Initial Thunder Awakens
In the martial world, they divide cultivation into third-rate, second-rate, first-rate, Peak, Super Peak, and beyond that realms like Harmony or Profound, Life-Death, and so on. But the Thunder Demon, the predecessor who left me the Wall Force Thunder Heaven Art, seemed to despise such trends. He harshly criticized them as mere bait for foolish martial artists more interested in pig slop than rituals.
According to his theory, such classifications were useless. The realms of martial arts and martial learning boiled down to one thing: can you do it or not? It started with possibility and impossibility, and ended the same way. Can you attain enlightenment, or not? Can you defeat the enemy before your eyes, or not? He began there, with the greatest dilemma for most martial artists.
Can you acquire martial arts to satisfy your selfish desires, or not? Can you learn martial learning to uphold justice, or not? Can your enlightenment spread your will across the world, or not? Can your martial principles reach the heavens, or not? And at the end of all that, can you surpass your limits, or not?
With such radical ideas, he was a mad genius who rejected worldly realms in favor of ones unique to the Wall Force Thunder Heaven Art. By his reckoning, it had no third-rate beginner level for those just stepping into martial arts, no second-rate polishing of forms for appearances, not even first-rate where you finally channel a bit of qi into your sword.
The starting point of the Wall Force Thunder Heaven Art—he wrote it plainly as "when qi handling becomes usable"—was the level where you could condense inner energy into thunder energy. "Only when you've embodied qi and can wield it properly have you reached the starting line," he said. He called that starting line the Initial Thunder Realm.
In the martial world, that starting line was called Peak. He dismissed Peak as no different from a third-rate beginner's entry point. Peak was third-rate for the Wall Force Thunder Heaven Art, and the magical realm that turned Peak into third-rate was the Initial Thunder Realm.
Of course, reaching Initial Thunder in my current body was impossible. My inner energy was too scant even when gathered simply, and my muscles and bones weren't great either. By the book, I'd need basic external training alongside breath control to build inner energy and temper my meridians.
But was it truly impossible? Having walked this path before, I knew it wasn't doable now, but it would be someday. Ever since the goons left, I'd been meditating and breathing, filling my dantian with inner energy. And it was full only for my current level—not my true limit.
Plus, I knew how to gather and wield thunder energy. Knowing differed from doing, but per the Thunder Demon's binary of can or cannot, I knew it was can.
Something bloomed inside me, different from what I'd felt in my past life, slumped in that dark cave, relying on the glow of old luminous pearls while staring at crumbled walls. It was a whole other kind of thing—easy to sum up as "enlightenment," sure, but I didn't want to cheapen it that way.
Back then, I didn't believe that mad ramble about training while facing the wall to break through. I'd just tried it as the only option. But now, I knew I could go beyond that wall. That was the difference.
My consciousness, once confined within, now stretched outward like spreading current. My inner energy, not yet thunder energy, extended and advanced. And at its edge... something faintly familiar.
///
"……?"
Lena stared at her hand, sensing a strange tingle for an instant. But when she raised it, nothing was wrong.
Screeech, screeech.
Never experienced before, she eyed the door curiously as it opened with noise, and a goon stepped in. Checking the time at his arrival, her interface clock showed about 50 minutes had passed. She glanced at No. 23, eyes closed in the chair, then at the intruder.
"So quiet, figured you were up to some shit in here."
Scratching his head with his gun, he sauntered over, peering behind her.
"Not dead, right?"
"…You'd know."
"Yeah, seems alive. Pretty intact for that sorry state, though. Not one of those Missionary freaks we've heard about?"
"…Nah. Not as far as I know."
"Figures. They wouldn't have junk like that attached."
Then where'd the eye come from? Stole it? he muttered, slipping past Lena toward No. 23.
Flicker. The old ceiling bulb flickered.
"Huh?"
Flicker, flicker. Crackle!
"What, bulb's dead…?"
Looking up at the stuttering light, he suddenly felt an odd sensation in his right arm.
Zzt.
"What the hell?"
His cheap chrome-plated cyberware wasn't sensitive enough for touch, yet a 'tingle'—forgotten when he'd last felt it—flashed through. Puzzled, staring at his arm, he sensed eyes on him from ahead.
"Uh…?"
The bound guy's eyes snapped open, flashing blue in the dark for a split second.
Hacking?
Reflexively raising his gun—Bang! That was his last sound.
"…Shit."
Lena's quick-draw headshot vaporized the goon's skull. She whipped toward the chair, worried she'd fucked up somehow.
Empty.
"Congrats on the dome show, Joe."
A low voice from behind. Shunk.
///
With the gunshot, I severed the ropes tying me to the chair and reached the entrance. We'd endured violence together a while, but even tight-knit buddies part ways sometimes.
Violence-hardened as they were, they'd swarm at the shot. So I greeted the first Joe peeking in, startled by the bang.
"Congrats on the dome show, Joe."
Not much inner energy infused, yet Lena's borrowed knife slipped in butter-smooth.
Thud!
Overcome by my heartfelt congrats, Joe's legs gave out.
Facing the crouching, collapsing Joe, I told the dazed Lena:
"What're you waiting for?"
Snapping to, she bolted from the barn. Simultaneously, the ranch's back door burst open. Channeling power into my good leg, I charged forward.
Still needed my belt cinched for inner energy control, but that didn't erase my skill. As my foot hit the ground, energy surged from my sole's acupoint, faintly laced with thunder energy.
The Wall Force Thunder Heaven Art's supreme footwork and charge technique, top-tier in the martial world: Step Thunder Flash.
My body rocketed ahead. Short knife in hand—no sword energy yet, inner energy too low—I dove a step deeper than usual, slashing with the blade.
This dagger Lena lent was terrifyingly sharp and sturdy, as felt greeting Joe. In the martial world, it'd cause a stir as treasure or famed sword.
Imagining countless martial artists dying over one blade, I swung. Cheap chrome, cheap lives—equal at my knife's edge.
Energy coursed meridians, nerves sharpening like taut strings.
Bang!
Did I dodge hearing the shot, the chamber, the trigger—or preempt? Didn't matter. I wasn't where the bullet passed.
Suddenly inside, the three rushing out flopped dead in delayed thuds.
Hearing that, defying gravity, I crouched on the wall. Legs extended, minimal inner energy propelled me.
Once thought bullets might be dodgable as projectiles. Crossing one now, I skewered the shooter—like becoming the gunslinger's bullet in a sunset duel.
Grabbed his falling head to block bullets. Three fingers gripped perfectly. Finally, purpose for this useless claw—I felt accomplished, eyeing the lamer-than-my-three-legged ass freaks.
Just looking, one was already before me. Gave it a knife jab to fix its hopeless life. Deeply grateful, it bowed, head dropping.
Too grateful—rolled head kicked aside gun aimed at me. Eager to kill, it over-swung, blasting a diagonal buddy's skull.
Fresh off nape-shot bondage play, the nightmare flashed; couldn't hold back, slashed it diagonal too.
"…Huff! Huff…!"
Now alone inside.
Crackle, crackle. Some severed cyberware clutched by my three-leg—tossed it down quick. Felt like grabbing a grimy, unwashed arm.
One, two… six… nine. Ironically, my departing new-life pals were all familiar faces. Rest headed to town? One missing.
No headlight-face. That one underestimated me too much for town.
Glancing out, saw a bike peeling from ranch entrance.
"…."
Grabbed the gun from the cyberware I'd chucked, headed out. At front gate, saw massive one-armed back fleeing into open wasteland.
Sight made me wanna shoot.
Bang! First missed, hit dirt.
Dodging with wasteland outlaw zigzags, fired again at fleeing drunk-worse driver.
Bang! Lower this time—tire burst.
True to form, he rolled spectacularly, then sprang up sprinting wasteland.
Click.
Aiming carefully—hologram popped, FPS crosshair overlay. Who'd think cool wasteland trick-shot day'd come.
Thrilled, aligned, fired.
Bang!