The sky above the Azure Sword Sect was a swirling, apocalyptic vortex of pitch-black clouds.
This was not a normal Heavenly Tribulation. The Heavenly Dao had sensed the birth of a foundation that defied the natural order—a dark, gravity-devouring Nascent Soul that belonged to an era long buried. In response, it manifested Heavenly Punishment.
Thick, branching veins of blood-red lightning crackled through the dark vortex, radiating a destructive aura so profound it made the bedrock of the Cloudsoaring Peak physically tremble.
Standing directly beneath the eye of the storm was Yan Shuo.
A few paces behind him, Tantai Zhi stood completely, utterly frozen.
Her majestic crimson sword had slipped slightly in her grip. Her terrifying, world-ending killing intent had completely evaporated, replaced by a soft, glowing pink aura. She had two pale fingers pressed delicately against her own forehead, right where Yan Shuo’s lips had just touched her.
Husband kissed me, her mind repeated in an endless, echoing loop. He kissed me in front of the Heavens. He loves me so much. The Heavenly Dao was currently preparing to vaporize the entire mountain range, but the Goddess of Slaughter was temporarily out of order, completely trapped in a maidenly, blissful short-circuit.
Yan Shuo smirked, his dark eyes fixed on the roaring sky. Perfect. She’ll be distracted for at least the first three strikes.
"Come then," Yan Shuo murmured, his voice dropping into the heavy, sovereign register of the ancient Demon Lord. He snapped his paper fan shut and tucked it into his sash. "Let us see if the Heavens have learned any new tricks in the last century."
BOOM!
The sky tore open. The first strike of Heavenly Punishment did not fall like a bolt of lightning; it descended like a roaring, blood-red dragon of pure, destructive plasma. It was thick enough to swallow the entire grand plaza, aiming directly for Yan Shuo’s head.
Inside the sect barriers, Sect Master Zhao, who had just regained consciousness from fainting over the looted treasury, looked out the window, saw the blood-red apocalyptic dragon descending upon them, and promptly fainted a second time.
Yan Shuo didn’t summon an elemental shield. He didn’t draw his heavy black iron sword.
He simply looked up and opened his mouth.
The Heaven-Swallowing Abyssal Art flared to its absolute maximum limit. The pitch-black, gravity-crushing domain erupted around him, forming a massive, invisible funnel that reached directly into the sky.
The blood-red lightning dragon slammed into the gravitational field.
It didn’t explode. The sheer, impossible density of the Abyssal Star-Core seized the heavenly plasma, violently arresting its momentum. The roaring lightning screeched as it was forcefully warped, compressed, and dragged downward.
Yan Shuo inhaled sharply.
The blood-red lightning was funneled directly into his mouth, flowing down his throat and crashing into his newly formed, dark Nascent Soul.
The pain was unimaginable. The Heavenly Punishment was designed to burn demonic Qi to ash. His meridians instantly flared with agonizing, scorching heat, his skin turning a faint shade of crimson.
But Yan Shuo didn’t scream. He just smiled, a terrifying, bloodthirsty expression.
More, his demonic foundation roared. The tiny, dark Nascent Soul sitting on its gravitational throne opened its mouth and eagerly devoured the heavenly plasma, using the destructive energy to forcefully temper its own spiritual body.
The first strike was completely swallowed.
Yan Shuo let out a long, steaming exhale. A wisp of red lightning crackled between his teeth before fading away.
The swirling black vortex above seemed to freeze, as if the Heavenly Dao itself was momentarily stunned by the sheer audacity of a mortal eating its execution strike.
Then, the sky completely lost its temper.
RUMBLE! BOOM! BOOM!
The Heavens did not send a second strike. They sent a continuous, apocalyptic torrential downpour. Dozens of massive, blood-red lightning bolts rained down upon the grassy plateau in a synchronized bombardment meant to turn the earth into molten glass.
"Now that is a proper meal!" Yan Shuo laughed, his voice ringing with ancient arrogance.
He didn’t stand still. He leaped into the air, his pristine white robes fluttering amidst the storm of destruction. He danced through the raining plasma, his hands coated in pitch-black gravitational Qi. Every time a bolt of Heavenly Punishment struck him, the Abyssal Core crushed it, refined it, and assimilated it.
His Nascent Soul grew denser, heavier, and more terrifyingly stable with every strike he devoured. The destructive lightning, meant to erase him, was instead forging his foundation in the fires of creation.
For a full incense stick of time, the sky bombarded the Azure Sword Sect. And for a full incense stick of time, Yan Shuo feasted.
Not a single strand of Heavenly Punishment escaped his grasp.
Every bolt that descended was seized, crushed, and devoured the instant it appeared before it could touch the ground. The storm had not been weathered—it had been consumed in its entirety.
Finally, the black vortex began to thin. The Heavenly Dao had exhausted the localized spiritual energy required to manifest the Punishment. With a final, echoing rumble of thunder that sounded almost like a frustrated sigh, the black clouds dispersed, revealing the clear, starry night sky.
Yan Shuo dropped gracefully back down to the grassy plateau.
The ground around him was completely fused into smooth, black glass from the ambient heat, but he remained entirely untouched. He let out a deep, immensely satisfied breath.
His Nascent Soul was completely solidified. He had crossed a major cultivation threshold in a single afternoon, fueled entirely by the stolen wealth of the Righteous Alliance, the blood of ten thousand enemies, and the wrath of the Heavens.
He turned around, smoothing his white robes.
Tantai Zhi was still standing exactly where he had left her. She hadn’t moved a single inch. Her fingers were still pressed to her forehead, her golden eyes wide and glassy, staring blankly at his chest.
"Zhi’er?" Yan Shuo called out softly, walking toward her.
She blinked, her focus slowly returning to the present. She looked at the fused glass crater, then looked up at the clear night sky, and finally looked at Yan Shuo, who was radiating a flawless, incredibly dense Nascent Soul aura.
"Did... did it rain, Husband?" she asked softly, her voice still incredibly sweet and incredibly confused.
Yan Shuo let out a genuine burst of laughter, reaching out to gently pinch her warm, flushed cheek.
"Just a slight drizzle, Wife," Yan Shuo replied smoothly. "But I have finished my cultivation. The air is getting a bit chilly. Shall we go inside and assure Sect Master Zhao that the mountain is still standing?"
Tantai Zhi instantly snapped out of her daze, her eyes widening with immediate concern as she felt the cool mountain breeze.
"Chilly?! We must get you inside immediately! You just formed your Nascent Soul, your meridians must be exhausted!"
Without waiting for his permission, she lunged forward, sweeping him off his feet into a flawless, fiercely protective princess carry. She held him tightly against her chest, her majestic crimson robes flaring as she prepared to carry him all the way back up to their courtyard.
Yan Shuo didn’t complain. He just casually rested his head against her shoulder, his pragmatic mind already shifting to the next step of his grand plan.
The proxy army is dead, Yan Shuo calculated silently as his wife carried him up the mountain steps. Bai Chen will feel the backlash of the Blood Writ failing. He knows the trap didn’t work. The real game of chess begins now.