A month passed.
She kept close, singing softly while tending the growing child inside her.
Then, on the thirty-first day, Jaquan regained consciousness. His early-stage Enlightened Realm aura emits from him silently.
Jaquan's eyes fluttered open slowly.
At first, the light hurt.
Not the brightness of the realm—but the hum of thunder flowing quietly through his veins. His body felt different. Whole. Boundless. Alive. His body now carried the latent power of the Thunder Physique, the perfected result of two completed phases.
Then he saw her.
Lara sat nearby, half-asleep, one hand resting gently on the swell of her belly.
Jaquan blinked once, then twice.
He sat up too quickly, causing the air to pulse with qi. But all he could do was stare—at her, at the quiet smile forming as she stirred, and at the unmistakable curve beneath her robes.
"You're… pregnant?"
His voice cracked from disuse.
Lara looked up—eyes wide, then soft.
"I was going to tell you," she said gently. "Before the breakthrough. But the glyphs activated and—"
Jaquan didn't wait.
He moved to her at lightning speed, knelt down, and pressed his hand against the place where life stirred. The pulse responded—a kick, subtle but undeniable.
And then he laughed.
A breathless, hoarse, thunder-touched laugh that filled the cavern.
"I'm going to be a father again," he whispered.
Lara's eyes welled with tears both from seeing him awakened after such a long time and for his excitement about their child. "I didn't know how you'd take it."
"With joy," he said. "Pure joy."
Then he pulled her to him—and she didn't resist.
That night, months of longing became motion. He kissed her slowly at first, reverently. But desire quickly deepened, and Lara gave in to the touch she hadn't known she missed until now. His hands were stronger than before, but gentle. Her body responded like it had been waiting.
He devoured her with reverence, not hunger—each kiss a prayer, each movement a memory reignited. Lara surrendered to it all, letting his thunder seep into her breath. And when they collapsed into each other, breath tangled and limbs weary, it felt like love made from silence and lightning.
Two days passed.
They didn't cultivate.
They didn't speak of trials.
They simply stayed near—touching, smiling, listening to the life within her shift and kick whenever Jaquan whispered to it.
But the third morning arrived.
And Jaquan stood beneath the fading thunder podium.
"I have to go," he said softly. "There's one last trial waiting. I can feel it beyond the veil."
Lara said nothing for a while.
Then she rose, walked to him, and pressed her forehead to his.
"I'll be here," she said.
"And when I come back…" Jaquan smiled, his hand again on her belly. "We'll prepare to face the world."
She kissed him—softly this time.
Then watched him vanish into the remnants of thunder, heart pounding.
__
It took Jaquan half a month to master the Ten Thunder Techniques.
The lightning wasn't gentle. It didn't instruct him—it devoured, rewrote, and scorched him. The Dominant Celestial Thunder Technique hadn't simply given him access to power—it had carved a path no cultivator had ever walked. Each glyph etched into the ancient podium corresponded to one of the ten techniques left behind by the expert who forged this realm.
Jaquan had no guide but pain. No mentor but survival. No rhythm but thunder.
1. Thunder Step The first glyph was burned into the soles of his feet. With it, Jaquan learned to channel lightning through motion—each step fused with speed, volatility, and pressure. In combat, it allowed him to vanish and reappear mid-strike, trailing arcs of electricity. But more than that—it taught him to be untouchable when the ground rebelled. A technique of movement and evasion.
2. Tempest Palm The second technique gathered qi into his hands, compressing it into vibrating spheres that shattered on contact. It wasn't brute force—it was precision. A strike that ruptured defensive formations, spirit barriers, and even minor spatial folds. When he first mastered it, the podium cracked beneath him. Thunder shook his bones.
3. Heaven's Pulse This one almost killed him. By syncing his heartbeat with lightning frequencies, Jaquan learned to generate shockwaves from his core. Each pulse disrupted nearby enemies—frying nervous systems, snapping senses. But more dangerously, it altered reality's rhythm for seconds at a time. His body bled from the inside during its forging—but he endured.
4. Bolt Chain Technique An offensive burst. Jaquan learned to split a single lightning arc into multiple connected strikes—chaining opponents mid-air like puppets in a storm. Each bolt jumped from target to target, guided by his will. Perfect for group combat or battlefield suppression. The technique required exact timing—he trained for days until his fingers no longer trembled.
5. Thunder Veil A protective art. By summoning a condensed field of lightning mist around his body, Jaquan created a veil that short-circuited ranged attacks and dulled kinetic strikes. The first few attempts singed his own flesh—but as his Thunder Physique strengthened, the veil became his armor. Silent. Constant. Alive.
6. Sky Rend Slash A martial technique tied to weapon resonance. Jaquan bound lightning into his blade, allowing it to slice through mineral qi, corruption fields, and ethereal distortions. It wasn't strength—it was elemental focus. The slash echoed across dimensions, cutting with force that bent light. Jaquan almost collapsed the realm when he first performed it.
7. Soul Echo Art The seventh glyph taught him resonance—how to connect his thunder with intent. This technique allowed him to amplify not just his qi but also his emotions. Rage became voltage. Love became clarity. He used this art once during a meditation and accidentally sparked a thunderstorm inside the cavern. Lara had laughed then—calling him "a tempest with a pulse."
8. Thunder Domain A signature field creation. By marking terrain with thunder glyphs, Jaquan could generate a temporary battlefield governed by his rules: faster lightning qi flow, suppression of other elemental influences, and enhanced reaction time. Within the Thunder Domain, he became more than a fighter—he became the storm itself.
9. Storm Reversal A counter technique. It allowed Jaquan to absorb hostile energy and convert it into thunder fuel. Not endlessly—but in bursts. When testing it against corrupted realm currents, the feedback nearly destroyed his lungs. Lara tended to him for three days. When he recovered, he called the technique "lightning from loss."
10. Divine Surge The final art. The most dangerous. This technique fused all previous nine into one surge—a burst that elevated his body beyond realm constructs. His bones transformed. His qi realigned. His cultivation rocketed forward, refusing to stop.
The world broke around him.
Jaquan screamed for an entire day.
Yet even in agony, Jaquan didn't forget.
Moments before the surge overtook him, he cast a shielding pulse—woven from instinct and thunder, designed to bend space around Lara. It wasn't a perfect barrier. The realm still trembled. Air rippled. Fissures clawed at the cavern's edge.
But Lara remained untouched.
The thunder may have claimed him, but it would not take her.
She felt her heart break. Her organs twist. Her chest tightened with every scream.
The thunder continued to unravel Jayquan. It did not just carve—it destroyed. His clothes were ash. His flesh peeled in arcs. Lightning struck not around him but within him, ripping through marrow and muscle like war incarnate.
And yet—his bones remained.
They shimmered. They vibrated. Not human anymore. Forged from a thunderbolt.
Lara couldn't move.
She felt her heart break. Her organs twist. Her chest tightened with every scream.
But she couldn't interfere.
She knew what this was. Any interruption could kill him—or worse, kill the child growing within her.
So she sat.
And watched. And sobbed.
The man she loved was tearing apart—becoming something that defied the rules she knew. Becoming legend.
She was twenty-six now and at Peak Gold Realm, which is an impressive feat, and she is considered a genius of this generation. But Jaquan—Jaquan was a mystery.
When she met him, he was thirty-three. A broken Diamond Realm cultivator running from ghosts. Strong, but exhausted. Wounded.
Now—he was thirty-four.
A Star Realm cultivator was forged by storm and pain in a couple of months.
There was no such thing in the world.
No records of such growth.
No legacy like this.
And yet—here he was.
When Lara, through soft laughter and aching tears, complimented his progress, Jaquan only gave a modest smile:
"This is nothing… compared to my son."
She longed to meet the boy who stirred such reverence. Such love. One day, she whispered—one day.