"Cough... cough..."
A violent fit of coughing, feeling as if it would tear his very chest asunder, dragged Tran Kien from the abyssal darkness of chaos. He slowly opened his eyes. The blazing maritime sun glared down, its reflection upon the water akin to tens of thousands of silver needles piercing his vision, forcing him to squint. The pungent scent of sea salt, the acrid odor of charred wood, and the coppery tang of blood assaulted his nose. Following close behind was an agonizing pain, as if he were suffering the torture of a thousand cuts, radiating from every single inch of his flesh.
He was still alive.
"Boy! You are finally awake!"
An aged voice, a mixture of joy and profound exhaustion, rang in his ears. Tran Kien struggled to turn his head. Old Kinh, the one-eyed man, sat beside him. His face, deeply etched with the scars of wind and waves, now looked ten years older. His frost-white beard, matted with sea salt, appeared disheveled in the wind.
"Elder..." Tran Kien rasped, but his throat was as dry as a desert, managing only a hoarse croak.
"Do not speak," Old Kinh hurriedly helped him sit up, handing him a gourd of fresh water. "Drink first. You have been comatose for seven days and seven nights."
Seven days? Tran Kien was astounded. He took a sip, feeling the cool, refreshing sensation spread throughout his body, before commencing a cycle of inner sight.
The scene within his body made even him, a man of iron will, suck in a breath of cold air. His entire meridian network, though tempered by Primordial Chaos Qi, had been shattered by the heavenly might, fractured in countless places. His internal organs had also suffered catastrophic damage. The domineering lightning energy of the heavenly strike, though significantly weakened, still lingered like a vicious lightning snake, darting through his meridians and wreaking endless havoc.
These were near-fatal injuries, a state from which there was virtually no return.
Yet, amidst that ruin, an incredibly robust, tenacious life force was rising.
The nine-petaled, milky-white lotus Dao Foundation at his Dantian was slowly rotating, continuously emitting the purest Primordial Chaos Qi. Slowly, methodically, it was healing his severed meridians. The Solar Essence Guardian fragment in his breast radiated a warm, golden halo, enveloping his heart meridian and safeguarding his divine soul. And most importantly, the majestic life force from the heart of the dragon—the Dragon Vein of Great Viet—flowed into him like a stream of sweet dew, endlessly nourishing and reconstructing what had been destroyed.
Destruction and rebirth. Breaking down to build anew.
His body, at this very moment, was a battlefield, but also a monumental pill furnace of creation.
"The demon king...?" Tran Kien asked.
"Dead," Old Kinh replied, his single eye unable to conceal its awe. "Its soul and spirit scattered by your strike of heavenly lightning. Boy, this old man has spent a lifetime at sea, but I have never seen a madman like you. To dare borrow heavenly might to slay an enemy. That chess move... was truly 'heaven-shaking and earth-shattering'."
Tran Kien only smiled bitterly. He knew it was a gamble. He had won the bet, but the price paid was exorbitant.
"Our boat..."
"It is still here," Old Kinh looked around. "But it isn't in much better shape than you."
The sturdy Ironwood boat had been reduced to a heap of scrap. The mast was snapped, the sail in tatters, the deck covered in scorch marks and fissures. It could sink at any moment.
The following days were the most arduous, yet also the most miraculous.
Old Kinh, with the unyielding will of a seafarer, shouldered everything alone. He cared for Tran Kien while using the remaining scraps of wood and frayed ropes to patch the boat. He even used his own clothes to fashion a makeshift, temporary sail.
As for Tran Kien, he could not move. He focused his entire mind on the battle raging within his body.
He did not attempt to expel the domineering lightning energy. He knew it was impossible. Instead, he did something even more insane.
He intended to refine it!
Using his Primordial Chaos Qi as a bridge, and the life force of the Dragon Vein as a catalyst, he slowly, methodically guided the lightning energy. He did not confront it; he "tempered" it. He utilized his Saber Intent - Hundredfold Tempered, but this time, the target was not an enemy, but the very power ravaging his own body.
This process was excruciatingly painful. Every clash and fusion of the Primordial Chaos Qi and the lightning energy made his meridians ache as if pierced by tens of thousands of needles. But after each bout of agony, his newly healed meridians became slightly more resilient and expansive. The domineering lightning energy was also partially tamed, losing some of its ferocity.
Time flew by, and a month passed.
The devastated boat still drifted upon the vast sea. But it no longer looked as though it were about to sink. Under Old Kinh's skillful hands and iron will, it had been temporarily repaired and was capable of continuing the journey.
And Tran Kien, too, had completely metamorphosed.
One afternoon, he finally opened his eyes. The charred scars on his body had almost completely peeled away, revealing new, ancient-bronze skin that concealed a terrifying strength. His cultivation remained at the mid-Foundation Establishment stage, but the aura he exuded was even more profound and unfathomable. Within its luminous righteousness, there now lay a trace of domineering heavenly might.
He stood up, his steps steady. He raised his right hand.
Zzt... zzt...
At his fingertip, a tiny silver streak of lightning danced obediently. It was no longer domineering or destructive. It had been completely subjugated by him, becoming a part of his own power.
His Primordial Chaos Qi had now fused with the power of heavenly lightning.
"Excellent! Truly excellent!" Old Kinh burst into hearty laughter upon witnessing the scene. "Breaking down to build anew, disaster and fortune depend on one another! Boy, you have truly stumbled upon a grand serendipity this time!"
Tran Kien also smiled. He gazed toward the distant horizon. Following the storm, the sea had returned to its gentle state. But he knew the true trial still lay ahead.
"Elder," he spoke. "How far have we traveled?"
Old Kinh consulted the sea chart, then looked toward the bizarre clouds in the distance. His single eye narrowed.
"If I am not mistaken," he said, his voice growing solemn. "We... are approaching the misty sea."
On the horizon, a wall of ash-grey mist, as dense as a heavenly chasm and soaring into the azure sky, had silently materialized. It resembled the gaping maw of time itself, waiting to swallow any who dared to draw near.
Flame Mountain lay right before them.