I had barely exited the reach of the Dream Stag's mist-veiled domain when I felt it—a pull on my spirit threads. Not physical. Not instinctual. But something deeper.
Up ahead, half-swallowed by creeping fog vines and lightning-scorched roots, a forgotten tower jutted from the land like a broken bone. Stone sigils glowed faintly around the base, old cultivator script whispering: "To see beyond the storm, one must step without feet, speak without breath, and strike without form."
My eyes lit up. "An Inheritance Tower!" I said with shock. Inheritances were incredible rare domains, that could advance one's cultivation along the martial path at breakneck speeds. "But power never favors the cautious."
I placed my hand on the sealed doorway. Instantly, my spirit man was yanked from my body—soul form only, drifting into the ether.
My physical body stayed standing as if in a trance but protected by my ember coil aura. I blinked and, in that moment, I was transported inside the forgotten inheritance tower. No floor. No ceiling. Just an endless dark sky and a floating elemental maze. The tower wasn't physical on the inside—it was spatially structured; a limitless expanse created through folding space with pure Kingly Intent. I drifted forward, my body a dark gray and black storm with echos of lightning and fire essence animus.
The maze pulsed around me—towering walls of charged mist and crackling qi that shifted at the slightest motion. I wasn't concerned with the crackling ropes of raw qi, as my robust animus ropes easily out powered qi threads pound per pound. I steadied my breath, then released a few wisps of Intent—soft, precise.
FWOOSH!
The sound rebounded, warped and distant. Too strong. I edged left sending out another pulse of Intent even thinner this time—sharper.
CRACK!
A surge of static danced just inches from my chest. Too soft. I gritted my spectral teeth. Each step forward demanded a razor balance.
This required precise Intent circulation, otherwise the maze would punish me with qi recoil. I began the tedious process of moving forward in the dark maze, the walls only illuminating when I pulsed my Intent at the proper wavelength. I needed to use my intent like sonar to find my way through the dark maze.
Pulse. Listen. Move.
Pulse. Adjust. Move again.
Gradually, the maze yielded.
Storm walls parted with each perfect note of Intent. With one final calibrated burst, I slid through the last arc of mist—and the maze.
The first floors trial vanished behind me with a silent crackle of approval. A golden light flared in my vision and the voice of the Towers Sage spoke;
"Intent control plus one. Most subtle. Well earned."
I felt my pool of Intent swell and expand! I grinned, sparks dancing across my translucent knuckles.
"Nice."
I drifted into a chamber of endless Ice. The air was still—too still. Then came the flicker. Around me, half a dozen copies of himself shimmered into form.
Each bore my face…but wore different expressions. One seethed with rage, lightning crackling wildly along his arms.
Another stood with imperious pride, chin lifted, eyes condescending.
A third muttered poisoned regrets, clutching invisible wounds from the past.
The fourth paced in tight, anxious circles—doubt gnawing at his spectral form.
And the fifth...smirked with cool arrogance, arms folded in judgment.
Each voice wormed into my mind, overlapping: "You'll never be enough."
"You've already peaked."
"You should've stayed in the clan."
"You're stronger alone."
"You were born for more."
I clenched my spectral fists.
The true version of myself stood silent—one among them, watching.
I took a breath. No. Not silent. Steady.
The clone that radiated not emotion, but resolve—eyes forward, heart aligned with growth.
I turned. "I'm not perfect. But I'm not afraid of change."
I struck.
An animus-echo rippled outward as the impostors shattered, their fragments dissolving into black dust. The endless room of Ice groaned—and crumbled around me, light spilling in through the cracks.
The voice spoke again.
"Mental Resistance +1."
"Intent +1."
Once again, I could feel my mental energy pool swell and expand!
I stood alone once more, the silence now clean. "On to the next one."
My Spirit Man stepped into a chamber crackling with volatile pressure.
The very air trembled with storm-forged tension.
Lightning veins pulsed across the stone like a living thing.
From the shadows behind, a swarm of thunder wasps burst forth, their wings shredding silence with static screeches. They spat ion bolts in rapid volleys, each seeking the smallest opening in my defense.
I dove aside, animus flaring in a ripple beneath me.
No rest—no pause. I blurred through the chaos—deflecting some attacks with precision animus strikes, others dodged by sheer instinct.
But I could feel it. This wasn't a room meant for fighting. It was built for pressure—for evolution.
I sent out a wave of Intent guiding my animus into an annihilation arc of pure energy! The arc fried the thunder wasp swarm.
The floor rumbled.
A final predator surged forth: A pulse raptor, lean and jagged like a shard of lightning itself.
It struck like a blink of violence—faster than thought.
I snapped my hands into a deflection seal—too slow.
The raptor hit—
—but I was no longer there.
I was a blur of storm, my movement skipping space entirely.
"Lightning Cloud step!" I landed behind the raptor and struck true—channeling pure Intent through my spirit form.
The beast burst into light.
The chamber dimmed.
The tension eased.
I stood, breathless, aware something had changed. I hadn't just dodged.
I had predicted and moved before my mind caught up.
My bloodline instinct had flared to life.
A single phrase pulsed in the back of my thoughts, etched into my inner sense like a tattoo made of thunder:
"You have glimpsed the next tier…"
Storm light churned like a whirlpool above the chamber's heart.
Suspended in its core—a translucent old man, his robes in tatters, his form flickering like lightning remembered through fog.
My Spirit Man hovered before him, battered but unwavering.
"Another storm-bound youth," the Sage intoned, mouth unmoving, voice woven into the storm itself. "Seeking clarity within chaos."
I bowed low. "Then show me. If your lightning still remembers how."
The Sage opened his eyes—twin bolts of ancient intent!
The orb surrounding him shattered into arcs.
Spirit Duel.
There were no walls.
No ground.
Just the sky split into storm-wrought layers. I and the Sage clashed in bursts of movement too fast for light to follow. Animus wavelengths bent and collided. Vorpal strikes flared in strange, mirrored angles. My Spirit Man split in motion, projecting trails of intent. The Sage struck from a dozen impossible angles—testing instinct, testing will.
I began to adapt. Mid-flight, I reversed a vorpal slash—allowing my after image to take a hit while my real strike landed from above.
I layered cloud step dodges into chained feints, shaping patterns with my motion. Time bled into thunder.
Until—
I hovered, exhausted and ragged, spirit form dimmed to embers but alive. The Sage raised two fingers and touched my spectral brow.
"You now walk with the storm," he whispered. "Let it carry your will."
My Spirit Man was flung back, spiraling across light and void—
—and slammed into my body beneath the broken tower.
I gasped, eyes wide.
My beast crystals pulsed a deep, resonant hum. The world around me seemed sharper. The winds bent around my aura.
My sacred breath technique had reached tier Three!
My Vorpal Slash had also been enhanced; my Spirit Man could now strike twice in a single burst—one attack delayed by a second for layered pressure or feints.
I heard the Spirit Sage of the inheritance tower speak again!
"+ 2 qi Instinct."
"+1 Mental Resistance."
"+1 Perception."
My mental energy pool swelled and expanded for a third time, becoming a lake of Intent! I stood before the ruins of the tower as it collapsed upward into the sky.
I turned west ward once again. The horizon shimmered with haze and distant menace.
"Only 50 kilometers left…Sun-flower man, Let's see how angry you really are."