“Oh no, there’s more lightning!”
“The forty-nine lanterns are all gone—there’s nothing left to block it. What do we do now?”
“Even if there were lanterns, they probably couldn’t stop *this* bolt.”
Panic swept through the group.
They could all see it—this lightning was thicker and fiercer than the previous forty-nine, descending like a dragon with overwhelming force.
Bai Bing bit her lip hard, her heart in her throat.
The others were just as tense, desperate to help Ye Qiu but powerless—none of them knew the art of life-extension. They could only watch anxiously.
The lightning was now just ten meters from General Bai’s head.
Ye Qiu pointed with his sword-hand.
“Swish, swish, swish!”
Seven sheets of yellow paper, burning around General Bai, suddenly shot upward, converging rapidly.
“Boom!”
The lightning struck the seven sheets.
They crumbled to ash.
The lightning vanished without a trace.
“Phew—”
Everyone let out a long breath.
It was blocked!
A close call.
Tang Fei suddenly thought of something and asked, “Elder Zhang, you said Ye Qiu’s using Zhuge Wuhou’s Seven-Star Lamp method. Those seven papers were the main lamps, right? Now that they’re destroyed, doesn’t that mean General Bai…”
Before he could finish, Zhang Jiuling cut in, “I know little about life-extension, so I can’t answer that.”
“But there’s no need to worry.”
“Look at Ye Qiu—his calm demeanor shows this was within his expectations.”
They glanced over.
Ye Qiu stood by General Bai’s bed, clad in white, his refined features as still as a tranquil lake.
For a while, he made no move.
“What’s Ye Qiu doing?”
“Why isn’t he moving?”
“Is the treatment over?”
Long Ye muttered, puzzled.
Bai Bing was about to ask when Ye Qiu suddenly said, “Step back, all of you.”
Though confused, they retreated five or six meters.
Ye Qiu looked up at the sky, his expression grave.
Following his gaze, they saw a serene night—moon bright, stars scattered.
Odd—what was he looking at?
Three minutes later, a oppressive aura descended, suffocating, as if the end of the world loomed. Rolling thunderclouds gathered like unmelting ink across the sky.
In an instant, the bright night plunged into endless darkness.
A shiver ran through them all.
Twenty seconds later—
“Boom!”
A thunderbolt lit up the night, linking heaven and earth, as if it could shatter souls—like a star crashing down toward the rooftop.
Overwhelming and unstoppable.
Seeing it, they felt like dust, insignificant as ants, without the will to resist.
Was this the might of the Heavenly Dao?
Snapping out of it, their faces paled.
“It’s over—the seven papers are gone. What can stop this thunder now?”
“There’s only one paper left above General Bai’s head—the life lamp. If it’s destroyed, he’s dead for sure!”
“What do we do?”
“We can’t help. It’s up to Ye Qiu.”
Ye Qiu’s face was unprecedentedly solemn.
He’d known life-extension defied the heavens and would provoke divine punishment.
He’d prepared from the start.
“Boom!”
The thunderbolt closed in, less than ten meters from General Bai in a blink.
Then, something astonishing happened—Ye Qiu shot into the air with a “whoosh,” smashing his fist into the lightning.
The might of the Heavenly Dao—how could a mortal resist it?
It’s over!
They turned away, unable to watch the impending tragedy.
They all thought Ye Qiu couldn’t block it—he’d perish under the thunder.
Sure enough, his fate looked grim.
“Boom!”
The moment his fist met the thunder, blood sprayed. His body flew sideways, crashing “bang!” over a dozen meters away, motionless.
But the thunder didn’t press on—it dissipated quickly, as if it had never been.
“Ye Qiu—!”
Bai Bing shouted, rushing to help him up.
“Don’t come over!” Ye Qiu’s voice rang out.
She froze, then watched as he climbed to his feet.
Gone was his earlier grace. His white robes were stained with blood, blooming like poppies, stark and shocking.
His right arm was charred black, like charcoal, reeking of burnt flesh.
A gaping wound on his hand bled profusely, exposing white bone.
He wasn’t dead?
They were dumbfounded.
Unbeknownst to them, Ye Qiu was even more shocked.
When he’d struck, he’d activated the Nine-Turn Dragon Art, hardening his body like steel—yet he’d still been injured.
Worse, he’d taken internal damage.
His chest churned with blood.
Just as he stood, he spat out a mouthful.
He’d only blocked it with his fist. Had he taken it with his whole body, he might’ve been crippled—or killed.
“So this is the power of the Heavenly Dao? Incredible.”
“Good thing my body’s tough, or I’d be dead.”
Wiping blood from his mouth, he hurried to General Bai’s bed, grabbed the century-old ginseng from the wooden box, and devoured it.
He wolfed it down.
In moments, it was gone.
He looked skyward again.
“Boom!”
A second thunderbolt emerged.
Its blazing light turned night into day, dazzling and brilliant.
This bolt, like a dragon, dove from the heavens, aiming for General Bai.
Buzz!
The world seemed to tremble.
Ye Qiu gritted his teeth and leaped again.
At this point, he had no choice but to face it head-on. Otherwise, the life-extension would fail, and General Bai would die instantly.
All his efforts would be for nothing.
“Boom!”
His fist collided with the thunder.
This time, it raced up his arm, spreading across his body.
In an instant, he was charred black, blood streaming from his mouth.
The thunder soon vanished.
Shortly after, the clouds parted, revealing the moon and stars. The world grew still.
“Success.”
A faint smile curved Ye Qiu’s lips. Looking up, he said lightly, “Heavenly punishment? That’s all?”
No sooner had he spoken—
“Boom!”
Another thunderbolt crashed down from the sky.
