Wang Xiaopang, I Will Kill You

What made it even more unbearable was the blow to his image!

Crackle…

The lightning faded, revealing Wang Zhan’s current state—utterly miserable!

His black hair stood on end, crackling with sparks and smoking faintly, making him look like a hedgehog.

His handsome face was smeared with soot from the lightning strike, leaving only his blazing eyes strikingly visible.

The new robe he had just changed into was torn to shreds by the violent thunder, hanging off him like a beggar’s rags. Where was the dignity of the Celestial Sacred Body?

The lightning’s power churned his internal organs, and he couldn’t help spitting out another mouthful of blood.

A utter humiliation!

An absolute disgrace!

Never in his life had Wang Zhan been so disheveled—especially not right after recovering, when his confidence had been soaring.

"Oh my god! Looks like the talisman worked pretty well! Thanks for testing it for me, Brother Wang!"

Fatty Wang’s voice rang out, laced with a hint of pride and mockery.

"Wang! Little! Fat!"

"I will kill you!!!"

An uncontrollable fury surged, overwhelming Wang Zhan’s reason.

His eyes bloodshot, like a wounded beast, he let out a heart-wrenching roar.

A terrifying, murderous aura rose like a tide of blood, bursting into the sky and dispersing the clouds above the valley.

At that moment, he had only one thought: to tear that damned, cunning fatty limb from limb.

He jerked his head up, his bloodshot eyes locked onto that round, bouncing figure, ready to charge forward regardless of the cost.

But then…

"Oh, not sick of being blasted yet? Want another taste?"

The fatty had somehow produced two more Nine Heavens Thunder Talismans. Their surfaces crackled with electricity, radiating an even more powerful lightning aura as they aimed directly at Wang Zhan.

Wang Zhan’s forward charge came to a grinding halt.

His face twitched as his reason warred with his rage, caught between burning fury and fear of those terrifying thunder talismans.

He hadn’t forgotten the taste of that first thunderstrike.

The blood churned in Wang Zhan’s chest, and he coughed up another mouthful.

"Celestial Sacred Body, unleash!"

He roared hoarsely, releasing all the cyan-tinged energy he had reserved in a sudden eruption.

The Sacred Body’s divine manifestation spread, his aura surging to a dangerously frenzied peak.

His rage now completely overriding his reason, Wang Zhan resolved to endure another lightning strike, even if it meant serious injury, just to tear that damn fatty apart.

"Stay right here!!!"

His figure shot forward like a furious green lightning bolt, tearing through the air with a near-suicidal determination, lunging straight at Fatty Wang.

"Heh… Later, pal!"

Fatty Wang let out a strange cry. Without hesitation, he crushed the Large Teleportation Talisman in his hand.

The next instant, he vanished completely—gone without a trace, his aura wiped clean.

"Bastard! Stay here!"

Wang Zhan’s enraged strike hit only empty air, shattering the distant cliff face and sending rubble flying, but failing to touch even a thread of his foe.

"Ahhh!!!"

Missing completely, Wang Zhan trembled with fury, lifting his head to the sky in a haunting, oppressed roar.

The sound was filled with endless anger, humiliation, and a maddening sense of futility.

"Boom!"

The terrifying soundwave spread outward, cracking the valley’s rock walls with enormous fissures and causing half of them to collapse thunderingly.

Absolute shame!

Having already suffered defeats at the hands of Battle Asura and Sword in White, now some unknown fatty—someone by their side—was humiliating him with such lowly tricks, leaving him battered and dirty!

He clenched his fists so tightly that his nails dug into his palms, drawing blood, yet he felt no pain.

Because the shame in his heart was a thousand times more intense than any physical wound.

In the distance, the observing cultivators stood frozen, shocked into silence, barely daring to breathe.

Who could have imagined it would come to this?

The arrogant Celestial Sacred Body—manhandled into such a state by a seemingly harmless little fatty—in front of everyone?

If word of this spread, Wang Zhan would become the biggest joke in the entire Eastern Region!

After his fury began to settle, Wang Zhan took a deep breath, his chest heaving as his violent aura pulsed.

He looked down at his disheveled state, recalling the fatty’s cunning and slippery nature.

"Battle Asura, Sword in White, and that talisman-wielding fatty…"

He waved a hand, using his energy to shake off the soot and torn fabric, changing into a new robe.

But his spiky hair and the lingering black marks on his face were hard to remove, leaving him still looking ridiculous and haggard.

Just then, from behind a distant cliff, muffled whispers and faint laughter struggled to stay hidden, yet a few snickers leaked out.

Wang Zhan whipped his head around, his bloodshot eyes sweeping like cold lightning across those hiding spots.

"Get lost!!!"

A thundering shout, brimming with endless rage and murderous intent, exploded like a thunderclap, unleashing the terrifying pressure of a Peak King Realm cultivator across the area.

"Thump!"

"Whoosh!"

Panic ensued in the distance—cultivators tumbled, faces pale with fear, scrambling away in disarray. They fled as fast as they could, not daring to linger a moment longer.

The valley finally fell into dead silence, leaving only the shattered ground and a young man standing in the center—his hair standing on end, face blackened, radiating overwhelming fury.

He stood there, motionless, silent.

At some point, the mountain wind picked up.

It swept the fallen leaves across his spiky hair.

Wang Zhan’s chest rose and fell violently. The mixture of fury, frustration, unwillingness, and a tinge of absurdity he refused to admit—being toyed with so easily—fused into a piercing pain.

Finally, slowly, gradually, he lifted his head to look at the gathering clouds above.

The corners of his mouth twitched a few times, as if he wanted to say something, but nothing came out.

A long moment passed before a hoarse roar escaped his throat:

"No…"

The shout echoed and crashed among the valley walls—not like a release, but more like a helpless, ridiculous protest against fate’s taunts.

After he yelled, he still held his head high, mouth agape, as if the shout had drained all his strength—and the last shred of forced dignity.

Losing to Battle Asura and Sword in White was something he could accept—that was from an honest fight.

But to be toyed with like this by Fatty Wang, whom he wouldn’t even deign to look at—his proud spirit could not bear it.

He could already imagine how the cultivators beyond would mock him once the news spread.

Then, at that moment…

A chill, faint and soft, landed on his lightning-scorched, blackened face.

He stiffened.

Another dropped onto his trembling hand.

Then a third, a fourth…

Countless pure white, featherlight snowflakes—falling from the clouds that had just gathered—drifted down silently.

They settled on his scorched, spiky hair, on his dust- and blood-stained cheeks.

It was as if the heavens themselves sighed, using this pure, icy comfort to try and quell the inferno of humiliation that was nearly consuming this unrivaled prodigy from within.

The valley fell silent.

Nothing but snowflakes fluttering and the north wind howling.

The world, vast and blurry...