BOOOOM!
The third lightning bolt came down like heaven's own executioner, ripping the clouds apart as it slammed into Miscellaneous Peak.
Li An sat cross-legged in the center of the storm, his face pale but his eyes burning with unyielding light. The Aurora Veil shuddered violently around him, spiderwebbed with fractures. Every arc of violet lightning that struck it shattered another layer, until the multicolored curtain resembled broken glass more than divine protection.
His chest rose and fell sharply, blood sliding from the corner of his mouth, yet he never moved from his seat. "C'mon, Heaven," he rasped, lips curling into a crooked grin despite the pain. "You'll have to do better than that if you want me dead."
And Heaven listened.
The next bolt tore through the sky like a whip. It didn't aim for his body this time—it struck his shadow. Li An's eyes widened as pain lanced through his soul, sharp and clean, as though someone had reached into his chest and crushed the root of his existence. The Aurora Veil flickered, unable to shield what was not flesh.
"Gh—hahhh!" He doubled forward, clutching his chest, breath ragged. His vision swam, black spots consuming the edges. "Soul lightning…? Damn, that's unfair…"
But he didn't fall. He steadied his breath, forcing his qi to circulate, anchoring his spirit back into place.
The heavens rumbled again. A second streak of light dropped—not violet, but pale white, cold and merciless. It wrapped around him like chains, condensing the air until his lungs seized. His bones cracked under the weight, his body compressing as though a mountain had landed on his shoulders.
Every joint screamed. His spine creaked. He spat blood into the scorched dirt.
"Urghhh—hahhh…" His lips trembled into a half-smile, half-snarl. "What's next? Drown me too? Or should I just go ahead and suffocate?"
The storm answered with laughter disguised as thunder.
The third wave came without warning. Not a single bolt this time, but dozens. Thin, writhing arcs rained down all at once, like serpents striking from every direction. Each bite carried venom—corrosive lightning that chewed at his meridians. His qi surged wildly, tearing at his flesh from the inside.
"AhhhHHHHH!" His cry broke against the storm, veins bulging across his arms and neck. The Aurora Veil splintered completely, shards of rainbow light dissolving into sparks.
He collapsed onto one knee, his hand digging into the cracked stone, leaving bloodied fingerprints behind. His body was smoking, flesh blistered, hair frizzed into a wild mane.
But his eyes—his eyes still burned.
"I'll… survive… this." His words were hoarse, nearly broken, but iron clung to every syllable.
Time blurred.
The tribulation stretched into hours. Each bolt was different, merciless in its design. One seared his blood into boiling rivers. Another pierced straight through his spirit roots, making them howl with agony. Some hammered his body until it split open, only for him to force it closed again with sheer will and roaring qi. Others clawed at his mind, dragging half-formed illusions of despair across his thoughts.
Yet no matter how many times he buckled, he forced himself upright again. Again and again and again.
The heavens had demanded he break.
Li An refused.
At last, when the thunderclouds began to thin, the oppressive weight lifted, and the furious violet arcs dwindled into silence, his body sagged forward. The entire courtyard had vanished—burned into a blackened scar across the mountain. The bamboo, the walls, even the soil itself had been erased into ash.
He forced himself upright, trembling, qi flickering unsteadily within him. His lips parted, ready to spit out some half-bitter remark about his survival.
But then—
The heavens changed again.
Li An froze, his gaze dragged upward. His blood ran cold.
High above, the storm clouds split—not with lightning this time, but with radiant gold.
From the brilliance, scales shimmered into existence. A serpentine body uncoiled through the sky, vast and leisurely. Horns glimmered like molten crowns, eyes burned like twin suns. A dragon—majestic, divine—manifested out of the heavens themselves.
Every elder watching stiffened in disbelief.
"A golden dragon…" Mei Lian whispered, her normally composed voice trembling.
"Impossible," Tie Shan growled, his gaze narrowing like a blade.
Even Jiang Zu's cloudy eyes sharpened faintly, his cane tapping once against the air.
Below, Li An stared upward, jaw slack. "What the hell is that supposed to be?"
The dragon's blazing eyes turned toward him. Before he could even think of running, it dove.
Golden brilliance swallowed him whole. He couldn't scream—he couldn't even breathe—as the dragon surged into his body, flooding his meridians, his dantian, his very veins.
Heat like molten metal seared through his flesh. His bones groaned as though reforged on an unseen anvil. His blood churned like liquid fire. His Heavenly Roots wailed in resistance, then grew brighter, as though the dragon branded them with its divine mark.
Li An arched backward, his entire frame trembling, his mind dangling on the edge of unconsciousness. Yet within the torment, he felt it—an undeniable surge, a tide lifting him higher and higher. His muscles hardened, his qi deepened, his very soul seemed to blaze with vitality beyond reason.
"Ghhhhh—hahhh…!" He panted raggedly, clutching at his chest as golden light poured from his eyes and mouth like cracks in a shattered vessel.
Somewhere above, the final thunder faded into stillness.
The tribulation was over.
But what had been given was no ordinary reward.
Li An's breath caught as the golden power sank deeper, dismantling and remaking him piece by piece.
This wasn't a bloodline awakening, nor a secret technique. It was something far more terrifying—far more permanent.
His body was being rewritten.
His muscles, once lean and strong from years of bitter training, contracted violently. Not breaking, not tearing—but folding inward, layer upon layer. Each muscle fiber compressed into another, until they seemed to vanish entirely from sight. To the eye, he looked slimmer, almost delicate. But Li An felt the difference. What had once been simple strength had become density—each strand of flesh packed tighter than forged steel.
He clenched his fist experimentally, and the very air shivered around his knuckles. His body now carried weight no Core Condensation cultivator could dream of. Not tenfold stronger… but tenfold denser.
It didn't stop there.
His blood boiled in his veins, glowing faintly beneath his skin. He blinked in disbelief as he caught glimpses of golden threads pulsing in the crimson stream. Royal. Sacred. Each beat of his heart carried a resonance that shook his chest, as though a great drum had been planted inside him.
His bones followed suit. Faint golden sigils etched themselves across them, intricate patterns like scales woven from light. They were subtle—ghostly marks that only flickered into view when qi flowed—but when they did, the glow rippled outward, majestic and unshakable.
Even his two Heavenly Grade Spirit Roots responded, pulling tighter, denser, no longer mere vessels of energy but foundations that pulsed with a vitality beyond their grade. They felt alive—dragons in miniature, coiled within his dantian, drawing qi with greedy abandon.
Li An's body finally stilled. The light dimmed, sinking into him completely. For a long moment, only the faint rise and fall of his chest broke the silence.
And then his eyes snapped open.
Golden sparks danced across his vision, fading into clarity. The world looked sharper—every leaf, every pebble, every whisper of qi in the air stood out with startling detail. His body felt weightless, yet heavier than mountains at the same time.
He exhaled slowly, a mist of golden breath escaping his lips.
But before he could even process what had happened, his surroundings caught his attention.
Figures.
Dozens of them. Elders—some hidden in clouds, some standing plainly in the air—circling Miscellaneous Peak. Their gazes pressed down on him like mountains, sharp and suffocating. A few were unreadable, others openly astonished. Some curious, some wary.
Yet Li An didn't notice their intent at first. What he noticed was himself.
His clothes hung baggy on his frame, loose as if they no longer belonged to him. His skin gleamed faintly, unblemished, clean like polished jade. His fingers were long, slender, elegant. His face—once ordinary, even boyish—now carried an unearthly refinement, sharper lines, brighter eyes.
He looked into the warped reflection of a broken spirit stone at his feet, and for a moment, he couldn't even recognize the man staring back.
"…A fallen immortal…" he muttered under his breath.
And for once, he wasn't entirely joking.