Rubbing Shoulders with Heavenly Tribulation, Fleecing the Sheep, part 4

The dark clouds gathered, stretching hundreds of miles, cloaking not just Dan Peak but the main peak, Artifact Sect, and Beast Sect in a gray sea of gloom.

The sky, oppressive and heavy, turned midday to dusk.

Thunder rumbled, white lightning writhing in the clouds. Spiritual energy surged chaotically, whipping up gales that shattered trees and stones.

The twelve pill towers stood resolute in the storm, silent anchors holding firm against the tribulation’s tension.

Su Qing’s clothes whipped in the wind, sleeves billowing like sails. Thunder shook the earth, divine wrath descending, flashes of lightning blinding her vision white.

The thunderclouds followed a pattern.

The densest converged above the First Pill Tower, where Elder Danxia was breaking through. The other eleven Dan Sect elders guarded her, and now the Sword Sect Master wielded the Tai’a Sword to ensure her safety.

It was up to Elder Danxia to succeed.

Elsewhere, the clouds varied in density—thicker near the First Tower, thinner at the edges.

Eighteen thunderclaps had roared, yet none struck. Su Qing, with her low cultivation, was half-deafened by the noise. If not for her distance and the second-years’ protection, the pressure might’ve left her bleeding from all orifices.

Fine rain began to fall, wetting her face.

Beast Sect disciples released aquatic spirit beasts—fish and snakes—reveling in the storm. Gliding nimbly, they turned the sky into an ocean. With dragon blood in their veins, these beasts thrived in tempests, a chance to transform into dragons.

Su Qing spotted a seven-colored star koi, her literacy class friend, twirling gracefully, its tail like gossamer.

It was whispering with a white spirit snake, their heads bobbing cutely.

Zhuxu scanned the sky, pointing. “When the lightning strikes, we want that spot’s tribulation.”

Xu Jiuxing squinted. “Good choice.”

A heavenly tribulation was, as named, a trial from the heavens.

All beings sought to escape mortal limits—birth, aging, sickness, death—chasing supernatural power and longevity through cultivation. Defying the heavens invited tests at every breakthrough.

Tribulations grew stronger with each stage.

Foundation Establishment had its trials; Spirit Transformation had its own.

A Foundation cultivator facing a Spirit Transformation tribulation wouldn’t survive half a bolt.

Thus, choosing the right spot to “rub” a tribulation was critical.

The central zone was off-limits—reserved for Elder Danxia’s Spirit Transformation, reshaping her body in rebirth.

The edges were too weak, barely better than ordinary lightning, not worth the effort.

Location mattered.

The Body Sect settled on an area near the Eighth Pill Tower—not too close, not too far. The clouds there promised lightning between late Foundation and early Golden Core strength, ideal for them. Just thirty meters from their hilltop, it was close enough to compete for.

Zhang Mingliang grinned, rolling his shoulders. “Good stuff always gets fought over.”

Senior Sister Cui Huai produced ten Lightweight Talismans, pressing them onto Su Qing’s shoulders, elbows, torso, knees, and calves. “When the tribulation hits, stay behind us and soak up what you can. If your body can’t handle it or fights break out, activate these with spiritual energy and retreat, got it?”

She liked this earnest, diligent Junior Sister—humble, hardworking, kind, and thoughtful. Hard not to.

Su Qing nodded. “Thank you, Senior Sister. I understand.”

She knew her limits. Staying would drag them down; retreating was wisest.

The three gales earlier had filled her progress bar. Her spiritual veins brimmed, teetering on Qi Refining Layer 3.

But the energy wasn’t refined, slicing through her like knives, half-wrecking her meridians while nourishing them.

Su Qing wasn’t greedy or reckless. She wouldn’t rush to Layer 3. Suppressing the energy, she refined it slowly, solidifying her foundation.

The tribulation hadn’t struck, but the gales alone were a boon.

Soon, the central clouds twisted into a vortex, thunder piling like a fortress in the sky.

A deafening roar shook her eardrums.

*Boom*—

A massive white bolt tore through the black sky, crashing into the First Pill Tower with divine fury.

Residual lightning exploded like fireworks.

Body Sect disciples shoved past others, diving under their chosen tribulation zone, frail human bodies defying heaven’s wrath.

Su Qing trailed, aiming for a spot near the Tenth Pill Tower, better suited to her cultivation.

Half a step into the lightning zone, she smelled char. Purple-white currents struck, slithering like snakes, biting and numbing from scalp to spine. Half her body went limp, trembling.

Electrocution was worse than mere pain. Her skin charred, and horrifyingly, she smelled herself cooking.

Just half a step!

She couldn’t imagine how her seniors endured the core strikes.

They weren’t faring well either. The moment they entered the lightning cloud, heaven’s might pinned them, bodies and divine sense roasted. @Infinite Good Reads, Only at Jinjiang Literature City

Their spiritual veins were half-scorched instantly. Body cultivation wasn’t suicidal, but if repair couldn’t outpace destruction, they were asking for death.

Zhuxu, the Body Sect’s top second-year, led the charge. Spitting blood as her throat burned, she roared, “Focus! Channel energy to protect your body! Stay steady, no fear! Repair!”

“Damn it! No shaking, no retreating! Scared? I’ll mock you forever! Always whining about no resources—here’s your chance. Grab it!”

Inspired, Su Qing’s *Clear Mind Technique* instinctively repaired her charred veins. The wild energy, tamed by lightning, obeyed her, flowing smoothly. Apparently, a good shock helped.

She forced energy into scorched veins, carving new paths. These were wider, smoother than her clogged ones.

Elated, Su Qing realized her poor aptitude was slightly improving under this minor tribulation. Small progress stood out on her weak base.

No overthinking—she sat cross-legged, focusing on refining energy and rebuilding her body.

Faster, faster. She couldn’t bear to leave, but if she didn’t repair most of her veins before the next bolt, she wouldn’t last.

Ten breaths later, the second bolt struck. @Infinite Good Reads, Only at Jinjiang Literature City

Stronger than the first.

Two-thirds of her newly repaired veins collapsed. Clutching her blackened chest, she spat organ fragments.

“Ugh—”

Insanity.

A cautious, death-fearing person like her—why was she diving into this disaster? @Infinite Good Reads, Only at Jinjiang Literature City

Was she becoming a body-cultivating lunatic?

Another cafeteria blood-spitter, eating while bleeding?

The taste of growth was intoxicating, her hunger a bottomless pit, urging her to consume more. Like a hyena chasing blood, she pressed on.

No retreat.

Her remaining veins gathered more energy, forging new paths. Shedding hesitation boosted refinement.

New veins formed, wider than before. Scorched skin flaked, revealing tougher flesh.

But before they stabilized, the third bolt hit.

It obliterated her senses—three gone, leaving sight and sound. Pain vanished. Only a third of her veins remained intact; her repair speed couldn’t match the next bolt.

Three bolts were her limit. No stubbornness—she activated the Lightweight Talismans and retreated to safety, observing.

Landing, she sat to meditate.

…

A week later, she opened her eyes, new body and veins rebuilt.

Sixty-six bolts had fallen, three short of the sixty-nine total.

The pill clouds lingered at the First Tower; Elder Danxia still held on.

Su Qing’s senses returned. Her clothes, incinerated, were replaced by a fiery red robe with exquisite embroidery.

She smiled. Tang Yueling must’ve come.

Glancing at the Eighth Tower, only Zhuxu and Cui Huai still meditated under the lightning. Others had stopped.

But they weren’t idle.

Hundreds of glass-like artifacts floated, each with a golden thread stretching a hundred meters to the thunderclouds, capturing purple sparks.

Su Qing understood.

They were storing heavenly lightning.

Not just soaking it up—they were taking it to go, no politeness spared.

Three bolts remained. Frowning, Su Qing studied the sky, puzzled.

What was that, writhing in the clouds?