Wenrui feels his entire body screaming in pain.

With his spirit, he sinks into an introspect state, and what he sees inside makes his chest tighten.

His body is a wreck—muscles torn both small and large, bones lined with hair-thin cracks, and organs dried like shrivelled leaves.

But what worries him most is Kratos’s right hand and right foot, still embedded within him.

They exist in another dimension overlapping his own body, yet now red energy leaks from the cracks, seeping into his flesh and merging with it.

The energy heals him—and that is the worst part.

Kratos’s power is transforming his body, and when that transformation finishes, Wenrui knows he will die.

The only way to stop it is to create a body for Kratos before that day arrives.

He gathers his spirit and forces the cracks closed through sheer will, sealing the leaking energy for now. It’s only a temporary reprieve.

To make it permanent, he must climb higher on the ladder of National Martial Arts—but he stands at its end, with no steps left to ascend. The next step must be built by him.

With this thought anchoring his mind, he opens his eyes. The scent of medicine lingers in the air. Wang Ji sits nearby, asleep on a chair, his head tilted forward.

Wenrui groans and shifts upright. The sound wakes Wang Ji, who blinks rapidly before springing up.

“Captain, you’re awake! How are you? Any pain? Do you need anything?”

“Stop. Stop.” Wenrui raises a hand weakly. “Bring me some food.”

After a short while, Wang Ji returns with a tray. Wenrui eats slowly, channelling the energy he gains into mending his internal injuries.

When he finishes and opens his eyes again, his team members are gathered in the room. Xia He stands beside them—but the princess and Li Na are absent.

“Where’s the princess?” Wenrui asks.

Gu Yan steps forward. “A letter came at dawn. It requested her presence in Leize City.”

“Why?” Wenrui’s tone sharpens.

“She didn’t say,” Gu Yan replies quietly.

Wenrui swings his legs off the bed, determination already burning in his eyes. “Get ready. We’re going to Leize City.”

--------

After arriving at Kira City, Jingxuan goes straight to the Iron Guard headquarters.

The hall is busy, officers moving in and out with scrolls and crystal tablets in hand.

He reports his arrival, and a clerk informs him that all military officers assigned to the Thunderstorm Mountain rebellion are to gather at the army camp being built on the border between Kira and Leize City.

Without delay, Jingxuan leaves the city walls and soars into the sky.

From above the clouds, the vast expanse of the Thunderstorm Mountains comes into view.

The range stretches endlessly, its peaks cloaked in dark, rolling thunderclouds that flash with silver-blue lightning. Below, the slopes are covered in dense green forest, mist curling between the trees like living breath.

The perpetual storm shrouding the range gives it its name—Thunderstorm Mountains.

Within the clouds, faint shapes flicker and vanish—thunder-attribute weirds, darting through lightning arcs like fish through water. Jingxuan watches them briefly but keeps his focus.

His goal is not thunder weirds, but the wind and water-attribute ones said to dwell deeper within.

A few minutes later, he spots the army camp at the foot of the mountains, half-constructed palisades rising amid tents and carts. He descends, his boots striking the ground with a soft thud.

Work halts immediately. Soldiers stop hammering and turn to stare, whispers rippling through the camp.

Then a rough voice bellows, “Why have you all stopped? Never seen a Dark Sun realm warlock before? Get back to work!”

The soldiers scramble back to their work as the burly man in a military officer’s uniform strides out of the main tent. Each step lands firm, his boots pressing dust from the ground.

His sharp eyes size up Jingxuan before he halts a few meters away and bows slightly. “Senior, what can I do for you?”

Jingxuan’s tone is calm. “I am not any senior. I am Thousand-Men Commander Jingxuan, here to report.”

The man straightens at once, surprise flickering across his face before it softens into a broad smile. “Comrade Jingxuan! My nephew never told me the good news—you’ve broken through to the Dark Sun Realm, haven’t you?”

Jingxuan shakes his head. “I’m still a Moon Realm warlock. And may I know who your nephew is?”

The man lets out a hearty laugh. “Pei Shan! I’m his uncle, Pei Guang, from the Jingling branch of the Pei family.”

Recognition flashes in Jingxuan’s eyes, and his expression eases.

Now, certain Jingxuan isn’t radiating the corrosive aura of a Dark Sun warlock. Pei Guang steps closer, his earlier caution gone.

Together they walk through the camp, exchanging small talk about troop numbers and construction progress. Soldiers step aside as they pass, saluting both men.

They enter a large command tent at the camp’s centre. Inside, a broad wooden table dominates the space, maps and crystal markers scattered across its surface. Several chairs circle the table, waiting for the next council of war.

Pei Guang gestures toward one. “Comrade Jingxuan, please wait here until your tent is set up.”

Jingxuan nods but remains standing. “Uncle Pei, may I ask—what caused the rebellion, and who’s in charge of the military operation?”

Pei Guang folds his arms. “Don’t worry, Comrade Jingxuan. The campaign will be led by Commander Xu Shiyi. As for the rebellion, it’s said to have been stirred up by the Lei family.”

“Lei family?” Jingxuan frowns slightly. “I’ve never heard of any noble family by that name.”

Pei Guang exhales, his expression darkening with memory. “They were powerful once, but about two hundred years ago, the entire clan vanished overnight. The court investigated, but not a trace was found—not a survivor, not a ruin. Now, somehow, their name resurfaces, leading a rebellion.”

Jingxuan stands silent, thoughts turning behind his calm gaze.

Pei Guang continues, lowering his voice. “And I heard the princess herself will be arriving soon to oversee the operation.”

Jingxuan’s eyes light up with interest. “Really? That’s good news.” A faint smile tugs at his lips. “Then prepare my tent beside the princess’s.”

Pei Guang chuckles. “Alright. For now, just rest here. I’ve posted a man outside—you can ask him for anything you need.”

Jingxuan shakes his head. “No need. I’m heading to the Thunderstorm Mountains.”

Pei Guang blinks. “Now?”

“Now.”

The two step out of the tent together, the cool wind carrying the scent of storm and pine. They walk side by side to the camp gate, where Pei Guang halts.

Jingxuan offers a brief nod before striding on alone, his figure soon swallowed by the misty expanse stretching toward the thunder-wreathed mountains.

Stepping into the range, he instantly feels lighter—like an invisible shackle slipping from his body.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from NovelBin. Please report it.

Since arriving in Kira City, he had sensed a restraint on his weird energy, as though something suppressed its natural flow.

Now, that suppression vanishes.

The magnetic field of the Thunderstorm Mountains interferes with the reach of the divine domain, blocking its oppressive influence.

He doesn’t know why the magnetic field repels the divine domain’s power, nor does he care to investigate—for now.

He came for one purpose: to hunt wind- and water-attributed weirds.

He moves through the storm-wreathed slopes, eyes scanning the jagged cliffs and roaring rivers below, beginning his search.

The next day, at the camp, construction finally ends.

One by one, officers, generals, and troops return from inspections, and the princess arrives under an escort of divine guards.

Moments later, the council of war convenes inside the command tent.

Except for one, all chairs are filled.

At the head of the table sits Xu Shiyi, an old man with sharp eyes and a voice like thunder.

To his left is the princess, calm and unreadable behind her veil of authority.

To his right sits General Ju Funan of the Iron Guard—the highest-ranking officer present, his broad frame radiating martial dominance.

Around them are gathered several civil officials, minor officers, and Pei Guang.

Xu Shiyi’s gaze falls on the single empty chair. “Pei Guang, who is that seat for?”

Pei Guang answers with a respectful bow. “Deputy Minister, that chair is for Commander Jingxuan.”

Ju Funan slams his hand on the table. “Absurd! Isn’t he still assigned to the garrison mission at Ding City? How dare he take on another campaign before completing his previous orders!”

The tent falls silent. Many of the officers—mostly from civilian families or lesser nobles—lower their eyes, unwilling to take sides between a general and a thousand-man commander.

At last, a calm voice cuts through the tension.

“Commander, this is hardly unprecedented,” says Xue Han, a refined man from the Xue family of Benian Province, long-time allies of the Ji family. “There have been numerous instances where an officer temporarily assumes another mission while stationed elsewhere. Especially one as capable as Commander Jingxuan.”

Murmurs ripple through the tent as low thunder rolls over the mountains outside.

Ju Funan’s jaw tightens; he had assumed the Ji family’s fall would sever old alliances—but the Pei and Xue contingents still stand with them.

A sour smile crosses his face as he leans forward. “I worry for Ding Town in his absence. If anything happens there, he will be held responsible.” He turns to the princess as if expecting her to take his side.

Li Niyue meets his look without flinching; she refuses to be dragged into factional posturing. “I do not believe Commander Ji Jingxuan would abandon Ding Town without ensuring its protection,” she says evenly.

Her neutrality lands like a cool wind across the heated faces in the room.

Pei Guang steps in quickly, voice steady. “The Princess is right. Ding Town is well defended: the Ji family’s warlock team and their divine warriors hold the line, and Commander Jingxuan has cleared the nearby rocky mountains of Weird. The town will not be left exposed.”

Ju Funan’s expression hardens for a moment as he measures the shifting loyalties around the table.

Then a new calculation crosses his face—this is not merely the Ji family returning to strength, he thinks; it is Jingxuan himself, now a name on every tongue, the number one on the Heavenly Ranking.

That single man renews confidence in the Ji line—and Ju Funan hears danger in that fact.

He forces a neutral tone. “Very well. If that is the situation, let us begin.”

Xu Shiyi inclines his head and raises his voice to the council. “We are gathered to end the rebellion and carry out the Council’s plan. To proceed, we need information.”

He lets his gaze sweep the room, stopping on each officer in turn. “First: what caused the Lei family’s disappearance two centuries ago, and who is Lei Zhiyi?”

Silence falls heavily in the tent. Xu Shiyi’s eyes move from face to face, his tone sharpening. “None of you know anything?”

Xue Han parts his lips to speak—

—but a deafening thunderclap swallows his voice, followed by a violent explosion that shakes the ground beneath their feet.

Everyone rushes out of the tent.

Above the camp, a colossal thunderbird and a towering rock giant clash beneath the storm-wracked sky.

Bolts of lightning rip through the clouds, illuminating the chaotic scene. Massive slabs of stone rise into the air and hurl toward the thunderbird as the rock giant roars in fury.

Thunder spiders of every size crawl across the giant’s stone body, weaving webs of crackling electricity over its arms and chest. Sharp spikes burst from the giant’s surface, impaling dozens of spiders, yet it doesn’t stop its relentless assault on the bird.

Zhang Wenrui, his team, and Xie He arrive beside the officers just in time to witness the storm of destruction.

Then, through the flashing light, they see him—

A man stands on the giant’s shoulder, gripping a massive thunder spider by the head. His eyes gleam like steel under the lightning as he gazes toward the thunderbird.

“If you had left me alone,” Jingxuan says coldly, his voice slicing through the thunder, “this wouldn’t have happened.”

The thunderbird lets out a furious roar. Lightning flickers across the storm clouds above, and in a flash of white light, the thunderbird’s body shrinks—revealing a man hovering midair, wings of lightning unfurled behind him.

His voice booms across the battlefield. “Jingxuan, release her, or I’ll kill you!”

Jingxuan raises his hand, shards of stone swirling around the massive thunder spider. The fragments fuse together, sealing the creature inside a solid sphere of rock.

“You’ve said that before,” Jingxuan replies, calm and cutting. “Yet I’m still alive.”

The man’s eyes flare with rage. Seeing his beloved pet trapped and mocked, he trembles with fury. Yellow markings ignite across his skin, and thunder splits the heavens.

“Die!” he roars.

A colossal bolt of lightning crashes down from the storm, aimed straight at Jingxuan.

Everyone below watches in stunned silence.

Jingxuan’s rock giant slams its palms together above its head, forming a massive pillar that hardens into gleaming metal.

The lightning strikes it with a deafening crack—yet instead of exploding outward, the metal absorbs the entire blast.

The pillar vibrates violently, but not a single spark escapes. It’s as if the lightning itself has been devoured.

The winged man staggers, chest heaving, half his energy drained. His face twists in disbelief as he sees Jingxuan floating nearby, unscathed, the sealed thunder spider beside him.

Jingxuan meets his gaze, voice calm and low.

“Now,” he says, “it’s my turn.”

The metal pillar shudders, then splinters apart, breaking into countless shards that reshape into spheres—some large as boulders, others small as pebbles.

They hover for a moment, humming with power, before shooting toward the winged man.

He darts aside, lightning flashing around his body, but the rock spheres twist midair and change direction, pursuing him relentlessly.

One small sphere slams into his shoulder with a crack, bone snapping audibly. His scream is swallowed by thunder as his body hurtles down, crashing into the side of the mountain.

The spheres dive after him like a storm of meteors.

The man’s body dissolves into lightning, streaking into the mountain’s depths, yet the spheres crash down one after another—shattering stone, tearing open cliffs, until the entire peak collapses in a thunderous roar.

Jingxuan rises from the rubble, silent and unhurried, flying back toward the camp.

He lands before the gathered soldiers and glances briefly at Wenrui and his team, his expression unreadable.

Then he turns to the floating stone sphere beside him. “Crush.”

The sphere tightens, compressing with a grinding sound until it bursts apart, obliterating the thunder spider within.

The fragments scatter and fall like dust, leaving behind a single pulsing core that drifts gently into Jingxuan’s waiting palm.

Xia He stares at it, then at Jingxuan, fear flickering in his eyes. They are of similar age and realm, yet Jingxuan has just defeated a Dark Sun Realm warlock. He remembers how he himself was crushed by a single strike from a Dark Sun warlock of the Demon Palace, the memory making his heart tighten.

A voice calls out, steady and deep, “Commander Jingxuan, you are marvellous—you’ve defeated a Dark Sun Realm warlock.”

Jingxuan turns to see an elderly man in the court robes of a minister, flanked by the princess, Ju Funan, and several Iron Guard officers.

From the man’s bearing, Jingxuan instantly recognises him as Xu Shiyi, Deputy Minister of Defence.

He bows slightly. “Deputy Minister, it was nothing.”

Ju Funan’s lips curl into a mocking smile. “Yes, of course—a Dark Sun Realm warlock is nothing for the Ji family’s genius.”

Jingxuan meets his gaze and smiles faintly. “Yes, they are no match for me.”

The words hang in the air like a blade. Around them, eyes widen in disbelief—every officer thinking the same thing: he’s gone mad.

If such arrogance spreads, he’ll earn the enmity of every Dark Sun Realm warlock in the empire and beyond.

Ju Funan’s smile deepens, satisfied. He no longer needs to lift a finger; Jingxuan’s own pride will destroy him.

But then Jingxuan continues, voice calm and sharp, “Because they use trickery to reach the Dark Sun Realm.”

His gaze locks onto Ju Funan. The words aren’t merely spoken—they’re aimed. For a brief instant, Jingxuan’s spiritual perception pierces the surface, sensing another strange current hidden deep within Ju Funan’s body.

Ju Funan’s eyes widen. A flicker of shock twists into fury, and a trace of killing intent leaks from him before he reins it in.

Li Niyue, sensing the tension harden into the edge of violence, steps forward quickly. “Jingxuan, the battle must have exhausted you,” she says softly, trying to cool the rising heat.

Xu Shiyi, who had been watching the two with careful interest, hides his satisfaction. He wants this conflict—but not here, not now, when the campaign is about to begin. His tone is even as he interjects, “Yes, let Commander Ji rest for a few hours. We’ll resume the meeting after. Pei Guang, take Commander Ji to his tent.”

Pei Guang steps forward with a crisp salute. “Commander Ji, please come with me.”

Jingxuan nods, brushing past the group with the same composed indifference he’d shown in battle. As he leaves, the others file back into the command tent, the murmur of voices fading behind the flapping canvas.

Outside, only the princess, Wenrui, Xia He, and the rest of the team remain.

Li Niyue turns toward Wenrui, concern softening her voice. “Why did you come? Are your injuries fully healed?”

Wenrui, caught in thought, blinks at her question. “Oh… I’m fine. How could we leave you alone?”

The princess sighs, a quiet mix of worry and resignation. “Now that you’re here, I suppose there’s no changing it. Come. I’ll have Li Na find a place for you to stay.”

Meanwhile, Jingxuan follows Pei Guang deeper into the camp. The air hums faintly with activity—soldiers shouting orders, hammers striking wood, and the distant echo of thunder from the mountains.

As they walk, Pei Guang glances sideways at Jingxuan, his tone careful but curious. “Commander Ji, forgive my boldness, but earlier you said the Dark Sun Realm warlocks used trickery to advance. What did you mean by that?”

Jingxuan understands the intent behind the question.

The Pei family, though now a prominent noble line, has no Dark Sun Realm warlocks among them.

To them, the method doesn’t matter—only the result. A single warlock at that level could safeguard their family’s legacy for centuries.

He smiles faintly. “Uncle Pei, I can’t share that. It’s a forbidden method—too dangerous, and not something that should be spread.”

Pei Guang studies him for a moment, then nods, accepting the answer. They stop in front of a medium-sized tent near the centre of the camp. “This will be your quarters, Commander Ji.”

Jingxuan inclines his head. “Thank you, Uncle Pei.”

Stepping inside, he finds the interior modest but clean—a single table, a sturdy chair, and a bed draped with fresh linens.

He closes the flap behind him, sits cross-legged on the bed, and retrieves a valuable, weird stone from his pouch.

Its faint glow fills the dim tent as he begins to draw in its energy, restoring his strength for whatever comes next.