Chapter 101: Chapter 101

The average elevation of the Jewel Mountains was 3,000 meters—modestly low compared to the continent's more famous ranges but still high enough to warrant the label "high mountain."

Climbing any mountain, even one just 1,000 meters tall, is no small feat, especially when tackled head-on. To put it in perspective, a mountain standing 10,000 meters high would only span ten kilometers in a straight line. If I were at my current level, I could cover that distance in a matter of minutes.

At present, Spirit Mountain's steep incline, compared to other mountains, was an advantage. Of course, the mountain's height could be many times, even tens of thousands of times, greater than 10,000 meters.

"In any case, I can definitely descend within ten days."

"In theory, yes." Senior Brother Arang paused. "You can't treat Spirit Mountain like an ordinary mountain."

"Obviously." I'd never assumed otherwise.

Senior Brother Arang seemed to want to say more but ultimately shook his head, muttering, "You should experience it yourself than for me to explain a hundred times."

I was confused, but the meaning of his words soon became clear the following day.

"Current progress: 50.0%."

Then, a gale roared past, fierce enough to force my eyes shut. For a moment, I lost my balance and nearly got swept away. The situation was so abrupt that I let out an involuntary scream.

This wind wasn't simply the air resistance that occurred when falling.

This wasn't just ordinary air resistance from falling. It was as if the mountain itself had gone berserk, with the wind now swirling violently. The descent's difficulty tripled instantly.

Is this some kind of typhoon?!

No, it was worse. It was a supertyphoon, powerful enough to tear down even well-built structures. To keep from being swept away, I had no choice but to plant my feet more firmly. Naturally, that meant sacrificing speed.

Then, out of nowhere, a wall appeared before me. Given the steep incline of nearly seventy degrees, I realized it wasn't a wall at all but rather a cliff. This must have been the path I would've taken had I chosen the normal route.

That wasn't what mattered now.

The cliff had appeared suddenly through the fog, and before I knew it, I was falling face-first toward it.

The impact hurled me backward, sending me flying through the air, far from the cliff's edge.

This is really dangerous.

Obviously, I couldn't fly.

No matter how treacherous the slope, having your feet on solid ground versus free-falling was a world of difference. If I strayed too far from the path now, I'd have no choice but to plummet helplessly.

If I still had internal energy, I would have other options. But my dantian held only the faintest trace of power—mere crumbs.

At that moment, FAD came into view. For a brief second, it felt as though I made eye contact with the faceless box.

"Don't tell me—" FAD began.

I twisted in midair, using FAD as a springboard to push off. The sound of cracking metal echoed as I landed back on the slope. I pressed my feet deep into the ground to stabilize myself. Behind me, FAD vanished into the fog where I'd shoved it.

"FAD?" I called tentatively.

After a tense silence, a battered vehicle wobbled out of the fog.

A moment later, a message blinked onto its cracked screen: "Son of a bitch."

I immediately apologized one more time. "I'm really sorry."

I couldn't count on the same stroke of luck twice. To make matters worse, FAD had started keeping its distance.

From that point on, even if it slowed me down, I moved with heightened awareness of my surroundings.

It wasn't easy. The wind picked up, and the fog grew thicker. Each time a strong gust blew through, I found myself wondering why it didn't scatter the fog. But then I reminded myself not to expect logic from Spirit Mountain.

"Current progress: 78.7%."

After calculating the remaining time and distance, it became clear that if I made roughly 5% progress each day, I would just manage to arrive on time.

Of course, that assumption would hold only if no new variables emerged.

I hoped the environment wouldn't shift any further, but this was Spirit Mountain—a place that constantly defied my expectations.

Ninety-eight days had passed, and only two remained.

Rain poured from the sky without warning.

The sudden downpour brought immediate problems. My vision blurred even more, the heavy drops stung my skin, and my body temperature dropped drastically.

That was nothing, though. The real problem was the slippery slope. I had to push my legs harder than ever just to maintain my balance.

Meanwhile, thunder rumbled in the distance.

At least the thundercloud hasn't unleashed any lightning yet.

As soon as I thought that, a lightning bolt struck a short distance away.

I watched the stones scatter from the impact and swallowed hard for the first time in a while.

Still, it was fine. I'd heard that the odds of being struck by lightning were astronomically low—like the chance of falling backward and breaking my nose.

Then, another lightning bolt struck, this time even closer.

That's when I realized that these weren't natural lightning bolts. I lifted my head, scanning the sky. The moment my gaze met the swirling thundercloud, I saw a lightning bolt shoot toward me like a spear.

Oddly, it seemed slower than real lightning, almost visible to the naked eye. It was a pointless observation, but my mind clung to it anyway.

Still, it was a lightning bolt. By the time I saw the flash, it was already upon me. I felt my hair rise, static snapping across my skin. If it touched me, I would be electrocuted, and the fog would swallow whatever was left.

I kicked off the cliff with unsteady legs, forcing myself to change course. The bolt missed me by inches, but the searing pain lingered.

It could be my imagination, but the lightning bolts seem to be falling faster

More thunderclaps boomed.

Yeah, no. It's definitely not my imagination.

I desperately dodged one lightning bolt after another but couldn't focus solely on evasion. I was still running downhill, watching out for sudden cliffs like before. At the same time, I had to pour strength into my legs just to keep my balance. Managing it all felt like I needed two brains working in tandem, but somehow, I kept it together—like I'd been possessed by a god.

My overloaded head became blank, but my body moved as though it understood instinctively. It wasn't just clarity. It was as if I'd grasped the true meaning of selflessness, not in thought, but through action.

The sky flickered with multiple flashes. The bolts no longer fell one by one.

Only then did I realize that the phrase "ten thousand lightning bolts" wasn't a metaphor. It was reality.

I planted my feet on a rare stretch of the cliffside. For the first time, even with strength to spare, I stopped running.

A deep sense of dread settled in. This was true danger. Everything I'd faced so far felt like child's play in comparison.

"It seems your crisis detection is still sharp," Senior Brother Arang's voice cut through the storm. The rain made it hard to spot FAD, but I knew it was there.

"This is the Ten Thousand Lightning Zone," Senior Brother Arang said. "It's not an area you can cross right now."

"Let's turn back, Luan," he urged. "I'll say it again. Altering the past is fascinating, but it will never outweigh the weight of life."

"If I die here, will it be real?" I asked the question that had gnawed at me.

The answer was obvious, yet I stood frozen, staring into the Ten Thousand Lightning Zone.

"Luan?" he called. "Will you give up?"

I heard his voice but didn't respond. There was no time. My gaze stayed fixed on the lightning bolts flashing across the sky. The way they streaked across the gray sky reminded me of cracks spreading through the world just before it shattered.

Possibly, that's exactly what they were.

What if some colossal entity beyond the heavens was swinging a mountain-sized hammer, pounding the sky repeatedly? Thunder was its roar. Lightning, the fractures it left behind.

Maybe it was a useless illusion, but I needed it. I needed to personify the storm.

Just as Senior Brother Arang once likened a tree to a martial artist, I had to define the lightning as an opponent that I could fight.

Perhaps I lacked the imagination to see nature itself as the enemy. That's why I had to conjure something else, some imagined adversary wielding control over the lightning. To overcome a powerful opponent, I always needed to analyze them first.

At some point, I lost all sound.

Had my eardrums burst from the thunder's relentless barrage? It didn't matter. In fact, the silence helped me concentrate.

As time seemed to vanish, a sudden hunch told me the lightning would strike where I stood, so I dodged to the side. A flash of light filled my vision. Even when I closed my eyes, I still saw the remnants of it, clear as day.

How did I dodge it? I asked myself, but the answer eluded me.

It didn't feel like luck. Somehow, I had predicted where the lightning would strike. It was as if I understood why enlightenment couldn't be explained in words.

I exhaled deeply, realizing I had just made my preparatory move.

Soon, a faint heat rose from my dantian, spreading throughout my body.

In the perfect silence, without even the hum of tinnitus, I moved as if possessed, throwing myself into the Ten Thousand Lightning Zone.

I knew the safest place was where lightning had just struck.

I combined everything I'd analyzed, sharpening my five senses with a sixth. Still, it wasn't enough. I had to anticipate where the next bolt would fall. My vision sharpened, the world narrowing to the precise spots where I should step.

I connected those points into a path and started walking.

The sensation was strange, both foreign and familiar, as if I'd practiced this a thousand times. It flowed like a familiar martial art.

Goosebumps prickled my arms.

I hadn't even noticed, but I realized too late that I was using footwork. I had moved unconsciously.

All the thought and study leading up to this moment had been focused on finding the most efficient way to move. If martial artists had carried out this process, they would have called it the creation of a new martial art.

In other words, I had created one without even realizing it.

My laughter echoed in the silence.

I couldn't help but laugh. After all, this footwork was my own, completely unique. It wasn't influenced by the Badnikers, the forgotten god, or even my master. It was born solely from the events I had experienced.

I'd always enjoyed naming new techniques.

Was it the habit of naming that led me to this moment? I found the perfect name for this footwork I had accidentally created. Chapters fırst released on novel-fire.ɴet

"Thunder Stomp Footwork."

A step that trampled lightning. I was likely being sentimental, but no other name felt right.

Finally, my feet touched solid ground.

Before I knew it, the raging storm had stopped.