The fog in the river valley was alive.
It clung low to the ground, gray and sluggish, rolling forward inch by inch like the breath of some sleeping beast. Every so often, a draft slipped through the cracks in the rocks, stirring the mist and briefly exposing dark green moss and scattered stones beneath.
At the center of the valley, Chen Song sat cross-legged atop a massive boulder, eyes shut tight.
Three thin arcs of lightning crawled across his body, crackling softly in the air. Before him, three black triangular flags were planted in the earth, fluttering without wind. Dark-gold runes pulsed across their surfaces, brightening and dimming in a steady rhythm as they drew in the valley's meager lightning-aspected spiritual energy.
Hidden behind a crooked old tree, Jiang Muchen narrowed his eyes.
Half an incense stick's time had already passed.
The crude lightning-drawing array was starting to choke. The lightning energy it gathered wasn't flowing smoothly into Chen Song's meridians—instead, it pooled at the center of the formation, circling uselessly, swelling like stagnant floodwater with nowhere to go.
"He's reaching his limit," Jiang Muchen murmured to the others.
Wang Duobao tightened his grip on the fire starter tucked into his robes, throat bobbing. "Brother Jiang… we're really stepping out now? That's a Thunder Hall disciple."
"Precisely because he's from Thunder Hall," Jiang Muchen said, eyes fixed on the cold sweat beading at Chen Song's brow. "Lightning cultivators are hot-tempered—but they value promises. Step in now, and it's help in a snowstorm. Wait until he stabilizes, and it becomes extortion."
Before the words had fully left his mouth—
Crack.
A sharp snap rang out from the array.
A hairline fracture split the shaft of the rightmost flag.
Chen Song's eyes flew open, lightning exploding within his pupils. His hands blurred as he forced seal after seal—but the remaining two flags began to shudder violently.
The array was collapsing.
If it rebounded, the lightning energy would surge back into his meridians.
Best case—severe injury. Worst case—his foundation shattered.
Jiang Muchen moved.
He stepped out from behind the tree, unhurried, stopping at the edge of the valley.
"Senior Brother Chen," he called clearly, "the third node is buried three inches too shallow. The lightning vein flows from the southwest, but it's being cut off by bluestone beneath the surface. The energy diverted—and jammed."
Chen Song's head snapped toward him.
Eyes forged of lightning bored into Jiang Muchen, sharp enough to pierce flesh.
"A menial disciple?" Chen Song rasped, pain tightly leashed beneath his voice. "You understand formations?"
"I don't," Jiang Muchen replied calmly, bowing. "But I can read the land. If the energy won't move, either the flag's too shallow—or there's stone below. Guessing is better than waiting for backlash."
Chen Song stared at him for a long moment.
Then he laughed.
Arrogant. Wild. Pure Thunder Hall.
"So—you're here to save me?"
"To make a deal," Jiang Muchen said, lifting his gaze past Chen Song, toward a crack in the cliff five zhang behind him. Five soft white glows shimmered faintly through the mist. "I want one moonlight lingzhi. In exchange, I'll stabilize your array—and tell you where to find fresh lightning-struck wood."
Chen Song's expression changed instantly.
"Lightning-struck wood?" His voice sharpened. "New?"
"Struck by heavenly lightning within three months. The core still holds residual thunder intent." Jiang Muchen pulled a charred wood fragment from his robes and tossed it over. "A sample."
Chen Song caught it.
The instant his fingers closed, his arm tingled—not from impact, but from the pure lightning intent surging through the fragment and into his meridians.
His pupils contracted.
Fresh lightning-struck wood—alive with thunder.
For a cultivator stalled at Qi Refining Fifth Layer, this was worth more than a breakthrough pill.
"…Location," he said.
"Stabilize the array first," Jiang Muchen replied, pointing. "Shift the second flag half a foot left—clear the bluestone. Drive all three flags down another three inches to reconnect with the main vein."
Chen Song studied him deeply—then formed seals.
Three thin bolts shot from his fingertips, striking the bases of the flags with surgical precision.
Earth churned. Stone cracked. The flags sank and shifted.
The moment the final test flag settled—
The lightning energy trapped in the array found release.
Like a dam bursting, it roared into Chen Song's body.
He grunted, blood leaking from the corner of his mouth, but immediately sat down and began guiding the violent current through his meridians.
The crackling steadied.
Behind the tree, Wang Duobao wiped his brow. "Brother Jiang… you really dared to gamble."
"It wasn't a gamble," Jiang Muchen said quietly. "The Treatise on Resonance of All Spirits is clear—lightning is metal-aligned, forceful, obstructed by stone. The moss was pale. That means no true soil beneath—only rock."
"And if you were wrong?"
"Then I'd admit my mistake and apologize," Jiang Muchen said flatly. "But someone like Chen Song wouldn't kill a Qi Refining Third Layer menial. Thunder Hall disciples are proud. Proud men care about face."
Zheng Xiaoqi listened in stunned silence.
A stick of incense later, Chen Song exhaled a breath laced with sparks.
He stood. His aura was denser than before—not a breakthrough, but seven tenths of the blockage had been refined away. Even the backlash had become nourishment.
He stepped forward and tossed a lingzhi.
It was palm-sized, luminous white like condensed moonlight, halos flowing across its surface. The moment Jiang Muchen caught it, spiritual energy seeped into his meridians.
"Three-hundred-year moonlight lingzhi," Chen Song said. "Yours. Now—where?"
Jiang Muchen stored it carefully and unfolded his map, pointing northwest. "Scorchedwood Grove, outside Cold Mist Ravine. Three newly broken lightning-struck trees—one still has thunder essence in the core."
Chen Song traced the mark with his finger. "Cold Mist Ravine… ice-scale serpents."
"Yes," Jiang Muchen said evenly. "That's why I need the lingzhi. Frostspring water and frost-tear vines grow there. This keeps people alive."
Chen Song studied him anew.
"Firecloud Elder's task?"
"You see clearly."
Chen Song laughed softly—less mockery now, more interest. "A menial carrying Firecloud Elder's task… reading land veins… bargaining with me." He shook his head. "Jiang Muchen. I'll remember you."
He swallowed a pill, then tossed the empty jade vial back. "Used up my Clear Essence Pills. Keep the bottle—bonus. The thunder-pattern grass you want—I'll have someone deliver it to the menial quarters."
"Thank you, Senior Brother."
"Don't thank me yet," Chen Song said, already walking away. "After the trial, if you want to go further with lightning cultivation—come find me at Thunder Hall. Someone like you doesn't belong as a menial."
Then he vanished into the fog.
Only when he was truly gone did Wang Duobao dare breathe. "Brother Jiang… was that an invitation to the outer sect?"
"Polite words," Jiang Muchen said, rubbing the lingzhi thoughtfully. "Thunder Hall doesn't open doors for a single favor. But he owes me now—and that's enough."
Lu Hanshan stared at the cliff, suddenly freezing. "Brother Jiang… there's still one left."
Jiang Muchen looked up.
Among the five moonlight lingzhi, one faint glow remained.
"He left it on purpose," Zhou Xiaohuan whispered.
"Yes," Jiang Muchen said. "A Thunder Hall courtesy—and a safeguard. If my lightning-wood lead is false, he can return for it."
Zheng Xiaoqi inhaled sharply. "These people… their minds run deep."
"Whose don't, on the cultivation path?" Jiang Muchen secured the lingzhi. "Let's go. Cold Mist Ravine awaits."