The storm did not come gently.It descended upon the Green Spring Pavilion like an ancient debt come to collect—thunder rolling in jagged waves, lightning carving white scars across the sky. Wind hammered the pagodas, bending the bamboo groves until the stalks creaked like bones resisting fate.
Elder Lu stood beneath the eaves of the meditation hall, robes whipping violently as he watched the northern peak. "He is still up there," he murmured. "The Cavern of Breath will not shelter him from this."
The Pavilion Master joined him, leaning lightly on his jade staff. Raindrops hissed as they struck the aura surrounding him—a faint sphere of tranquility amid chaos.
"This storm isn't natural," Elder Lu said. "It's responding to him."
The master's eyes narrowed as a streak of crimson lightning split the heavens above the northern summit. "No," he corrected softly, "it is testing him."
High above, Qi Shan Wei sat at the mouth of the Cavern of Breath, drenched in rain, clothes plastered to his skin, hair whipping like silver ribbons in the gale.
Yet he did not flinch.
The prismatic mark on his wrist glowed brightly, painting his soaked sleeve in red, gold, and shadowed black. It throbbed with every heartbeat—an answering pulse to the storm gathering overhead.
Lightning struck the ridge not fifty steps away, blasting a crater into the stone. Heat washed over him, but he remained still.
"Is this your answer?" he whispered to the sky. "To test me the moment I understand the flame?"
The storm cracked open in response—thunder splitting the clouds like a divine laugh.
His pulse quickened. Beneath his ribs, the threefold flame coiled like a living serpent, eager and restless. In the back of his mind, he could still hear the voices from the cavern.
We are fire.We are thunder.We are the shadow between them.
And you… are our vessel.
Shan Wei rose slowly to his feet. The wind nearly knocked him sideways, but he steadied himself with a deep breath. One—arrive. Two—agree. Three—anchor.
Each inhalation strengthened him. Each exhalation calmed the storm inside.
But the storm outside would not obey.
From the heart of the thunderclouds, a bolt of lightning began to take shape—not a simple flash, but something deliberate, purposeful. The light twisted, thickened, coalesced into a lance of blinding gold-white energy.
Shan Wei's eyes widened.
This was no ordinary strike.This was Heaven's Wrath Lightning—a tribulation normally reserved for cultivators attempting divine breakthroughs. To face it at six years of age was unthinkable.
The bolt descended.
Shan Wei thrust his palm upward on instinct. Prismatic flame erupted from his hand—raw, unstable, but fiercely alive. Crimson fire, golden lightning, and void-shadow spiraled together into a swirling vortex of color that met the descending bolt.
The world exploded.
A shockwave tore across the summit, hurling loose stones into the air. Trees split down their trunks. The cliffside cracked like thin pottery.
Shan Wei was thrown back, skidding across the ground until his shoulder slammed against the cavern wall. Pain jolted through him—but the flame within roared even louder.
He gasped, clutching his chest. His vision blurred, but he forced himself upright again. He would not bow.
Above, the storm gathered its strength once more. Flickers of crimson-blue lightning swirled in a vortex, forming a second bolt—larger, heavier, and undeniably lethal.
In the Pavilion below, disciples screamed as the sky darkened unnaturally. Elder Lu stepped forward, face pale.
"We must intervene!"
The Pavilion Master raised a hand. "No."
Lightning boomed. Rain hammered the rooftops.
"He bears the Prismatic Flame," the master said quietly. "This is his first tribulation."
Elder Lu clenched his jaw. "He's just a child."
"And the heavens do not care for age."
On the summit, Shan Wei staggered to his feet once more. Blood trickled from his lip, mixing with the rain that sluiced down his face.
The mark on his wrist pulsed madly—unceasing, urgent.
Another breath.Another anchor.
He felt the threefold flame whirl inside him like a furious cyclone. It wanted release. It wanted to burn the sky itself.
The second bolt began its descent.
Shan Wei exhaled, and the storm inside him surged upward like a dragon breaking from its egg.
He thrust both hands toward the heavens.
The prismatic energy erupted—this time not as a vortex, but as a pillar of pure, blinding light. Red, gold, and shadow spiraled upward in a roaring surge, meeting the descending bolt with the full fury of a child who refused to kneel.
The sky shattered.
A wave of color exploded outward, ripping the clouds apart. Thunder screamed through the world as the bolt met the pillar—and both vanished in a burst of prismatic radiance so brilliant it turned night into dawn.
For a heartbeat, everything was silent.Even the rain paused midair.
Then the world inhaled again—slow, reverent.
The storm collapsed. Clouds dissolved like ash in wind. The sky cleared into a vast, trembling expanse of blue.
Qi Shan Wei fell to his knees.
His breath came in ragged gasps, each one feeling like fire scraping his lungs. He looked down at his wrist.
The prismatic mark had changed.It now glowed with a new depth—like a completed circle, no longer three pieces, but one unified whole.
A shiver ran through him.His flame had awakened.Truly awakened.
He whispered hoarsely, "Is this… my fate?"
From the cave behind him came a faint echo—like a whisper not made by air.
It is only your beginning.
Back at the Pavilion, elders rushed to the summit as soon as the storm broke. Elder Lu was the first to reach him, falling to his knees beside the boy.
"Shan Wei! Can you hear me?"
The child's eyes fluttered open. Though exhausted, they gleamed bright gold—brighter than ever.
"I didn't burn the mountain… did I?" he asked weakly.
Lu choked back a laugh of relief. "Barely."
As they carried him down, the Pavilion Master watched from afar, leaning on his staff. His ancient eyes narrowed—not in disappointment, but in deep, troubled awe.
"Such power…" he murmured. "Not even the heavens know what he will become."
Then he added, quietly, as if speaking to the mountain itself:
"But they fear it."
To be continued..
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