The two huge beasts dropping from the clouds were not merely lightning. They were living mythological horrors fashioned from the packed wrath of the universe.
Each of the Twin Purple Thunder Dragons measured more than two thousand meters from horned snout to barbed star-fire tail. Their scales were composed of linked plates of super-dense violet lightning, crackling with millions of volts that hissed like boiling oil. As they dove through the freezing high-sky air, their razor-sharp talons cut the spatial fabric itself. That left thin, dark hairline rifts in their wake that snapped shut with sharp sound thuds.
They were designed by the Heavenly Dao to execute high-tier anomalies. Dragons that broke ancient bloodline covenants or ancient fiends attempting to conquer the mortal realms.
Down below them, hovering in the center of the five-mile azure star-core, sat Lin Xiao.
To the dragons, Lin Xiao was nothing more than a soft, semi-clear sphere of spring water. But to Lin Xiao, the two thrashing behemoths looked like an exceptional culinary opportunity.
“Look at those tails,” Lin Xiao murmured, his curved eyes widening with total delight. “So crispy! So well-browned! Dao Spirit, do you see how the edges are curling slightly? That’s exactly how fresh river shrimp look when they hit the hot oil!”
“Visual confirmation logged,” the Dao Spirit responded in her calm, melodic deadpan. “High-hum star-fire oscillations indicate optimal surface crispness. Recommend immediate recovery before core cooling occurs.”
“On it!”
As the two thunder dragons plunged within five hundred yards of the vortex center. Their jaws opened to disgorge two world-ending torrents of violet flame, Lin Xiao struck.
He didn’t draw a sword. He didn’t summon a barrier.
From the left and right flanks of his five-mile fluid disc, two huge pseudopods surged into the air. They were each three miles long, forty feet thick, and composed of ultra-dense, elastic azure slime. Moving with the blinding speed of a snapping bullwhip, the two giant blue tentacles bypassed the dragons’ roaring jaws entirely. It whipped around behind their huge forms.
CLACK!
With a sound like two massive rubber bands snapping shut, the pseudopods clamped down tightly around the tails of both dragons.
The Twin Purple Thunder Dragons froze in mid-flight, their huge forward driving force arrested instantly by Lin Xiao’s non-Newtonian grip. The beasts roared in sheer, confused outrage, thrashing their two-thousand-meter bodies wildly, their razor talons clawing at the sky in a try to break free. Jagged arcs of purple lightning lashed against the blue tentacles, attempting to turn to steam the slime into steam.
The lightning did nothing.
Lin Xiao’s [Thermal Nullification] and [Primordial Water Origin] treated the multi-million-volt star-fire like warm bathwater. The destructive heat was instantly channeled through his fluid molecules. That turned the moving thrashing of the dragons into harmless, rhythmic ripples that traveled back toward his central core.
“Hold still, you two!” Lin Xiao called out cheerfully, his deep voice echoing through the upper air like a friendly noodle vendor calling to a customer. “Don’t wiggle so much, or the breading will fall off!”
With a deft flick of his fluid will, Lin Xiao began to twirl his pseudopods.
High above the clouds, ten miles above the earth, thirty thousand fighters watched the impossible unfold:
The little blue blob in the center of the five-mile vortex was spinning two huge, two-thousand-meter dragons of heavenly total ruin in wide, lazy circles, like a street vendor spinning two long strips of dough before dropping them into a vat of sizzling oil. The dragons roared, whipped their tails, and spit fire. But they were fully helpless against the soft, yielding, iron-hard grip of the azure slime.
“Alright!” Lin Xiao cheered. “Down the hatch!”
Lin Xiao tightened his central mass. He opened his mouth into a deep, swirling vortex of dark indigo chaos.
With a sound like a huge air-powered empty pocket cleaner, he reeled the first dragon inward.
SLUUUUUUUUURP!
The two-thousand-meter star-fire beast was dragged backward into Lin Xiao’s waiting maw. Its horned head vanished first, followed by its clawed torso, its crackling wings, and finally its thrashing tail.
CRUNCH! GULP!
Before the sky high sky could even register the loss of the Fourth Wave, Lin Xiao yanked the second dragon downward.
SLUUUUUUUUURP-CRUNCH-GULP!
The second dragon was sucked headfirst into his void dantian. It dissolved the instant it passed the threshold of his mouth.
A system box materialized within Lin Xiao’s mindscape, recording the staggering intake:
Inside Lin Xiao’s internal dantian, the two huge dragons of cosmic destruction didn’t explode.
They entered the Ancient Chaos Void. Then, their violent, murderous intent was stopped at the conceptual level. The multi-million-volt purple star-fire melted into a rich, glowing river of pure golden Yang essence, pouring directly into the swirling lake surrounding his Golden Core.
The golden core spun at hypersonic speed, drinking the essence down in greedy gulps. Sixty-five percent of its outer shell had now fully dissolved. It showed the brilliant, pulsing sapphire light of the nascent spirit stirring within.
Lin Xiao hovered in the center of the sky, his azure jelly bulging outward like an overfilled water balloon. He extended two small, stubby pseudopods, gently patting his round, plump belly with rhythmic satisfaction.
Tiny, harmless sparks of violet electricity leaked from the corners of his mouth, crackling softly like popping candy.
“Mmmmmmm!” Lin Xiao sighed aloud, his voice filled with genuine culinary ecstasy. “Oh, that was amazing! Crispy and crackling on the outside, but so tender, juicy, and rich in the middle! It’s practically matching to jumbo tempura shrimp fried in freshly pressed sesame oil!”
He squished his jelly in mild contemplation. “Though honestly, it could use just a touch of dipping sauce. A little grated ginger, a dash of dark rice vinegar, and maybe two drops of chili oil would have taken those dragons from a four-star snack to a three-star Michelin delicacy.”
Ten miles away on Cloud-Piercing Pass, the collective mental courage of thirty thousand traditional fighters ceased to exist.
It didn’t crack. It turned to fine dust and blew away in the mountain wind.
Dozens of core students were curled into fetal positions in the dirt, their hands clamped over their ears, sobbing incoherently. Swordsmen dropped their weapons. Archers dropped their bows. And magic charm masters stared at their paper magic charms with hollow, vacant expressions, wondering why they had spent their entire lives studying the Dao. Just then, a ball of blue water could catch dragons with rubber tentacles and eat them like fried appetizers.
Elder Mo Qian was trembling so wildly that his teeth clicked together like wooden dice.
“He... He twirled them...” Mo Qian whispered, his voice barely a breath. “He twirled the Twin Dragons of the Heavenly High sky... Like dough sticks. And then... He slurped them.”
“Two thousand meters of purple star-fire...” Elder Liu Chen whimpered, tears leaking from his watery old eyes into his white beard. “Four thousand meters of divine total ruin... Swallowed in three seconds. He didn’t even chew thoroughly. He just... gulped.”
Elder Yan Lie of Crimson Flame Pavilion slowly sat down on a wet boulder. The proud fire master rested his elbows on his knees, buried his face in his rough, scarred hands. Then he began to laugh with quiet, broken despair.
“Dipping sauce...” Yan Lie mumbled into his palms. “The monster wanted ginger and vinegar. We marched thirty thousand swords to purge a beast... And we brought ourselves to a demon’s dining table.”
Grand Elder Xuan Ji didn’t laugh. He didn’t speak.
The old man stood stiff as a stone-hard tree, his single working eye staring at the scrying mirror. His right hand was still raised. He held the old family command tally of Heavenly Sword Manor. But his fingers had gone fully white, frozen in place by sheer, overwhelming spirit total numbness.
In his mind, a single, terrifying thought echoed over and over with the cold finality of a funeral bell:
He isn’t surviving the sky-trial. He isn’t enduring the wrath of heaven. The heavens are feeding him.
Down in the Grand Defile, Sword Saint Gu Qingfeng took a noisy swig of wine, wiped his mouth with his sleeve, and grinned broadly at Tie Shan.
“Old Bear,” Gu Qingfeng chuckled, poking the air with his willow twig. “Did you hear the little Sect Master? He wants dipping sauce. Go tell Ling’er to mix some vinegar and crushed garlic in a bowl. We wouldn’t want our guest of honor to eat his thunder without proper seasoning!”
Tie Shan barked a laugh that rattled the watchtower timbers. “I’ll tell the kitchen right now, Little Brother Gu! But from the look of those clouds, the sky isn’t done serving yet!”
High above in the stratosphere, the black clouds of the ten-thousand-li vortex suddenly turned blindingly bright.
The Heavenly Dao, having seen its purple star-fire dragons treated like fried shrimp, shifted its hum. The violet twilight vanished, replaced by an overwhelming, blazing bright glare that turned the entire sky into a fire of pure, molten gold.
The Sixth and Seventh waves were arriving.