Chapter 27 - Unleashing the Nine Heavens Thunder Arrow Technique!
Chapter 27: Unleashing the Nine Heavens Thunder Arrow Technique! A Dimensional Strike—Yan Xiaoyi: Is This… Divine Retribution?
Yan Xiaoyi’s gaze settled on Li Changsheng.
Calm.
Composed.
The young man carried a steadiness that belied his age.
Yan Xiaoyi’s thoughts involuntarily drifted back to that afternoon many years ago.
A six-year-old child, delicate as carved jade, had vanished like a ghost under his pursuit.
It had been one of the few—and most profound—failures of his career.
This young man before him was far from as simple as he appeared.
The strength he concealed likely surpassed all imagination.
And now, the Grand Princess wanted him to teach this unfathomable prince the art of archery?
Suppressing the turmoil in his heart, Yan Xiaoyi bowed.
“As you command, Grand Princess.”
His voice remained steady, betraying no hint of his inner conflict.
Only in the depths of his sharp, hawk-like eyes flickered a trace of something unreadable.
A corner of the courtyard served as a ready-made archery range, complete with targets.
Sunlight spilled over the bluestone pavement, casting a warm glow.
Li Yunrui and Lin Wan’er moved to sit on the stone benches beneath the corridor, preparing to observe.
A breeze stirred, lifting the hem of Li Yunrui’s luxurious palace robes. She sat with regal poise, her gaze never leaving her son, carrying a hint of scrutiny.
Lin Wan’er, dressed in an elegant, understated gown that accentuated her snow-white complexion and ethereal grace, watched the two figures in the courtyard with quiet curiosity—especially her cousin Li Changsheng, who supposedly had never practiced martial arts.
Yan Xiaoyi retrieved a beginner-friendly soft bow and began explaining the most fundamental principles.
“Your Highness, observe—holding the bow requires stability, unmoving as a mountain.”
He demonstrated personally, his movements precise, every detail honed through years of discipline.
“When drawing the string, power comes from the shoulders and back—never rely solely on arm strength.”
Li Changsheng listened in silence, his focus unwavering.
Once Yan Xiaoyi finished, he gestured for Li Changsheng to attempt it.
He expected the usual beginner’s clumsiness, the awkward adjustments.
But Li Changsheng picked up the bow, settled into stance—
His movements flowed naturally, as if he had practiced them a thousand times.
His posture, his grip, his draw—all mirrored Yan Xiaoyi’s demonstration almost exactly.
Yet there was something more, a harmony that seemed to resonate with the very principles of heaven and earth.
Yan Xiaoyi stiffened slightly.
Instead of releasing the arrow immediately, Li Changsheng turned his head and asked:
“Master Yan, if using a three-stone heavy bow to shoot three hundred paces, accounting for wind resistance—should the aim be raised by half an inch?”
The question froze Yan Xiaoyi in place.
This was not a question a beginner should ask.
It delved into the profound theories and practical intricacies of advanced archery.
Three hundred paces. A heavy bow. Wind calculations.
This young man… he wasn’t clueless.
He understood.
Perhaps far more than Yan Xiaoyi had ever imagined.
The memory of losing him years ago resurfaced.
So this was why.
A storm raged in Yan Xiaoyi’s heart, but his expression betrayed nothing.
He studied Li Changsheng deeply.
“Your Highness is absolutely correct.”
“Conventional theory accounts only for the norm. In actual combat, variables are endless—a fraction’s deviation can mean a thousand-mile miss.”
The dynamic of their exchange shifted subtly.
No longer was it a master instructing a disciple.
It had become a discussion between peers.
Yan Xiaoyi began explaining advanced techniques—
How to discern wind direction.
How to anticipate moving targets.
Even how to pinpoint an opponent’s location by the sound of their arrows cutting through air.
Li Changsheng listened intently, nodding occasionally, sometimes offering insights so sharp they startled even Yan Xiaoyi.
Beneath the corridor, Lin Wan’er’s eyes sparkled with fascination.
Though she knew little of archery, she could tell this was no ordinary lesson.
Li Changsheng learned too quickly.
Unnaturally so.
Li Yunrui lifted her teacup to her lips, a faint smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
As expected.
Her son never failed to deliver… surprises.
To better showcase the pinnacle of archery, Yan Xiaoyi decided to demonstrate his true skill.
He walked to the weapon rack and retrieved his signature black heavy bow.
The bow exuded a weighty, unyielding aura, its lines sharp, radiating the iron-blooded essence of battle.
The moment he grasped it, his entire demeanor transformed.
The composed restraint vanished.
In its place emerged a razor-sharp focus, as if man and bow had merged into the deadliest weapon in existence.
He drew.
The bowstring creaked ominously as it stretched, yet the heavy bow seemed weightless in his hands.
Every eye in the courtyard locked onto him.
The air itself seemed to still.
Yan Xiaoyi’s gaze fixed on the distant target, now no larger than a fingernail.
Release.
Thrum!
The bowstring recoiled with a thunderous snap.
A black-feathered arrow shot forth like lightning, vanishing from sight in an instant.
A heartbeat later—
Thud!
A clear, resonant impact echoed from afar.
Everyone strained to see.
The black arrow had struck dead center, its sheer force embedding it deep into the target. The shaft vibrated violently, its hum piercing the silence.
The entire target shuddered from the impact.
“Wow…”
Lin Wan’er couldn’t suppress a soft gasp, covering her mouth with her hand, her wide eyes filled with awe.
The power, speed, and precision of that shot surpassed anything she had imagined.
Even Li Yunrui’s eyes flickered with approval.
Yan Xiaoyi’s arrows were truly unmatched in the world.
Setting the bow down, Yan Xiaoyi’s breath came slightly faster, though his gaze remained keen.
He turned to Li Changsheng, curious about the prince’s reaction.
Li Changsheng studied the still-quivering arrow, a faint smile on his lips.
Then he met Yan Xiaoyi’s eyes and spoke calmly.
“Master Yan’s archery has reached perfection—truly breathtaking.”
“However, I happen to know an archery technique of my own.”
Silence descended upon the courtyard.
Lin Wan’er blinked, her curiosity instantly ignited.
“Cousin Changsheng, you know archery too?”
She tilted her head, her voice brimming with anticipation.
Li Yunrui set down her teacup.
Her gaze sharpened, locking onto her son.
She had known he was extraordinary—but archery?
And to claim he “happened to know” one after witnessing Yan Xiaoyi’s pinnacle display?
The confidence behind those words stirred something in her chest.
Yan Xiaoyi’s pupils constricted.
He stared at Li Changsheng, his expression torn between skepticism and disbelief.
Arrogance?
Or genuine capability?
Given what he’d seen so far, the latter seemed more likely.
But what kind of archery could make the prince so unshaken after witnessing that shot?
“Oh?”
Yan Xiaoyi’s voice carried a barely perceptible dryness.
“Might I ask what technique Your Highness refers to?”
Li Changsheng didn’t answer immediately.
He walked leisurely to the weapon rack.
His eyes skimmed over the finely crafted bows.
Finally, he picked up an ordinary-looking standard longbow.
Then a plain-feathered arrow.
The contrast with Yan Xiaoyi’s imposing heavy bow couldn’t have been starker.
He took position where Yan Xiaoyi had stood earlier.
Set his stance.
Raised the bow.
Nocked the arrow.
His motions were effortless, devoid of any visible strain.
Yet when he drew the string halfway—
The air crackled.
A palpable pressure engulfed the courtyard.
The sky darkened visibly.
The once-clear heavens now swirled with thick, roiling clouds, converging directly overhead.
A low, ominous rumble—deeper than thunder—began to resonate.
Not the sound of a storm.
Something far more primal.
The harbinger of gathering power.
Lin Wan’er’s curiosity turned to shock, her face paling slightly.
Li Yunrui shot to her feet, her fingers digging into the stone table, knuckles whitening.
Yan Xiaoyi tensed like a cornered beast, every muscle coiling, his qi surging instinctively as he stared at Li Changsheng and the bow in his hands.
Li Changsheng’s expression remained unchanged as he continued drawing.
The bowstring groaned under the strain.
At the tip of the ordinary arrow, a blinding spark of electricity flared to life.
Azure-blue arcs of lightning snaked along the shaft, dancing across the bow like living serpents.
The entire weapon seemed to awaken—
Thrumming with annihilative force.
At full draw—
Li Changsheng released.
BOOM!
A deafening thunderclap erupted in the courtyard, shaking the very ground.
The sound was nothing a bowstring could produce.
This was the fury of the heavens themselves.
With the thunder—
The arrow vanished.
In its place streaked a bolt of lightning—
A concentrated beam of blue-white radiance that tore through the air, illuminating the darkened courtyard.
It defied distance.
Defied space.
In an instant, it crossed the entire courtyard—
And struck.
Not the target.
Not through the target.
It erased it.
The sturdy wooden target, capable of withstanding immense force, along with the rockery behind it—
Disintegrated into dust.
The explosion of energy rocked the earth.
A charred crater, several feet wide and unfathomably deep, gaped where the target had stood.
The edges of the pit had vitrified, tendrils of smoke curling upward.
The stench of ozone and scorched earth filled the air.
The sheer devastation of that single strike—
As the thunder faded, the unnatural clouds dispersed as swiftly as they had gathered.
Sunlight returned.
The courtyard lay silent, save for the smoldering crater and…
A silence so profound it was suffocating.
Yan Xiaoyi stood frozen, petrified.
His heavy bow clattered to the ground, unnoticed.
His eyes were wider than they had ever been, his face a mask of utter disbelief.
His lips parted soundlessly, his throat producing only ragged, wheezing breaths.
Shock?
No.
That word couldn’t begin to describe what he felt.
This was obliteration.
The complete and utter annihilation of everything he had dedicated his life to—his archery, his pride, his very understanding of the world.
What was that?
Archery?
No.
That was divine retribution.
The power to command the heavens, to wield the fury of thunder itself!
His Ninth-grade archery, the pinnacle of mortal skill, was less than dust before that radiance.
Pathetic.
How pathetic he had been, thinking he could teach this prince.
What right did he have?!
His face, once carved from unshakable resolve, now bore only blank horror, a near-shattering disbelief.
He stared at the calm young man holding the bow as if gazing upon a god walking the earth.
Lin Wan’er trembled, her face bloodless, her eyes darting between the terrifying crater and Li Changsheng’s unruffled demeanor—filled with reverence and a strange, indescribable distance.
Li Yunrui’s fingers had left grooves in the stone table.
She watched her son, then the devastation left in his wake, her chest rising and falling rapidly.
Astonishment.
Dread.
Pride.
Unease.
Emotions warred within her, finally escaping as a near-silent exhale.
This son of hers…
She had severely underestimated him.