Time slipped by quickly, and in the blink of an eye, two months had passed.
"Boom!" A thunderclap rumbled across the sky. Outside the window of Dorm Seven, fine April rain fell with the evening wind, weaving down like silver threads.
'Thunder again.' Sitting cross-legged on his bed, Yang Yunhai was startled out of cultivation. He opened his eyes and glanced around the dorm. His roommates all paused, turned to look at the storm outside, and then calmly lay down under their quilts. Even Tang San and Xiao Wu pulled their covers tighter.
Especially Xiao Wu—she dove into her blanket, pulling it over her head as if she was truly terrified.
Yang Yunhai, however, had long since grown used to this. 'Soul beasts that reach 100,000 years must face lightning tribulation. Xiao Wu's fear is only natural. If she wasn't afraid, she wouldn't have chosen to reincarnate as a human in the first place.'
'Better to wait until everyone's asleep before heading out.' With that, he closed his eyes again and continued cultivating.
From March onward, rainy days had become common in Nuoding City. By April, the plum rain season arrived. Thunderstorms like tonight's were nothing unusual. Sometimes it rained for days on end.
For Yang Yunhai, this was an opportunity.
The rain gave him a perfect excuse to train his unique method: drawing lightning into his body. The problem was that each attempt left him half-crippled for days. His body and martial soul needed time to recover before he could try again. Back in late February, he had missed several rainy days for that very reason. Still, there were advantages. No one questioned if he slipped out during a storm—it wasn't suspicious. If he vanished every single time, that would raise eyebrows.
At present, his limit was two lightning strikes in one night. Any more, and he would collapse, his meridians torn, his martial soul hardened unnaturally, crippling his cultivation speed. Two bolts were manageable. They passed quickly, and no one ventured outdoors during storms anyway. Even Tang Hao, who surely watched over Tang San from the shadows, would have no reason to suspect.
The most important part was the results. Each time he endured lightning, his cultivation gained a faint boost. More than that, he discovered something else after a few experiments—his body, after being struck, entered a strange state of recovery. During this period, his soul power cultivation advanced faster than usual. It was subtle, but after two months he had noticed the difference.
His physical body also toughened.
'Could it be the lightning stimulates muscles, accelerates metabolism, speeds up blood circulation, and forces the body to adapt? That would explain why recovery comes with growth. In novels, they call it lightning tempering or thunder baptism.'
His meridians had grown stronger too. He could now endure two bolts where once he could handle only one. It was as if his body had built resistance, a kind of lightning tolerance. Of course, most of the energy was still grounded away—he absorbed only scraps of it. But even scraps helped.
The martial soul benefitted as well.
That part was easier to understand. Soul masters relied on their martial soul as a medium to transform natural energy into soul power. Every moment of cultivation was essentially the martial soul refining energy. Tang San was the best example—his internal power only became soul power after awakening Blue Silver Grass.
So when Yang Yunhai's Blue Silver Grass absorbed lightning, its structure itself was tempered. The leaves grew tougher, the veins denser.
And the quality of natural lightning was undeniably higher than ambient energy. Condensed, violent, brimming with pure elemental force—far stronger than the loose strands drifting in the air. Absorbing even a trace strengthened his martial soul more effectively than months of ordinary practice.
All this, of course, was his speculation. But the facts spoke for themselves: after every strike, his cultivation advanced slightly faster, his martial soul stiffened slightly more, and his physical resilience increased.
The downside was obvious—it was painfully slow. Too slow to truly change his fate.
Two months had passed, and his soul power had crawled past rank 1.
'Past rank 1? What a joke! Weren't we told ranks 0 to 10 are supposed to be the easiest? Why does it feel like I'm dragging a millstone?'
The difference was crushing. Tang San spent afternoons smithing and only cultivated at night, yet his power shot up. Xiao Wu ate and played, her soul power still climbing steadily. Meanwhile, Yang Yunhai trained harder than anyone—running at dawn, physical drills in the afternoon, cultivation deep into the night. He always slept last.
And still, he was left behind.
'Talent… it really is like chains shackled on birth. No matter how hard you run, they drag you down.'
His chest burned with unwillingness, but what choice did he have? His martial soul was weak. His innate soul power was barely 0.5. He couldn't change those facts. All he could do was fight for every scrap of growth.
Nuoding City lay in the east of Fasno Province, a land of grain and vegetables, where rainfall was abundant. The rainy season stretched from April to September. Five long months of storms. That was his window. If he used every opportunity, maybe he could pull himself closer to the others.
For the rest of the year… it was up to luck.
Near midnight, he slipped out of bed, threw on a rain cloak, and eased the dorm door shut behind him. Through the rain and wind, he crept to the grove behind the dormitory. Thunder roared, and lightning split the sky. Two strikes lashed down, coursing through his body. His muscles locked, skin burned, veins seared purple. He barely staggered back, half-dragging himself to the showers to wash the mud and blood away. Then he collapsed into bed, already unconscious.
The next day, he went to class as usual. No one noticed. He skipped his back-mountain training that afternoon—his body couldn't take it.
The second day, it rained again. The third day too. By the fifth, the skies finally cleared. He had missed three whole opportunities. But he knew better than to force it. Recklessness would leave permanent damage.
At noon, after lunch, he returned to the dorm. As he passed through, Xiao Wu suddenly called out.
"Xiao Hai!"
He paused.
"Don't you get bored, training every day like that?" she asked, lounging on her bed.
He scratched his head. "Sister Xiao Wu, my talent is poor. If I want to be a soul master, effort is all I have."
"That's true." She waved him off with mock impatience. "Go on then, go."
Tang San, lying nearby, opened his eyes. "Xiao Wu, you should spend more time cultivating too."
She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. This afternoon I'll collect protection money and then I'll cultivate."
Tang San was speechless. He knew her too well. Her appetite was enormous, and her monthly Spirit Hall allowance barely covered her snacks. So she had invented her own system—charging the noble students "fees" for protection. Those who refused were challenged to fights. After a few humiliating losses, the nobles submitted.
It wasn't much money, and they could afford it. Tang San even admitted it knocked some arrogance out of them. He let her be.
"I'm going to see Teacher," he said, standing up.
"Go, go," Xiao Wu replied, waving.
Tang San left the dorm, climbing to the top floor. He found Yu Xiaogang standing on the balcony, basking in the rare sunshine after days of rain.
The master's gaze, however, was not on the sky. He was watching the back mountain, where a lone figure jogged steadily toward the Blue Silver Grass fields.
"Yang Yunhai," Yu Xiaogang murmured, not turning as Tang San approached. "That child is diligent. Very clever too. Cultivating in an environment of Blue Silver Grass benefits his martial soul greatly."
Tang San followed his gaze, recognizing Yang Yunhai's silhouette.
Yu Xiaogang had heard of him already. A work-study boy from Lone Grass Village, raised in an orphanage. His martial soul was Blue Silver Grass, innate soul power a pitiful 0.5. Normally, such a child would be discarded, but Lone Grass's village chief was a retired Spirit Hall deacon. That was likely why he had made it this far.
Still, Yu Xiaogang's judgment was harsh. "Unfortunately, his talent is simply too poor. Some people are destined from birth to achieve only so much. Not everyone can carve their own path, as I did—achieving greatness through wisdom and knowledge."
"Teacher is right," Tang San said solemnly. He understood. In his past life, even in the Tang Sect, disciples were judged first by talent. A poor foundation limited everything.
"But diligence is still indispensable," Yu Xiaogang added, turning to him. "Xiao San, you are extraordinary. But remember, cultivation is built step by step. Never squander your talent."
"Yes, Teacher." Tang San bowed deeply.
"Good. Come inside."
They studied together for a while. After two hours, Tang San rose.
"Teacher, I'll go to the smithy now."
Yu Xiaogang nodded. "Go. Training at the forge is not a waste. It strengthens your body and hones your hammer technique. That will aid your cultivation at night."
He thought briefly of Yang Yunhai again. 'A child like him… even if he trains until his body breaks, his achievements will be limited.'
"Goodbye, Teacher." Tang San saluted and left.
(End of Chapter)
---
This Fanfiction Has Been Completed on Patreon, There is 2 Chapters Ahead of Release for Free Memebers on my Patreon.
Support me if you like this Fanfiction.
Patreon,com/Fallen_Archangel_
(Remove comma for dot.)
Leave a 5 star Review and a Power Stone.