Chapter Twenty-Six: The Mutated Lightning Tribulation

After withstanding thirteen bolts of tribulation lightning, Ning Baixia’s body was already wreathed in curling blue smoke. Seated cross-legged on the ground during the brief respite before the next strike, he seized the moment to cultivate, looking for all the world like a charred tree stump battered by a storm.
Sword gleams rose and fell, intertwining above Qingfeng Residence, forming a crimson vortex. The surrounding air twisted and warped, rippling with faint gray waves.
The fourteenth bolt of tribulation thunder tore through the clouds, slicing across the violet-lit sky and snaking downward. Ning Baixia suddenly leaped up, flinging out his right arm to send a longsword soaring toward the descending lightning. Just as sword and lightning were poised to collide high above, the sword abruptly veered like a returning wild goose, spinning in a furious red arc around the bolt, causing the lightning to rapidly shrink.
Only those cultivators at Golden Core stage or above—and a few rare, naturally gifted low-level cultivators like Yu Youwei—could truly see the shifting interplay between sword and lightning. The rest merely watched the spectacle, asking each other, “Wasn’t that tribulation thunder a bit anticlimactic?”
“Ning Baixia is indeed extraordinary. The Immortal Chen Sect is truly blessed. I regret not coming sooner—such a talented disciple was snatched away by that old ghost of Qingyun,” sighed Luo Changfeng, the white-browed sword sage to the right of the Ning family patriarch.
“It’s a pity about Mofei. If his mother hadn’t been ambushed all those years ago, leaving him with that congenital cold poison, he’d be every bit as talented as Baixia.” The patriarch let out a long sigh.
“That’s true.” Luo Changfeng fixed his gaze on Ning Baixia, now pointing his sword at the tribulation lightning. With some regret, he said, “If not for that, I would have vied to take Mofei as my own disciple, even by force if necessary.”
Draped in flowing azure robes and exuding the aura of an immortal, the Ning family patriarch suddenly grew irate: “With remarks like that, I’d never let any descendant of the Ning family become your disciple. Hmph! Who are you to disparage my great-grandson?”
The Ning family members and Luo Changfeng’s disciples standing nearby instinctively edged away, lest a quarrel between the two elders erupt into violence and they be caught in the crossfire.
“Oh no, Fourth Brother is still in Qixia Residence!” Ning Bowen, usually calm and composed, blurted out in panic. He was right beside the stone tower where Ning Mofei and the others were staying, and could see Mofei’s robes if he looked up, but had never imagined his brother would dare to get so close to the thunder tribulation.
“What!” The Ning patriarch’s beard and hair bristled in alarm, and he gave Ning Bowen a resounding slap. “You little fool! Is this how you look after your brother?”
“I’ll go find him!” Taking the blow without a hint of resentment, Ning Bowen, his face swelling like a steamed bun, rushed off.
“Do you want to get Third Brother killed as well?” Ning Qiguo, the seventh master, kicked his eldest son, sending him sprawling. His face darkened as he barked, “Fool!”

At that moment, Ning Zhongwu grabbed his older brother. “Don’t panic. With Fourth Sister-in-law there, Fourth Brother isn’t in Qixia Residence—otherwise Third Brother’s tribulation would already have mutated.”
Whether prophetic or not, he hadn’t finished speaking before two successive volleys of three even more powerful lightning bolts exploded down, almost giving Ning Baixia no chance to rest.
“It’s bad—this is a mutated thunder tribulation. Cold-faced Third Brother is in trouble,” Yu Youwei’s gaze grew grave.
Ning Mofei turned pale. “Will Third Brother die?” he asked, his voice breaking, his grip on her wrist turning white-knuckled.
“He won’t.” She uttered only those two words, swallowing the rest: If he can’t withstand it, he’ll be reduced to ashes, his soul scattered, unable even to reincarnate. Seeing the sudden escalation of the tribulation, she did not hold much hope for Ning Baixia’s survival.
While everyone else despaired, Ning Baixia showed not a hint of fear. Once again, he deployed the sword-light vortex technique, spinning the chain lightning high above like fireworks, illuminating every detail of the sky.
As if provoked by his defiance, six serpentine bolts of lightning suddenly coiled together in the depths of the firmament, twisting into a single, enormous purple python that streaked across the sky at terrifying speed. Even the lowest-level cultivators on the ground felt an inexplicable dread and fled far away. Fortunately, all ordinary townsfolk had already been evacuated; had they remained, not a soul would have survived the devastation of this sixfold tribulation bolt.
“Come!” Amid the shattered ruins, Ning Baixia threw his head back and laughed, channeling all his power into the sword. Crimson light coiled around the blade like a dragon. As the tribulation thunder descended to within a thousand meters, he released his grip and hurled the sword skyward.
The sword, like a crimson dragon soaring to the heavens, barely brushed the edge of the lightning’s halo before melting into molten red, its glow vanishing silently within the bolt.
“It’s over! The genius of Immortal Chen Sect has fallen!” Luo Changfeng lamented—not without regret. Had they not been old friends, the Ning patriarch might have suspected him of gloating and taken out his anger then and there.
“Third Brother, don’t die! If you live, I’ll never cry again!” Ning Mofei suddenly shouted at the top of his lungs.
Though the thunder tribulation zone was impervious to outside sound, Ning Baixia seemed to sense his brother’s cry. At the instant the python-shaped bolt struck him, he turned his head and glanced in Fourth Brother’s direction. Then lightning engulfed his body, the ground split open, and every building within the tribulation zone was reduced to dust.
The thunder gradually faded, the dust and smoke slowly settled, and the violent tremors subsided. Inside and outside the Ning estate was a deathly silence. Everyone stood frozen as if carved from wood or clay, none daring hope that Ning Baixia had survived such terrifying, mutated lightning.

“Where’s Third Brother?” Ning Mofei asked, his voice so soft Yu Youwei almost missed it.
“Let’s go look for him,” she replied, leaping from the balcony with Ning Mofei. At the same moment, countless others rushed from all directions, none uttering a word.
At the original site of Qingfeng Residence was a massive pit. At its bottom lay Ning Baixia, buried beneath scorched stones, with only half a foot protruding. Guided by the mysterious connection between twins, Ning Mofei found him at once, whispering, “Third Brother, don’t die. I promise I won’t cry anymore.” He seemed to have forgotten that it was Yu Youwei, not his brother, who had asked him not to cry.
When the Ning estate was first built, its foundations had been laid with massive stones transported from the distant Bluestone Mountains. The buildings above had been pulverized by the tribulation, but the foundation stones merely cracked, crashing down upon Ning Baixia—whose protective armor and defensive spells had both shattered—inflicting yet more wounds. His charred skin was riddled with small punctures from the stones’ jagged edges; fragments were embedded deep in his flesh, though not a drop of blood seeped from the wounds.
When they dug him out, it was only the faint heartbeat that proved he was still alive.
“Third Brother’s alive, isn’t he?” Ning Mofei tugged at Yu Youwei’s sleeve, his voice anxious.
“Yes, Third Brother is blessed. He has survived the tribulation. In a few days’ rest, he’ll be as lively as ever. Remember, you promised—if he pulled through, you’d never cry again.” Yu Youwei spoke softly.
“I won’t cry. Men shed blood, not tears. Third Brother always said so.” He insisted, even as fresh tears welled in his eyes.
As the Ning patriarch examined Ning Baixia, Luo Changfeng overheard the young couple’s conversation and his eyes lit up when he saw Yu Youwei. Striding over, he issued a domineering command: “Girl, become my disciple.”