After escaping the cavern etched with ancient thunder-script,
Ji Bochuan moved through the pitch-black Thunderwood forest for half an hour without stopping.
Night in the Thunder God Ruins was wrong.
Not merely quiet—but emptied.
No insects.
No owls.
Even the wind slipping through gaps in the forest sounded distant and hollow, as if filtered through another world.
The only sounds that broke the stillness were the occasional low rolls of thunder far within the clouds—like the muttering of some slumbering beast—and the brittle crack of charred leaves beneath his boots.
Each step tightened his chest.
The twisted Thunderwood trees loomed like frozen screams. Under the thin wash of moonlight, their shadows clawed wildly across the ground. Their branches didn't grow upward like normal trees; they writhed outward in all directions, bark blackened and split. Deep within those cracks, faint blue-white sparks flickered endlessly—residual lightning, trapped and unwilling to fade.
Ji Bochuan moved slowly. Carefully.
He chose areas where the forest thinned just enough to give him sightlines—less chance of ambush, easier to read movement—but avoided any clearing that felt too open.
The disciples of the Violet Heavens Thunder Sect might still be searching nearby for so-called lightning remnants.
And the Ghost Ship's cutthroats had likely already landed, creeping toward the lighthouse.
He needed a place.
A temporary safe point—somewhere hidden enough to breathe, assess the board, and deal with his injuries and looming threats.
Deep in his consciousness, the Cosmic Ledger was operating at a level he had never felt before.
Ancient pages glowed steadily as its terrain-mapping function continued assembling data. The Thunder God Ruins were poorly documented, but through constant sampling—elevation shifts, vegetation density, ambient spiritual gradients, even minute ground disturbances—a three-dimensional map of the island was steadily forming.
[Region: Thunder God Ruins — Outer Island (Unregistered / Temp ID: A-7)]
[Estimated Area: 8.5 km² (±5%)]
[Primary Terrain Units:]
— Electrified black sand beaches (West / South)
— Jagged reef zones (East)
— Low Thunderwood forest (≈60% coverage)
— Central eroded hill (Peak elevation ≈320 zhang; exposed rock faces)
[Ambient Energy Analysis:]
— Lightning: Grade C (mid-tier; localized pockets reaching upper C)
— Water / Wood: sparse
— Fire / Earth: near depleted
[Recent Activity Signatures:]
1. Lightning Eel (Adult, Tier 3; critically injured; last trace SE shoreline — Threat: HIGH)
2. Human Cultivator Activity (≥3 independent signatures; within 2 days to 12 hours):
— Point A: Rune Cavern (orthodox lightning techniques; 87% match — Violet Heavens Thunder Sect; ≥3 individuals)
— Point B: Hill / Lighthouse direction (fresh physical traces; minimal energy residue)
— Point C: Western rocky shore (campfire remnants; mixed low-grade signatures; ~2 days old)
Three human trails. Three factions—possibly more.
Ji Bochuan leaned against an especially thick Thunderwood tree and slid down to sit. The bark felt rough and warm. Weak electrical currents pulsed beneath it, seeping through his clothes in a constant numbing buzz.
An idea surfaced.
He drew his short blade and gently scraped the charred bark. Blackened flakes fell into his palm, carrying the scent of burned wood—and beneath it, a clean, restrained lightning essence.
Thunderwood.
Long exposure to lightning-rich environments had infused every part of it.
He moistened the bark dust with saliva and smeared it across his face, neck, and hands. As it dried, it formed a thin brown layer—like old burn scars or weathered skin. He mixed more dust with damp soil and smeared it across his already-ruined clothes.
When he stood again, his presence had changed.
The Thunderwood residue resonated subtly with the faint lightning essence lingering in his body—left behind by the jade pendant's earlier reactions—and with the environment itself.
To a shallow spiritual scan, he no longer felt like an intruder.
He felt like part of the ruin.
"Disguise isn't just how you look," he murmured, recalling a drunken lesson from his second uncle.
"First the appearance. Then the scent. Finally… your relationship with the environment."
He continued toward the central hill.
Higher ground meant vision—and terrain complexity meant hiding places.
After fifteen minutes, the forest thinned abruptly.
Ahead lay a horrifying stretch of scorched earth.
A perfect circle over ten meters wide. No vegetation. The soil and stone had fused into glassy surfaces that reflected moonlight dully. At its center yawned a deep crater, faint purple lightning still slithering within. The air reeked of ozone and burned earth.
A recent heavenly strike.
Ji Bochuan was about to detour—
Then he heard it.
A groan.
Faint. From the crater's depths.
He crouched low and peered over the edge.
There was a man below—charred, clothes in tatters, body twitching as he struggled to push himself upright.
Badly injured. Near death.
Help—or walk away?
Ji Bochuan hesitated for three breaths.
In a place like this, kindness often led straight to the grave.
Then he saw the half-burned wooden token at the man's waist.
A single character remained visible:
药
Medicine.
Medicine King Valley?
The Ledger's records surfaced instantly. Renowned healers. Alchemists. Generally non-hostile.
A possible ally.
He slid carefully down the crater wall.
Halfway—
His danger sense exploded.
The breathing rhythm below had changed.
Steady. Deep.
Too controlled.
Trap.
The "injured" man sprang up in a blur, silver-blue light flashing as a thin needle shot straight for Ji Bochuan's throat.
Poisoned.
Ji Bochuan twisted midair, blade snapping out—
Clang!
Steel deflected needle by a hair's breadth. He rolled hard and crashed near the crater edge.
The man stood, scorched skin peeling away to reveal an unmarked body. A young man with an unremarkable face—and eyes that gleamed far too brightly.
"Quick reflexes," he chuckled. "But soft-hearted. Didn't your master teach you? Mercy is the most expensive luxury in cultivation."
"You're not from Medicine King Valley," Ji Bochuan said coldly.
The man laughed, tossing the fake token aside.
"Of course not. Jiuyou Nether Sect. External Enforcer. Codename—Poison Scorpion."
Ji Bochuan's blood chilled.
"And you," Poison Scorpion continued lazily, twirling the needle, "carry the scent of a Dao Fragment."
So that's how.
When the ultimatum came, Ji Bochuan lied—cleanly, urgently, convincingly.
The fragment was hidden.
Ancient lightning wards.
Only he could pass.
Poison Scorpion hesitated.
Then nodded.
They moved together through the forest.
At the right moment—
Ji Bochuan struck the Thunderwood.
Lightning erupted.
Chaos bloomed.
He ran.
Toward the shore.
Then—
A stench-filled gale.
The Lightning Eel.
Trapped.
Front: a raging Tier-3 beast.
Rear: a Nether Sect killer.
No escape.
And then—
Calm.
Not despair.
Clarity.
"When body fails, when power dries up… guard the light within. That is the Heart-Lamp."
Ji Bochuan closed his eyes.
And the Heart-Lamp ignited.
Not a blaze.
A star.
Through it, the world unfolded—energy flows, attack paths, weak points.
He moved.
Dodged the lightning beam by a breath.
Struck the old wound.
Survived.
Barely.
When he finally collapsed in the skiff, drifting into open water—
The Ledger spoke again.
[Mental Realm Advancement: Heart-Lamp — First Awakening (Mirror Stage)]
[Effects: Enhanced perception, crisis intuition, fine energy control.]
[Dao Mind Rating: Foundation Stabilized.]
Far behind him, the lighthouse ignited.
Who lit it?
He didn't know.
For now—
He drifted into the dark.