"Second Uncle, the storm clouds have indeed appeared. Perhaps this time we will catch it!"
The woman was none other than Li Qinghong. With the Duruo Spear in hand, her aura had already reached the mid-stage of the Foundation Establishment Realm. Purple lightning surged and rolled beneath her feet, illuminating the mountain below with dazzling light.
In recent years, the phenomena of Falling Water Rising Storm in the Eastern Sea had grown more intense, greatly benefiting thunder cultivators. Li Qinghong had seized the opportunity to enter seclusion, successfully breaking through to the mid-stage of the Foundation Establishment Realm and significantly enhancing her strength.
Several years had passed in the blink of an eye. Her elder brother, Li Yuanjiao, remained in seclusion, while Li Xuanfeng roamed the Eastern Sea. Li Qinghong had returned home briefly to investigate the lightning phenomenon and, upon hearing the news, set out to explore the Eastern Sea in search of spirit lightning.
Li Xuanfeng stared at the lightning flashing within the dark clouds, nodding slightly. "During the Falling Water Rising Storm in the Eastern Sea, many types of thunder will descend. I have heard of several varieties appearing in the marketplace. This matches well with your technique."
"Indeed," Li Qinghong agreed.
The rolling black clouds gathered over the island, and thunder roared. The island's native inhabitants raised their heads in awe and kneeled in worship. Li Qinghong glanced at them briefly, paying them no mind.
This remote area lay at the very edge of the Eastern Sea. The locals spoke in a language unintelligible to outsiders. They kneeled in groups, some trembling, clutching staffs, clearly priests or shamans with a trace of cultivation. They prostrated themselves, shivering in fear of the Foundation Establishment Realm cultivators' overwhelming aura.
After a brief wait, the clouds slowly coalesced into a bright, snakelike arc of white lightning. It coiled and writhed restlessly, darting through the black clouds with sporadic leaps.
"It is the Silver Hook Profound Thunder , after all," Li Qinghong said.
She had obtained much information about different types of lightning through secret methods. Though she had missed some during her seclusion, she had made five or six trips since, all in vain—until now.
"Fortunately, this island has remained isolated and unchanged for thousands of years, with its name intact." The information Li Qinghong had acquired indicated that the Silver Hook Profound Thunder struck Lulai Island within the Qunyi Sea. After searching the Qunyi Strait, she estimated that this island was the most likely candidate.
The dark clouds gathered, with silver-white lightning swirling within them. Li Qinghong felt a surge of excitement in her heart as she soared into the sky. After waiting a few moments, she extended her slender finger and made a hooking motion in the air.
Boom!
The silver-white lightning, which had been hovering restlessly within the clouds, seemed to be drawn to her gesture. It plummeted downward, crashing violently onto her fingertip and transforming into a turbulent, flickering bolt of white lightning.
Some residual lightning sparks, scattered like tiny birds returning to their nest, rained down in a cascade. They converged on her fingertip, gradually compressing into a small, silver-white bead.
Li Qinghong clasped her palms together, exhaled slowly, and after a moment, stored the bead in her Thunder Pool. With the lightning absorbed, the dark clouds dissipated, and the sky cleared. Feeling pleased, Li Qinghong nodded toward Li Xuanfeng and soared upward on the wind.
After leaving the strait, Li Xuanfeng halted mid-air and said softly, "No need to rush. Allow me to search this area briefly."
Understanding his intention, Li Qinghong nodded and joined him in scanning the surroundings. After circling the area once, Li Xuanfeng's gaze swept casually across the scene. Suddenly, the golden bow on his back glowed brightly. A hint of delight crossed his face as he sneered, "Indeed... That wretch is still hiding in the sea."
Li Xuanfeng had searched for lightning on several occasions, meticulously investigating each location in hopes of tracking down the elusive Ewu. Hearing this, Li Qinghong's spirits lifted. She watched as Li Xuanfeng drew his bow and notched an arrow, a spiral of dazzling light rising from the longbow.
"Go!" The arrow vanished from his grasp, and a deafening explosion erupted on a distant island. Li Xuanfeng slung the longbow onto his back and stepped onto a golden shuttle, descending swiftly.
————
Everstream Island.
This island stretched in a narrow, elongated shape, with numerous rivers crisscrossing its terrain. Houses crowded the land, and monks directed mortals to carry stones and lumber up to the tallest mountain on the island.
At the mountain's summit, over a dozen temples had been erected in various sizes. The largest stood in resplendent glory, its corridors interconnected, with clear waters from a lake reflecting blooming lotuses.
Within the main temple, the atmosphere was grim and shadowed. Hundreds of carved stone statues, each with a unique and sinister form, lined the walls. In the center stood a jade altar, beneath which a bubbling pool of blood churned violently. Atop the altar rested half a corpse. Its cracked skin continuously split open and re-knit itself, absorbing the blood below in a grotesque display.
Ewu sat cross-legged atop the high jade altar, motionless as he cultivated. Beneath him lay a blood pool spanning several zhang, its surface bubbling and churning. Streams of multicolored light rose from the pool, transforming midair into vivid illusions.
Some illusions depicted beautiful women and fine wine, while others showed ornate pavilions and majestic mansions. These phantasms swirled and danced around Ewu as if paying homage. On either side of the altar, rows of monks dressed in black robes stood in a neat formation, bowing respectfully as they waited.
Ewu let out a breath, his tone laced with irritation, "This place is truly awful... Far from Jiangnan, sparsely populated, and with so many useless Son of Diyang—what a waste..."
Years ago, in despair, he had fled across the sea and eventually found this refuge. After a period of rampant slaughter to stabilize his cultivation, he had swiftly established temples on the island.
Ewu's current strength left him incapable of prolonged combat. The so-called Son of Diyang's flesh and blood were bland and unsatisfying, so he proclaimed that Son of Diyang embodied the true Daoist physique while ordinary mortal flesh was a sinful aberration. This allowed him to rapidly take control of the island and fabricate a sect of Diyang monks to provide him with blood offerings.
Having roamed the overseas regions for some time, Ewu had become well-versed in these tactics. He quickly established a fully functioning system, using mortals as cattle for blood and flesh to sustain himself.
However, he found the island's isolation and lack of spiritual energy particularly frustrating. Most of the population were ordinary mortals, and their offerings barely kept him alive. Healing his injuries or escaping to the Western Sea seemed nearly impossible.
"I will have to take it slow, cultivating a few subordinates to scour the nearby islands for more blood offerings..." Ewu had recovered from his initial despair. As long as there were people on the island, he held hope of regaining his strength. After all, mortals were easier to maintain than spirit beasts and surprisingly effective—a business with no costs and guaranteed returns.
As he mused over his plans, a sudden chill swept over him. A bone-deep coldness made him shudder, and a faint buzzing sound reached his ears, growing louder.
Buzz... buzz...
How is this possible?! Ewu froze, his body trembling as the same terrifying hum that haunted his days and nights resurfaced. The monk's body on the jade altar jerked twice, blood streaming from his ears as he murmured, "He is here!"
The blood in the pool beneath him surged violently, climbing up the jade altar in an attempt to shield him. But it was too late. A deafening explosion rang out as the jade altar was torn apart, shattered into two pieces. Multicolored light burst forth in chaotic streams.
"Master Monk!" The black-robed monks coughed up blood in unison, collapsing to the ground. The countless statues within the temple crumbled simultaneously, falling into piles of fine stone dust. The grand hall itself groaned as though mourning its destruction before collapsing with a thunderous crash.
At that very moment, across the northern Qinling Prefecture, statues shattered in various locations. In the waters of the Converging Sea and Scarlet Pristine Sea, monks raised their faces in terror, pale with fear, "Second Senior Brother... has fallen too!"