Mu Zhe suddenly sobbed, burying his face in Shen Gurong's neck and crying softly.
Shen Gurong, who was exhausted from enduring the lightning tribulation, was completely stunned.
He touched the back of Mu Zhe's head, bewildered, and said, "No, why...why are you crying? I'm not even crying."
Mu Zhe choked, unable to speak, tears streaming down Shen Gurong's neck.
Shen Gurong was speechless.
Shen Gurong raised his hand and unleashed a burst of spiritual energy, blocking a bolt of lightning that struck from the sky. However, the lightning, having shattered the spiritual energy, continued its relentless attack, striking him directly in the back.
In an instant, the protective barrier that Nan Yangjun had placed on Shen Feng Xue finally gave way, shattering into fragments and exploding.
The lightning struck Shen Gurong directly in the back, nearly causing him to vomit blood.
Shen Gurong, his head spinning, forced himself to pat Mu Zhe's tear-streaked face, saying helplessly, "Did I hurt you just now? Don't cry."
Mu Zhe looked at him unsteadily, two tears slowly streaming down his beautiful eyes.
Shen Gurong was in unbearable pain. He retrieved a spell from Shen Feng Xue's memories, conjured a talisman, and placed it on Mu Zhe's brow, saying, "Cleanse the mind!"
Mu Zhe felt as if a thousand bells were ringing in his ears, instantly clearing his chaotic mind.
He slowly blinked, his unfocused pupils gradually refocusing, finally settling on Shen Gurong's beautiful face.
Mu Zhe seemed to awaken from a dream, murmuring, "Master?"
Shen Gurong roared furiously, "I'm not your master! Your master is dead!"
Mu Zhe: "..."
Mu Zhe took a moment to gather his jumbled thoughts before realizing he was undergoing a tribulation of lightning.
The final bolt of heavenly lightning was far more powerful than the previous ones; just listening to the thunder in the dark clouds revealed its immense strength. Mu Zhe jerked violently, immediately rising to push Shen Gurong away.
Shen Gurong: "What are you doing?!"
Mu Zhe's face was still streaked with tears, and the scarlet birthmark on half his cheek was slowly fading, revealing his true appearance.
Mu Zhe said in a low, hoarse voice, "Master doesn't need to be implicated by me."
Shen Gurong stared at him blankly.
Mu Zhe gently nudged him, saying, "Go."
Shen Gurong's pupils contracted. Countless memories flooded his mind, finally settling on a faceless figure speaking to him with a smiling voice.
"Go."
The next instant, the final bolt of heavenly lightning struck straight down. This time, unusually, it didn't split in two to hit Shen Gurong, but instead struck directly into Mu Zhe's spiritual veins.
Shen Gurong was shoved back several steps, narrowly avoiding the lightning's impact.
Amidst the flash of lightning, Mu Zhe let out a hoarse, bone-chilling scream, as if blood were gushing from his throat.
Shen Gurong's heart ached, but he was powerless to rush in and shield Mu Zhe when the final bolt of lightning struck. He could only watch helplessly, anxiously watching from the sidelines.
"Mu Zhe! Mu Zhe..."
The faint voice of Shen Gurong reached his ears. Mu Zhe used half of his spiritual power to protect the half of his nascent soul in his dantian that didn't belong to him, enduring the blow head-on.
It felt as if lightning struck his spiritual meridians, widening them inch by inch. A mortal body couldn't withstand such torment, but the golden core in his dantian continuously transmitted spiritual power, rapidly healing his battered meridians.
His spiritual meridians went from being drenched in blood to gradually becoming stronger, undergoing countless tempering processes before Mu Zhe vaguely felt the golden core in his dantian slowly taking shape.
He had formed his Nascent Soul.
The pressure of the Nascent Soul spread instantly. Shen Gurong, who had been anxiously waiting, finally breathed a sigh of relief, belatedly realizing his legs had gone weak, almost collapsing to the ground.
He forced himself to stay upright, waiting for the thunderclouds to dissipate.
The dark thunderclouds gradually dissipated, and soon the sun, previously obscured, peeked through the sky.
The arena had been reduced to ruins by the lightning tribulation; even Su Xiyan's array was completely destroyed. Mu Zhe sat cross-legged in the center, surrounded by scorch marks from the lightning strikes.
He was a mess, with a wound from the jade thorn on his shoulder and half his body covered in blood.
Shen Gurong breathed softly, his brows slowly relaxing. He was about to go and check on Mu Zhe when, without warning, a bolt of purplish-silver lightning struck down from the still-partially dissipating thunderclouds.
With a deafening boom, it struck Shen Gurong squarely.
Shen Gurong: "..."
Shen Gurong was stunned again.
Why...why did it strike me again?
Even for a Great Ascension stage cultivator, purplish-silver lightning was almost impossible to withstand, let alone someone whose spiritual energy was completely depleted. He had been struck directly.
Xi Guxing arrived a step too late, nearly crying out, "Eleven!"
Shen Gurong was disheveled, his white hair standing on end, the ice silk covering his eyes rendered ineffective by the attack, slowly drifting down.
Wen Liubing swiftly stepped forward and caught the swaying Shen Gurong.
Xi Guxing rushed over, grabbing Shen Gurong's chin and shaking it, "Eleven? Eleven!"
Shen Gurong's eyes were unfocused, his consciousness unclear. He moved slightly with the movement, letting out a muffled groan.
"Don't...don't attack me...wooo!"
Xi Guxing: "..."
Xi Guxing glared at him with exasperation, then examined Shen Gurong's wrist, finding no damage to his dantian, before relaxing.
Wen Liubing glanced at the completely dissipated sky, his expression cold and stern. "That was lightning punishment."
Every time a cultivator advances a level, they face a corresponding lightning tribulation. That purplish-silver lightning punishment was a karmic retribution bestowed by the Heavenly Dao upon those who defied it.
What sins had Shen Feng Xue committed to warrant such divine punishment? And after he had withstood several lightning strikes from others!
Wasn't this blatantly a death sentence?
Xi Guxing teetered on the brink of madness. He gripped his already drawn short sword tightly, glancing at the disheveled and seemingly dazed Shen Gurong, then suddenly fixed his murderous gaze on Mu Zhe, who had opened his eyes.
"It's all your fault..."
Xi Guxing gripped the hilt tightly, seemingly provoked, and almost instantly rushed to Mu Zhe, who had just stood up. The short sword was pressed firmly against Mu Zhe's neck, as if he wanted to kill him with a single blow.
Mu Zhe stared at him, stunned: "Sect Leader?"
Xi Guxing stared intently at him, about to speak, when suddenly Wen Liubing exclaimed, "Master!"
Xi Guxing trembled, immediately sheathing his sword, and strode to Shen Gurong, who had already fainted, cradling him in his arms.
Mu Zhe, covered in blood, looked at the unconscious Shen Gurong, and uncontrollably took a step forward. He reached out as if to grab him, his pale lips murmuring, "Master..."
Xi Guxing gave him a cold look: "I'll settle accounts with you later!"
With that, he carried Shen Gurong and quickly left.
The Chanwei Assembly concluded with Mu Zhe's Nascent Soul formation. The story of Holy Lord Shen, fearless in the face of danger, shielding his disciple from the tribulation lightning, spread throughout the Three Realms within two days, and countless tales of the deep bond between master and disciple emerged.
Qingyu was engrossed in reading and even found a few more books to show Mu Zhe.
However, before they reached Fanjiang Residence, they were stopped by the Demon Lord on the suspension bridge.
Qingyu gave an awkward bow: "What is it?"
That was just how he spoke; even in front of the Demon Lord, he was unrestrained and spoke without thinking.
If he weren't a nine-tailed fox with nine lives, he would have been killed long ago.
The Demon Lord, long accustomed to his disrespect, remained unperturbed. He coldly asked, "When you saw Shen Feng Xue those past few days, did you glean anything from him?"
Qingyu tilted his head, his fox ears twitching, and asked, "What are you referring to, Demon Lord?"
The Demon Lord said, "You know perfectly well."
Qingyu feigned innocence: "I really don't know."
The Demon Lord sneered, deciding to cut to the chase: "I'm referring to the divine artifact."
Qingyu's seemingly harmless face suddenly broke into a smile. He laughed as if he'd heard the funniest joke, laughing so hard he was doubled over, tears welling in his eyes.
The Demon Lord frowned: "What are you laughing at?"
"Nothing," Qingyu said with a grin, "I've just never seen someone who simultaneously despises me and wants to use me. I find it quite amusing."
The Demon Lord's expression turned cold.
"What does a divine artifact have to do with me?" Qingyu toyed with the book in his hand, smiling as he said, "Everyone says that the divine artifact possessed by the Holy Lord Shen can defy fate and contend with the Heavenly Dao, but I neither desire power nor the power to defy fate. What use is it to me?"
He lightly clenched his fist, looking at the Demon Lord with a forced smile, and said, "What I want, I will fight tooth and nail for myself, unlike you, who only covets what belongs to others."
Even after such an offense, the Demon Lord remained unperturbed, merely looking at him coldly: "Qingyu, are you going to betray the demon race?"
Qingyu laughed again. He raised his hand and gently stroked the fox ears on his head. The fox ears, which everyone had always considered a disgrace, slowly disappeared. His long, jet-black hair danced in the wind, and his tongue darted out from between his lips, lightly licking his sharp canine teeth, making him appear both wicked and alluring.
He smiled warmly, "I will return to the demon race one day."
Qingyu's beastly eyes flickered slightly, "After I can completely replace you."
Having said this, before the demon lord could react, he gave a proper bow, turned, and strode away.
The demon lord stood on the long suspension bridge, white mist brushing past his sleeves. He watched Qingyu's departing figure intently, his eyes seeming to hold an unknown storm.
In Fanjiang Residence, the evening mist flowers in the entire courtyard had long since withered, their fallen petals scattered on the ground, untouched.
After sleeping for two whole days, Shen Gurong's eyelashes fluttered slightly, finally regaining consciousness little by little.
The first thing he felt was his fingers. Shen Gurong moved his ten fingers for a while before gradually regaining sensation from his arms to his entire body.
He was so weak from sleep that he stumbled and fell when he tried to sit up, taking a while to finally sit up.
A hazy white mist surrounded him. Shen Gurong fumbled around the bedside table for a long time but couldn't find the ice silk. He stared blankly for a while before belatedly realizing that the ice silk had been destroyed by the lightning punishment.
Shen Gurong sighed, resigned to the fact that he was temporarily blind.
As he groped his way off the bed, a sudden realization struck him.
Lightning punishment?
What lightning punishment?
In Shen Feng Xue's memories, there seemed to be such a thing as lightning punishment.
But wasn't that only those who violated the taboos of the Heavenly Dao would be struck by Purple Cloud Lightning? Why was he being struck too?
Did Shen Feng Xue… commit any act punishable by lightning?
Shen Gurong felt an unbearable headache. Could it be that Shen Feng Xue had dragged the unrelated Shen Gurong into this world, thus angering the Heavenly Dao and attracting divine punishment?
But why me of all people?
Shen Gurong felt extremely wronged.
Just then, footsteps sounded outside, as if someone had entered.
Before Shen Gurong could speak, he heard the hurried footsteps reach him and, without a word, slammed them down on his head.
Shen Gurong: "..."
How dare you! Who dares to hit the Holy Lord on the head?!
Xi Guxing's furious voice rang in his ears: "Shen Eleven! I think you're tired of dying too slowly! Want me to send you on your way?! Huh?"
Shen Gurong: "..."
Oh, Sect Leader, then it's alright.
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