CHAPTER 87: ARCHERY TRAINING

The three manuals hovered before him, radiating their distinct auras.

The [Heavenly Starpiercer Archery], glowing with celestial might, its silver script dazzling like constellations carved into the night.

The [Divine Moon-Crossing Bow Canon], wrapped in serene mist, its aura both sacred and infinite, as though the moon itself had inscribed its secrets.

The [Primordial Void Bow Scripture], rugged and ancient, each rune on its slab thundering with primeval silence, as if it had existed before heaven’s laws were written.

The Celestial Fate Bow behind him trembled faintly, its golden-white frame resonating with the weight of the choices. It was as though the weapon recognized the worth of these three paths.

Tian Lei’s lips curved faintly. "Heaven. Divine. Ancient. Perfect balance."

With a thought, he stretched his hand. The manuals dissolved into pure streams of light, sinking between his brows.

Boom!

His soul shook as torrents of knowledge burst into him—stances that aligned with constellations, arrows that spanned divine rivers, shots that tore through dimensions themselves. The three paths clashed within him for an instant, a chaotic storm of wisdom and killing intent that would have shattered any ordinary cultivator’s mind.

But Tian Lei stayed calm.

He had absorbed the knowledge, but he knew knowledge alone wasn’t enough. To make it his own, he needed practice—steady, patient practice.

Leaving the Golden Fortune Realm, he opened his eyes and walked to the training ground behind his Immortal Cave. The courtyard was wide and quiet, filled with a natural flow of qi. It was a perfect place to train.

He summoned the Celestial Fate Bow. The golden-white frame shone faintly as he held it in his hands. Though he carried no arrow, his intent gathered, qi forming at his fingertips.

"Let’s begin," he whispered.

His first shot was rough. The energy didn’t flow evenly, and the arrow of light broke apart against the stone wall. Tian Lei only exhaled softly, his expression calm. "So even a bow of destiny needs patience."

On his second try, his body naturally moved in rhythm with the Heavenly Starpiercer Archery. Faint star patterns flickered above, guiding his aim. The arrow struck cleanly through several targets before fading.

He switched, trying the Divine Moon-Crossing Canon. A pale glow rose behind him, like a crescent moon. The arrow bent mid-air, following a strange curve, before landing squarely on a moving target.

Last, he tested the Primordial Void Scripture. The air fell still as a dark arrow formed—silent, heavy, swallowing sound. It shot forward, and when it struck, the target simply disappeared without leaving dust behind.

Tian Lei lowered the bow. His breathing was steady, but his eyes were bright. With just a little effort—barely ten percent of his strength—the bow intent was already taking shape, much like sword intent that other cultivators sought after for years.

It was clear to him now. His path lay in archery. The Celestial Fate Bow itself carried a sense of dominance, and as he stood there, Tian Lei understood: he was meant to master the archery all this time.

Tian Lei stayed in the courtyard, his figure steady against the drifting qi. The Celestial Fate Bow pulsed faintly in his grip, as if sharing his heartbeat.

He raised it again. This time, he didn’t rush. He simply stood still, letting his breathing align with the flow of heaven and earth. Each inhale drew qi into him, each exhale guided it into the bow.

When he finally loosed the arrow, it wasn’t loud or dazzling—it was clean. Simple. Precise. The shaft of light hit the target at the far end without even stirring the air.

A faint smile tugged at his lips. This... feels right.

Again and again, he practiced—sometimes with the Heavenly Starpiercer’s guiding constellations, sometimes with the Moon-Crossing Canon’s curved flight, sometimes with the Void Scripture’s heavy silence. Each art felt different, but as he cycled between them, he sensed the threads weaving together into something greater.

By the time the lanterns along the courtyard flickered awake, he had loosed hundreds of arrows. His arms ached faintly, and sweat dampened his robes, but his mind was sharper than ever.

He sat cross-legged, placing the bow across his knees. Closing his eyes, he replayed each movement in his mind—the pull of the string, the stillness before the release, the feeling when intent aligned perfectly with action.

It was only the beginning, but even now, he could sense it: the faint outline of Bow Intent stirring at the edges of his soul. Not yet formed, but waiting.

Opening his eyes, Tian Lei gazed at the Celestial Fate Bow, golden-white under the lantern light.

"Step by step," he murmured quietly. "This is how I’ll walk the bow’s path."

The cave around him returned to silence, broken only by the soft hum of spiritual energy. Yet within that stillness, the path of archery had already begun to carve itself into Tian Lei’s destiny.

That night, Tian Lei stayed seated in the courtyard, the Celestial Fate Bow resting quietly across his knees. His breathing slowed until it matched the calm rhythm of the night. The lanterns swayed gently in the breeze, their glow stretching long shadows across the stone floor.

As his mind sank deeper, the three archery techniques he had trained earlier replayed within him—each one carrying its own rhythm. The sharp focus of the Heavenly Starpiercer, the flowing curve of the Moon-Crossing Canon, the heavy stillness of the Primordial Void Scripture.

At first, they felt different and pulled against each other. Three paths, three separate flows. But Tian Lei did not try to force them together. He let them play out one after another, over and over. Slowly, their rhythms stopped clashing. Instead, they began to blend. Precision, grace, silence—different sides of the same truth.

The bow across his knees gave a faint vibration.

Tian Lei’s eyes opened. For a short moment, a thin streak of light appeared in the air before him, like the mark of an arrow cutting across the heavens. It was not a technique and not formed from qi. It was something deeper.

The first seed of Bow Intent.

He didn’t smile or speak loudly. He only let out a slow breath, calm and steady, a quiet sense of satisfaction rising inside him.

"Already beginning... so soon," he whispered.

He set the Celestial Fate Bow aside and rose to his feet. His body was tired, but his mind was sharp. What others might chase for many years was already starting to form within him after only a single day. Not through effort alone, but because the bow itself had chosen him.

As he stepped away, the moonlight spilled onto the stone courtyard, catching the faint streak of intent in the air. It lasted only a moment before fading into the night sky.

Back inside his cave, Tian Lei sat again, closing his eyes as he prepared to cycle his qi. Tomorrow, he would return to practice. Step by step, slow and steady, like the drawing of a bowstring.

The next morning, Tian Lei woke before sunrise. The air outside his cave was cool and fresh, carrying the smell of morning dew. He walked quietly to the training yard, his steps steady and calm.

With a thought, the Celestial Fate Bow appeared in his hand, glowing softly in gold and white. He stood still for a long time, breathing slowly, letting his body settle into the rhythm of the world. Only when he felt ready did he lift the bow.

His first arrows were simple. No fancy techniques, just raw intent. Each time he pulled the string, qi formed into light arrows that shot forward and faded after hitting the stone targets. Some flew straight, some bent, some scattered. But Tian Lei didn’t mind. Every mistake was just another step forward.

After a while, he tried the Heavenly Starpiercer style. Tiny lights, like stars, shimmered above him, guiding his aim. His arrows hit harder and pierced deep before fading into sparks.

Next, he used the Moon-Crossing Canon. A soft silver glow rose behind him like a crescent moon. His arrows curved smoothly in the air, hitting moving targets with perfect accuracy. He tested different angles and speeds, studying how each shot moved before vanishing.

Last, he drew with the Void Scripture. The bowstring felt heavier, as if the world itself resisted. His qi became a dark, silent arrow that swallowed all sound. When he released it, the arrow erased the target completely, leaving behind nothing but empty space. It felt strange, but Tian Lei accepted it without complaint.

By the time he lowered the bow, sweat clung to his robes, and his breathing was a little rough. Still, his eyes stayed calm. The three styles no longer felt separate. Little by little, they were becoming a part of him.

He placed the bow across his knees and sat down quietly, watching the sun rise over the mountains.

The days passed in steady rhythm.

Each morning, Tian Lei rose before dawn and walked into the courtyard, his bow always at his side. He practiced in silence, repeating the same motions over and over. At first, his arrows wavered—sometimes sharp, sometimes clumsy. But with each day, they grew steadier, smoother, closer to the picture in his mind.

The Heavenly Starpiercer shots grew cleaner, guided by the faint shimmer of starlight above his head. Where before his arrows pierced two or three targets, now they split through lines of stone dummies without pause.