Before Wang Lin stretched the shimmering expanse of the Thunder Pool Plaza, his gaze lingered on the serpentine forms of the roaming Thunder Spirits, a peculiar light kindling in his eyes. “The Gate of Mortals held some challenge, but this… the Gate of Earth?”

The strange light deepened within his gaze.

Xizi Feng, her lips pressed into a fine line, watched Wang Lin amidst the gathering throng. Anxiety flickered in her eyes as she glanced at the tempestuous plaza. Her fingers danced nervously over her storage pouch. After a long moment of inner conflict, she bit her lip, the blush of embarrassment rising on her cheeks. With a grace like a painted butterfly, she leaped into the air, drawing gasps from the surrounding cultivators. She flew towards the throng vying for the mantle of power.

Her beauty, already renowned, was heightened by the rose tint of her face as she flew directly to Wang Lin. Reaching him, she lowered her gaze, withdrawing a jade slip of cerulean hue from her pouch. “This… for you…” she whispered, placing it in his hand before retreating as swiftly as a startled bird.

The thunder of her own heart drowned out the murmurs of the crowd. She fled back to her place, head bowed, mind a swirling vortex of emotion.

The Elder Ancestor of the Xi clan watched this scene unfold, a sigh escaping his lips, a look of quiet resignation filling his aged eyes.

“Enter the Thunder Pool!” Yan Leizi’s voice boomed, echoing across the heavens like a thunderclap, stirring the very essence of the Thunder Pool. The three-丈 empty space at the plaza’s heart shimmered and vanished, replaced by a churning expanse of pure lightning. In an instant, the thousand 丈 transformed into a true Thunder Pool, a maelstrom of crackling energy. Lightning, like living serpents, writhed and danced, emitting a palpable aura of power that made the bravest cultivators tremble.

The serpentine Thunder Spirits, when they chose to coalesce, howled with an untamed fury.

Xu Ting, with a contemptuous snort, was the first to stride towards the Thunder Pool. The instant his feet touched the charged surface, tendrils of lightning snaked up his legs, enveloping him in a crackling aura.

He shuddered, drawing a deep breath, and advanced five paces before settling into a meditative posture.

Following close behind was Shen Gonghu. His cultivation was intimately tied to the element of thunder, having long practiced in places saturated with electrical power. This was not his first venture into a Thunder Pool. With an air of practiced ease, he entered and assumed a seated position.

One by one, others braved the Pool, seeking their place within its volatile depths. Several, however, their cultivation insufficient, were immediately thrown back, their faces ashen, nursing unseen wounds inflicted by the raw power.

Wang Lin, holding Xizi Feng’s jade slip, cast a glance at the young woman, whose face remained flushed, avoiding his gaze. He sighed inwardly. A moment of spiritual insight revealed the slip’s ability to ward off even the most potent lightning. It was a precious talisman, undoubtedly her most treasured possession.

After a moment of contemplation, he placed the slip within his robes and stepped into the Thunder Pool.

Though her head remained bowed, Xizi Feng’s eyes flickered, catching Wang Lin’s action. Her heart leaped within her chest as he tucked the jade slip away.

Unseen by her, her cousin, a handsome youth clad in blue, entered the Thunder Pool, his gaze fixing on Wang Lin with a carefully concealed venom.

Wang Lin’s expression remained impassive as he stepped into the maelstrom. As his right foot connected with the shimmering surface, a surge of immense electrical energy coursed through him.

An unexpected feeling of blissful resonance washed over him, as if he had returned to his rightful home. Yet, outwardly, he betrayed no sign of this revelation. He moved forward, the lightning parting to make way for him, swirling around his form like a loyal escort, each spark echoing like a distant drum.

He found an unclaimed spot and settled into a cross-legged posture.

“The Second Trial begins! Time will be measured by the drums!” Yan Leizi’s voice echoed again. Two envoys of the Thunder Celestial Hall descended like streaks of light. Between them, a dark shimmer coalesced into a massive drum.

“Dong!” The deep resonance of the drum reverberated throughout the world. It was a sound that dwarfed even the thunder, each beat marking a single breath. Within the thousand-丈 Thunder Pool, nearly two hundred cultivators sat in meditation. With the first drumbeat, the lightning in the Pool seemed to awaken, rising three cun in a sudden surge of power. The raging electricity coalesced into countless miniature storms, as though unleashing a tempest within the Thunder Pool.

The Thunder Spirits, formed of pure electricity, darted through this electrical storm, their roars amplifying the power of the Pool, creating a terrifying display of raw energy.

Bolts of lightning crackled and surged, seeking to penetrate the bodies of the meditating cultivators. Some steeled their minds against the onslaught. Others brandished magical artifacts to ward off the encroaching power. The thousand-丈 Thunder Pool became a spectacle of shimmering light and desperate defense. Xu Ting, enveloped in a thick, swirling mist, attempted to insulate himself against the electrical assault. Others, drawing upon various techniques, sought to withstand the onslaught.

Wang Lin, oblivious to the struggle around him, allowed the lightning to pour into his body, nourishing his primordial spirit. The damage inflicted during his battle with Luo Su began to mend with astonishing speed.

The sensation was so profoundly soothing that he closed his eyes, ignoring the trials of the other cultivators.

“Dong!” The second drumbeat echoed, and the Thunder Pool’s power intensified. The Thunder Spirits roared, and tendrils of lightning, thick as whips, lashed out, each strike causing the cultivators to shudder. The drumbeats continued – the third, the fourth… reaching the tenth. The power within the thousand-丈 Thunder Pool had reached a terrifying crescendo. The countless lightning bolts rose three zhang, completely engulfing the entire space.

A cultivator from the Southern Domain of Luo Tian was suddenly thrown violently from the pool. He coughed blood, his body wracked by the electric shock. The lightning cast him out, wounded and bleeding.

Xu Ting’s swirling mist thickened, becoming a near-impenetrable barrier against the lightning. His gaze was fixed on Wang Lin, his expression unreadable. He had observed Wang Lin’s actions since he entered the Thunder Pool, and he found them deeply unsettling.
Lord Xu Mu sat serenely amidst the tempestuous storm, untouched and defiant. No ward was raised, no mystic treasure unleashed. He was as still as if this ravaged ground were his meditation chamber. An eerie calm clung to him as the boundless power of the heavens thundered into his form, only to… vanish without a trace. Xu Ting’s heart pounded a frantic rhythm against his ribs. Theories and conjectures blossomed in his mind, yet none could grasp the impossible truth before him.

Above, the envoys of the Thunderous Hall raised a wicked ebony drum. One swept a hand across its taut skin, and the eleventh boom reverberated through the sky, shaking the very foundations of the world.

Within the Thunder Pool, a thousand fathoms wide, the gathered lightning pulsed with newfound vigor. In a blinding flash, the chaotic energy coalesced, forming a serpentine beast of pure lightning. It resembled a serpent, yet hinted at a dragon’s majesty, radiating the raw, untamed power of a thunder god. This was the Thunder Spirit! Its roar echoed across the land, an ancient peal of thunder that struck terror into the hearts of all who heard it. Even Xu Ting’s shadowy aura faltered, threatening to dissolve. With frantic gestures, he channeled more of the darkness from his brow, desperately reinforcing his defenses.

If Xu Ting was so affected, what of the others? The Thunder Spirit’s earth-shattering cry forced crimson rivers from the lips of a dozen cultivators, casting them from the pool like rag dolls.

As the twelfth, thirteenth, and fourteenth strokes pounded from the enchanted drum, the Thunder Spirit’s rage intensified. At the fifteenth, a deafening crescendo, the beast unleashed its fury, spewing torrents of lightning across the pool. The heavens themselves trembled, and the onlookers at the edges of the fray blanched, feeling the weight of the heavens pressing down on them with each pulse of divine energy. Dozens more were hurled from the pool, spitting blood, their eyes wide with terror.

Shen Gonghu clung desperately to consciousness. Fifteen breaths had once been his limit, but now, driven by an indomitable will, he fought to endure.

Zhan Konglie drew a ragged breath and braced himself, teeth clenched against the onslaught.

Even the Six-Fingered One and the large-headed child, powerful as they were, showed signs of strain. Yet their struggle paled in comparison to the serene figure of Wang Lin.

Enfolded in the heart of the tempest, Wang Lin absorbed the torrents of lightning, his soul drinking deep of their vitality. Injuries long past, including the lingering wounds from his battle with Yao Bingyun, were healed and purged. The Thunder Spirit’s roar was no more than the tantrum of a child to him, a peculiar sensation, but undeniably true.

Though others saw a fearsome force, Wang Lin perceived only an infant, a whelp of thunder striving to become a true dragon. Ignoring the chaos around him, he closed his eyes and calmly drew upon the pool’s power, nourishing the ancient Thunder Dragon that dwelled within his very soul.

As the fifteenth drumbeat faded, the Thunder Spirit, freed from its constraint, lashed out with savage glee. Its vast body swept across the pool, scattering cultivators like leaves before a gale. A dozen were hurled away, their faces ashen with the force of the blow.

Enthralled by its own power, the Thunder Spirit roared and swept again, this time its path collided with Wang Lin. As the hundred-fathom body thundered towards him, Wang Lin opened his eyes. His gaze pierced the Thunder Spirit, the cold, dispassionate stare of an adult observing a child at play, oblivious to the true nature of power.