Raiden Makoto slowly extended her arms and gently embraced Lu Jingming from behind. In the next instant, her entire body turned into a beam of impossibly pure, resplendent lightning suffused with an eternal will—and tenderly merged into Lu Jingming’s body.

Boom—!

The brand-space of thunder deep in Lu Jingming’s consciousness shuddered violently.

High above the center of his inner cosmos, the supreme god-seat symbolizing eternity and thunder erupted with unprecedented brilliance, unleashing billions of blinding bolts.

A vast, liquid-starry-river-like violet divine power of thunder surged forth more fiercely than ever, scouring his limbs, bones, and very soul.

Outside, razor-sharp purple arcs burst like tangible blades from the corners of Lu Jingming’s eyes. Wild and sacred thunder divine power wrapped him completely like a cocoon.

On his body, those originally eerie scarlet hundred-thousand-year spirit rings suddenly shifted color.

As though baptized and tempered by a supreme power, they all transformed into a noble, dazzling gold—like pure thunder condensed into metal.

Upon the rings, profound purple thunder patterns naturally surfaced and flowed, exuding a heart-stilling pressure.

“That’s right, Makoto. As long as we stand together, even a God-King can be our foe. Apotheosis—open!”

With Lu Jingming’s low, god-imbued utterance, his long white hair seemed to lose material form in an instant, turning into countless leaping, scintillating blue-violet ions—brilliant beyond compare.

From within him rang the clear chime of glassy jade striking. His bones, meridians, flesh, even every cell underwent a fundamental metamorphosis under the infusion of eternal thunder’s divinity—racing from mortal flesh toward a higher, divine body.

More astonishing still, space twisted above the eight golden thunder-pattern spirit rings circling him. Infinite divine power and laws converged, and a ninth golden god-ring—more radiant, solid, and weighty than the other eight—condensed and emerged.

At the very instant his apotheosis completed, bolstered by the vast might of the god-seat and the blessing of laws, his soul power naturally broke the bottleneck of level ninety, stepping into the realm of Titled Douluo.

And this was far from the end.

The Black Abyss White Flower silently appeared in his now-divinized palm. The umbral force symbolizing death began a dangerous fusion with the annihilating power of eternal thunder within him.

The blue-violet lightning shrouding him was visibly dyed by a deep black and ominous dark red, finally becoming a black-red that seemed to swallow all light. The aura of destruction climbed by several tiers.

Ever since the Holy Grail War began, the Grail, as an energy nexus, had accumulated a veritable ocean of power. The entire Douluo planetary plane, stirred by this high-concentration energy, had been nudged into a slow evolution.

As the initiator of the Holy Grail War, Lu Jingming naturally received the deepest feedback and empowerment from the will of Douluo Star. This was also one of the key reasons his Eternal and Thunder god-seat could condense so swiftly.

It was under the full blessing of this complete god-seat that he, still a Soul Douluo in cultivation, could forcibly activate a brief apotheosis, pre-experiencing and grasping the might of a divine body and divine sense.

Of course, Lu Jingming knew all too well this was a short-lived sublimation under a god-seat’s empowerment—it could not last.

His true cultivation had only just used this apotheosis to break through to level ninety.

Yet under the extreme amplification of the apotheosis, the second soul core—which would normally take a Titled Douluo an age of accumulation to barely condense by absorbing massive soul power—was to him as easy as turning a hand.

The vast divine power, the most obedient of tools, guided by his will, almost instantly constructed within his dantian a second soul core whose attribute was the polar opposite of the first—yet perfectly complementary.

No difficulties, no obstacles. The supreme realm of Yin–Yang complementary twin soul cores, something countless Titled Douluo dreamed of and many were stymied by for life—he achieved it the moment he stepped into the Titled realm.

Within him, two soul cores imbued with the intents of creation and death rotated slowly in opposite directions. Not only did they not conflict, they formed a powerful attraction at their center, perfectly fusing two kindred yet divergent powers, giving rise to a terrifying might far beyond simple addition—a qualitative leap.

More wondrous still, at the center of those two rotating cores, faint and sacred phantoms could be seen—the Greater Lord Rukkhadevata and Raiden Makoto.

With their personal divinities and soul force as the heart, they helped Lu Jingming perfectly harmonize and command these two mighty powers, rendering a soul-core conflict that would make other Super Douluo explode into nothing as docile as lambs within him.

A Titled Douluo with Yin–Yang complementary twin soul cores, stacked with the perfect apotheosis mode under the God-King-level Eternal and Thunder god-seat.

Power surged to fill every inch of his body. Lu Jingming slowly clenched his fist, feeling a terror of might that seemed able to crush stars by hand and summon heaven’s judgment by a single thought. A fierce confidence welled up.

At this moment, he even had the confidence to clash head-on with a true god-tier powerhouse.

Reason, however, quickly smothered the fleeting illusion brought by the spike in power.

He knew clearly that, however strong, apotheosis was temporary power.

His mortal foundation could not endure the backlash for long; his mind, in a state of heightened divinity, was being constantly scoured and assimilated. If it lasted, the human parts of him might be overwhelmed by divinity’s absolute rationality and coldness.

That was not what Lu Jingming wanted.

Thus, the apotheosis state was his strongest trump card, a blade for god-slaying—not a norm.

Until he truly ascended the god-seat, it must be used with care.

He lifted his eyes. Black-red lightning flickered in his gaze as he looked toward that holy sea-blue figure. His battle intent rose to the heavens in palpable waves.

After apotheosis, Lu Jingming looked nothing like before. His white hair was long gone, replaced by innumerable wildly dancing tufts of ionized strands formed from the purest destructive thunder, their tips constantly spitting fine black-red sparks.

His features grew more perfect and sharply defined, as if carved by a divine artisan. His skin was jade-pale, faintly revealing destructive lightning flowing within.

His frame had grown a little taller, straighter, more perfect.

A set of extremely gorgeous, intricate, and imposing armor clothed him naturally.

The armor was a dark purple throughout, of neither metal nor jade—more like congealed thunder interwoven with shadow. Across its surface flowed black-red thunder patterns like living things.

At the center of the breastplate was set a massive rhombic gem ceaselessly bursting with black-red lightning—like an eternal thunder-core.

From each joint jutted sharp thunderous spikes—luxurious, yet full of lethal menace.

Behind him, a colossal god-ring woven entirely from black-red thunder rotated slowly, within which the rise and fall of countless worlds birthing and perishing in lightning seemed to drift.

This was the strongest form he could command at this stage.

Relying on the bond of fused souls with Raiden Makoto, he used a mortal vessel to forcibly bear the vast might of the Eternal and Thunder god-seat, pushing himself briefly into the divine domain.

He clearly sensed the power surging through every inch of his godly body—enough to rend continents—as well as the burden and assimilation this power pressed upon his mortal foundation.

But he felt no fear. In this form, he would battle a wisp of divine sense from Sea God Tang San.

A once-in-an-era trial.

Win or lose, the experience and insights from crossing blades with a God-King would pave the road to his future ascent to a true throne—of immeasurable value.

Besides… he was hardly fighting alone.

Thinking of Jingliu, who was ready to strike; Gu Yuena, who was on the way; and Acheron and The Herta, still in the shadows—Lu Jingming’s lips curved in a barely perceptible arc.

With so many to catch him if he fell, what was there to fear? If he couldn’t beat them, he’d call reinforcements. It wasn’t only The Herta who loved to pull strings—Lu Jingming did too.

On that point, he and The Herta were two of a kind.

On the other side, as that familiar golden-blue radiance—deep and warm like an endless sea—surged from between her brows and condensed midair into a towering, majestic figure with a loving gaze, Tang Wutong went rigid. Her mind went blank.

After enormous shock came a flood-burst of rapture and grievance.

“Da… Daddy?!”

Her voice trembled with disbelief. Tears that had been welling in her pink-blue eyes spilled like strings of pearls, uncontrollable.

Her face, pale from bitter battle, wounds, and Titan’s fall, flushed at once with a mix of excitement and pent-up hurt.

In those limpid pink-blue eyes, the helplessness and sorrow held back for far too long broke free like a bursting dam. Big, crystalline tears rolled down, tracing her dust-smeared cheeks.

All her strength, all her stubbornness, collapsed the instant her father appeared.

Before her dearest kin, she became, in a heartbeat, the little witch who could be endlessly embraced, who could act spoiled and seek shelter.

She wanted to throw herself into that figure’s arms, but the lingering divine fluctuations around her and the utter weakness of her body tripped her. She stumbled, nearly collapsing to the ground.

“Daddy, it’s really you. You’re here—you finally came!”

Her voice was tight with sobs, full of post-calamity dependence and grievance, as if to pour out all her fear.

“They… they bullied me. They killed Second Uncle. They want to kill me. They… they…”

The rest was choked off by grief, hurt, and terror too intense for words—dissolving into an even greater, uncontrollable storm of tears.

The scene of the Titan Giant Ape Er Ming’s death flashed again before her, slicing her heart to ribbons. She sobbed so hard her whole body shook.

…

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep