Chapter 128: Trials of Spear VII
The stars within him pulsed in unison, their radiance swelling until even the silence of the hut seemed to bow beneath their rhythm.
And then—clarity.
Threads of different paths shimmered within his perception.
The Sword Intent of Domination—unyielding, absolute, a will that crushed all opposition.
The Bow Intent of Fate—distant, inexorable, like the arrow that had already struck before it was loosed.
Now, within his hands, through his spear... something else.
Tian Lei stilled. His fingers brushed the shaft, his senses burrowing into the resonance that lingered at its core. It was sharp, yes. Ruthless, yes. But it was not domination, nor inevitability.
It was division. Separation. The will to cut paths apart, to split heaven and earth, to pierce through all veils until nothing remained hidden.
His eyes opened slowly, a glimmer of both awe and certainty within them.
"...So that’s it."
The starlight in his consciousness surged, the three stars aligning, their power converging into a single intent that branded itself into his very soul.
"The Spear Intent... of Splitting."
The words reverberated in his chest like a decree.
A test thrust followed, almost unconsciously. The spearhead shimmered, and the air before it simply parted—sound, shadow, even the faint veil of spirit qi in the hut split cleanly in two. Not destroyed. Not shattered. Split.
Tian Lei’s breath trembled, his lips tugging into a faint, knowing smile.
"...To divide all things. To separate illusion from truth, life from death, heaven from earth. This is my spear."
The stars pulsed once more in acknowledgment.
The stars pulsed once more in acknowledgment. Their light did not fade, but wove tighter into him, circling his spear like silent guardians.
Tian Lei inhaled deeply. His body trembled—not from strain, but from the enormity of what pressed upon him. To have birthed a spear intent of his own... that was only the beginning.
Now came the shaping. The molding. The art.
He sat cross-legged, spear across his knees, and allowed the three stars to revolve in harmony. Gold sharpened, Death weighed, Soul crowned—and together, they poured into the single, unrelenting force of Splitting.
His mind opened like a vast canvas. Movements bloomed across it—slashes that cut rivers apart, thrusts that split the sky, sweeps that divided life from death in a single arc.
Slowly, the first form took shape. The spear trembled, as if roaring with dragon’s breath, its strike heavy with finality yet radiant with eternal clarity.
Tian Lei whispered the name, each word ringing like a vow.
"Death Dominion Dragon Soul Spear Art."
The moment the name left his lips, the hut shuddered. His sea of consciousness surged, the constellation of stars flaring brighter, aligning in a perfect triad. His spear resonated in answer—its hum no longer that of tempered steel, but of a dragon’s roar echoing through eternity.
He stood, raising the weapon, and thrust.
KRRRAAANG!
The floorboards beneath him cracked, the hut split down its center, and the night sky outside parted for a breathless instant—clouds sheared cleanly in two.
The intent was raw, embryonic, yet undeniable. Each strike he practiced grew clearer, sharper, more alive. A path was forming, stroke by stroke, anchored not in borrowed intent, but in his own unshakable truth.
Tian Lei exhaled slowly, eyes calm but burning with purpose.
"This art will be my legacy. The roar of the dragon. The weight of death. The crown of soul. The spear that divides all."
Then, almost foolishly, he chuckled to himself.
"My very first art... one I created with my own hands."
The thought made him grin wider.
"I’ve liked swords, my talent lies in the bow, yet in the end—I forged my first original Spear Art."
Then he looked at the training spear in his hand.
"Now... let’s see what level this art truly is," he murmured, closing his eyes.
He summoned his Infinite Library, comparing his creation against the classifications—one Heaven-ranked, one Ancient-ranked, one Divine-ranked spear art. He placed his own beside them, measuring it stroke by stroke.
At last, he exhaled, lips curving faintly.
"...Its foundation sits at low-grade Ancient rank."
He nodded, neither discouraged nor overly pleased. "Good. That means it can be tempered further."
Tian Lei continued refining it, drawing inspiration from similar arts he had seen. With each adjustment, he wove deeper balance into the techniques, ensuring it could at least be practiced and perfected to the same level.
Time passed. The one-month deadline of the trial slipped quietly by.
And soon—it was over.
Once again, all of them, Tian Lei included, were back in the training area. The elder who had overseen the trial now stood before them, his expression unreadable.
"The one month has passed," he said coldly. "Now I will assess which of you have progressed—and which of you have wasted this chance."
His gaze swept across the disciples like a blade.
"Step forward one by one. Show me what you have comprehended, what arts you have forged."
With that, he ordered them to present their results—each disciple stepping onto the stage to demonstrate the martial path they had carved, and how they had merged their own affinities into the Roaming Dragon Spear Art.
One by one, the disciples ascended the stage.
The first demonstrated a crude fusion of spear intent and flame. His strikes hissed with heat, leaving embers in their wake. The elder’s eyes narrowed.
"Too shallow. You are still enslaved by the element, rather than its master. Step back."
The second came forward, spear whistling as arcs of water followed its tip like coiling serpents. The movements were fluid, almost elegant, but lacked bite.
"Decorative," the elder dismissed. "Not worthy of battle."
A hush fell as the third disciple stepped out. His name was Lan Yuheng, a quiet prodigy whispered about in the corners of the sect for his uncanny affinity with nature and wood-based techniques. His aura surged, roots of emerald qi unfurling from his frame like a forest awakening. The ground itself trembled beneath his stride, cracking slightly under the pressure of his concentrated life force.
Breathing steadily, Yuheng raised his spear, and the golden afternoon light caught on its edge, glinting off the carved runes that marked his painstaking personal refinements.
"I am Lan Yuheng," he announced, his voice calm but carrying to the farthest corner of the training hall. "I wield the Roaming Dragon Spear Art through the path of wood, and I submit my understanding to the elder’s judgment."