As Luo Tang's breakthrough to the Foundation Establishment stage completed, the air itself seemed to tremble. The ninefold heavenly punishment had tested him, yet he endured—his will unyielding, his spirit reborn. The watching elders exchanged silent, awed glances; excitement and pride surged in their hearts as they imagined the heights this boy might one day reach. To survive the heavens' wrath and shatter human limits to forge his foundation—this was not merely talent, but destiny taking form.
When a new day dawned, serenity replaced the storm. At the Luo residence atop Luo Peak, gentle rays of sunlight spilled over the tiled roof, glinting off dew-laden leaves. Luo Tang stood outside, beside the small garden his family had nurtured for generations. Kneeling by the flower beds, he poured clear water over the roots of newly planted blossoms, the soft earth drinking it eagerly.
His parents worked nearby, carrying saplings gathered from the forest the previous day. They planted each one with care, filling the garden with shades of green and bursts of color. The fragrance of fresh soil mingled with the delicate perfume of blooming petals, carrying a rare sense of peace.
Luo Peak itself was a tranquil rise overlooking the Hidden Land Village. To the east, the river curved like a silver ribbon through the trees; to the west, low hills guarded the horizon in gentle embrace. From this height, one could see the entire valley below—the rooftops of the village glimmering in sunlight and, beyond them, the training grounds where young disciples practiced under the watch of their elders.
It was a place where wind and sunlight met in harmony—a sanctuary blessed by nature itself. As Luo Tang tended to the flowers, his parents exchanged quiet smiles. The heavens had tested their son, and now, watching him nurture life with his own hands, they felt a peace deeper than pride—an assurance that no storm could shake the roots he had planted within himself atop Luo Peak.
While the family worked in calm rhythm, the half-open doors of their home creaked softly in the morning breeze. Through the narrow gap, sunlight poured inside, tracing golden lines across the wooden floor. Then, without warning, the doors swung wide. A young man stepped out—his steps steady, his expression calm yet faintly distant.
It was YunKai Tao, the boy who had faced the heavens and survived. Only a day ago, he had attempted to break through and failed, triggering the Twelve-Color Heavenly Punishment—a storm so fierce that even the elders had feared for his life. Struck again and again by twelve bolts of thunder, each bearing a different hue, he had fallen unconscious, his body scorched yet miraculously alive. Elder Tong Chen had carried him here to rest. Now, as dawn bathed Luo Peak in light, YunKai Tao finally opened his eyes.
Within his body, a silent war raged. In the depths of his blood, six kinds of energy coexisted in chaos. In the past, his blood had been dark—red mingled with shadow, a strange hue closer to black than crimson. That blackness had long whispered of something unnatural, an ancient corruption slowly devouring his life. But the heavenly punishment had struck deeper than flesh or bone.
Each of the twelve colored thunders that pierced him carried not just destructive power, but something higher—an echo of the planet's own law, the will of the Blue Star itself. The thunder did not simply burn; it purified. As those bolts tore through his veins, they shattered the corruption that had long coiled within. What had once been the slow advance of darkness was now forced into retreat. The black essence, once dominant, began to fade—suppressed, purified, or perhaps converted back into mortal blood by that vast, unseen will.
Deep within his veins, five pure energies—red, white, green, blue, and golden—rose like ancient guardians. They had always existed faintly, buried beneath the black tide, but now they awakened, strengthened by the heavenly bolts. Together they fought the darkness, pushing it back with renewed fury. The black energy resisted, a devouring force that swallowed even thunderlight, like a small black hole hidden within his blood. But this time, the devourer was wounded. Each time it consumed a strand of divine lightning, it burst apart from within, scattering fragments of corruption that dissolved into pale, harmless blood.
It was as if heaven itself sought to reshape him, to strip away all that was impure and force his body to choose between life and oblivion. The battle within his veins became a storm of color—five lights clashing against black, twelve thunders burning between them, until his blood roared like a tide of fire and lightning.
At the center of this chaos lay his heart, the origin point where the heavenly bolts had struck hardest. There, the black energy was thickest—trying desperately to reclaim what it had lost. Yet every attempt to devour was met with resistance. The thunder did not simply vanish when swallowed; it exploded, shattering the darkness from within. The purified blood that remained could no longer be corrupted so easily. Each explosion made the next transformation harder for the black energy—forcing it to consume four times more power than before just to corrupt a single drop.
Gradually, a new equilibrium formed. The mortal blood, newly reborn, no longer shone with unnatural darkness, yet within it lingered the faint trace of that ancient strength. It was neither wholly pure nor wholly corrupted—something new was taking shape. The thunder's law had begun forging him anew, transforming weakness into foundation.
But such rebirth was far from gentle. Within that young man's body, it was as though two eternal enemies—the pure and the dark—waged endless war, and he himself stood between them. Each heartbeat was a clash; each breath a negotiation between destruction and survival.
One thing, however, was certain: his blood was changing. It might never return to what it once was, and whatever supreme power had once slumbered within might be lost—or transformed forever. Yet even so, this was not a fall from grace, but the dawn of something new.
Standing at the doorway of Luo Peak, bathed in sunlight, YunKai Tao opened his eyes at last. For the first time since the storm, they were clear—calm, deep, and filled with the silent knowledge of one who had glimpsed the boundary between life and death… and returned.
As he stepped out into the morning air, a cheerful voice reached his ears.
"Big Brother! You're finally awake! Do you know how worried Mother and Father were about you?"
The sound was bright, full of youthful energy, and before Tao could answer, a boy of about eleven or twelve came running toward him—Luo Tang, his younger cousin. The boy's face glowed with excitement, but his movements carried an uncontrolled surge of power. Each step trembled faintly with spiritual energy—the fresh aura of his new Foundation Establishment breakthrough.
In his enthusiasm, Luo Tang nearly spilled the bucket of water he carried; the handle snapped, sending droplets scattering across the earth and a few flowers trembling under the burst of aura. Tao's lips curved faintly. Even without words, he could sense the unrefined but genuine power in the boy—it was raw, unstable, but alive.
At the sound of Luo Tang's voice, his parents emerged from the garden path. Their faces changed instantly—not from shock alone, but from the quiet weight of realization. The two adults had known what had happened the day before—the twelve-colored heavenly punishment, the unnatural storm that had nearly torn Tao's life apart. They knew better than anyone the truth of the power dwelling within him, and the danger it carried.
For years, they had secretly guarded that truth. The black essence within Tao's blood was no ordinary affliction—it was a living corruption, a strange entity of unknown origin. To keep it in check, they had used their own strength, channeling their life force—the green and blue energies of their own bloodlines—to suppress the darkness. Every three years, they performed the same secret ritual, offering a portion of their blood essence to reinforce the balance inside Tao's body.
Each time, the process left Tao unconscious for days, unaware of what they had done. In the early years, it took five days for him to recover; with training and growing resilience, that time had shortened to two. It was a silent burden the couple bore without ever speaking of it to anyone—not even to Tao himself.
Yesterday, when Elder Tong Chen had carried the unconscious Tao to Luo Peak, the couple had examined his condition and were horrified by what they saw. The thunder of the heavens had burned through his meridians and bones, leaving the inner energies in utter chaos. The five-colored blood energies—red, white, green, blue, and golden—were all struggling to suppress the black essence, which resisted with terrifying tenacity.
Believing it would take at least a week for Tao to awaken, they had performed the ritual once again, infusing their combined green and blue blood essence into him to stabilize the imbalance. Yet now, seeing Tao standing before them, conscious and calm after only a single night, they were both stunned and speechless.
The heavens' thunder had not only purged him—it had accelerated the process they had struggled to maintain for years. The divine lightning had reshaped his bloodline, purifying the corruption and fortifying the other five energies. What they saw before them was not weakness, but a transformation neither of them had dared to hope for.
Luo Tang, oblivious to the heavy silence around him, grinned from ear to ear. "Big Brother's back! Now we can train together again!" he shouted, his eyes sparkling with innocent pride.
YunKai Tao's gaze softened. He reached out and ruffled the boy's hair, feeling the faint tremor of blood energy pulsing beneath his palm. "You've grown stronger," he said quietly, his voice calm yet warm. "But remember—true strength isn't in how high you rise, but in how steady you stand."
The words carried a quiet depth, one Luo Tang didn't yet understand, but the boy nodded eagerly anyway, smiling like sunlight.
As Tao stood there, the Luo mother slowly approached him. Her eyes were misted with emotion, and she knelt before him without hesitation. Like a mother checking her child after battle, she examined him gently—touching his arms, tracing faint scars across his shoulders, and pressing her palm lightly to his chest as if to feel the rhythm of his heart.
Her hands trembled slightly as she looked up, her voice a whisper.
"You… truly endured the twelve heavenly thunders. The heavens did not destroy you… they remade you."
Tao met her gaze in silence. Deep inside, he could still feel the chaos—those unseen forces warring within his veins—but beneath that turmoil was a quiet certainty. The storm had not broken him. It had only revealed what had been hidden all along.
A moment later, Luo Father stepped forward, his calm presence grounding the moment. His voice was deep, steady, and filled with quiet concern.
"You finally awakened," he said softly. "That's a good thing. Don't push yourself—if you feel dizzy or uneasy, rest. There's no need to rush into anything now."
As his aunt continued checking him, Tao lowered his head slightly, his expression filled with gratitude and quiet guilt. His voice, when he spoke, was low and sincere.
"I'm fine now," he said. "I'm sorry, Uncle… Aunt… for making you worry."
Luo Mother's eyes softened even more. Without a word, she reached up and wiped away the faint tear forming at the corner of Tao's eye with both hands. Her touch was gentle, as if to erase the pain he'd endured. For a long moment, she simply looked at him—relieved, comforted, and silently thankful that the boy she had come to love as her own had returned alive.
Though they could not see what stirred deep within Tao's body—those storms of energy and blood still shifting quietly—they could feel his pulse was steady, his breath calm, his life force whole. For now, that was enough.
Luo Father exhaled softly, the tension in his shoulders finally easing. A smile broke through his usually composed expression. "It seems both our children have defied the heavens this week," he said with a hint of pride. "One has endured the Heavenly Punishment and lived, and the other has broken through to the Foundation Establishment. Perhaps our family's fortune is changing."
At that, Luo Tang puffed out his chest proudly, his grin wide. "Hehe, I told you, Big Brother! I broke through yesterday too! Now I can finally keep up with you in training!"
Tao smiled faintly, a warmth lighting his tired eyes. "You've done well, Tang. But remember, a true cultivator's journey begins only after the breakthrough. Don't get carried away."
Luo Tang laughed, scratching the back of his head. "I know, I know. Elder Tong Chen said the same thing! But still—when I was facing the bottleneck, I thought of how you never gave up, no matter how hard your training was. That helped me push through!"
Tao's expression softened further, a quiet pride hidden in his calm voice. "Then it seems my suffering served a purpose."
The family shared a small laugh, the heavy air finally lifting. The sunlight spilling through the clouds brightened, touching the flowers nearby with golden warmth. The soft rustle of wind and the scent of wet earth filled the air around Luo Peak, turning the moment into something peaceful—an aftertaste of serenity following the storm.
For the first time in a long while, all of them simply stood together, not as cultivators or guardians, but as a family—bound by blood, trust, and the silent promise of new beginnings.