The world turned white, then deafening.
The three heavenly lightning bolts did not merely strike Jia Yisha; they consumed her. The force was not just physical but spiritual, a hammer of divine judgment slamming her to her knees.
The impact of celestial might on her soul and stone on her bones forced a spray of crimson from her lips, each droplet sizzling in the electrified air.
"SHASHA!" The screams of Li Wei and Xu Qianyi were torn away by the thunderous roar. They scrambled through the tempest, their bodies screaming in protest against the oppressive aura. Qianyi threw herself beside Yisha, wrapping her arms around her sister's shuddering form, trying to shield her, to pull her up. "I've got you! I've got you!"
Li Wei planted himself before them, his face a mask of determination. He roared into the storm, thrusting a palm skyward. A barrier of misty, diamond-hard frost erupted into being, a desperate shield woven from his very life force.
The second volley came. This time, the lightning did not arc; it simply appeared inside their circle. It ignored Li Wei's barrier as if it weren't there, a stark lesson that such earthly power meant nothing to Heaven's trial.
The concussive force curshed them to their knees, a weight of cosmic judgment demanding submission. A sickening crackle filled the air with the sound of their bones vibrating, threatening to shatter. Agony, pure and cleansing, seared through every meridian.
Somehow, through shared will, they helped each other to their feet once more. Their bodies smoked, their clothes were charred, but a defiant light still flickered in their eyes.
Xuán Chè stood frozen at the periphery, his heart hammering against his ribs. He felt the newly unsealed energy within him writhe, both repelled and fascinated. He turned, desperation clawing at his throat.
"Wù Fēng!" he pleaded, grabbing the god's arm. "Help them! You have to do something!"
Wù Fēng did not look away from the trio. His expression was one of profound, unyielding solemnity. "This is their fate."
His words were a death sentence and a challenge. Li Wei heard them. His body trembled, barely able to support its own weight. Yet, once more, he raised a trembling, blackened palm to the sky. It was no longer a gesture of defense, but of defiance. An invitation.
The third bolt descended. It was a pillar of pure, white-hot annihilation, thicker and more furious than the last. It struck Li Wei's raised hand, and for a horrific second, Xuan Che was sure he had been vaporized. But Li Wei held. His body went rigid, a conduit for celestial fury. Blood streamed from his nose, his ears, the corners of his eyes, painting stark red trails down his soot-stained chin.
"GRAB IT!" he ground out through teeth fused with effort, his voice the guttural rasp of a dying man. Every word was a struggle against the energy seeking to unmake him. "Don't... resist... GRAB IT!"
Qianyi and Yisha understood. This was not a force to be blocked, but to be endured, understood, and mastered. Their bodies in pure agony, the two sisters raised their own hands, placing them against Li Wei's back, then reaching past him, their fingers straining towards the source of their pain.
The next strike was different. It did not blast them; it flowed through them. It was liquid lightning, a paradox of sensations: freezing their marrow while boiling their blood, scouring their flesh while simultaneously forging their spirits.
They held their stance, a trembling tripod against the storm, anticipating the next blow.
Heaven delivered its verdict.
A flurry of lightning. A relentless successive barrage of lightning strikes that became one continuous onslaught. There was no time to breathe, no time to think, only to endure.
The air itself ionized, and a thick, steamy mist, born of scorched earth, vaporized rain, and their own sublimating spiritual energy enshrouded them completely, hiding their torment from view. Within the glowing fog, only the frantic, brilliant flashes of lightning could be seen, and the silhouettes of three figures refusing to fall.
And then, as suddenly as it began, it stopped.
The unnatural clouds dissolved, revealing the first hints of dawn. The rain stopped. An eerie, ringing silence fell over the field.
Xuán Chè could only stare, his nerves frayed, his fists clenched until his nails drew blood. He watched the luminous, steamy mist slowly dissipate, carried away on a gentle, morning breeze.
There, in the center of the scorched and glassy earth, lay Qianyi and Yisha. They were unconscious, their bodies intertwined in a final, protective embrace. But they were not broken. A soft, steady, golden glow emanated from their skin, a divine radiance that had not been there before. They breathed, and with each breath, the air sweetened.
Resting between them, curled into a tight, peaceful ball, was a small, pristine white fox. Its fur was impossibly clean amidst the devastation. And from its back, seven long, impossibly fluffy tails fanned out like a silken cloak, rising and falling with its slow, sleeping breaths.
Wù Fēng stepped forward, a slow, proud smile finally breaking through his solemn mask. He looked at the nascent goddesses and the transformed frost fox, his new disciples.
"Well," he sighed, his voice filled with awe and amusement. "This is new."
**************************************************************
The morning sun, gentle and warm, streamed through the splintered shutters of the battle-torn inn. Its light fell upon a world reborn.
Outside, the trees that had been skeletal and grey just hours before now sported tender, green buds. The very air, once heavy with decay, was fresh and sweet.
Birds, their songs tentative at first, then joyous, began to fill the branches, and the rustle of other returning wildlife whispered through the undergrowth. Píng'ān was breathing again.
Inside the inn, on a bed that had been hastily righted, Xu Qianyi and Jia Yisha lay deep in unconsciousness. Their hands were still tightly clasped, a testament to their shared ordeal and sisterly bond.
At the head of the bed, curled into a perfect, silvery-white ball between them, was the tiny frost fox pup. His fur was like fresh-fallen snow, and his sides rose and fell in a slow, peaceful rhythm.
Wù Fēng stood over them, his hands clasped behind his back. He wasn't worried; he was fascinated, his keen eyes analyzing the stable, golden glow of divine energy that now haloed the two girls and the profound, condensed icy power radiating from the slumbering fox.
Xuán Chè, his nerves too frayed to stay still, had made himself busy. He had righted tables, swept away debris, and even ventured outside to pick a small bouquet of the first wildflowers to bloom from the restored earth. He placed them in a salvaged vase on a bedside table, wanting the sisters to see something beautiful when they awoke.
"How long before they wake up?" Xuán Chè asked, his voice hushed in the quiet room.
Wù Fēng didn't look away from his disciples. "That depends entirely on them. They could wake in a few minutes... or they could wake in a few centuries."
"Centuries?" Xuán Chè gasped.
"Duì," Wù Fēng confirmed. "Yes. Centuries. My first ascension, I slept for two years."
"Your first ascension? How many are there?"
"There are three Léijié," Wù Fēng explained, "or Heavenly Tribulations by lightning, each one more profound and devastating than the last. Surviving the first ascension elevates a nascent deity to true Godhood. You become a Shén. Those who pass the second ascension are exceedingly rare. They are elevated to Shàngshén or High Gods."
"So, you're a Shén?" Xuán Chè asked.
Wù Fēng looked utterly offended, drawing himself up to his full height. "Shàngshén!" he declared, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"Oh," Xuán Chè said, suitably chastened.
"And the gods who are chosen to ascend a third time?" Wù Fēng continued, his voice dropping to a reverent whisper. "They are legends. They become Tiānzūn. Supreme Gods, beings of cosmic principle. And only one demon in all of history has ever passed all three."
"Shéi a?" Xuán Chè asked.
Wù Fēng met his gaze, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "The patroness of the Zuì Mèng Lóu Pavilion. Xuán Líng."
Xuán Chè's eyes widened. The power of the Nine-Tailed Fox, which had always felt immense, now felt… cosmic. "Oh. That explains… a lot."
"Oh, you have no idea," Wù Fēng chuckled softly.
A slight fragile groan came from the bed. Yisha stirred. Her fingers tightened around her sister's, and her eyelids fluttered, slowly blinking open.
The brightness of the room made her wince. She struggled to push herself up, her body feeling both incredibly heavy and impossibly light.
Xuán Chè was at her side in an instant, gently slipping an arm behind her back to help her adjust. At the same moment, the little frost fox opened his eyes, pools of familiar, stoic blue in a tiny, fluffy face. He let out a minuscule yawn, stretched, and then nudged his cold nose against Yisha's arm.
Yisha looked down, her vision clearing. The little fox peered up at her, gave a soft mew, and then slowly, deliberately, crawled into her lap, circling once before settling down with a contented sigh.
Yisha looked from the fox in her lap to Xuán Chè's concerned face, then to the still-sleeping Qianyi. Her mind, still hazy, tried to piece it all together. She gently stroked the fox's fur, her touch sparking a faint, friendly chill.
"Zhè shì…" she whispered, her voice hoarse.
She didn't need to finish the question. The profound bond she felt, the familiar, icy-cold spiritual signature emanating from the tiny creature in her lap, told her everything. This was Li Wei.
Yisha was both shocked and amused. Her formidable, stoic big brother was now the most adorable creature she had ever seen. A soft, disbelieving laugh escaped her lips, which she quickly covered with her hand.
Wu Feng raised his hand over Yisha and slowly guided it down, analyzing her spiritual energy, her breathing, making sure she was healthy.
"Gōngxǐ Xiao Shén." Wu Feng placed his hands together for a respectful bow, congratulating Yisha on her ascension to goddess.
Xuan Che followed suit, kneeling, prostrating in reverence. After all, he thought, "I'm still just a commoner who happens to have royal lineage."
"Kuài qǐlái!" Yisha commanded, her voice a mix of genuine annoyance and amusement. The formality felt alien, wrong. "Get up, Xuán Chè. Don't be ridiculous." She looked back at Qianyi, still unconscious.
"Is she—" Wu Feng interrupted her before she could finish.
"She's fine. Don't worry."
Xuan Che, eager to spread joy, walked over to the window and motioned Yisha to look. "Ni kan." You did this.
Yisha stood, but her ankle gave way. Before she could stumble, Wù Fēng was there. His hands caught her, one firm on her arm, the other a steadying press against the small of her back. She looked up, finding his kind eyes and that ever-present, confident smirk.
But then, something shifted. Their eyes met and held for a breath too long. The confident smirk vanished from Wù Fēng's face, replaced by a look of nervous vulnerability. He seemed to realize the intimacy of the hold, the warmth of her through her robes. A faint blush tinged his cheeks.
"I have to…uhh…" Wu Feng smiled nervously, then walked backward out the bedroom door, stumbling on his way out.
Shaking her head with a small, private smile, Yisha finally made her way to the window. Li Wei, ever her guardian, hopped nimbly from the floor to the table, then with a graceful leap, settled onto her shoulders.
His seven fluffy tails swayed gently, brushing against her neck as they both looked out upon the world they had helped to heal. The vibrant green life, the singing birds—it was a beauty more profound than any she had ever seen.
-------
© 2025 Kiesha Richardson, writing as QiXia. All rights reserved.
Death Blooms for You is an original work of fiction by QiXia. Unauthorized reproduction, distribution, or adaptation of this story in any form is prohibited. All characters, events, and settings are created for entertainment purposes and bear no intentional resemblance to real persons or situations.