Cultivation: I Have a Skill Level Panel

"Hmm? The boy with the Netherworld Eye has fallen." The middle-aged man in the black shirt, who carried a crimson longsword on his back, looked slightly surprised.

"Tianyang, what are your thoughts? He was your disciple, after all," the long-haired, white-bearded old man in the Daoist robe said slowly, stroking his whiskers.

The majestic man in the center, clad in a crimson battle robe, was tall and imposing. He radiated a Blazing Dao Rhythm, and as his gaze fixed upon the extinguished lamp, a sudden chill filled the air. The temperature plummeted to freezing, and an incredibly powerful, invisible killing intent emanated from him.

Qin Tianyang remained expressionless. Finally, he spoke in a low voice, "That boy, Yan Hu, carried the power of one of my strikes, not to mention the Space Divine Skill of his Netherworld Eye. Unless it was someone in the Tongxuan Realm, who could possibly have killed him?"

"Tongxuan, you say? In all the Land of Cang Province, besides Our Palace, the only ones at the Tongxuan Realm are those old fossils from a few other Sects.

And those old fossils, knowing he was a True Disciple of Our Palace, would they really kill him so easily and make an enemy of us for no reason?" the long-haired, white-bearded old man asked, a hint of confusion in his voice.

A cold glint flashed in Qin Tianyang’s eyes. He then said in a low voice, "Let’s see the final image recorded by the Soul Lamp."

The other two men nodded in agreement. Every True Disciple who left behind a Soul Lamp would have the last few moments before their death preserved as an image. This allowed the Divine Palace to see who had killed one of their own. After all, each True Disciple was a potential future powerhouse for the Sect, possessing the ability to ascend to the Tongxuan Realm. Every single one was precious, and the Red Moon Divine Palace had invested immense resources into them.

At this thought, a cold light flickered in Qin Tianyang’s eyes. He formed a seal with one hand, and the vast Magical Power swirling around him poured into the extinguished Soul Lamp.

The next moment, a massive screen of light materialized in the air. On it, a young man in a white robe, wreathed in terrifying lightning, raised his hand. With a single palm strike, he unleashed a Thunderous Hand that seemed hundreds of miles wide, like a divine punishment from the heavens, and it smashed into a dazzling, crimson sun.

The final image showed the white-robed youth delivering a thunderous punch that pierced straight through Yan Hu’s heart from behind.

After the images on the light screen faded, the three men were silent for a moment.

Then, the middle-aged man in the black shirt with the crimson longsword broke the silence.

"It’s no wonder that boy Yan Hu died. He actually ran into a True Monarch who cultivates a Thunder Technique!"

The other two sighed in resignation. It was true; his death was no surprise. Then, the old man in the white Daoist robe spoke again, "A Tongxuan Realm expert who cultivates a Thunder Technique... Which powerhouse in our Southern Wilderness practices a Thunder Technique?"

Qin Tianyang and the middle-aged Sword Cultivator in black frowned at his words. The Southern Wilderness had a population in the trillions, yet only a few dozen had reached the Tongxuan Realm. They all knew each other, more or less.

Yet not a single one of them was a young, white-robed True Monarch who used a Thunder Technique.

None of them would be fooled by his youthful appearance into thinking he was actually young. Given his strength, anyone who had cultivated to the Tongxuan Realm had to have trained for at least a century.

Finally, Qin Tianyang raised an eyebrow and said in a low voice, "He’s probably from the Foreign Lands. The Eastern Profound, the Western Celestial, the Northern Barbarians, or even... Central Earth!"

As soon as he said this, the other two found it plausible. There was no one in the Southern Wilderness who matched his terrifying Thunder Technique.

Suddenly,

the middle-aged man in the black shirt with the crimson longsword spoke up. "He cultivates a Thunder Technique and is from the Foreign Lands. From what I know, could he be... Celestial Punishment True Monarch, Sikong Zheng?!"

At his words, the other two were stunned. The image of a burly, domineering figure who wielded myriad bolts of thunder and suppressed the entire world involuntarily surfaced in the mind of the long-bearded, white-haired man in the Daoist robe.

Even Qin Tianyang’s expression faltered, and a flicker of fear crossed his eyes.

Then, the old man in the white Daoist robe stated with absolute certainty, "Impossible! If that was Sikong Zheng, that boy Yan Hu wouldn’t have even been able to withstand his presence, let alone dare to fight him." Clearly, Sikong Zheng’s name was renowned throughout the entire Celestial Essence Realm.

Qin Tianyang also spoke up. "An expert of Sikong Zheng’s caliber is likely on par with the Palace Master.

Why would he bother with a minor squabble with a boy like Yan Hu?"

The other two fell silent, evidently agreeing that it wasn’t Sikong Zheng.

"Sigh!"

"Let’s put this matter aside for now.

The True Disciple is already dead. It’s not worth provoking a True Monarch who uses a Thunder Technique over it."

"Especially since we don’t know anything about his background or origins."

"Besides, that other matter has reached a critical juncture. We can’t afford to get sidetracked," the old man in the white Daoist robe concluded in a low voice.

...

「At this moment.」

Far away in Guangping City, Gu Yun sat cross-legged in the Wang Family’s Cultivation Chamber. His eyes were calm, but in the void around him, wisps of Thunder Arcs slithered like electric snakes, tearing through space and exuding a terrifying aura. A nascent Thunder Domain was even forming around him, its horrifying presence enough to make one tremble.

Then, with a wave of his hand, a light flashed. A crimson Spatial Ring materialized, hovering above his palm. Gu Yun’s Spiritual Sense poured into it, and his previously calm face broke into an expression of amazement, his eyes filled with unrestrainable joy.

’This guy was a real saint!

’This haul... I’ve struck it rich!!’