Chapter 127: Trials of Spears VI
Tian Lei froze. His breath caught, his spear arm stiff.
"...No trial?"
The light pulsed one last time before it sank into him, fusing seamlessly with his sea of consciousness. A third star ignited—clear, eternal, radiant—its brilliance surpassing even the Gold and Death stars. It shone like a vast ocean with no shore, infinite and untouchable.
Tian Lei’s lips curved faintly. He lowered his spear and nodded.
"...Ah. So that’s it."
His voice was quiet, but steady, almost amused.
"I have an invincible soul. None can judge me—not even the Soul Dao itself."
The plain shuddered at his words, but no resistance rose. Instead, the radiance only deepened, as if the trial itself admitted his truth.
He closed his eyes for a moment, a wry smile tugging at his lips.
"I was bracing myself for the most difficult test. But I forgot..." His voice softened, carrying both awe and conviction. "...I forgot the essence of who I am. The Infinite Fortune Soul Emperor."
The three stars—Gold, Death, Soul—aligned within his consciousness. They spun, weaving into a single constellation that blazed brighter than anything he had ever known. Power surged through his veins, boundless and pure, his spear humming with a resonance that seemed to reach beyond the trial, beyond the world.
Tian Lei opened his eyes. For a moment, they glowed with that eternal constellation, reflecting the truth of his path.
"Gold refines the edge. Death tempers the will. Soul crowns the essence. Together... they are my spear."
The trial plain fractured around him, cracks of radiant light spreading until the whole world dissolved. The weight, the silence, the fire—all vanished in a cascade of brilliance.
And Tian Lei returned.
Back to his hut.
Back to his body.
But not as before.
His spear lay across his knees, trembling with joy, its resonance fuller, deeper—as if it too had walked the trial and returned reborn.
Tian Lei exhaled slowly.
"The path of Soul... acknowledged. The constellation complete."
His smile lingered, quiet but resolute.
"Now... the real battles begin."
Tian Lei’s hands tightened on the shaft of his spear.
The weapon quivered, not from weakness but from eagerness—as though it, too, yearned to test the newfound harmony of Gold, Death, and Soul.
He inhaled deeply, centering himself.
The stars within his consciousness revolved, each pulsing with its own cadence—sharp brilliance, cold finality, eternal essence. With every cycle, their light overlapped, converged, then parted again like waves colliding across a boundless sea.
"...Three into one," Tian Lei whispered.
He rose to his feet, the small hut suddenly too small to contain the storm brewing within him. The air vibrated. Stray motes of starlight seeped from his pores, clinging to the spearhead until the dull iron seemed carved from cosmic crystal.
First, he drew the essence of Gold into the spear. The edge sang, sharper than sound itself, cutting even the silence of the night.
Then came Death—a cold stillness coiling along the shaft, a weight that promised endings with every thrust.
Last, Soul—not a force that could be seen or touched, but a resonance that bound the other two into a living rhythm, breathing eternity into their clash.
The spear hummed like a constellation captured in steel.
Tian Lei lowered his stance, breath steady, eyes half-closed.
His mind shifted into that lucid state only found on the cusp of creation, where instinct and comprehension wove together seamlessly.
The first thrust—pure Gold, piercing and unrelenting.
The second—Death, its arc slower but inevitable, like the scythe of time.
The third—Soul, silent yet sovereign, threading the two movements into a seamless flow.
When he struck again, it was no longer three separate moves. It was one.
The hut groaned as the thrust carved a fissure of light through the floorboards, space itself warping for a heartbeat. The spear stilled, but its afterimage lingered—threefold, eternal, unyielding.
Tian Lei exhaled, sweat beading on his brow. His lips curved upward.
"...Incomplete, but alive. The beginning of a new spear art."
Tian Lei did not lower his spear.
The afterimage still shimmered, threefold and eternal, as if daring him to chase its perfection.
He straightened slowly, his gaze sharpening.
"...This is only the first breath. The Roaming Dragon Spear cannot remain as it was. It must devour the stars themselves."
The stars within his sea of consciousness pulsed in answer. Gold. Death. Soul. Their resonance threaded through him, a living tide pressing to be shaped.
He sank deeper into stance.
The Roaming Dragon’s First Motion—Soaring Fang.
Traditionally swift and sharp, like a dragon’s first strike.
Now, as he infused Gold, the spear edge gleamed with absolute sharpness, tearing the very air before the thrust even landed. The motion was no longer just speed—it was inevitability, piercing through all defenses.
The Second Motion—Coiling Descent.
Once a sweeping, suppressive spiral, pinning foes beneath its momentum.
Infused with Death, the sweep grew heavier, slower, but unbearable—the kind of weight that made the soul itself cower. Even the empty hut shuddered, its walls creaking as though mourning their own end.
The Third Motion—Dragon’s Roar.
A resonant thrust meant to scatter qi with sheer vibration.
With Soul bound into it, the roar became something more—it resounded inward, echoing in his very spirit. For an instant, Tian Lei’s spear was not merely sound, but declaration. A command that the world itself must acknowledge.
One by one, he cycled the motions. Again. Again. Each stroke heavier, sharper, truer than the last.
The hut gave way—boards snapping, roof splitting, until Tian Lei stood beneath the open night sky. Starlight cascaded down upon him, drawn to the three stars blazing within his sea of consciousness.
He thrust once more.
This time, the Roaming Dragon’s Spear Art no longer bore three motions.
The dragon soared, coiled, and roared in one unbroken flow, its body made of Gold, its fangs tipped in Death, its voice crowned in Soul.
The night split open. The earth cracked beneath his feet. Even the stars above seemed to quiver as though a dragon’s shadow had passed across the heavens.
Tian Lei lowered his spear at last, chest heaving. Sweat drenched his back, but his eyes gleamed with fire.
"...Roaming Dragon reborn." His voice was low, certain.
"This is the true beginning of my spear dao."
He glanced at the horizon, the constellations wheeling in silence.
"If Gold honed my edge, if Death tempered my will, if Soul crowned my essence... then this art will carve the heavens and pierce fate itself."