The storm had become a living beast.
Golden lightning devoured the sky, twisting like serpents through black clouds. The air shimmered with spiritual pressure so heavy it felt like the world itself was holding its breath.
At the center of that tempest stood Lin Feng, surrounded by arcs of lightning that moved like living threads, weaving around his body in reverence. His hair floated weightlessly, eyes burning gold, his aura unstable yet magnificent — raw, untamed, but filled with divine might.
Across from him, the Core Formation expert of the Scarlet Veil Sect hovered above the ruined ridge, his crimson qi forming a vortex beneath his feet. His expression, once calm and superior, now twisted with disbelief.
"You— you're not supposed to exist like this! A Foundation cultivator should crumble beneath a Core's pressure!"
Lin Feng tilted his head slightly, a smile ghosting across his face.
"Yeah… that's what I thought too. Guess nobody told the lightning."
The expert roared, fury drowning his fear. Crimson energy burst from his core, forming spectral serpents that lashed through the air. The sky turned blood-red, the ground trembling under the weight of his killing intent.
"Scarlet Arts: Thousand Venom Chains!"
The serpents fused into chains of condensed qi, each dripping with corrosive energy. They shot toward Lin Feng from every direction, sealing all escape routes.
Lin Feng didn't move. His eyes flickered once — and the air stilled.
"Thunder Art: Storm Sovereign's Judgment."
The words were soft, but the world answered.
A single bolt of gold fell from the heavens.
The moment it struck, the earth ruptured. The crimson chains evaporated midair, shattered by pure lightning authority. The Core Formation expert's expression froze as the backlash hit him. His barrier cracked, blood spilling from his mouth.
Lin Feng blurred forward — one step, then two. Each movement left afterimages of lightning behind him, like echoes of the storm. His sword hummed, resonating with the thunder roaring above.
He vanished.
A heartbeat later, he reappeared directly before his opponent, lightning trailing from his blade.
"Stormfang Slash!"
The strike split the sky itself.
The Core Formation expert barely managed to block, his crimson barrier shattering on impact. The force hurled him backward through the clouds, his robes in tatters, bones fracturing under the pressure. He stabilized himself midair, face pale, veins bulging.
"You can't defeat me!" he shouted hoarsely. "I have cultivated for a hundred years! My foundation is unshakable!"
Lin Feng raised his sword again, eyes calm. "Then let's test that."
The lightning around him thickened, forming a colossal silhouette behind him — the faint image of the Storm Sovereign Spirit. Its golden eyes mirrored Lin Feng's, and every movement he made echoed through the phantom.
The two merged — man and lightning becoming one.
The Scarlet expert unleashed his core essence, a crimson sun erupting from his chest. The two forces collided, gold and red spiraling violently, splitting clouds for miles. The mountains below melted under the sheer energy.
Every blow was an explosion. Every movement tore reality apart.
Lin Feng's sword clashed with the expert's bare fists — gold meeting blood, heaven defying hell. His lightning infused every strike, forcing the expert back again and again until his crimson aura began to flicker.
The older cultivator gasped, realization dawning in his terrified eyes.
"No… your lightning—it's purifying my core energy!"
Lin Feng's gaze hardened.
"Exactly. You're the poison; I'm the thunder that burns it away."
He raised his sword one final time.
Lightning coalesced along the blade, its glow so bright it painted the night in gold.
"For all the souls you've crushed under your sect's chains…" Lin Feng whispered. "This storm's for them."
"Storm Sovereign Art — Final Judgment!"
The heavens screamed. A thousand bolts fell at once, all converging on Lin Feng's blade. The sky turned white, the mountains trembled, and the crimson sun above the expert shattered like glass.
The final strike cleaved through everything—
the air, the storm, and the Core Formation expert's body.
Silence followed.
The red-robed man floated for a moment, eyes wide in disbelief. His lips parted as if to curse, but only blood spilled forth. Then his body dissolved into ash, scattered by the golden wind.
The storm began to fade.
Lin Feng fell to one knee, panting heavily. His aura flickered, drained from the effort. Every bone ached, every muscle screamed—but his spirit burned bright. The air still crackled faintly, as though heaven itself acknowledged his defiance.
He looked at his sword, its edge glowing faintly gold.
"Killed… a Core Formation cultivator…"
A laugh escaped him, hoarse and incredulous. "Hah… no one's gonna believe that."
The gourd at his waist pulsed weakly, releasing a thread of light that drifted into the night sky. The ancient lightning gate behind him sealed once more, its runes dimming into silence.
Lin Feng exhaled deeply, tilting his head toward the stars.
"Guess I've got heaven's attention now," he murmured.
"Come then. Let's see who blinks first."
Above, the final bolt of lightning danced across the clouds — not in anger, but acknowledgment.
And in that fleeting moment, the Wandering Spirit became more than a name.
He became a legend whispered by thunder.