The night was still as Ji Bai ascended the rear path of Mt. Yougou.
Mist coiled around the mountain, and the forest lay in silence. Hidden beyond the shrine grounds was an ancient stone grove—its weathered monuments carved with fading runes of gods long forgotten. Few ever visited this place. Time had reduced most inscriptions to dust, but some fragments endured, waiting for eyes that could finally understand.
Ji Bai stepped into the clearing, laying out his paper and ink upon a moss-covered altar stone.
He gazed toward the largest monument at the grove's end—a tall lightning-scarred stele, where the faint remnants of a single character remained: 卿 (Kyo). It echoed the name whispered in his dreams.
"Raidenkyo… is this your trace?"
He dipped his brush in ink. The air shifted.
Unlike before, he wasn't painting from observation. This time, he painted from within.
His brush moved with clarity, forming the figure that had haunted his visions—a god cloaked in lightning, poised at the threshold of heaven and earth. The form was shrouded, yet dignified. The expression hidden, yet unmistakably divine.
Thunder cracked through the sky, as if summoned by the rhythm of his strokes.
As the final line was drawn, the parchment vibrated violently.
A surge of lightning erupted from the paper—and a figure began to rise.
Half-formed. Half-real. A shadow of thunder and intent, stepping out from the painted image. It stood silent on the altar, unmoving, yet unmistakably alive.
Ji Bai stepped back, wide-eyed. His heart raced, but he didn't flinch.
"…Did I just… bring it to life?"
The shadow offered no answer. It merely stared at him—for a breathless moment—before slowly dissolving, returning to the painting as sparks faded into the night.
Then, a voice echoed in Ji Bai's mind. Deep, resonant, and calm:
"Fulfill my will. Shape fate through form."
A seal of thunder branded itself onto his spirit.
And with it… understanding.
This was no longer just about summoning vision-like illusions.
This was the divine right to manifest what was painted—To bring it into the world.
This was the true inheritance of Raidenkyo:"To paint destiny.To shape gods with ink.To awaken memory through form."
Ji Bai knelt before the stone, hands together, head lowered.
There was nothing more to say.
The wind howled down the mountain path. Lightning flickered along the horizon.
He now understood:
His journey as The Painter of Thunder had only just begun.