Chapter 362: The Advent of Turbid Thunder
Jiang Chen stared, his mind reeling. “Don’t tell me…”
With a flick of his wrist, a Communication Talisman materialized in his hand, vibrating violently. He recognized it instantly—it was from Chen Bo.
Chen Bo rarely contacted him, and never with such urgency. Typically, the intensity of a talisman’s vibration and the speed of its flicker corresponded to the amount of Spirit Qi injected. Judging by the frantic buzzing in his palm, Chen Bo had practically siphoned his entire dantian’s worth of Wood Spirit Qi into this single message. It was a clear sign of extreme agitation.
The message itself was chillingly brief: “I just left the Rain Pavilion!”
Chen Bo had perfectly demonstrated the art of conveying monumental news with minimal words.
Without a second thought, Jiang Chen stored the talisman and jade pendant, summoning the Shattered Moon Flowing Frost. The spirit vessel materialized, and he shot toward Chen Bo’s Spirit Farm at maximum speed.
He tore through the air like a phantom, arriving in record time.
Before Jiang Chen could even begin to land the vessel, Chen Bo launched himself into the air and landed squarely on the deck. He pointed a trembling finger back toward the Rain Pavilion and roared, “Go!”
Jiang Chen immediately activated the Shattered Moon Flowing Frost’s secondary ability. A layer of silver frost instantly coated the entire vessel, doubling its velocity. With a deafening whoosh, it blasted forward, covering a thousand meters in the blink of an eye.
As they sped onward, Jiang Chen kept glancing at Chen Bo, his mouth half-open. He was dying to ask, but the gravity of the situation held his tongue.Chen Bo took a deep, steadying breath. “I know what you’re thinking,” he said, his voice low and heavy. “But besides Tian, I can’t imagine anyone else in the sect capable of causing a phenomenon of this scale.”
Jiang Chen blinked. “So, Senior Brother, you’re not entirely sure either?”
Chen Bo shot him a sidelong glance, his justification unassailable. “I’ve never formed a Golden Core before!”
A slightly embarrassed look crossed Jiang Chen’s face. “Right. Good point.”
Changing the subject, Chen Bo broke into a grin. “Besides, even if it’s not him, who would pass up a spectacle like this?”
Jiang Chen couldn’t agree more. If this truly is the phenomenon of a Golden Core Tribulation, he thought, his mind already calculating, I’ll have a front-row seat. I can analyze the process, learn from his successes—or his failures.
Still, a question lingered. If Chen Tian was truly attempting his breakthrough, the Immortal Peak would have been the logical choice. Why the Rain Pavilion? There had to be a specific reason. He considered asking Chen Bo but immediately dismissed the idea. It was a waste of breath; his Senior Brother likely knew as much as he did.
The two flew onward, drawing ever closer to the Black Lake. The celestial disturbance had attracted a massive crowd, all converging on the Rain Pavilion. The closer they got, the more palpable the terror became.
A high-pitched, keening sound filled the air, like thousands of ethereal needles piercing the sky. At the heart of the roiling clouds, a vortex of pale blue miasma and silver-gray light churned—a violent fusion of metal and water. Clinging to the vortex’s edge were dense clusters of ink-green light, swaying like spectral seaweed.
Where the three elements met, a discordant symphony erupted: the grinding of stone, the rush of a torrent, and the rustling of a billion dying leaves. The ambient Spirit Qi was a chaotic brew, saturated with the piercing sharpness of metal, the yielding nature of water, and the vibrant life force of wood. Yet, beneath it all, a chilling, sinister malevolence radiated outward.
The scene was horrifying, as if some abomination was gestating within the clouds, promising a birth of pure destruction.
The sky bled into darkness. The epicenter of the vortex was a void of absolute black, swallowing all light. An oppressive, suffocating pressure descended upon the land, centered on the Rain Pavilion. The refugees inside had completely forgotten about the members of the Nine Curves Sect. They could only stare at the apocalyptic sky, not one of them daring to even step outside.
Suddenly, the Black Lake below erupted with countless points of cyan light, twinkling like a submerged galaxy. The fish were surfacing, a clear sign that the Ten Thousand Fish Formation had been activated. Beneath the Rain Pavilion, the dark water heaved, forming colossal waves as if some leviathan was stirring in the depths.
Simultaneously, the concentration of Water Spirit Qi surged to an unbearable level, so dense that even those with Water Spirit Roots felt their bodies rejecting it.
For the onlookers, simply approaching the Black Lake was their absolute limit. To venture any closer was to invite an overwhelming sense of crisis—the primal certainty that the next step would lead to instant annihilation, their very Dao erased from existence.
Suddenly, a streak of lightning tore across the pitch-black sky. It was not the familiar blue-white of a normal storm. This bolt was coated in a silver-gray sheen, its core swelling with an ink-green corruption. The unnatural light spread like a spiderweb, fracturing the heavens.
RUMBLE…
Only then did the thunder follow. It was a low, grinding growl, like a mountain being crushed to dust, a sound that made one’s scalp crawl. All around, cultivators felt their hair stand on end as a wave of goosebumps washed over them.
“It’s a Tribulation… This is the Turbid Thunder that manifests when breaking through a major realm!”
“Look at the colors! That has to be the Withering-Flourishing Cold-Sharp Thunder!”
“The legends are true! The more Spirit Roots one possesses, the more complex the tribulation’s colors, and the more devastating its power!”
“Two Spirit Roots doubles the might of the thunder. Three triples it. Four quadruples it!”
The man next to him scoffed. “You don’t have five Spirit Roots. What are you so afraid of?”
Jiang Chen’s jaw tightened. “Indeed.”
Chen Bo’s expression was grim. “More importantly, no other cultivator can interfere during a breakthrough, especially not those of a higher realm. The consequences would be catastrophic.”
The moment he finished speaking, a figure ascended from the Rain Pavilion. A three-colored shield of light swirled around him, pulsing with immense power. He had activated the innate protective aura of his Spirit Roots.
In an instant, he was hovering above the Rain Pavilion, the focal point of countless eyes. Many recognized him at once: Chen Tian, the prodigy of the Gold-Water-Wood Triple Spirit Roots.
But he looked different now, prepared for war with the heavens.
He was clad in a 6-pattern Spirit Silkworm Treasure Robe, its hem embroidered with the Three Spirits Returning to Origin pattern to stabilize the chaotic flow of his elemental energies.
In his left hand, he held a 5-pattern Clear Profound Water-Splitting Mirror, ready to unleash a triple-layered shield of Gold, Water, and Wood.
On his right wrist, a 5-pattern Emerald Jade Entwined Gold Ring glowed softly, prepared to automatically harmonize the state of his three Spirit Roots.
At his waist hung a 5-pattern Flowing Firefly Jade Marrow Pendant, designed to forcibly anchor his life force should it begin to wane.
On his forehead, a Three Spirits Spirit-Guarding Talisman was affixed, a ward against the corrupting miasma of the tribulation that sought to defile his Primordial Spirit.
Pressed against his heart was a Ten Thousand Woods Reviving Spring Talisman, a final failsafe that would activate upon near-fatal injury, regenerating his body in an instant.
Beneath his feet, two Gold-Water Diversion Talismans shimmered, ready to channel a portion of the tribulation’s might into the Black Lake below.
Tucked into his belt was a Spirit Root Stabilization Talisman, insurance against the thunder’s impact causing his own elements to turn against each other.
And in his mouth, he held a Three Revolutions Soul-Returning Pill, a priceless Earth-grade elixir capable of restoring seventy percent of his spiritual soul in a single moment.
To forge an Earth-grade Golden Core, Chen Tian had armed himself from head to toe, leaving absolutely nothing to chance.
Just then, the air shimmered, and figures began to appear out of thin air. Jiang Chen scanned the newcomers, recognizing Qin Hao, Lady Tantai, and Feng Lie among them. The others were unfamiliar, but their powerful auras left no doubt—they were all core disciples, gathered to witness whether Chen Tian would succeed in his audacious attempt.
A piercing shriek tore through the world as the sky cracked open like porcelain. From the spiderweb-like wound, an eerie, interwoven light of white, blue, and green burst forth.
Every cultivator’s pupils shrank to pinpricks. An invisible hand seized their hearts, squeezing the air from their lungs. For a breathless moment, the world forgot to breathe.
The next second, a crushing weight fell upon the world.
From the celestial fissure, a pillar of tri-colored thunder blasted downward. It was as wide as a city gate, and its sheer pressure caused space itself to groan and splinter.
Wherever it passed, the air congealed into crystal, and light warped around its terrifying form. For miles in every direction, the very life was choked out of the land, trees and grass withering to dust in a silent, instantaneous wave of decay.
This cataclysmic strike descended, aimed directly at Chen Tian.
The space seemed unable to withstand this pressure, emitting cracking and groaning sounds as it fractured.