The Feilun Sect braced, disciples whispering of war and ruin. Yet on the peak, Tian Shen's gaze did not waver. The storm had marked him, the heavens had tested him, and now the world itself approached to measure his worth. His fingers tightened around the spear.
"Let them come."
The night after the storm of tribulation, the Feilun Sect did not sleep. Clouds still grumbled in the far heavens, and stray veins of lightning crackled across the mountain ridges like restless serpents.
The disciples whispered in awe and dread, for the sight of Tian Shen's breakthrough had spread like wildfire—flashes of violet spears piercing the clouds, a silhouette standing against the heavens as if defying their decree.
Yet Tian Shen himself did not bask in it.
