Jalen stood still, the wind brushing past him as light qi surged through his body. The injuries from his previous battle—both inside and out—no longer troubled him. His ribs reset, bruises faded, and spiritual exhaustion ebbed. His qi restored to eighty percent in his dantian. That was the power of the eighth light Art technique—Light Bell.
Around him, murmurs never stopped. Cultivators on the surrounding peaks watched him, whispering endlessly, some with envy, others with greed. Jalen ignored them. Were it not for the treasure sealed on the mountaintop before him, he would have walked away. But something told him that leaving was not an option—and the Origin Shard nestled within him pulsed faintly, anchoring him to this place.
His gaze swept across those who watched him like beasts stalking prey.
They wanted everything—his dragon, the shattered Spirit Fusion Realm core he'd taken, and whatever treasure or high level cultivation method he posses that made him grow so fast at such a young age. Jalen offered no words, only a look. A sharp, deadly look that dared them to make a move.
None did.
Not yet.
Two days passed in silence.
Jalen remained on his peak. Cultivators from dozens of clans, sects, and royal factions lingered across the surrounding mountains. All of them kept their eyes on the flaming pond at the summit—protected by a formation none could break. They waited, hoping for some miracle that would destroy the seal and open the path to the prize.
And on the third morning, the heavens stirred.
The earth trembled—a low groan rolling through the rock and cloud. The air thickened, spiritual particles vibrating wildly. Then came the lightning.
Ten bolts dropped from the sky, each one laced with terrifying destruction. They didn't merely strike—they tore through dimensions. Energy blasted across peaks, sending cultivators diving into defensive formations or activating shields just to survive.
Two were too slow.
They burned in mid-air, lightning turning their bodies to fading smoke.
Others screamed as injuries ripped through their defenses. One was thrown from a mountaintop, another slammed into a cliff face with bone-crushing force. A few experts barely clung to consciousness.
And then, at the tenth strike, it happened.
The ancient formation surrounding the flaming pond shattered.
In a flash of light and thunder, the seal was gone.
Jalen didn't wait.
The moment the formation broke, the treasure was exposed—and the Origin Shard inside him surged in response. He dashed forward without hesitation, light qi rippling beneath his steps.
The dragon boy, who Jalen named, Jael, clung to him tightly. Arms wrapped firmly around Jalen's neck, small body secure as they flew toward the treasure. Silent, observant, unshaken by the storm.
Many cultivators saw the motion and panicked.
If Jalen reached the pond first, it might all be over.
Some charged after him, activating speed techniques, talismans, and spirit wings. But they were battered by residual lightning. Several fell mid-flight. One was nearly incinerated. Others retreated before death caught them.
Jaya and Walford didn't even try.
"That lightning still hasn't calmed," Jaya muttered, watching the sky.
Walford nodded. "He's making the charge. Let's see if he lives."
Jalen weaved through chaos.
His Flash Reversion technique activated, blinking him between air rips and thunder gaps, dodging blast waves that could level mountains. But the storm wasn't done.
One bolt twisted downward, almost catching him in full.
Instinctively, Jalen summoned Luminal Edge, his condensed light weapon. The blade blocked the blast—barely—but shattered on impact, sending backlash through his body.
Pain surged.
Blood dripped.
But Jalen endured.
Light Bell.
Healing light qi pulse through his body into his wounds as he ran, muscles repairing mid-stride. By the time the last arc faded, he was through.
Standing just five feet from the Flaming Blue Pond.
Flame qi flooded the air—dense, ancient, pulsing with heat that distorted vision. The pond shimmered with sapphire fire, burning without burning, whispering through the air in threads of raw elemental energy.
Jalen stopped.
He couldn't move closer.
Even his light qi struggled here. The heat pressed inward like invisible knives, trying to push him back. He stood his ground, body tense.
Jael whimpered. For the first time since the chaos began, the dragon boy trembled in discomfort.
This close to the pond, the flame qi clashed violently with his natural ice-aligned core. His face tightened, breath grew shallow. The boy pressed his forehead against Jalen's shoulder, seeking relief. Without the protection from Jalen's barrier and light qi mastery, his body might not survive the proximity.
Jalen didn't move.
He couldn't.
But others arrived.
One by one, twenty-five cultivators, all peak Spirit Fusion Realm, landed nearby. They came from powerful sects, secret clans, and ancient bloodlines. Each had suffered the lightning storm. Most bore marks—burns, injuries, torn garments, melted talismans.
None approached closer than ten feet from the pond.
Even they feared it.
The flame qi was simply too strong. Not even with all their power, reputation, and confidence did they dare step further. They watched Jalen, perhaps waiting for him to fall—or succeed.
But he held his ground.
The flaming pond pulsed.
Jael trembled.
And the sky, finally quiet, waited.