Cultivation Fever 15 Strike

All the man wore was a plain loincloth. The morning sun cast its shallow light across his back, highlighting every rippling muscle fibre.

His dance was beautiful in a sense. It seemed strange to describe this monstrous muscle mountain as beautiful, but his every move flowed like a winding river.

There was a tangible tension in the air. I channelled qi to my eyes to see what was going on. I recognised the qi in an instant. It was father.

His flaming golden qi was acting different to usual. It was condensed into a thin layer that flickered across his skin. He held a s.h.i.+ning golden orb in each hand.

He took a step forward, raised both hands above his head, and a greatsword erupted from the orbs. He paused for a second, then brought his hands down in one swift motion.

The greatsword cut a blazing path through the air. Father twisted his front foot, and the greatsword retracted back into the orbs. He drew his right arm back, turning his body as he did so.

The arcing spine of a longbow shot out from his left hand. He drew his right hand back, pulling a golden arrow from thin air with his right.

His thick upper back muscles seemed to grow by the second, reaching a peak when his hand drew past his cheek. Once again, after a brief pause the weapon retracted into the golden orbs.

He lowered his hands to waist height, and his muscles seemed to flow down to the backs of his arms. His back leg doubled in size and he s.h.i.+fted his front leg forwards.

A long pole grew, joining his hands. A wickedly curved spear tip formed at its front end. After a pause, he changed his stance again. This time the orbs formed a katana and wakizas.h.i.+.

He cycled through many weapons and stances. A doubled headed battleaxe, a warhammer, even a weighted chain and sickle was in his repertoire.

I noticed something odd about his muscles. They weren't just tensing, they were growing. Muscles grew in key areas, depending on the weapon he wielded.

Twin axes were the last weapon I saw. He cleaved the air in front, then spun around to face the house with a spinning slash.

His steely eyes softened when they met mine.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. His voice was strong but not harsh.

He dropped his hands and qi swept across the patio. His muscles withered by the second, returning to their original form. His well-built body seemed tiny in comparison to a few seconds ago.

He walked into the library, picking his usual robe off a wall hook. Slinging it over his back, he picked me up.

"You shouldn't be here right now!" he looked over my shoulder and lowered his voice, "Your mother will have a fit!"

I had been so captivated by his movements that I had completely forgotten to be sneaky. All I could do was play the innocent baby card.

I smiled at him and giggled. He sighed and looked me in the eyes. Confusion crossed his face, then suspicion.

"You were watching my qi, weren't you?"

He spoke with an accusing tone. I giggled again and tilted my head. A mischievous grin spread across his face.

"Do you want to see something really cool?"

I definitely did. I clapped my hands and gave a happy squeal.

"I'll show you what a real attack looks like, come here."

He carried me over to the far side of the patio. The gorgeous view took my breath away.

We stood at the top of a great mountain range. We were dizzyingly high up, and great white cliffs, many hundreds of meters tall, stretched out on either side.

Below was a vast ocean that seemed to bend the horizon. Far in the distance, dark clouds towered into the sky. Even from here I could feel the rumble of thunder and the flash of lightning.

"This is Eura.s.sa's great Eastern Front. Scary isn't it?"

Father sat me down on the small stretch of gra.s.s at the edge of the patio.

"Don't wander off!" he warned, pointing his finger at me.

I wasn't planning to. I was meters away from certain death.

Father stood there for a minute, staring into the horizon, gathering his focus.

"This," he started, "is the Spirit Burning Technique."

The surrounding inferno of qi disappeared into his body. Embers glowed underneath his skin, giving it the look of molten gold.

"This," he continued, his voice rising, "is the Flesh Conduit Technique."

His body rippled and convulsed, as layers of muscle stacked beneath the dappled surface of his skin. He grew even larger than before, his body trembling as if it could explode at any second.

"This," he shouted, "is the Spiritual Weapon Technique!"

With a stomp of his leg, he cracked a flagstone and took a side on-stance. He raised his palm, and a great sphere of qi formed within it.

He crushed it in his grip, and a jagged blade twice his height pierced the sky. Skin tore and bones creaked, as his arm doubled, then tripled in size.

He raised the giant weapon above his head, then paused, majestic in the morning sun.

"OCEAN. PARTING. STRIKE!"

His arm disappeared with a flash of light, then reappeared by his side. The blade was gone.

I looked down. A deep gash split the ocean in two as far as the eye could see.

For a second there was nothing. I could hear the trees rustling in the breeze.

Then, a low rumble filled the air. It built to an electrifying roar, as the two great walls of water flooded to fill the gap.

They met with an almighty crash that shook the earth beneath me. A plume of water raced into the horizon, following the path of father's strike.

Something cold hit my face. I wiped it off and it was wet to the touch. Surely it couldn't be… It was salty to the taste. A drop of seawater had made it from the ocean's surface all the way up here.

I looked back to father. His body was normal again, and he was casually putting on his robes.

"Let's get back inside before your mother finds out I brought you here."

I could only see a trickle of qi from him, and when he picked me up, his arms quivered. I sunk into his weak grip, a sense of awe paralysing my body.

So, this was father's power.