Chapter Sixty-Six: Enduring the Heavenly Tribulation

The blinding flash of lightning faded, the rumbling thunder abruptly ceased, and the sky returned to its calm. He withdrew his aching arm and glanced at the deep crimson birthmark in his palm. Blood streamed from his fingers, his magical robe’s sleeve had been burned away, and the exposed skin was charred and cracked, sending waves of piercing pain through him.

Gradually, he understood that this was the new power he had gained after unlocking the second seal—the power of Devourment, a force unique to dark magic.

Moreover, the energy he had just absorbed was now transforming into another, gentler power, slowly being assimilated into himself.

A hint of displeasure appeared on Lei Jue’s face as he sized up Blackfeather, deducing his identity from that “dark vortex.”

“Child of the Demon, how interesting. You must be the adopted son taken in by the Lord of Chiyan City.”

Blackfeather’s heart lurched—he hadn’t expected his identity to be exposed so quickly. He knew all too well that he must never reveal himself before the royal family or the Pantheon; yet now, Lei Jue clearly knew, and if he chose to make things difficult, even Lord Yi Sheng could be implicated. If things came to the worst, Blackfeather would have no choice but to unleash the full power of his sealed abilities. At that thought, his gaze grew cold.

“I’ve heard you’re a human tainted by dark power, who somehow survived?” Lei Jue inquired. There was a subtle shift in his otherwise indifferent expression—perhaps curiosity, perhaps suspicion—entirely different from his earlier demeanor toward Lin Aoshen.

Blackfeather immediately understood—this must be the excuse his foster father devised to deflect suspicion, which was why the Pantheon had yet to come after him.

He furrowed his brow and did not answer lightly.

“I’d better not reveal my strength for now; it’s to my advantage. Let’s see what he intends,” he thought.

Lei Jue appeared interested in him, nothing more. He extended a finger toward Blackfeather, then beckoned him forward with a casual, disdainful gesture.

“If you want to save this man, then defeat me, child of the Demon.”

In truth, Lei Jue wanted to determine whether Blackfeather’s unique existence posed a threat to them, to decide if he should be killed here and now.

Blackfeather hesitated for a moment before making up his mind. He dashed forward, gripping his staff tightly, intending to rely on the staff’s inherent strength and his own speed to catch his opponent off guard.

Yet, as he took his first step, Lei Jue vanished from where he stood. In the blink of an eye, clad in white, Lei Jue appeared at Blackfeather’s side, a sphere of lightning condensed in his hand, thrusting it toward Blackfeather’s abdomen.

Blackfeather had no time to react. With his demon’s eye, he could see Lei Jue’s movements with clarity, but he could not hope to evade the attack. He heard Lei Jue’s voice ring in his ear, cold and clear:

“No one is faster than lightning. Child of the Demon, your existence will change nothing. The Chiyan family… will change nothing at all…”

The words made little sense, but before Blackfeather could ponder them, the lightning sphere struck his abdomen.

An agonizing pain wracked his body; his vision blurred as he was sent flying more than thirty feet, crashing heavily against the solid city wall behind him. When he landed, he coughed up a mouthful of blood.

Clutching his wound, his abdomen was awash with blood, and the residual currents of electricity crackled within him, numbing his nerves, leaving him unable to move.

Lei Jue ended the battle, standing aloof and unscathed. From start to finish, not a single attack had touched him; not even a speck of dust marred his white robe.

To Lei Jue, killing someone on a whim was nothing, but as Blackfeather was the son of the Lord of Chiyan City, it would only invite unnecessary trouble. That was why he stayed his hand.

“The rulers of this continent will always be the Thunderclap family. All other races are pitifully weak,” he declared, then vaulted back onto his tiger mount and departed in a flourish.

His followers strutted after him, heads held high. Reina and Reno even turned back to taunt, “City Guard of the Holy City, we’ll remember you! Watch your backs.”

By now, reinforcements for the guard had arrived, lifting the wounded onto stretchers. Onlookers by the city wall began to disperse—those who needed to leave the city did so, those with stalls returned to their business—leaving only the fox demon crouched by the bodies of her fallen kin, grieving.

Lin Aoshen, clutching his wounded chest and bracing himself with his hammer, staggered to his feet. A soldier attempted to support him, but he waved him away.

He trudged toward the base of the wall and stood before Blackfeather, his brow and eye sockets slick with blood, and extended a broad, calloused hand.

Blackfeather glanced up. The sharp pain and numbness from the lightning still lingered in his body, but he managed to stretch out his hand, feeling the hardness of old calluses in Lin Aoshen’s palm. A sense of camaraderie welled up within him as Lin Aoshen hauled him to his feet.

The two leaned against the city wall. Lin Aoshen lit a cigarette and took slow drags, the smoke curling in the air. They exchanged glances and spoke in unison:

“How about a drink at the tavern?”

Inside a bar of the Demonscourge Empire, Lin Aoshen declared boisterously that the drinks were on him tonight. He was a man who cared deeply about appearances; though Blackfeather had saved his life, words of gratitude were not his style—treating his savior to drinks was the best he could muster.

By chance, Bai Shengye was present as well, directing a few subordinates to wrap Lin Aoshen and Blackfeather in bandages until they resembled mummies.

Streaks of fresh blood seeped from the wrappings around their abdomens and arms; after all, they had taken the brunt of countless lightning strikes, and there was not a single unscathed spot left on either of them.

Lin Aoshen, however, was unfazed, quaffing liquor in great gulps, his spirits roused by the drink. He slapped Blackfeather’s shoulder and declared, “From now on, you’re my brother! If you ever need old Lin for anything, just say the word!” As he brandished his cup, the bandages on his arm unraveled once more.

Blackfeather could not help but feel a surge of delight and spoke up directly, “In fact, there is something I’d like your help with…”

“Don’t beat around the bush! No need for courtesy between brothers—just say it! From now on, your business is my business!” he insisted, thumping his chest.

“I saw your weapon transform into different forms during the fight. I’d like to enhance my combat strength by modifying my own weapon. Is there a way to do that?” He had once heard from Ling Xi that Lin Aoshen was a renowned weapon master in the Holy City. At last, he’d found someone to entrust his weapon to.

“That’s all? Simple!” Lin Aoshen downed another mouthful of liquor. “Weapon awakening is a battle technique unique to our Snow Giants. We’re born with great strength, so we favor heavy weapons in combat. As for the awakening method, it’s not so different from you magicians’ ‘morphing’ with mana.”

“Morphing…” At those words, Blackfeather began to understand.

His demon’s eye was itself condensed from mana. The images of ‘giant ape,’ ‘rhinoceros,’ and ‘mammoth’ that appeared on Lin Aoshen’s warhammer during battle followed the same principle—only, the forms were bestowed upon the weapon itself.