Lei Daozi (雷道子) thought he was untouchable. A master of the Yin Xu (阴虚) level, backed by the mighty Lei Xian Hall (雷仙殿), he landed on Ranyun Star looking for a fraud who once posed as the hall’s envoy. That fraud’s real name was Wang Lin (王林). But Lei Daozi made a deadly mistake—he tested his divine sense on a young man named Wang Ping (王平). To his shock, nothing happened. Wang Ping wasn’t human. And that curious failure would cost Lei Daozi everything, because Wang Ping is the one thing Wang Lin will never let anyone touch.
The Fatal Curiosity
Lei Daozi’s divine sense swept across Ranyun (冉云) Star like a storm. Everyone with a soul flinched—except Wang Ping. The young man stood there, unaffected, as if the wave of spiritual pressure had passed through thin air. That should have been a warning. Instead, it excited Lei Daozi. He had never seen a mortal resist his probe. Was Wang Ping hiding a treasure? A secret technique? The more he stared, the more he wanted to crack the mystery open.
What Lei Daozi failed to see was the shadow clinging to Wang Ping’s back. That shadow was Wang Lin’s First Immortal Guard, a silent killer that had already erased countless threats without leaving a trace. Wang Lin had placed it there years ago, like a watchful ghost. Any harm directed at Wang Ping would meet instant death. But Lei Daozi didn’t strike—he only looked. And looking, for someone like him, was already too much.
Wang Lin felt the divine sense brush against his son. He didn’t move immediately. He wanted to see if this visitor from Lei Xian Hall had any sense. But Lei Daozi kept pushing, circling Wang Ping like a wolf around a lamb. That’s when Wang Lin smiled—the kind of smile that promised a grave. He had offended half the powerful cultivators in the Alliance Star Domain and walked away alive. One arrogant Yin Xu elder meant nothing.
The Thunderous Clash
Lei Daozi’s greed didn’t stop at the mysterious boy. He also spotted Wang Lin’s Silver-Horned Thunder Beast. The creature’s grade was higher than his own—a fact that made his eyes burn with envy. How could a fake envoy own such a beast? Even within Lei Xian Hall, only a handful could claim a Silver Horn. Lei Daozi convinced himself that he deserved it more. After all, he was the real messenger of thunder. Taking what belonged to an impostor was simply justice, wasn’t it?
He gathered his Yuan Li (元力) and summoned a thunder technique of the Yin Xu level. Bolts of lightning crackled around his fists, sharper than any blade. He had mastered the art of mixing pure energy with lightning, a combination that had crushed countless foes. But Wang Lin didn’t flinch. Instead, he raised a brush—an immortal’s brush—and drew a single line in the air. From that line erupted an Ancient Thunder Dragon, a creature born from the dawn of time itself.
The dragon roared, and Lei Daozi’s confidence shattered. His lightning, which he had spent centuries perfecting, looked like a child’s spark next to that ancient power. The dragon represented the Way of Heaven, the raw rule of thunder that no mortal technique could rival. Every bolt Lei Daozi threw was absorbed, nullified, or simply ignored. For the first time in decades, he felt fear. He realized he had walked into a cage, not a hunt.
The Painful Truth
But the worst was yet to come. Lei Daozi, still desperate to understand why his divine sense had failed on Wang Ping, probed deeper. And he found it—the terrible secret Wang Lin had buried for years. Wang Ping was not alive in the way normal people are. His body had been forged from sword energy left by a powerful cultivator named Ling Tianhou (凌天侯). Inside him rested two dormant sword wills, waiting to slash anything that threatened him. He had no pain, no blood, no way to father children. He was a “living dead”—a walking echo of love and guilt.
Lei Daozi blurted it out loud, perhaps out of malice, perhaps out of shock. He wanted Wang Ping to hear. He wanted to break something. And he succeeded. Wang Ping’s face went pale. The boy had always suspected he was different—he never felt a wound heal, never knew what it meant to ache—but hearing it spoken like a curse was devastating. Wang Lin shouted, “Shut up!” But the words were already out, floating in the air like poison.
That was when Wang Lin stopped holding back. He unleashed the Zhan Luo Jue (斩罗诀), a technique that carried the weight of rule power. To a cultivator who had not yet stepped into the Second Step of cultivation, such power was incomprehensible. Lei Daozi tried to flee, but the space around him had already hardened into a trap. He realized, too late, that his arrogance had signed his death warrant. Wang Lin didn’t just kill enemies. He erased them, reshaped them, or turned them into tools.
Lei Daozi became the Second Immortal Guard. His consciousness was stripped, his body reforged into a silent servant. He would stand beside Wang Ping forever, a shadow that never slept. Meanwhile, Wang Ping’s final resentment dissolved into a ball of pure light, cleansed by the confrontation. And Qing Yi (青宜), the woman who had tied her life to Wang Ping’s, chose to follow him into the unknown. Her Yi Jing (意境) was “No Regret,” and she meant every word. Wang Lin let her go, because some bonds are stronger than any spell.
