Battle Through the Heaven: Purple Heaven

Xiao Bai's ears rang, momentarily deafened as the thunderbolt slammed into the lightning net formed by Little Bing, unleashing a colossal boom. Amid the sound, he caught a faint wail from Little Bing—it had blunted the bolt's initial ferocity, reducing its peak power by twenty percent, a crucial contribution.

The thunder shattered the net and struck the soul force barrier next. The invisible shield shimmered visibly, rippling with electric arcs. After a few breaths, the ripples vanished. Xiao Bai grunted, a sharp pain stabbing his head from the barrier's collapse, but he had no time to assess his soul's state, his focus locked on the thunder.

The bolt, now less than half its original strength, surged toward him. His expression grew grave—the real test was here. He'd relied on Little Bing and his vaunted soul force before, but now it was his Dou Shi cultivation against the heavens.

The thunder crashed into his near-solid Dou Qi gauze armor. In a blink, the armor fragmented, dissolving into energy shards that fell away. The bolt's power dipped slightly—barely, but Xiao Bai felt it.

Facing the weakened thunder, he knew: I won't die. Injury was certain, but he'd survive.

Relief flickered, cut short by another grunt as the bolt struck his body. His tattered clothes turned to ash, hair standing on end. Silver arcs danced across his skin like tiny snakes, charring patches with each leap. The piercing pain was familiar—akin to refining Little Bing—but fiercer, more brutal.

Thankfully, cyan lightning from Little Yi shielded his organs, sparing them damage. His meridians, however, suffered as the thunder rampaged within, threatening his wings' stability.

Physical agony mingled with an unprecedented hollow pain in his sea of consciousness, urging him to black out. Gritting through it, he flapped his near-transparent wings, wobbling toward the ground.

At ten meters, the wings gave out, and he plummeted. A soul body rose, catching him with soul force. Glancing at Yao Lao, Xiao Bai, half-lidded and weak, rasped, "Trouble you, Senior. Just get me to the cave." Then, he passed out.

Yao Lao stared at Xiao Bai, still sparking with electricity, his eyes wide with lingering shock. He estimated the bolt's power matched a casual Dou Zong strike, yet Xiao Bai, a freshly minted nine-star Dou Shi, had endured it with his own means.

Sighing, Yao Lao thought, This kid courts death, but he's got the chops for it. Such feats were rare, even among Central Plains or ancient clans. Xiao Bai's willpower stunned him—his soul force, depleted, held until the thunder was neutralized, only then succumbing. Most would've buckled under that initial shock, but Xiao Bai stayed focused, handling every crisis.

Recalling Xiao Yan's aim to match this youth, Yao Lao stroked his beard, a playful glint in his eyes. He carried Xiao Bai to the cave, laying him on a boulder—his sparking body would ruin any bed. Though not prying, Yao Lao sensed a vital energy in Xiao Bai, mending the thunder's damage. This kid's got his own plans. He wouldn't joke with his life. The bolt, now rootless, would fade. Per Xiao Bai's request, Yao Lao left it at that.

Ling Ying, in the shadows, exhaled in relief, gauging Xiao Bai's condition as non-fatal. Seeing Yao Lao simply return him to the cave, he relaxed. His view of Xiao Bai shifted—not yet worthy of Xiao Xun'er, but now possessing potential. Miss's eye is sharp as ever, he mused. Without ancient clan blood, achieving this in the northwest was near-impossible, unmatched even by Central Plains' elite heirs.

___

Far across the boundless Tagore Desert, the setting sun's glow bathed the sands, casting a desolate hue. High above, a graceful figure with crimson energy wings hovered, gazing at the sunset.

Adorned with a golden crown and a red-gold robe, the woman's voluptuous form was like a ripe peach, exuding allure. Her long hair cascaded to her slender waist, and beneath her regal attire, a purple serpent tail gleamed.

"For fifteen years, since reaching peak Dou Huang, I've sought a Heavenly Flame to evolve my bloodline and lead the Snake-People out of this desert," she murmured, her voice both sultry and commanding. "I've scoured nearly all of Tagore, yet found nothing. Has heaven forsaken my people?"

She drew a yellowed map from her storage ring, marked with every rumored Heavenly Flame location her tribe had gathered. Tracing her past routes, her regal eyes clouded with worry. Few unvisited spots remained, one within a human border city's reach.

That posed risks. Sneaking in was her only option—open entry could be seen as provocation, sparking war. With the desert's scarce food and water limiting her tribe's growth, conflict could bring extinction. Her relentless pursuit of a Heavenly Flame was to break through, to lead her people to freedom.

This was the duty of every Medusa Queen, her burden as their sovereign.