The Final Exchange – "The Devil and the Thunder Beast"
The battlefield was fractured — earth torn asunder, clouds spiraling above, thunder rolling with erratic rhythm.
Wuixe stood still.
The Thunderhand Tiger crouched low, its massive body heaving, three heads watching in unison. Its fur sparked violently with lightning; corrupted Qi oozed from its fangs like venom.
This was no longer prey versus predator.
This was warrior versus warrior.
"You smile like a child," rumbled the tiger, thunder lacing its voice. "Yet every step you take... feels ancient."
Wuixe cracked his neck, purple eyes glowing like cursed amethyst under moonlight. He rolled his shoulder once, the wind and thunder essence flickering around him like twin serpents coiling in dance.
"Funny. You're the beast here, but I think I'm the one learning the most."
The tiger's three heads lowered. A hum echoed from its center chest — a gathering of Qi like thunderclouds rumbling before a divine storm.
Thunder Pulse Art – Wrath of Heaven's Bellow.
All three mouths opened wide. Bolts of lightning surged outward—not like arrows, but like rivers. They spiraled midair, wrapping into a helix before striking forward as a compressed beam of thunder, dense enough to rupture stone into vapor.
Wuixe didn't move.
He extended both hands.
With a twirl of his fingers, the wind around him formed a vortex — not to block, but to grasp the thunder.
"Now let's see if my theory works."
Forbidden Flow Technique – Hollow Spiral Bind.
The beam struck.
Instead of exploding, the thunder slowed—the winds wrapped it like silk binding a blade. The very storm was paused mid-flight, pulled inward by Wuixe's rotating vortex. His body skidded back from the force, feet carving trails into the stone, veins bulging under the strain.
"Not enough…"
He dug his heels in.
"More—"
The wind screeched as the lightning compressed into a sphere above his palm, wreathed in corruption. It began to twist — the wind-spiral morphing the thunder's form.
Assimilation.
He pulled the dark Qi into himself — threads of thunder becoming veins of living power through his body. The pain was exquisite. He bled from his eyes, and still he smiled.
He stepped forward.
"My turn."
The Tiger pounced.
A burst of thunder launched it toward Wuixe like a meteor — claws raised, jaws open, lightning streaming behind it.
Wuixe didn't draw a sword.
Instead—
Wind Step: Echo Phantom Form.
He vanished.
A sudden gust — and he reappeared above the beast, fist clenched.
Thunder Palm – Chain Disruption Pulse.
He struck.
The middle head recoiled violently as Qi crackled like a dozen thunder drums. Before the beast could recover—
Wind Spiral Reversal Art – Gale Pinion Collapse.
Wuixe spun midair, slamming his heel into the tiger's spine, releasing a spiraling explosion of wind and thunder, enough to bend the beast's legs.
The beast spun, tail whipping.
Wuixe blocked with a crossed arm, his body launching back—
—but with a grin.
"Now you're learning."
The Tiger snarled, crouched, then lunged again—
—but Wuixe didn't back off.
He dashed forward—eyes mad, fists wreathed in thunder and wind—
And then, both combatants vanished into a chaotic dance:
A flurry of claws and fists. Thunder exploding from limbs. Wind spirals clashing like grinding gears. Wuixe ducked under a claw, palm-slamming the underbelly, only to get clipped by a lightning-coated fang. He rolled, flipped, and retaliated with a point-blank burst of corrupted wind into the beast's eyes.
"Die, or grow," Wuixe whispered mid-blow, "either's fine."
The Tiger roared, refusing to fall.
Then—final movements.
The beast rose.
The thunder essence in its chest condensed—a final core pulse.
Wuixe exhaled, crouched.
"He's putting it all into this."
So would he.
Wuixe's Final Technique – Spiral Heaven Reversal.
All the wind spiraled inward, forming a blade on his palm—not a sword, but a pure Qi edge, crackling with thunder and screaming wind.
The tiger's body became light.
Wuixe dashed.
BOOM.
The two clashed in a maelstrom of silver and purple, of lightning and storm, of beast and devil.
Silence followed.
Then—a thud.
The wind had grown still.
The trees around the cratered battlefield no longer whispered their songs. Leaves clung to blackened branches, their tips tinged with ash. Qi-heavy mist rolled slowly through the valley like a mourning veil, the ground scorched and still humming with residual spiritual force.
Two figures remained.
One on his feet.
One on his final breaths.
The Final Blow
Wuixe exhaled, his chest rising and falling like waves crashing against a dying shore.
His robes were torn, skin painted with smoke and red. Wind and thunder essence clung to his flesh like invisible chains, still pulsing softly within his meridians. He stood above the fallen creature—the massive Three-Headed Thunderhand Tiger, its great form sprawled out like a defeated monarch.
Its middle head twitched.
The left one groaned.
The right one, with golden eyes half-lidded, spoke in a deep rumble that was no longer threatening—but curious.
"What... does it mean to reach the peak?"
Wuixe blinked.
His smile was faint, blood dripping from his lip as he tilted his head.
"You're asking the wrong person," he replied softly, brushing silver strands of hair out of his eyes. "I haven't reached anything. I've only fallen… again and again."
He crouched beside the beast, hand placed gently atop its cracked central horn. The tiger wheezed, breath slowing.
"But," Wuixe added, gaze distant, "maybe it's not about standing tall at the summit. Maybe it's… having something still worth clawing toward—even when all that's left of you is a cursed soul in someone else's body."
The tiger closed its eyes slowly.
A faint grin touched all three of its heads.
"A strange… child. Not… child," it said with its final breath. "Demon… with a boy's heart."
It died smiling.
Honoring the Fallen
Wuixe stood in silence.
Not in sorrow. Not in victory.
But in thought.
"A demon with a boy's heart… tch."
He raised his palm and placed it against the beast's chest. Slowly, from the scorched cavity between its ribs, the beast core emerged—radiating thunder essence laced with thick, black tendrils of corrupted Qi. It pulsed in sync with the beat of a dying storm.
"You fought with purpose. That… deserves honor."
He didn't smile.
He simply nodded once.
Then, with a slow inhale, began to assimilate the beast core.
Corrupted Qi surged into his body like a flood bursting from a dam. His meridians screamed. His bones ached. Thunder roared in his ears and his vision turned into static—
He dove inward—
In the Dantian
Darkness.
He found himself drifting through the blackened sea of his own Dantian. A floating orb of purple lightning spun slowly before him—raw and jagged.
He smiled faintly.
"Thunder… that's new."
But as he reached out, curious about how the wind affinity had developed—he frowned.
There was no wind affinity inside.
Not even a flicker.
"What?"
He blinked.
Then realization came.
"...Of course. Of course."
He burst into laughter—wild, delighted, and a little broken.
"We have separate Dantian. His… and mine."
He laughed louder.
"That's perfect! He can't use my power. But I can use his."
He knelt over the forming thunder essence.
"This… is mine. This… I earned."
His hand hovered above it as it pulsed and adapted to him.
He smiled, deeply satisfied—for the first time in a long time.
The Clock Winds Down
But as his laughter faded, his Qi grew unstable. The wind around his form twisted, and his limbs began to stiffen.
"No… not yet."
His fingers began fading.
His skin shimmered—turning back.
"I'm not done! I haven't even named the technique yet!"
He clenched his fists, fighting against the rising tide of Lan Wu's return.
"Damn it all! You weak, smiling brat! I hate you! I HATE—"
But it was too late.
The body was slipping away.
In desperation, he thrust the tiger's core behind him, hiding it deep within the soulscape's fog, sealed behind chains of his own design.
"I'll finish it later," he hissed. "I swear… when I return, I'll be complete."
And with that—
He was gone.
The Gentle Return
Lan Wu's eyes fluttered open.
His vision was blurred.
His entire body was screaming.
"What… happened…?"
He turned his head and saw the massive corpse of the Three-Headed Thunderhand Tiger sprawled out, unmoving.
"I… won?"
His eyes filled with awe. He laughed lightly. It hurt to laugh, but he still did.
"I won…"
He took a single step forward—then collapsed face-first into the dirt.
The Witness of Ash
Moments later, a ripple split through the surrounding trees.
Mei Lian arrived.
What she saw made her heart stop.
The forest—once serene—was utterly ruined. Trees turned to ash. The very sky above the crater shimmered with residual storm energy. And there, lying broken and barely breathing—
"Lan Wu!!"
She rushed to him, lifting his weak body into her arms.
His skin was cracked with Qi scars.
His pulse was faint.
She held him close, her expression unreadable.
"You… fool."
She didn't bother checking the battlefield further. She already knew.
This wasn't something Lan Wu should've survived. Not something he should've been capable of.
" Who are you really, child...?"
But she said nothing more. Just cradled him in silence, wind stirring gently around them.