A week passed in silence. Tao remained fully immersed in his inner world, concentrating solely on the black essence within him. This energy was dangerous—it held the potential to trigger Heavenly Lightning around him if uncontrolled. His goal was clear: rid himself of this volatile power and convert it safely into his mortal blood. Every thought, every breath, focused on this delicate, life-or-death task. After careful deliberation and preparation, Tao finally made his decision. He was ready to execute his plan.
Meanwhile, the others spent their days honing their combat skills under the guidance of the elders. They trained relentlessly, learning the intricacies of martial arts—mixing traditional kung fu techniques with the precise strikes and disciplined movements of karate. The elders emphasized not only raw power but also practical combat application, teaching them how to channel their strength into brutal, efficient blows, how to anticipate an opponent's moves, and how to maintain balance under pressure.
This daily regimen also focused heavily on improving their foundational strength. They practiced stances, breathing exercises, and forms designed to refine muscle control and internal energy circulation. Every kick, punch, and movement was calculated to strengthen not just the body, but the mind, fostering focus, patience, and resilience. By the end of each day, the young cultivators were physically exhausted, yet their skills and inner strength had grown steadily, laying the groundwork for the challenges that lay ahead.
As Tao concentrated, the space around him began to change—subtly at first, then more noticeably. The air thickened, and a strange pressure settled over the training ground. The villagers, from ordinary residents to the elders and even Luo Tang's parents, all sensed that something extraordinary was about to occur. A stirring energy brushed against their awareness, a quiet warning that something beyond mortal comprehension was unfolding.
The younger cultivators, however, felt nothing. Their cultivation levels were too low, their senses too unrefined to perceive the subtle shifts in energy. Like all village residents, they lived largely as mortals—suppressing their true potential to experience ordinary life, practicing restraint, and gaining worldly knowledge. Even those with latent abilities maintained a calm exterior, blending seamlessly with daily life, unaware of the invisible currents of power flowing around them.
Recognizing the growing energy, the elders quickly took action. They gathered all the youngsters and instructed them to maintain a safe distance from Tao. Obedient, the children moved to the far edge of the training ground, carrying out simple tasks—cleaning and organizing the area—while keeping out of the range of Tao's developing aura. Even as they followed orders, they remained oblivious to the danger and magnitude of what was about to occur.
The elders themselves stayed close, monitoring every fluctuation in Tao's aura, ensuring no uncontrolled surge would harm the village. Tao, for his part, maintained strict internal pressure, controlling the violent forces of the black essence within him. Gradually, the dark, pitch-black energy began to manifest externally—not in a chaotic explosion, but as a concentrated field surrounding his body.
At first, the energy remained confined to a ten-meter radius, carefully collected under Tao's control. He expanded it slowly, methodically: ten to twenty meters… thirty… forty… and finally stretching outward to one hundred meters. The darkness spread like a living shadow, enveloping the training ground in a dense, inky aura.
As the energy expanded, it did not go unnoticed. The heavens themselves seemed to react to the immense pressure and power, their attention drawn to Tao's concentration. Sensing the growing threat, the elders evacuated all youngsters from the training ground and ensured that villagers gathered at a safe distance. Luo Tang's parents, standing on the edge of the cleared area, observed silently, their expressions tense but calm, trusting the elders' judgment.
Within this perimeter, Tao's control remained firm. The darkness, now extending nearly ten miles, did not run wild. Instead, it became a living shield around him, a tangible manifestation of his internal struggle. The elders maintained watch, their focus unwavering, ensuring that neither the village nor its people would inadvertently disturb the process. In this careful balance, Tao continued to refine and command the black essence, expanding its influence while holding back its true destructive force.
As the darkness expanded further—twenty miles, then thirty, and finally fifty miles—the very atmosphere began to shift. The heavens themselves responded, the calm, peaceful sky subtly changing in hue. By now, the pressure on the village had grown immense, far beyond what ordinary humans could endure. But the energy was still not at the scale Tao intended. With precise control, he pushed the black essence outward, expanding its reach to one hundred miles.
The sky transformed completely. Light shifted into deep, vibrant hues, and slowly, a magnificent, otherworldly scene unfolded above. Twelve distinct colors appeared, mirroring the legendary twelve-colored Heavenly Punishment, now twice as powerful as before. Darkness enveloped the village entirely. Wild beasts and the youngsters felt only the chilling weight in their hearts, as if an invisible mountain pressed down upon them, heavy and unyielding.
Within this tense stillness, the heavens prepared their strike. Luo Tang's parents clenched their hands tightly, worry etched deep into their expressions. The elders stood silently, watching every subtle movement of Tao's aura and the shifting sky, fully aware of the power being unleashed.
Finally, the heavens began their judgment. The twelve-colored thunders descended, striking Tao as the center of the celestial punishment. The entire sky roared with the sound of divine lightning, each bolt striking in rapid succession, so fast that it seemed the heavens were unleashing their fury in a single heartbeat.
Tao's body bore the brunt of the strikes. His condition worsened with each lightning bolt. Clothes were torn and burned to ash. Thunder scorched across his flesh, leaving blackened trails where blood oozed freely from his mouth, nose, and eyes. The intensity of the strikes only grew as time passed, each bolt carrying incomprehensible force.
Inside Tao's body, chaos raged. The black blood, wild before the thunderstorm began, was the first to confront the celestial onslaught. Bit by bit, the twelve-colored thunders suppressed it, testing Tao's limits. His mortal blood and the five elemental essences remained calm at first, unaffected by the early strikes. But gradually, as the lightning intensified, even they came into contact with the storm.
The golden, red, and other colored essences, though naturally more stable than the black blood, began to refine under the thunder's pressure. Their strength increased in tandem with the storm, growing more potent with each strike. Yet every type of blood and essence had its limits.
After five minutes of relentless punishment, Tao's will and strength began to falter. With effort, he regained partial control, starting to suppress the black essence bit by bit—first from its full wild state to twenty percent, then ten, and finally down to one percent. Still, the thunders remained furious, attacking ceaselessly. Tao could not fully contain the black energy; some of it surged around him, feeding the storm, but his control prevented total disaster.
Ten full minutes passed under the divine assault. Finally, the Heavenly Thunders ceased, leaving Tao utterly spent. He collapsed to the ground, unconscious, his body and spirit drained from the unimaginable punishment. The village remained silent, the air heavy with awe and fear, As the aftermath of the celestial trial settled over the landscape, Tao lay unconscious on the ground. Luo Tang's parents and the elders rushed forward, their hearts pounding, bracing for the worst. What they saw, however, defied all expectation.
Around Tao's prone body, three distinct energies shimmered—subtle, invisible to ordinary eyes, yet unmistakably powerful. They moved like living threads, weaving through and around him, coiling gently but with purpose. As these energies flowed into Tao's body, a miraculous transformation began. His muscles, scorched and torn by the heavenly thunders, started to knit themselves together. His cracked bones seemed to realign, sinews reconnected, and the flesh that had been seared and blackened began to regain its natural tone.
It was as if immortal energy itself had descended, repairing every wound, restoring his body from the inside out. Even his eyes, still closed in unconsciousness, radiated a faint glow as life and vitality surged back into him. Every strike from the twelve-colored thunders that had previously ravaged him now seemed absorbed, refined, and transformed into raw strength within his body.
The black energy that had once raged uncontrollably within him was now being subdued. The five essences, calm but potent, flowed in concert, suppressing the wild black essence. It no longer lashed out or surged violently; instead, it moved in rhythm with Tao's recovering body, restrained and tempered by the harmonious balance of mortal blood and the five essences.
The elders and Luo Tang's parents watched in awe, their breaths caught in their chests. The very air around Tao seemed to hum with quiet power. It was a rare and astonishing sight: a body nearly destroyed by heavenly punishment, yet mended and strengthened, infused with energies far beyond mortal comprehension.
For those standing nearby, it was a silent testament—not just to the trial Tao had endured, but to the incredible potential lying within him. The black essence, once a wild, untamed force, was now bound, and Tao's body, though still recovering, radiated a latent strength that hinted at his new, unprecedented level of power.
After witnessing Tao's miraculous recovery, Luo Tang's parents carefully approached him. Gently lifting his still-unconscious form, they moved with practiced precision, mindful of the immense energies still lingering around him. The three invisible, powerful energies continued to flow through Tao, repairing and stabilizing his body even as he was carried.
They made their way to the family's private sanctuary atop Luo Peak, a secluded place shielded from the rest of the village and the eyes of wandering cultivators. Here, the air was purer, the energy gentler, allowing Tao to rest fully while his body and spirit absorbed the remaining effects of the black essence and the five elemental energies.
On the peak, surrounded by serene mountains and flowing streams of chi, Tao was laid upon a specially prepared meditation platform. The Luo parents ensured that the area was protected with wards and barriers, shielding him from external disturbances while the internal energies continued their work. The black essence, once wild and dangerous, was now completely subdued, restrained harmoniously by his refined mortal blood and the five elemental essences.
The elders, observing from a safe distance below the peak, remained silent but vigilant, knowing that Tao's recovery and newfound control were the result of a breakthrough few could ever endure. The village itself seemed to hold its breath, as if acknowledging the gravity of what had just occurred.
Tao now rested, his body healing under the influence of immortal-like energies, and the path to mastering the black essence and his true potential had only just begun.