The plum grove stirred under moonlight, pale blossoms fluttering down like sacred tears. Mingyao stood alone at its heart, the pendant on his chest pulsing faster with every breath. He'd followed the pull here, beyond the whispering trees and stone paths worn smooth by forgotten footsteps.
He had told no one—not Tianzuo, not Liuxian, not even Tianzi. Something inside had guided him here, a knowing that felt deeper than memory.
Before him stood an altar hidden among the roots of an enormous, ancient plum tree. The bark shimmered faintly with golden veins, glowing as if acknowledging his presence. The ground trembled, and the altar split down the center with a crack of light.
A staircase descended into darkness.
Swallowing his fear, Mingyao stepped down into the earth.
The air grew colder, heavier, as though the silence itself were pressing against his skin. Strange glyphs glowed faintly on the walls—runes in celestial and demonic tongues, entwined like lovers and enemies. He descended slowly, the pulse of the pendant syncing with each footstep.
At the bottom, he entered a circular chamber.
Lightning danced silently above a crystalline dome. In the center stood a mirrorlike pool, still as death. Surrounding it were statues—twelve in all—depicting beasts of legend: qilin, dragon, phoenix, tortoise, and others he couldn't name. They gazed inward, as if waiting for him to complete a circle centuries in the making.
He stepped forward.
And from the water, she emerged.
Lianhua.
Not as a flesh-and-blood woman, but as a spirit wrapped in starlight. Her form flickered like a candle in wind, but her eyes were the same—warm, resolute, filled with sorrow and strength.
"Mingyao," she said, voice like wind through silk. "My son."
Tears pricked his eyes. "Mother…?"
She nodded. "An echo only. A gift left for you should you survive long enough to reach this place."
He stepped forward, hands trembling. "Why now? Why… why me?"
Lianhua's spirit tilted her head. "Because fate bends around you like a storm around its eye. You are of heaven, earth, and shadow. And the heavens fear what you might become."
The pendant flared. "Then tell me what I'm supposed to do."
Lianhua gestured to the pool. "There is a trial—The Thunder Trial. The rite of awakening for those born of divine blood. Few survive it. Fewer return the same. But if you wish to forge your path, you must step into the storm willingly."
Mingyao stared into the still water. Lightning sparked overhead, echoing the fury that always simmered beneath his skin.
"Take your fate," Lianhua said gently. "Or reject it."
He closed his eyes.
"I'm done running."
He stepped into the pool.
---
It was not water.
It was lightning made liquid—cold, sharp, and alive.
The moment his body was submerged, pain ripped through every nerve. Electricity clawed into his bones, memories flooded in from places he'd never seen. He saw the war of the heavens, demons screaming in chains, gods slaughtering their own kin. He saw Maoshinara, the Phoenix God, burn an entire realm to seal away a serpent made of shadow.
He saw Lianhua holding a sword to her own throat, surrounded by heavenly warriors.
To protect him.
And then he saw himself—older, cloaked in blood and flame, a crown of black fire on his brow as the skies split above him.
"No!" he cried, thrashing in the current. "That's not me!"
But the storm didn't care.
It surged.
Voices screamed. Not words—feelings. Rage, sorrow, power unbound. They tore at his skin, his soul, peeling back every barrier he'd built. His heart beat like war drums. The pendant exploded into light, fusing into his chest.
Suddenly, he wasn't alone in the storm.
A figure appeared—vague, massive, golden-eyed. It looked like him… but not. Taller. Hardened. Its body was wrapped in thunder, its voice like roaring sky.
"You are not ready."
"I will be."
"You will break."
"Then I'll rebuild."
The figure laughed—and lunged.
They clashed in the storm. Fist against fist. Will against will. Every strike shook Mingyao's spirit, but he refused to kneel. He roared, drawing on flame, on shadow, on pain. His divine blood boiled, burning away hesitation.
And then—
He struck.
A punch filled with everything—love for Lianhua, hatred for gods and demons alike, and a yearning to live free.
The figure shattered into light.
The storm exploded outward.
And Mingyao rose, gasping, from the pool.
---
The chamber was silent again.
The statues glowed faintly. Above, the dome crackled once—then stilled.
Lianhua's spirit hovered at the edge of the pool. Her form was fading now.
"You chose to become," she said, proud tears glimmering in her eyes. "You walk a path no god dares tread. I am proud of you, my son."
"Don't go," Mingyao whispered.
"I must," she said, voice growing distant. "But the world will know you now. Your storm cannot be hidden."
She reached out and touched his cheek.
"You will make the heavens tremble."
And then, she was gone.
---
Mingyao stumbled back into the grove as dawn broke. His skin was hot to the touch. The tattoo of a phoenix now coiled over his back, glowing faintly. Thunderclouds swirled above the mountains.
Something deep within had shifted.
The grove no longer whispered.
It watched.
And far away, across the three realms, beings stirred.
---
In the floating citadel of the Jade Pavilion, Supreme Goddess Nüxi turned from her mirror, robes flowing like starlight.
"It begins," she murmured.
Thunder rumbled in the distance.
---
In the Nether Court, beneath the black rivers of the Nine Hells, the Demon General Xianmu raised her head. Her horns glowed crimson.
"The heir awakens," she said. "We must strike before he finds his throne."
---
In the land between shadows—where even gods do not tread—something stirred. A whisper slithered across forgotten stone.
He lives.
He chooses.
He must fall.
---
Back at the temple, Tianzuo knelt by the plum grove's entrance, sensing the thunder crackle overhead.
He looked up as Mingyao emerged—barefoot, burned, and changed.
"Father…" Mingyao began.
Tianzuo rose slowly, his eyes searching his son's.
"You survived."
Mingyao nodded.
Tianzuo placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Then the world will never be the same."
Thunder echoed in the distance, but Mingyao no longer flinched.
He was born of storm, shadow, and flame.
And his fate had just begun.
---
To be continued