Chapter Ninety-Five: The Divine Art of Thunder [Please Bookmark!]

Qingyuan stood straight and tall, though not broad of frame or impressively muscular. On the contrary, his skin was fair and his features handsome, giving him something of a delicate air, yet the strength in his body did not match his appearance.

As his cultivation advanced, Qingyuan’s own physical power rose with it, already no weaker than that of an expert in internal force.

That single punch shattered the chest of the cultivator surnamed Xu at once, caving it in and grievously injuring every organ within.

The cultivator surnamed Xu coughed up a mouthful of blood and fell backward.

He was a man of the path, and with a breath of true qi he protected his viscera, preserving a thread of life, so he did not die on the spot.

Yet his face was filled with boundless remorse, and in his eyes burned an endless, venomous hatred.

Eyes wide open, the cultivator surnamed Xu directed that enmity not at Qingyuan, but at the old man surnamed Guo, who had fled in cowardice and left him behind to hold the line.

"Rest easy... he will not escape either..."

Qingyuan looked toward another exit from the valley, his pupils tightening as a coldness gathered in them.

Then he raised his arm, gripping the iron staff, and pointed straight at the retreating figure of the old man surnamed Guo.

True qi surged through his meridians and flowed into his forearm.

Dark red thunder patterns appeared upon it.

The true qi then moved along those thunder patterns into the iron staff.

From there, that thread of true qi continued to flow along the staff's own thunder markings.

It ran all the way to the end of the staff.

A wisp of red light flashed at the tip.

"Go!"

At Qingyuan's low command, the red light at the staff's end burst forth in an instant.

A bolt of lightning shot out from the iron staff and struck the old man surnamed Guo in the back.

The old man, who had already nearly reached the mouth of the valley, was instantly enveloped in white smoke and pitched forward, the last trace of life leaving him.

In the cultivator surnamed Xu's eyes there was terror. His lips moved, and then his gaze scattered, all brilliance draining away.

He closed his eyes.

To die at the hands of such an opponent was no unjust death.

Old Fox Guo was dead, and he died with no regrets.

So he closed his eyes in peace.

...

Qingyuan was highly satisfied with the power of that crimson thunder.

His true qi reached the forearm, traveled through the thunder patterns, and by the time it arrived at the tip of the iron staff it had transformed into a streak of scarlet lightning.

From start to finish... it had taken no more than an instant.

This was divine ability!

No long years of bitter cultivation were needed; it was like an inborn talent, a second nature. With only a thought, it could be unleashed.

He drew back the iron staff and went to Gu Cang's side.

Gu Cang was badly wounded. A wooden spike in his back had nearly pierced the vital region near his heart.

That spike had blocked the flow of true qi and the rise of blood and vitality, making resistance impossible. As a result, the methods of the cultivators surnamed Xu and Feng had caused grievous injury, worse than any wound before.

"Sir..."

Gu Cang spoke in a low voice.

Qingyuan said, "Do not talk."

He crouched down, took out the medicine pill he had earlier obtained from Chen Xing, poured out one, and placed it in Gu Cang's mouth.

The pill was truly astonishing in its efficacy. After swallowing it, Gu Cang's injuries no longer worsened. Qingyuan could even see his breath slowly beginning to recover, though so gradually it was almost impossible to notice.

"Endure it..."

Qingyuan gathered his true qi and reached for the dark ebony spike.

Without warning and without a sound, the true qi in Qingyuan's hand suddenly dispersed for no apparent reason.

This was the effect of the dark ebony wood and the talismans engraved upon it.

"Impressive enough," Qingyuan said with a laugh, not taking it to heart. As before, he relied solely on his own strength, gripped the spike, and pulled it out.

Gu Cang let out a muffled grunt. Though extremely steadfast by nature, he did not cry out. He endured it until his whole body trembled.

Qingyuan pulled out the spike and casually put it away, then said with a smile, "All right. The rest of your wounds are not light, but now that you have taken that pill and your vitality is recovering, your life is no longer in danger. Just rest and recuperate properly."

Gu Cang gave a low response.

Qingyuan was just about to ask how he had appeared in Mount Fuzhong when the old man surnamed Fan, lying not far away on the ground, suddenly coughed and woke up.

The moment he opened his eyes, he saw a fur ball before him. His whole body jolted, and all pain and stray thoughts vanished at once, leaving nothing in his mind but that fur ball.

"Divine thunder..."

Old Fan murmured inwardly, his face lighting with狂喜. He lunged forward, clutched the fur ball, and frantically tore open its outer layer with both hands.

Qingyuan had arrived a little late and did not know what it was.

But Gu Cang, gasping for breath, turned his head to look. His eyes immediately went red with rage as he roared, "Courting death!"

At that cry, Qingyuan understood that there was something peculiar about the fur ball. He immediately flung the dark ebony spike in his hand.

The black spike cut through the air as a dark blur and struck the neck of the old man surnamed Fan squarely.

The spike blocked true qi, blocked blood and vitality, and severed life itself.

Old Fan only managed half a cry before clutching the fur ball to his chest and collapsing to the ground.

Only then did Qingyuan look at Gu Cang and ask, "What is that thing?"

Gu Cang bared his teeth in pain, his fur-covered face creasing as he said, "Divine thunder."

"Divine thunder?" Qingyuan was immediately startled. Then he said, "So that was what those four were discussing earlier—they were dealing with you..."

Gu Cang did not understand. Hastily he said, "That old fellow tore open the fur ball. The divine thunder inside is a strange sort. Sir, please fetch it quickly."

Qingyuan nodded slightly and rose to his feet, walking over to the old man surnamed Fan and turning him over.

Old Fan's chest had already caved in. He had been clutching the fur ball to his bosom, pressed right against it.

Now that a corner of the fur ball had been torn open, there was nothing inside at all.

"Where is the divine thunder?"

Qingyuan was startled. Then he heard a dull thudding sound coming from the body of the old man surnamed Fan.

With the iron staff, he hooked the fur ball aside, and only then did he see that between Fan's chest and abdomen there was a bluish-white glow, faint and flickering, accompanied by a muffled sound.

"So the divine thunder is here..."

Qingyuan let out a breath of relief and used the iron staff to part the clothes over Fan's chest.

When he saw what lay before him, his face was instantly filled with astonishment.

The object emitting that blue glow was none other than a white shell, a listening shell.

The divine thunder had actually fused into it?

At once Qingyuan recalled that the old man surnamed Fan had said that Gu Cang had obtained two divine thunderbolts at once, one of which had been seized by Lu Yu, a disciple of Gan Huan, and struck into a weapon in his hand, turning it into the embryonic form of a magical treasure.

Could the divine thunder before him also be one that could merge into a dead object and become the prototype of a magical treasure?

Just as Qingyuan was marveling, cracks began to burst one after another across the white outer shell of the listening shell.

Three fissures spread side by side, shocking to behold.

It looked as if the whole shell were about to shatter apart.

"Damn..."

Qingyuan's expression changed. He immediately reached out, channeling his true qi, and gripped the listening shell, only then causing it to settle down.

But he seemed to understand something of the cause, and his expression turned uncertain, part regret, part delight.

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