Chapter 75: Standing Firm

Hongyun paid no heed to the subsequent warnings. As the panel deducted a full fifty-six tribulation points, the wounds on his body healed instantly, and his aura soared, reaching the pinnacle of Nirvana.

So this is the power one achieves upon reaching the peak of Nirvana on one’s own path...

He felt the surge of vitality and strength coursing through him, and beneath his wings, his fist clenched unconsciously.

Feeling this overwhelming power, as if a single punch could shatter the thunder tribulation—though he knew this sensation was illusory—it did nothing to dampen his pursuit of it.

The exhilaration of becoming stronger was undeniable.

He noticed that the thunder tribulation striking his Cloudrider Wings, or more precisely, the weapons attached to them, was diminished by a third. With this, he manipulated all the silver feathers upon his wings.

After preparing for a long moment, he finally stood, gazing at the still-falling tribulation lightning, and his wings stirred.

Blades of silver-feathered steel shot skyward, piercing straight into the depths of the tribulation clouds.

With a piercing whistle, the thunder tribulation enveloped the weapons completely. Once separated from Hongyun, the focus of the tribulation shifted, showing disdain for the former host and concentrating solely on the weapon.

This tribulation, after all, was meant for the weapon he had forged; as for Hongyun himself, he was of little consequence.

But Hongyun had no intention of relinquishing his efforts.

Sensing his connection to the weapon growing ever weaker, he realized that no matter how strong the blade, without external aid, ninety-nine times out of a hundred, it would amount to nothing.

Activating his Tribulation-Gazing Eyes, he peered deep into the storm and saw his weapon being battered by thunder, fleeing like a cowering pup. A faint smile played on his lips.

Taking a deep breath, he unleashed all his cultivation. At the peak of Nirvana, his power poured outwards, and the sound of rushing water filled the air—a mighty, tangible river surged down from the heavens.

“My intention was never to create just a pair of winged weapons; it was merely a sudden fancy of mine,” Hongyun murmured, his expression calm.

As the vision around him grew as dense as possible, he closed his eyes. Through the faint link, he lightly patted the Soul-Devourer Scabbard.

“Blade, come!”

With a metallic rush, the silver-feathered blades returned from the clouds, not one missing, and slid into the scabbard.

When the blade entered, he sensed a surge of jubilant intent emanating from the Soul-Devourer Scabbard, which then coalesced into a hilt adorned with intricate, menacing patterns.

The hilt seemed to shift with the blade’s essence. Glancing at it, he saw a brilliant night-blooming cereus blossom.

The instant his hand closed around the hilt, an invincible sensation flooded him.

It was as if, should gods or Buddhas block his path, he would cut them down; even the tribulation clouds before him seemed vulnerable to a single stroke.

Now that the silver-feathered blades had formed a long saber, its aura leaped to that of a true demon king’s weapon.

Seizing this momentum, he let the thunder break his robe as he gathered his power.

Merging his essence, energy, and spirit into the blade, he reached the zenith and performed the simplest of actions:

He drew the saber.

As the blade left the scabbard, the river vision surged in reverse, waves crashing against the sky. A dazzling scarlet arc cleaved upward, transforming into a red moon that charged toward the tribulation clouds.

That single stroke, which nearly drained all his essence, vanished into the tribulation lightning, and the brewing energy abruptly ceased.

The seamless saber shattered into countless shards.

Yet with a thought, Hongyun reformed it instantly.

Has the tribulation passed?

He gazed at the seething clouds above, puzzled. If it’s over, why do the clouds still gather? If not, why does no lightning strike me?

He pondered for a long while and, seeing that the tribulation was about to descend again, emboldened by his skill, he spread his Cloudrider Wings and charged into the storm, saber in hand.

Once inside, Hongyun realized—the clouds were gathering murderous energy for a deadly rain.

This rain resembled the spiritual rain that followed great disasters of the primordial age; such pure evil energy was a treasure for cultivators and weapons alike.

Since it was forged from his own tribulation, it ought to be used for his benefit!

Hongyun surveyed the thickening evil energy, tossing both the Soul-Devourer Scabbard and his weapon into the midst to be nourished.

He himself sat cross-legged, circulating his cultivation technique.

Not bothering to estimate specifics, he simply opened himself to the surrounding suction, letting the energy pour into his body.

Though he had reached the peak of Nirvana with the aid of the panel, his foundation after the tribulation was solid. Such a treasure trove was rare; he let go of all restraint, devouring the energy without hesitation.

...

“What’s happening? Why is there no movement from the tribulation clouds?”

“I was counting the thunderclaps. There were only fifty-six. No matter how I add it up, it’s not the right number for a thunder tribulation. An eight-seven tribulation? In this world, I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“Then why is there neither thunder nor any sign of the young man emerging?”

Faced with such pointed questions, the gathered master forgers fell silent.

Their cultivation, at best, reached late Nirvana. Forging a Nirvana-level evil weapon was enough to earn the title of master forger.

Though they were knowledgeable, in matters such as this, they were utterly at a loss.

“Could it be... both man and weapon perished, destroyed by the tribulation?” ventured one master forger cautiously. His words were met with several hostile stares, and he hurried to correct himself.

“My guess must be wrong. Perhaps the young man was reduced to ash, and with the host gone, the clouds ceased to gather?”

“That’s possible.”

“That’s right. I even added two pieces of Thunderbane Tempered Gold—how could there be such a problem?”

...

Why has it stopped?

The Mountain-Crossing Demon King stood with hands clasped behind his back, watching the distant tribulation clouds, equally perplexed.

Tribulation is always a matter of numbers, whether for man or weapon. How could it stop at such a count, with no further sign?

This forge was in a desolate place, barren from countless tribulation-forged weapons.

I’d better go and see for myself what has happened.

With this thought, the Mountain-Crossing Demon King stirred and headed toward the scene.

Zhao Jingcheng, the abandoned disciple of Surging Moon Sect... I find this youth harder and harder to fathom.

Do I believe it?

I do not.