand slightly, and the prismatic bracelet formation on her wrist tightened in a soft, steady way.
Not a chain.
A promise.
His calm voice reached her through the thunder pressure. "Do not let it drag you."
Ling Xueyao's eyes shook, but she held herself upright like a sword refusing to bend. "I won't," she whispered.
A third hunting line slid across the dome and stopped above the trapped Thousand Masks assassin.
The assassin looked up.
For the first time, real fear flooded through the mask.
"We were promised no karmic debt," they rasped. "We were promised clean death."
The sky did not care.
The lightning touched the assassin's contract seal.
Drakonix's prismatic flame had already burned parts of it, but the lightning did something worse.
It did not burn it.
It read it.
The contract words in the air shook, then flipped like a page turning itself.
A hidden line appeared—thin and nasty.
PURCHASED BY: UNKNOWN.
The Thousand Masks watchers outside the dome went still.
Even masked faces can turn pale, somehow.
A woman with a white mask stepped back, voice sharp. "That line isn't ours."
Another watcher hissed, "Someone wrote over our paper."
The hunting lightning touched the assassin again.
This time, the mask cracked clean down the center.
Under it, the assassin's eyes rolled back.
Then their body collapsed.
Not dead.
Not alive.
Frozen mid-state, like time could not decide what to do with them.
The envoy swallowed. "Heaven is sorting the mess," he murmured. "And it is angry that the Bell was involved."
The dome shook again.
The bell's ledger above the Court platform flashed once, angry—like it hated being ignored.
Then, for the first time, the bell and the lightning overlapped.
A thin ringing sound mixed with a deep thunder pressure.
The air felt like it was being squeezed from two directions—past and sky.
Zhen's shield creaked.
Runes on his armor glowed hotter.
Zhen spoke, perfectly calm, perfectly blunt. "Update: both 'time' and 'sky' are attempting to claim authority over this location."
Inside the cocoon, Drakonix let out a rough, offended sound. "Mine…" he growled.
His cracked cocoon split wider.
A full prismatic wing spread out—still wet with light, still trembling, but undeniably real. The feathers were not normal feathers. They looked like layered flame-glass, each one holding a different color of law.
A sharp thunder edge flickered inside his fire now.
Not just flame.
Flame that learned how to bite lightning.
Drakonix's voice shook with pride and pain. "My… sky…"
Zhen glanced at the wing. "Observation: the young lord believes he owns weather."
Drakonix hissed. "I do."
Zhen replied without emotion. "Weather disagrees."
That tiny humor lasted half a breath.
Then the sky crack widened.
A deep thunder sound rolled across the realm, low and huge, like a sleeping giant turning over.
The Silent Bell envoy's eyes went wide.
"No," he whispered. "No, no…"
Qi Shan Wei finally turned his head slightly, looking at the envoy. "Explain."
The envoy's mouth was dry. "The Nine Cataclysm Convergences," he said. "World events. Ancient awakenings. They were not supposed to begin here."
A Court elder snapped, "You're speaking nonsense."
The envoy's voice tightened. "Lightning Convergence," he said. "Heaven-Rending Thunder Descent."
At those words, even the Court elders went stiff.
Because every old clan had stories.
Stories about lightning that hunts.
Stories about time stuttering inside thunder.
Stories about cultivators erased mid-thought.
Stories about a presence that is not an elder—
but a law wearing a body.
The hunting lightning shifted again.
This time, it did not search the crowd.
It searched the dome itself.
It traced Zhen's shield lines like fingers reading a map.
Then it stopped.
Directly over Qi Shan Wei's head.
The air brightened.
The lightning did not fall.
It hovered.
And the hovering felt like a stare.
Qi Shan Wei lifted Heavenpiercer slightly, not in attack, but in readiness.
His voice was calm and controlled, like an emperor speaking to a messenger. "If you have come, show yourself."
The hunting lightning pulsed.
The sky crack answered.
A silhouette appeared for one blink—standing inside the lightning gap like a person standing between heartbeats.
Not fully visible.
Not fully real.
But enough to make everyone's soul go cold.
A tall figure.
Loose hair like a storm.
Eyes like thunder that had forgotten mercy.
Then the figure vanished, and the lightning moved again.
Outside the dome, someone screamed, "WHO WAS THAT?!"
No one answered.
Because the answer was worse than a name.
The answer was a title.
The envoy's lips moved, barely able to form words. "Tian Lei," he whispered. "Unbound Thunder Sovereign."
Ling Xueyao's breath caught.
The pale moon-shadow behind her flickered harder, reacting to thunder law like frost reacting to fire.
Her voice came out strained. "He's… real?"
The envoy nodded once. "He is not a normal cultivator," he said. "He is a World Elder. Lightning acknowledges him. He does not chase heaven. Heaven… moves around him."
A Court elder forced a laugh, shaky and false. "Then let him strike the criminal."
Qi Shan Wei's gaze cut toward that elder like a blade made of cold gold.
"Be careful," Shan Wei said softly. "The sky can hear you."
The elder's mouth snapped shut.
The hunting lightning pulsed again.
This time, it did not touch the shield.
It touched Shan Wei's air around him.
The world slowed for a heartbeat.
Dust stopped moving again.
Blood froze mid-drop.
Drakonix's flame stilled.
Even the bell's ledger flicker paused.
Then the lightning spoke—not with words, but with pressure shaped like meaning.
A message pressed itself into everyone's bones:
SELECT.
Qi Shan Wei understood it at once.
He did not smile.
He did not look proud.
He looked… slightly tired.
Because selection is never free.
The Silent Bell envoy's voice was tight. "Returning Prismatic One," he said, "if the Lightning Convergence has been pulled early, it will demand a target."
Qi Shan Wei's voice stayed calm. "And it is looking at me."
The envoy swallowed. "Yes."
A Court elder leaned forward, eyes bright with cruel hope. "Then accept him, Heaven. Take him."
The hunting lightning twitched.
For one heartbeat, the Court elder looked relieved—like a man who thinks he has won.
Then the lightning turned toward him.
It did not strike.
It judged.
The elder's aura flickered—dirty, greedy, full of hidden blood.
The lightning rejected him like poison.
Then it erased him.
He vanished mid-blink, as if he had never stood there at all.
The Court platform shook.
The remaining elders recoiled, true fear breaking through their pride.
The crowd outside the dome screamed and surged backward like a wave.
Qi Shan Wei did not move.
Zhen stepped closer, shield lines tightening.
"Master," Zhen said, "recommendation: do not allow lightning to continue independent selection. Casualties will increase."
Drakonix growled, voice still rough from birth. "Let it pick… I'll burn it…"
Qi Shan Wei's eyes softened by the smallest amount—only enough to show command, not emotion. "Do not force your flame. Not yet."
Drakonix huffed like a spoiled divine monster. "Always… 'not yet.'"
Zhen replied, timing perfect. "Conclusion: the young lord has impatience syndrome."
Drakonix snapped, "I have power."
Zhen answered calmly. "Power does not equal maturity."
Drakonix's wing twitched in offended rage.
The tension snapped back hard.
The sky crack widened again.
A deep thunder roll passed through the realm, and for a heartbeat, time stuttered.
People outside the dome saw two versions of the same moment overlap—one where they were running, one where they were standing still.
Some fell down, dizzy and crying.
Ling Xueyao staggered.
Her Lunar Frost Domain flared dangerously, the pale moon shape trying to form fully behind her. Frozen law scars crawled along the air like cracks in ice.
Qi Shan Wei moved one step toward her.
Not rushing.
Not panicking.
Simply placing his presence like a wall between her and the thunder.
He drew one prismatic line in the air—simple, clean—and it wrapped around her like a calm ring.
"Breathe with me," he said.
Ling Xueyao's throat tightened.
Then she matched his breath.
One beat.
Two beats.
The moon-shadow behind her steadied.
Not gone.
But held.
Her eyes lifted to him, and for one breath, the fear inside her eased.
Because he did not ask her to be strong.
He assumed she already was.
The hunting lightning pulsed again.
The silhouette appeared again—closer this time—standing inside the lightning gap like he had always lived there.
This time, the figure did not vanish instantly.
He stood long enough for everyone to see the outline of a face.
Cold.
Old.
Not wrinkled old.
Law-old.
The kind of old that remembers the first storm.
A voice spoke—deep and simple, like thunder learning human words.
"One step," the voice said.
It was not loud.
But it was heard everywhere.
The crowd outside the dome froze again.
The envoy bowed slightly without thinking, like his body remembered what to do.
Even Zhen's posture shifted, as if his logic core recognized a higher system.
Qi Shan Wei looked into the lightning gap.
His voice remained calm. "You are Tian Lei."
The figure's eyes turned toward him.
For a heartbeat, the hunting lightning stopped hunting.
It listened.
"Yes," the thunder voice said.
A pause.
Then one more sentence, heavy as a mountain falling into the sea.
"You cut Bell-Law."
Qi Shan Wei did not deny it. "It tried to steal what was mine."
The thunder voice did not laugh. It did not judge like a human.
It simply stated truth.
"Bell remembers," Tian Lei said. "Sky remembers."
The lightning shifted again, forming a path in the air—thin, bright, and deadly.
A path made of strikes and gaps.
A path made of "between."
Tian Lei's voice pressed into the realm like a seal.
"Walk between strikes," he said.
The Silent Bell envoy's face went pale. "No… if he steps into that…"
Zhen's voice stayed calm, but urgent. "Master. If you enter, probability of death is high."
Drakonix's wing flared, furious. "No! He stays!"
Qi Shan Wei did not look at Drakonix, but his tone carried quiet command. "Guard the cocoon. Guard Xueyao. Guard the people under the shield."
Drakonix hissed, jealous even in terror. "Always… guarding… while you go—"
Qi Shan Wei's gaze turned slightly, calm and absolute. "This is leadership."
That one line shut the arguing down.
Because it was true.
The hunting lightning pulsed again.
It began to move lower, closer to the barrier, closer to the crowd.
If it kept choosing freely, the realm would turn into a graveyard.
Qi Shan Wei saw it.
He made the emperor decision.
He lifted Heavenpiercer, then lowered it slowly, placing it at his side.
He stepped forward.
Toward the lightning path.
Ling Xueyao's breath caught. "Shan Wei—"
Qi Shan Wei did not look back.
But his voice reached her, simple and steady. "Hold your thread."
Then he stepped through Zhen's shield gap, and the hunting lightning did not strike him.
It opened.
Like a gate.
Like a throat.
He entered the lightning line.
For one heartbeat, his body turned into a sharp prismatic outline, and the world around him went white.
Time stuttered.
Sound died.
Even the bell's ledger stopped flickering.
Qi Shan Wei stood in a silent space between lightning flashes.
And Tian Lei stood in front of him, fully visible now.
No longer a silhouette.
A man-shaped storm.
Eyes like endless thunder.
And in the white silence, Tian Lei spoke one more sentence—quiet, but final.
"Selection has a price."
Then the white space behind Qi Shan Wei closed like a blade.
Outside the dome, Ling Xueyao reached forward without thinking.
Zhen locked the shield.
Drakonix roared—raw and furious—shaking the dome with newborn thunderflame.
And the sky crack widened again, as if the heavens were opening their mouth to swallow the world.
To be Continued
© Kishtika., 2026
All rights reserved.