Shadow stumbled forward, every muscle trembling, blood seeping from dozens of cuts and soaking the storm-forged stone beneath his boots. Lightning still cracked across the sky, but its fury was hollow now, echoing only as a chorus to his survival.
Kaien.
Li Rong.
Wang Shi.
Defeated.
Not vanquished through hatred, but through necessity.
And still, Shadow didn't stand tall.
He endured.
As the last arcs of thunder dispersed, a deep vibration spread beneath the Circle of Storms. From the heart of the arena, a radiant bridge made of woven lightning emerged, rising slowly into the air, forming a pathway toward a floating plateau shrouded in clouds and veiled silence.
Shadow barely breathed as he took his first step onto the bridge. Pain dulled. Not gone—but suspended. The tomb was not done with him yet.
At the end of the bridge sat a shallow pool, nestled in a bowl of obsidian and jade, its silver-blue surface crackling like the sky before a storm.
The Thunder Pool.
He didn't hesitate. He couldn't.
He stepped into it.
Agony flared—then vanished.
Warmth flooded his limbs. His wounds hissed, cauterized by pure thunder. Broken ribs knit. Torn flesh closed.
Then, the real storm began.
His dantian surged. Spiritual energy roared like a typhoon inside his core. Echo Devour activated on its own, greedily drawing lightning Qi from the pool. His Foundation Realm trembled—expanded—evolved.
Foundation Realm: seventh Layer...
Then silence.
He rose slowly, eyes glowing with silver light.
He was no longer the same.
He turned as the tomb opened another path.
The final gate.
The gate led to a massive obsidian hall. Its ceiling soared like a cathedral, veiled in clouds. Lightning danced lazily across its walls, whispering like ghosts.
Dozens of shattered platforms floated in disarray, as if battle had already come and gone.
And at the center stood a lone figure.
Jian Mu.
Bloodied.
Burned.
Barely standing.
"Jian Mu!" Shadow shouted, rushing forward.
Jian Mu raised his head. His face was pale, but his eyes held the same spark. "You look like hell. Guess you've been through it too."
"What happened here?"
Jian Mu grimaced. "Slaughter. The three sects… they slaughtered us the moment the fourth trial started and they killed each other after. But when only the strongest from each remained… they stopped fighting each other."
His gaze turned bitter. "They came for us first—for Verdant Moon. They said we didn't deserve to stand on equal footing. Said our sect tainted the legacy of the tomb."
Shadow's fists clenched.
"They blamed our very presence for disrupting the ancient harmony."
Jian Mu nodded. "They said our victories were flukes. That we stole the legacy meant for greater sects."
He lowered his head. "Yanmei, Luo Fei, even Xian Shu... They were ambushed. Surrounded. Called cowards. Slain. Not because they were weak—but because they wore the same robes as you and me."
A pause.
"They didn't care about justice. Only that Verdant Moon dared to climb too high."
A new presence stirred ahead.
Before the tomb could react, four figures emerged from the rising mist. Their faces were pale but unmistakable.
Zhen Yue. Wei Lin. Yu Bailing. Feng Ao.
They stepped forward, their spiritual pressure oppressive, eyes glowing faintly as their reanimated souls took form.
Zhen Yue sneered. "Look at the two of you. The so-called 'survivors' of Verdant Moon. A crumbling sect clinging to scraps."
Wei Lin scoffed, his green talisman-bound spear tapping against the stone. "You worms actually think you're worthy of the Thunder Lord's legacy? You barely qualify as footnotes."
Yu Bailing's smile was cruel. "You shouldn't have left the outer sect. You're out of place here. This tomb was never meant for low-blood mongrels."
Feng Ao cracked his knuckles. "I wanted to kill you both back during the assembly. But it's better this way. Now the tomb itself will watch as we erase your names."
Jian Mu stepped forward, blood trailing from the edge of his torn robes. "We fought for this just like you did. Bled, survived, endured. And even now, you cowards hide behind broken pride."
Zhen Yue's voice turned sharp. "You think survival earns respect? You're parasites, and this tomb is the cure."
Yu Bailing's fan snapped open. "Enough talking. Let the tomb decide."
And then, the sky cracked.
A roar of divine thunder split the air.
Descending from the clouds came a colossal figure—towering, cloaked in radiant lightning, armored in layered jade and celestial steel. His eyes were galaxies of stormlight, and each step he took shook the entire realm.
The Remnant of the Thunder Lord.
"You have reached the final gate."
"You stand at the threshold of sovereignty."
"I am the Remnant of the Thunder Lord—the last sovereign of storm and blade."
The very air bowed to his presence. The clouds stilled. The lightning dared not strike.
"You seek my legacy. But legacies are not inherited—they are earned."
"Prove yourselves worthy."
Jian Mu's breath trembled.
Shadow looked up, unblinking.
The storm had crowned its judge.