In the West, lightning is often the herald of wrath—Zeus hurling bolts from Olympus, Thor's hammer smashing across storm-darkened skies. Power is displayed, punishment swift and absolute.
In the East, lightning is not mere fury. It is mercy, judgment, and revelation—woven together in a single flash.
Long ago, in a village shadowed by the mountains, the rivers ran low and the fields cracked under the sun. Crops failed, children cried, and the elders whispered that the heavens had turned their face. Among the villagers lived a young woman, Dian Mu, whose eyes were said to pierce through lies, whose heart felt every injustice. She fed the hungry with her own meager grains and spoke truth to those who sought to hide it.
One evening, a corrupt magistrate arrived, demanding bribes in exchange for protection from the approaching drought. The villagers cowered, but Dian Mu stood firm, her voice clear as the river's cold current. The magistrate laughed, and his laughter summoned a storm unlike any the mountains had seen.
From the heart of the dark clouds, a figure descended—Lei Gong, the Thunder Duke, wings black as obsidian, talons shimmering with molten metal. Lightning danced across his body, revealing every hidden sin in the village below. He hovered over Dian Mu, observing her courage.
"You see the hearts of men," he said, voice like rolling thunder. "Would you bear the light to show them as they are?"
Dian Mu did not flinch. "If it can save them from themselves, I will."
With that, Lei Gong struck her chest—not to kill, but to transform. Her mortal body dissolved into silver fire, her hair becoming streaks of lightning that rippled across the sky. Wherever her gaze fell, lies and greed were illuminated, and hearts shivered under the truth of her light. She became Dian Mu, Mother of Lightning, whose flashes precede every storm, revealing the guilty before judgment falls.
That night, the villagers watched in awe as lightning streaked the heavens, striking only where injustice lingered. Crops would thrive again, rivers would swell, and yet the storm carried a gentle warning: truth must always be seen before punishment comes.
Even now, when lightning arcs across the Eastern skies, people whisper that it is Dian Mu passing overhead—her light swift, her mercy precise, her presence a reminder that justice need not strike blindly, but always shines before it falls.