Chapter 123: When thunder spoke
Night in the sect was quiet.
Too quiet.
Only the distant hum of the protective formations filled the still air, and the faint shimmer of moonlight danced across the courtyard tiles.
Li Ming sat cross-legged beside the training field, eyes closed, guiding his Qi through his meridians.
Each breath came steady; each pulse of lightning within him answered with calm rhythm.
But nearby, another rhythm pulsed — deeper, heavier.
Lei Shan.
The little beast sat by the edge of the pond, fur glowing faintly from within. Arcs of golden lightning rippled along his body, brighter and brighter, until the air itself began to tremble.
Bai Guo fluttered down, eyes wide.
"Descendant... he’s building a resonance. That’s not ordinary cultivation."
Li Ming’s eyes snapped open. He could feel it too — the cub’s Qi signature shifting, deepening. It wasn’t wild or unstable; it was changing.
"Lei Shan?" Li Ming called softly.
The cub looked back at him — and in that instant, lightning bloomed like dawn.
Waves of energy radiated outward, soft but immense. The pond rippled, trees bowed, and the heavens briefly glimmered with threads of gold.
Then it all collapsed inward, quiet as a sigh.
When the light faded, the tiny cub was gone.
In his place stood a sleek young beast — fur like polished silver, streaked with veins of gold lightning. His horns were sharper, eyes deeper, no longer child-bright but calm and aware.
Li Ming stared. "...You grew."
Lei Shan blinked at him, mouth opening slightly — but no sound came. He frowned, tried again, and only a crackle of static escaped.
Bai Guo tilted his head. "Ah, voice development stage. Tricky business."
Li Ming stepped closer, kneeling so they were eye to eye. "Hey. It’s okay. Take your time."
He reached out, resting his hand gently on the beast’s head.
A spark passed between them — not a shock, but warmth.
And then, clear as thunder rolling across a summer sky, came a single word.
"...Ming."
Li Ming froze.
The sound was soft, trembling, but unmistakably his voice — young, clear, filled with emotion.
He smiled slowly, unable to help it. "You... can talk?"
Lei Shan blinked again, tail flicking uncertainly. "Ming... good."
Li Ming chuckled, something warm tugging at his chest. "Yeah, I guess that’s debatable."
The little beast tilted his head, ears twitching as if learning the world all over again.
Bai Guo’s voice softened. "Looks like the bond finally matured."
The night air shimmered faintly with residual thunderlight.
For the first time, silence wasn’t heavy — it was alive.
Li Ming whispered, "Welcome back, Lei Shan."
The beast closed his eyes and rested his head lightly against Li Ming’s shoulder, lightning flickering softly around them — not destructive, but gentle, like the heartbeat of the sky.
---
Morning in the courtyard was perfect.
The sun glowed gentle gold through drifting mist, dew glimmered on spirit herbs, and the air smelled faintly of tea and ozone. Li Ming finally thought he might have peace — no beast rampages, no weird explosions, no disciples screaming about lightning holes in the roof.
He poured a cup of tea. Steam rose like a blessing.
Then—
"LIIIII MIIIING!"
The sky itself vibrated. Every bird within ten li scattered. Tiles rattled, trees bent, and Bai Guo — who had been sunbathing on the roof — fell off with a strangled squawk.
Li Ming didn’t even flinch. He just took a sip. "Ah. So it begins."
From the doorway came a small but very dramatic ball of sparks.
Lei Shan stomped forward, tail arched, fur crackling. "We. Need. To Talk."
Li Ming blinked slowly. "You can... speak now?"
"I could speak," the cub said, puffing himself up. "But I was polite. Now, however, you have committed an unforgivable sin."
"Let me guess," Bai Guo wheezed, brushing dust from his feathers, "he stepped on your tail again?"
Lei Shan jabbed a glowing paw toward Li Ming. "He named me wrong!"
Li Ming set the cup down. "You mean Lei Shan?"
The cub’s fur bristled. "Not that one. The other one."
Bai Guo tilted his head. "You mean Thunderbub?"
A sound like a storm gathering filled the yard.
"Don’t. Say. It." Lei Shan growled.
Li Ming sighed, rubbing his temple. "You’re angry about that? It’s just a nickname."
"It’s a disgrace!" thundered Lei Shan. "Do you have any idea what it’s like to hear the squirrels laughing when you walk past?!"
Li Ming blinked. "The squirrels?"
"Yes! They chatter behind my back — ’oh, look, it’s Thunderbub!’ Do you know how hard it is to maintain dignity when birds call you bub?!"
Bai Guo burst out laughing so hard he had to clutch his stomach. "The mighty thunder emperor, bullied by rodents!"
Lei Shan’s horns sparked. "Say that again, featherball!"
"Stop it." Li Ming raised a hand. "You’re both acting like children."
"I am a child," Lei Shan said indignantly, "but a divine one!"
Li Ming pinched the bridge of his nose. "Fine. What name do you want?"
The cub straightened, light gleaming off his fur like living lightning. "From this day forward, I shall be known as... Storm Emperor Lei Shan, Lord of the Skies, Heir of the Thunder Domain!"
The courtyard went silent.
A leaf fell. Somewhere, a frog croaked.
Li Ming stared blankly. "...Absolutely not."
"What do you mean ’not’?!"
"I’m not shouting Storm Emperor Lei Shan, Lord of the Skies, dinner’s ready every evening. I’d die of exhaustion before you finish your title."
Bai Guo toppled over again, wheezing. "Please do it. The elders will faint."
Lei Shan stomped, sparks dancing around his paws. "Then give me something worthy! I refuse to live as Thunderbub!"
Li Ming thought. "Little Storm?"
"Sounds like a shampoo brand."
"Thunderclaw?"
"Trying too hard."
"Zapcat?"
"Insulting."
"Lightning Chicken?"
Everything stopped. Even the wind.
Then — BOOM.
The entire yard flashed white. When the smoke cleared, Li Ming stood there calmly, holding his teacup. His hair, however, was standing in every direction, radiating like a sea urchin.
Bai Guo fell on his back, gasping for air. "Oh Heavens, descendant, you look like a divine porcupine!"
Li Ming set the cup down carefully. "Are you done?"
Lei Shan snorted. "Not until you apologize to my honor!"
"Fine." Li Ming ran a hand through his hair, static crackling. "We’ll stick with Lei Shan. No nicknames."
The cub froze. "Really?"
"Really."
Lei Shan’s ears twitched. "You mean it?"
Li Ming smiled faintly. "Of course. Unless you’re being annoying. Then it’s Thunderbub again."
A moment of silence.
Then the cub lunged and bit his sleeve. "Take it back!"
Li Ming didn’t even budge. "You’re chewing my robe."
"Take. It. Back!"
Bai Guo flapped onto the fence. "Descendant, I think the thunder emperor is having a tantrum."
Lei Shan released the sleeve, huffing. "I am not! I’m asserting my identity!"
"Good," Li Ming said calmly. "Assert it quietly."
The cub blinked, then, inexplicably, climbed into Li Ming’s lap and curled up, still muttering about dignity. "Hmph. I still outrank you in the food chain."
Li Ming stroked his head once. "If you say so, Lord of the Skies."
The little beast gave a satisfied rumble — halfway between a purr and a thunderclap — and promptly fell asleep.
Bai Guo sighed, shaking his head. "You’ve completely lost control of your life, descendant."
Li Ming looked at the tiny snoring bundle of lightning in his arms.
A soft smile tugged at his lips. "Maybe. But it’s... surprisingly quiet for once."
Just as he said that, the cub twitched, let out a sleepy hiccup — and a spark leapt from his horn, setting Li Ming’s sleeve on fire.
Bai Guo shrieked. "Quiet, he said!"
Li Ming calmly patted it out. "Still quieter than your commentary."
And as the courtyard filled again with the lazy hum of Qi, the birds cautiously returned to their trees.
Peace — or at least Li Ming’s version of it — settled over the sect once more.
Somewhere, deep in the clouds above, a faint roll of thunder echoed, like the heavens themselves chuckling at the mortal and his very loud, very opinionated child.
To be continued...