The Path No One Saw

Chapter 19: The Day the Clans Held Their Breath

On the tenth day, Wu Yuan let the lightning breathe.

Not all of it. Not its depth. Not its bite.

But enough.

With a clean exchange of force on the dueling stage—no flash, no tricks—he revealed the quiet truth: Level 3 Body Tempering Realm.

The clash echoed across the courtyard, not because it was flashy, but because it was final. One strike. Clean. Controlled. His opponent, older and bulkier, flew backward like dry paper caught in a gale.

The silence that followed was thicker than the impact.

And by that afternoon, the crowd around the duel grounds had doubled.

No more whispers. Dismissive smirks faded too, swallowed by silence.

On the twelfth day, the Jiang Clan responded.

They didn't send envoys or deliver threats. They sent juniors—one by one, wrapped in silk, pride, and indignation.

They came to restore their honor.

And one by one, they fell.

Wu Yuan didn't need arrogance.

He needed precision.

And now, finally, he had it.

The lightning inside him no longer crackled erratically. It flowed. It wasn't qi—not yet—but it was something deeper. Something carved into flesh, hammered into bone, and soaked into muscle with every breath he took beneath the spirit tree.

It moved when he moved.

It struck when he struck.

And it remembered pain.

By the fifteenth day, Wu Yuan stood again on the platform—alone, calm, and unshaken.

He didn't seek attention. But attention found him.

Beneath the surface of his eyes, behind the calm pulse in his wrists, he knew:

He was ready.

The barrier to Level 11 Body Tempering no longer felt distant. It pulsed. It called. The storm inside him was restless again.

Ten days.

Five Spark Essence Pills.

One per two day.

Each one worth fifteen bottles of lightning essence.

Seventy Five bottles of tempering—absorbed and endured through flame and breath.

Still, he hadn't broken through.

The dread was familiar.

He remembered how Level 10 had nearly destroyed him. How it had demanded not just energy, but everything.

Muscle, skin, nerves, organs—everything had been torn and rebuilt. Something deeper stirred—more than qi, more than pain. A whisper behind the blood. A flicker of instinct beyond flesh.

Something had opened.

He didn't yet understand what.

But he knew it would awaken again—stronger—with each level he pursued.

And he was certain of one more thing.

If Level 10 had taken 21 bottles and rare materials, then Level 11 wouldn't be any gentler.

He had 7 pills left.

Not enough.

On the sixteenth day, Wu Yuan visited his father.

Wu Lin greeted him with pride, not suspicion.

After all, the city now whispered of his son as a young genius—Level 3 Body Tempering at age eight, in less than a month.

To Wu Lin, the only explanation was extraordinary talent, and perhaps the effects of the first batch of materials.

He didn't probe further.

And Wu Yuan didn't offer more.

But Wu Lin had kept his promise.

A second set of lightning-type tempering materials waited: Lightning-bark essence, Thunderroot ash, and thunder-marrow jade powder.

Wu Yuan also added his own purchases—gathered discreetly during his rise in the city. Not everyone scorned him anymore. Some respected him. Some even admired.

The Wu Clan was still a mountain to the common people—even if its foundation had cracked beneath the notice of the four major clans.

That night, back in his courtyard, Wu Yuan sealed the doors.

"Wu Xiao," he said quietly, "no one enters. No matter what you hear."

She didn't just nod.

Wu Xiao dropped to one knee, fist clenched over her heart.

"Don't worry, Young Master," she said, eyes shining with fierce resolve. "Even if the heavens collapse, no one will cross this threshold while Xiao'er still draws breath."

Her voice trembled—but not from fear. From devotion.

Wu Yuan looked at her for a long moment, then gave a single nod.

No more words were needed.

Inside, the air buzzed with anticipation.

System Store — Available Items:

Lightning Essence – Cost: 5 SP

Temporary Clarity Scroll – Cost: 10 SP

Spark Essence Pill – Cost: 20 SP

Available SP: 114

Wu Yuan exhaled slowly, eyes narrowing.

"I should really thank the Jiang Clan. Sixty SP in five days... generous."

His lips curled slightly. Five victories, each against overconfident sons of prideful elders, had netted him more than bruises. They'd paid him in silence—and system points.

With 100 SP, he purchased five Spark Essence Pills and a Temporary Clarity Scroll. The final 4 SP he saved.

On the floor beside him, twelve Spark Essence Pills sat by the barrel—five newly purchased, seven previously prepared. Just enough.

The storm would begin again.

And it would break him, or build him.

The pain returned without delay.

The lightning-infused water boiled. His skin prickled. His muscles twisted. His lungs shrank, then expanded, as if resisting something deeper.

This was not Level 10's pain.

This was deeper.

Sharper.

Now, the lightning threaded through his bones and organs—his heart clenched, his brain sparked behind his eyes.

His body didn't cry for mercy.

It demanded more.

He took the pills. One by one.

The barrel hissed. His body shook.

He crushed the thunderroot ash into the mix. Poured in the Lightning-bark essence. Swallowed the jade powder.

Each breath, each chant of Heaven-Eating Pulse Conduction drove the essence deeper.

Breath control. Cycle control. Lightning control.

He inhaled through his nose—held it—then exhaled through gritted teeth, his spine vibrating like a thunder drum.

Muscles shattered. Bones rang. Organs convulsed.

But he endured.

And then—it snapped.

Not a sound, but a shift.

A barrier fell.

The lightning no longer tore—it moved.

It curved with his breath.

Carved his insides with purpose.

His body stilled.

Then the system bloomed in his vision.

System Notification

Breakthrough Achieved: Level 11 – Body Tempering Realm

Reward: 100 SP

+2 Bottle: Spark Essence Pill (12 pills per bottle)

Lightning Chakra Progress: +10%

New Technique: Lightning Punch - (Top Grade Yellow Tier Technique)

Total Chakra Completion: 85%

Total SP: 104

Status – Updated

Name: Wu Yuan

Age: 8

Clan: Wu Clan

Realm: Level 11 – Body Tempering Realm

Strength: 80

Endurance: 80

Agility: 80

Defense: 80

Lightning Root: In Progress

Lightning Body: In Progress

Lightning Soul: In Progress

Lightning Spirit: In Progress

Lightning Chakra Progress: 85%

Bloodline: N/A

SP: 104

Techniques:

– Aura Veil (Conceal real realm)

– Heaven-Eating Pulse Conduction

– Thunderflash Step

- Lightning Punch

He opened his eyes.

Blood still clung to his lips.

But the pain was gone.

In its place—weight.

Power.

And a storm that now breathed through his bones.

He leaned against the barrel, breath shallow, eyes tracing the faint arc of lightning that still flickered beneath his skin.

Ten percent…The system's cold font echoed in his mind.

Lightning Chakra Progress: 85%

Just as he'd predicted.

So Level 12… will complete it.

He knew it now—without doubt. The Body Tempering Realm did not end at Level 9. That was the limit for most. The edge of the map. But for him, Level 10 had shattered that illusion, and Level 11… Level 11 had burned the truth into his soul.

He wasn't walking a known path anymore.

He was carving his own—step by blistering, agonizing step.

The pain was still there, coiled beneath his flesh like a lingering echo. But now it no longer screamed. It sang.

Because what he had just survived would've broken almost anyone else. Not just in body—but in will.

His eyes fluttered closed for a moment.

"Level 11…"

It wasn't spoken with arrogance.

It was quiet awe.

Who else had ever reached this far in the Body Tempering Realm? He had searched every scroll, read every theory—nothing spoke of it. No elder whispered of it. Not even legends reached this height.

And now… he stood here. Alive.

Forged.

Reforged.

His confidence, once buried under years of silence and scorn, now rose like a blade drawn from its sheath. Sharp. Cold. Certain.

He didn't need to be anyone's villain.

Not the Wu Clan's fallen hope.

Not the Verdant Kingdom's next tyrant.

He didn't crave revenge, or legacy, or blood.

He wanted only one thing:

A path of his own.

Not above others.

Not beneath them.

But ahead.

Cut by storm and silence.

He stood, lightning still clinging to his limbs, and whispered again:

"Only one level left," he whispered.

On the seventeenth day, the Shan Clan sent a disciple.

The Shan youth's footfalls echoed like distant drums as he stepped onto the platform. Stone cracked slightly beneath his heel. His arms bulged with muscle, veins like thick ropes across his shoulders. His chest was bare, marked with clan tattoos and pride.

The audience murmured. Some chuckled. Others leaned forward in expectation.

A level 4 Body Tempering cultivator—strong, brutal, and undefeated among his generation.

Wu Yuan stepped onto the platform without a word. His presence was still. Controlled. He looked nothing like his opponent.

He didn't tower.

He didn't flex.

He didn't snarl.

But he didn't need to.

The air shifted the moment Wu Yuan exhaled.

The Shan youth flexed and stomped, chest rising with anticipation.

The elder overseeing the duel raised a hand, voice echoing.

"Begin."

A roar tore from the Shan youth's lungs as he lunged forward like a charging beast, foot stomping to drive momentum into a shoulder tackle meant to break bones.

Wu Yuan stepped sideways, just half a pace—barely a movement at all.

Then his fist moved.

It was a clean, fluid arc. No glow. No scream.

Just force.

A pop sounded in the air.

Not thunder. Not clash.

Just a clean fracture.

The Shan disciple's eyes rolled back. The air whooshed from his lungs. He collapsed mid-charge, as if struck by a hammer that came from within rather than without.

Cracked ribs. A snapped shoulder joint. Unconscious before his body hit the stone.

Silence fell across the platform.

There was no cheer. No gasp. Just silence.

Only breath held in collective disbelief.

Wu Yuan turned without fanfare.

He didn't posture. He didn't provoke. He simply stood.

The silence explained everything.

By the twentieth day, the dueling platform had changed.

Not in size.

But in audience.

Even the Wu Clan's elite had gathered—those who once laughed at the 'crippled heir.'

Now, they watched him in silence.

There was no mockery.

Only wariness.

And something else:

Respect.

They saw what the others did not:

A storm, sharpening its fangs.

That evening, beneath the spirit tree, Wu Yuan sat in quiet meditation.

The leaves rustled above. The city murmured beyond the walls.

He didn't move.

But the world around him had.

Whispers had become recognition.

Recognition had become expectation.

He didn't fear it.

But he didn't welcome it either.

"The storm isn't ready," he thought.

And yet… he also knew:

He was no longer a shadow.

The world would see him soon enough.

He opened his eyes.

The next morning, on the twenty-first day, Wu Yuan stood again on the dueling platform.

With a silent command, Aura Veil shifted—now revealing Level 4 Body Tempering Realm

The crowd gasped.

Level 4 Body Tempering Realm.

He thought the reaction would be mild.

After all, he'd already revealed Level 3 a few days ago.

What was one level more?

But he was wrong.

Dead wrong.

Shock tore through the city like a thunderclap.

In thirty days, an eight-year-old had broken through four realms.

While top-tier talents were still inching toward Level 4 after a year, Wu Yuan had reached it in a month.

Even Wu Lu and Wu Feiyan—recognized juniors in the clan—were still stuck between Level 3 and 2.

The clans whispered.

The pavilions watched.

And the city boiled.

But Wu Yuan?

He stood quietly.

Because now, he had no choice but to reveal his realm.

Level 3 duels gave no rewards anymore.

Only Level 4 and beyond were worth SP.

He needed strength.

He needed resources.

And that meant facing stronger opponents.

He had walked quietly for long enough.

Now…

He would carve thunder into the sky.