Chapter 265

Chapter 265: Extreme Attempt

He still had more than two hundred million merit points left, yet nothing felt worth redeeming. It was always the same problem—either he had far too much, or nowhere near enough.

What he wanted most was the Thousand Bamboo Sword and the Heaven-One Armor, but he still couldn’t afford either.

And that so-called Rebirth Pill—an absurd “rebirth treasure” priced at a hundred billion points. Who was supposed to save that much? A lunatic?

While he was still fuming, a message came in.

The Chief Huntsman?

Wang Jie went to see her at once.

“You redeemed Thunder Abyss Marrow Cleansing?” Chief Huntsman Shuang Jin asked, eyeing him. “Or the Heavy Thunder Zone?”

“Yes,” Wang Jie said respectfully. “This disciple wants to undergo Thunder Abyss Marrow Cleansing in the Heavy Thunder Zone.”

“The Heavy Thunder Zone is meant for the Hundred-Star Realm. Even a casual bolt of lightning carries destructive power above five hundred thousand. With your strength, you won’t last even if you block with everything you have.”

Her voice was flat, almost bored by the obvious. “You’ll die.”

“This disciple needs tempering at the edge of life and death.”

Wang Jie lifted his head. “Besides… isn’t there a powerful senior protecting me?”

Shuang Jin’s mouth curved slightly. “The Deep Thunder Zone already suits you. So what you want isn’t ‘safety.’ You want the limit you can barely endure.”

Wang Jie nodded. “Thank you for understanding, Chief Huntsman.”

Shuang Jin thought for a beat, then looked past him. “Take him.”

Wang Jie hadn’t sensed anyone.

In the next instant, a dark figure stepped out from behind him.

Wang Jie spun around, heart lurching. When did he get here?

“You’ve seen him before,” Shuang Jin said calmly. “He’s been on the Meditation Peak this whole time.”

Only then did Wang Jie recognize him—the silent shadow who had ended the thousand-planet war the moment he appeared, the watcher on the Meditation Peak.

Wang Jie’s expression tightened. “So it’s you, Senior.”

He bowed deeply. “Junior Wang Jie greets you, Senior.”

The man was wrapped head to toe in black cloth. Even his face was hidden. The pressure he carried was heavy and still, the kind that didn’t need to flare to be terrifying.

“His name is Shuang Ying,” Shuang Jin said. “He’ll keep you alive. But don’t show off. If you die, you’ll have no one to blame.”

Wang Jie bowed again. “This disciple understands.”

Not long after, the two of them left.

Shuang Ying didn’t take a warship. He simply grabbed Wang Jie and shot out of the command hub, streaking through the void toward a distant direction.

—

In the Cloudstream Domain, on a lone drifting planet, Fang He sat cross-legged, expression calm.

Far from the command hub and all its noise, he’d finally cooled down.

No matter whether he returned to the command hub or the sect, he would become a joke. If so, there was no third path left.

Wang Jie—traitor or not, one question would settle it.

They’d settle it on the battlefield.

—

The Thunder Well lay outside the Cloudstream Domain.

Shuang Ying moved fast enough to smear stars into lines, but even so, it took several days to reach it.

As the distant lightning swelled brighter and brighter, Wang Jie felt his scalp prickle. This wasn’t like the last time. It felt like walking toward a cliff edge.

“Senior… are we easing in, or—”

He didn’t get to finish.

Shuang Ying yanked him forward and plunged straight into the Thunder Well.

Around the Thunder Well were houses, platforms, and cultivation chambers. People trained there—cultivators, and even starry sky behemoths. A Hundred-Star Realm guarded the area, but aside from that sentinel, no one noticed Shuang Ying’s arrival, let alone the battered Star-Breaking Realm he’d dragged along.

Lightning filled the world.

At the upper levels, the Shallow Thunder Zone was harmless. The Deep Thunder Zone was different. Some flashes were all sound and glare, but others made Wang Jie’s chest seize. The destructive power in those bolts was close to five hundred thousand.

In the Deep Thunder Zone, a hundred billion bolts struck every second.

Wang Jie looked around. Lightning almost completely drowned the void, crisscrossing in a madness of white-blue light. He glanced at Shuang Ying beside him.

Shuang Ying looked as if he were walking through rain.

The Hundred-Star Realm could cultivate in the Heavy Thunder Zone—where a trillion bolts struck every second.

And the deeper the Thunder Well went, the wider it became.

Before Wang Jie could steady his breathing, Shuang Ying dragged him past the Deep Thunder Zone and into the Heavy Thunder Zone.

The moment they crossed the boundary, Wang Jie’s body jolted.

A bolt struck him.

Numbness exploded through him, so intense his thoughts nearly stopped. This wasn’t just “five hundred thousand” anymore. It was worse.

The Hundred-Star Realm wasn’t a single fixed strength. Five hundred thousand was only the baseline.

Shuang Ying stood beside him, letting lightning hammer his own body without shifting an inch. His gaze stayed on Wang Jie—calm, watchful, assessing.

Shuang Ying had weakened that first bolt before letting it through. Even so, Wang Jie had nearly locked up. Now Shuang Ying needed Wang Jie’s choice.

And even if Wang Jie backed out, the merit points wouldn’t be refunded.

Wang Jie forced himself to focus through the roar and glare. The lightning around him was so dense it drowned his sight; the thunder was so violent his ears felt useless.

“Senior,” he rasped, “please help me. Junior wants the limit.”

Shuang Ying’s eyes flickered. He nodded.

Starforce coiled around Wang Jie, forming a barrier like a second skin.

Only lightning that pierced the barrier would strike Wang Jie’s body.

Shuang Ying would adjust the barrier’s strength according to Wang Jie’s tolerance.

He began with the same intensity as before.

Thunder crashed. Wang Jie’s body went numb again. His clothes tore where the bolt hit; the skin beneath blackened.

He clenched his jaw and looked at Shuang Ying. “Higher.”

Shuang Ying’s gaze sharpened with surprise. Tougher than expected.

Bolt after bolt struck. Wang Jie didn’t use guarding qi. He let the lightning plunge straight into his body—tyrannical, invasive, nothing like the Thunder-Seal Pill.

It tore through him and, worse, ripped apart the thunder pattern he’d already built.

Break it apart. Force it to rebuild.

Brutal.

With each strike, Wang Jie could feel his body hardening bit by bit. The sensation wasn’t pain anymore—it was like being burned out from the inside, like steel hammered and quenched too fast. Inside him, sword threads stirred. He tried to use them to temper his tendons and bones as well, but every time the threads moved, the lightning smashed them flat.

In that instant, he couldn’t even twitch, let alone control anything.

Shuang Ying only watched.

Wang Jie lost track of time. At some point, his body stopped registering pain entirely.

Then, abruptly, the lightning ceased.

He looked at Shuang Ying. Shuang Ying pointed upward, meaning: finished.

Wang Jie looked down at himself. There was barely a patch of intact flesh left.

Cooked, he thought, dully.

“Senior,” he said hoarsely, “Junior wants to redeem Thunder Abyss Marrow Cleansing again.”

Shuang Ying looked him over and nodded once.

“Please wait,” Wang Jie added. “Let Junior recover a little.”

Shuang Ying didn’t rush him. He simply held the lightning at bay.

Wang Jie quietly counted the time. It was almost time for his exercises.

Not long after, right in front of Shuang Ying, he did his routine.

He didn’t take a Revival Pill first. The recovery would be slower—less conspicuous, less unbelievable. Even so, sensation crept back into his ruined skin.

It hurt.

But it was a pain he could endure.

Wang Jie stared into the writhing lightning, then faced Shuang Ying. “Senior. Start again. Slightly higher than before.”

Shuang Ying hesitated only a fraction, then nodded.

The second round hit harder. Numbness came faster.

Wang Jie spat blood and nearly folded. Shuang Ying frowned, instinctively reinforcing the barrier.

Wang Jie dragged air into his lungs, face drained white. He swallowed a Revival Pill and forced the words out. “Continue.”

Shuang Ying’s eyes held a faint, reluctant admiration.

What a waste, Shuang Ying thought—cultivating lockforce.

Wang Jie avoided danger most of the time. He was good at it. But sometimes the world forced his hand. If he didn’t gamble now, he’d never break past his limit.

And if he didn’t break past his limit, how was he supposed to compete in the Starry Sky Martial Tournament? How was he supposed to face Shu Mu Ye again? How was he supposed to reach that Holy Star Linked Bridge he’d never even heard of before?

The bracer had saved him more than once. One day it would bite back just as hard.

His life had never been fully his own.

If death was waiting either way, then he’d rather fight to live.

And he had a final card: Star Vault Vista’s one-time life-saving chance.

Si Yao had given it to him. If his death became certain, it would trigger and send him to the nearest person who possessed a Star Vault Vista identity token.

With so many layers of insurance, if he still didn’t dare to gamble once, his future would be nothing but darkness.

Thunder became the only sound in the universe.

Wang Jie had no idea how many bolts he endured. He couldn’t tell if he’d reached his limit, because his body had been numb for too long.

Only when the second marrow cleansing ended did he realize his eyes were still open.

Shuang Ying pointed upward again.

Wang Jie looked down at himself. It was worse than before. In several places, bone showed through.

He swallowed, then said, “Senior… can Junior rest a few days and redeem a third marrow cleansing?”

Shuang Ying studied him for a long moment.

Then he nodded.

Wang Jie bowed, grateful beyond words. He wanted to finish this in one brutal push if he could.

Days passed.

He did his exercises again.

Shuang Ying watched, puzzled. Even he couldn’t understand what kind of cultivation method it was, but it was clearly effective.

The universe held too many strange paths. And Wang Jie had a star dao master behind him—perhaps this routine was part of that inheritance.

Whatever Wang Jie did—qi, lockforce, exercises—people would attribute it all to star dao. That was easier than believing the truth.

The third marrow cleansing began.

This time, Wang Jie still asked for more.

For the first time, Shuang Ying hesitated.

If he raised the intensity again, would Wang Jie die?

Letting a star dao master’s disciple die here was not something Shuang Ying could bear. Even Shuang Jin would be dragged into it.

Wang Jie read the hesitation and spoke quickly. “Senior, don’t worry. Junior isn’t trying to die. My master gave me a life-saving method before I came.”

Shuang Ying stared at him, as if weighing him.

Then he nodded.

Wang Jie swallowed hard. Even with all his bravado, fear churned in his gut. “Do it.”

Boom.

The first strike nearly knocked him unconscious.

After that, there was only blankness.

Wang Jie trembled violently. It took him a long time to claw his thoughts back into place. He looked up at Shuang Ying and found Shuang Ying looking right back.

Only when Wang Jie met his gaze did Shuang Ying finally exhale, the tension in his posture easing.

“Good,” Wang Jie rasped. “Senior… keep going.”

Shuang Ying let another bolt through.

The third time was nothing like the first two.

Wang Jie didn’t know the exact destructive power, only that he had reached something real. More than once, the lightning knocked him out cold. More than once, Shuang Ying looked like he wanted to stop.

Time stopped existing.

Wang Jie only knew the cycle: wake, endure, blackout—wake, endure, blackout.

When he opened his eyes again, the scenery had changed. Stars streaked past. Ahead, the Cloudstream Domain’s familiar gloom returned.

“Senior,” he croaked, “we left the Thunder Well?”

Shuang Ying nodded.

Wang Jie looked down at himself. He’d never been this wrecked. But surely… surely he’d broken through.

It felt worse than the second time Shu Mu Ye had nearly beaten him to death on Blue Star.

If this didn’t work, he didn’t know what would.

Shuang Ying took him back to the command hub—and then, without asking anyone, carried him straight to the Meditation Peak.

Wang Jie lay there, unable to move.

Days passed.

When it was time again, he forced himself through his exercises.

And afterward, he felt it.

His strength had increased.

Relief hit him so hard his throat tightened. He almost wanted to cry.

He’d finally broken the second limit.

It had been torture.

Would reaching the Full-Star Realm be like this too?

Probably not. The Full-Star Realm wasn’t a “proper” realm so much as a process of absorbing power.

But the Roaming-Star Realm—there was no doubt.

Every time he broke a limit, it felt like racing the Reaper.

He was terrified he wouldn’t outrun him.