The crimson crack above the Grand Plinth widened, a wound bleeding light into the churning maelstrom. Pillars of raw force, thicker than ancient trees, lashed down with mechanical precision, arcing towards the tiny figure of He Chuan. The air shrieked, pressing down on the onlookers until many buckled to their knees, their faces ashen. Even the ground trembled, a deep, guttural rumble rising from beneath the arena stones.
“No time to argue, Grandson! Go!” Guci’s voice echoed in his mind, sharp as a whip. “The Edict will allow you to weather the initial barrages, but you must focus! Use it! Rebuild them!”
He Chuan didn’t hesitate. A fierce, almost manic grin stretched across his face, a defiant mask against the cosmic wrath. “The firmament wants to crush me? Good! Let it try!” he roared, his voice thin against the gale, yet filled with an unyielding arrogance that dared the cosmos to respond. “Come on then, you blind, jealous old cosmic bastards! Give me your best shot!”
He launched himself upwards, a tiny, dark projectile against the bruised and angry sky. Ruby sparks danced around him as he channeled the Ashen Spark, its forbidden heat flaring to life. The first bolt, a searing lance of violet light, ripped through the air, directly aimed at his chest. He met it without flinching, roaring through torn lungs as the searing discharge shredded his outer defenses. His vision swam, a blinding white flash followed by a symphony of pain. It felt as if a forge hammer had been brought down on his bones, over and over.
“Again!” he bellowed, his voice raw, blood seeping from the corners of his mouth. “You call that power? Pathetic!”
Another bolt descended, twin to the first, then a third, and a fourth. He Chuan used the Ashen Spark to guide the external torrent, steering the sheer, crushing weight of the celestial flash toward his shattered pathways. Each impact proved an agonizing ordeal, a thousand white-hot needles boring through muscle and marrow. He clenched his teeth, his knuckles white, forcing himself to endure. He felt his veins swell, then constrict, then reform with a terrifying, agonizing snap. The thunder was meant to obliterate; He Chuan twisted its purpose, forcing it to fuse the sundered channels within his core.
The crowd below was in pandemonium. The senior Elders, usually stoic and unmoving, were visibly shaken, their protective barriers struggling against the sheer force of the storm. Baozi, perched on the edge of the Grand Plinth, let out a series of frantic, high-pitched yelps, his dumpling-shaped body trembling. He stomped his little paws, digging frantically at the solid rock as if trying to burrow a tunnel to his master in the sky. He had never seen He Chuan so reckless, so utterly consumed by a desperate, suicidal rage.
“The fool! He’s using the sky's wrath to reforge his pathways!” Guci cursed, a faint, translucent aura radiating from the jade. There was no mockery in his tone, only a horrified admiration. “This boy… he truly is his Lanyue’s son. A complete madman.”
With each successful re-knitting, a tiny point of radiance, like a newly kindled star, sparked within He Chuan. His skin was scorched, his clothes in tatters, but a terrifying strength began to coalesce around him. His movements became more fluid, more deliberate. He was no longer just enduring; he was *wielding* the pain, bending it to his will. The defiance in his eyes burned brighter than any flame.
But the heavens, as if enraged by his insolence, responded with a terrible crescendo. The scarlet rift above yawned wider, revealing an abyss of swirling chaos. The gathered power fused into a colossal pillar of divine fury, a column of blinding gold that descended with the roar of splitting stone. It was too vast, too powerful. It was meant to wipe him from existence, to erase his very memory from the fabric of Cangtian. Even with the Ashen Spark, this was insurmountable.
“Grandson! No!” Guci’s voice ripped through He Chuan’s mind, filled with a panic He Chuan had never heard from the ancient ghost. A shimmering, translucent figure, radiating an ancient, weary power, tore itself from the jade. Guci, his spectral form fraying at the edges, shot upwards, interposing himself between He Chuan and the descending pillar. His eyes, usually filled with disdain, now held a deep, profound affection, a sorrowful resolve.
“You stubborn, arrogant idiot,” Guci whispered, his transparent hand reaching out to cup He Chuan’s soot-stained cheek. His touch was like a cool breeze, a phantom caress. “You are the last of my line. I won’t let the heavens take you too. This old man has lived long enough. Live, He Chuan. Live and find her.”
He Chuan froze, terror locking his throat. He knew what Guci intended. The ghost was sacrificing his last remaining fragments of soul, his very existence, to shield him. A raw, desperate cry tore from his throat. “No! You old fool, no! You can’t! I won’t let you!” He lunged, grabbing Guci’s ephemeral body, clutching at the spectral form as if he could physically pull him back from oblivion. “I just found you! I won’t lose you! Not again!”
His voice was a choked sob, the arrogance stripped away, revealing the terrified child beneath. He locked his arms around the fading, translucent form of his grandfather, bracing for the blast, refusing to let go, refusing to be left behind. He squeezed his eyes shut, a desperate, defiant shield against the inevitable.
Just as the golden column prepared to incinerate them both, a massive shockwave tore through the squall. A figure, silhouetted against the blinding glare, ripped through the scarlet tear like wet paper. She moved with impossible speed, a blur of motion, her hands outstretched. With an impact that rattled the foundations of the peak, she seized the descending bolt in her bare palms, halting its fall instantly. The golden fire coiled harmlessly around her forearms, trapped within her grasp. This was no ordinary cultivator. This was He Chuan’s missing mother. Gu Lanyue. More powerful than he could have ever imagined. She had returned. Her eyes, burning with an ethereal light, fixed on her son, and for the first time in years, He Chuan saw a ghost of a smile grace her lips, a smile of immense pride, and a hint of something feral, dangerous. Her gaze shifted toward Guci's trembling phantom, her eyebrows drawing tight with equal parts relief and exasperation. She was here, and she had just stolen the heavens’ most lethal weapon. Her face, stern and beautiful, turned to the sky, and she seemed to challenge the entire cosmos with her glare. She had arrived to shatter the sky before it could crush her son.