Morning sunlight bathed the Jade Wind Pavilion in golden brilliance, chasing away the lingering shadows of fatigue and doubt that had hung over Shadow's heart for days. Inside his residence, he sat cross-legged atop a stone meditation platform, eyes closed in deep concentration.
Before him lay no scrolls, no manuals-only memory.
His techniques, forged in life-or-death battles, emerged clearly in his mind:
**Flash Blade Art**-a precise, lightning-fast strike honed from countless duels. It could cut through arrogance and armor alike, so long as a weakness revealed itself. In the hands of any other, it would be seen as crude. Yet in his, it danced like a storm.
**Thunder Step**-a movement technique born from instinct and desperation. It blurred reality, allowing a single breath's acceleration beyond normal perception. He had developed it by necessity, dodging death, and chasing opportunity. By every measure, it rivaled any **mid-grade wood movement art** in form and function.
**Thunder Slash**-his most terrifying creation. A raw, explosive attack that weaponized the storm sealed within his chaotic dantian. It consumed Qi like a beast, but when unleashed at full burst, it shattered defenses like brittle twigs. Its destructive power surpassed most **high-grade wood elemental techniques**-and he had created it without a single teacher.
These were not borrowed techniques. They were born of pain, fear, survival-and triumph.
Shadow rose to his feet, donning his new inner sect robe. The deep green silk shimmered with runic patterns of rank and power. His black hair was tied high, his steps composed and quiet.
"Time to walk among the wolves," he murmured.
---
The inner sect grounds pulsed with energy. Cultivators meditated upon floating platforms. Weapon techniques clashed in bursts of light and power. Alchemists adjusted pills beneath furnaces embedded in mountain terraces, and sword-light danced across stone bridges linking training arenas.
Shadow moved calmly through this world of giants.
But whispers followed him, soft as silk, sharp as blades.
"That's him. The one who destroyed Jinhai."
"They say he made his own techniques."
"His Thunder Slash is more powerful than anything taught below the core sect."
"He doesn't even have a legacy-just pure madness and strength."
He ignored them. Words were wind.
Ahead, a familiar pressure surfaced like a brewing storm.
Standing at the entrance to one of the main sparring arenas was a tall, broad-shouldered figure. His black robe bore the silver serpent emblem of the Ren family, glinting like a threat.
**Ren Qiu.**
Cousin of Ren Jue. Disciple of the seventh level of Foundation Realm. Prideful. Dangerous.
And now, blocking his path.
"So," Ren Qiu said, stepping forward, voice loud and clear. "The hero of the outer sect finally descends from his cave."
Shadow stopped, his expression calm. "Oh? My junior brother wishes to spar?"
"Junior?" Ren Qiu growled. "You barely reached the fifth level. I'm two full stages above you."
"And yet your cousin lies in the medical ward thanks to my 'barely' cultivation." Shadow's voice was cold. "Perhaps the Ren family should spend less time counting levels and more time training manners."
Gasps rang from the surrounding crowd.
Ren Qiu's face twisted with fury. "Enough. One strike. Here. Now."
He drew his saber, its steel humming with wind Qi.
"If I win, you crawl back to the outer sect and kneel at my feet. If you win, I'll... apologize."
Shadow stepped past him and entered the arena without pause.
"One strike is all I'll need."
The practice field filled within moments. Disciples crowded every tier of the platform, drawn like moths to the scent of blood. Even a few core disciples stood along the upper balconies, their curiosity piqued.
In the center of the arena, Ren Qiu cracked his neck, twirled his saber, and smiled cruelly.
"I'll make you regret standing tall."
Shadow didn't answer.
The arena elder raised his hand. "Begin-"
His hand dropped.
**Thunder answered.**
Shadow vanished.
A streak of lightning. A blur. A violent pulse of air.
**Thunder Step.**
He appeared behind Ren Qiu, too fast for most eyes to track.
Ren turned, but he was too late.
Shadow's blade surged with terrifying power. The air hummed.
He whispered:
**"Thunder Slash - Full Burst."**
A deafening *crack* echoed across the mountaintop.
A bolt of lightning, thick as a tree trunk, exploded from his sword. It struck Ren Qiu's guard head-on, shattered the saber in his hand, and hurled him backward with a roar of thunder.
Ren smashed into the barrier wall at the edge of the arena, his robes scorched, hair burned, and body limp.
Silence. Pure, stunned silence.
Even the core disciples leaned forward slightly.
Ren Qiu groaned, struggling to rise. A weak hand reached for his broken saber.
Shadow stepped forward and flicked his blade. A gust of force swept through the arena, pinning Ren Qiu back to the ground with a thud.
"One strike," Shadow said, voice sharp as frost. "As agreed."
The arena elder, eyes wide, raised his hand. "Victory... to Shadow!"
The arena erupted.
Cheers, disbelief, excitement-all mingled into one roaring storm.
Shadow turned, walked toward the exit without so much as a glance behind him.
A core disciple muttered, "His Thunder Slash... rivals the high-grade techniques from the pavilion."
Another nodded. "He created it himself. That's more frightening than the power."
And so, Shadow passed through the crow
d-not as a curiosity or an outsider.
But as a storm.
And he moved to towards the mission hall as he needed more cultivation resources for the next break through.
---