Thunder God’s Wrath – A Fiery Declaration of Power

Crafted by the Southern Sea Thunder Sect—the undisputed masters of mechanical weaponry and explosive devices in the martial world—the "Thunder God Bomb" was a masterpiece of ingenuity and devastation.

Utilizing advanced gunpowder compression techniques and a trigger-based detonation system, these bombs exploded with terrifying force upon impact. With just a trace of true energy and a strong throw against a hard surface—be it rock, iron, tree, bone, or… other rigid objects—the Thunder God Bomb would unleash a hellish blast.

Its power was terrifying. Everything within a ten-foot radius was reduced to rubble. Even those who had achieved mastery in external hard-style martial arts would be gravely wounded, perhaps even rendered permanently impotent.

Now, Qin Ren—known across the Jianghu as "Third Young Master"—had tossed not one, but five Thunder God Bombs at once.

Ahead of him stood eighteen disciples of the Snowdrift Hall. Including the two who had already perished, their ambush had a total force of twenty-one, led by the vice hall master herself—Ye Yingxue.

Five bombs meant a fifty-foot-wide blast zone, and the disciples had foolishly grouped together within a thirty-foot radius. It was the perfect kill zone.

Ye Yingxue had nearly reached them when she saw the five black iron spheres flying through the air. She didn't know what they were, but given the Third Young Master's notorious reputation, she instantly realized they were nothing to scoff at.

"Scatter—now!" she screamed.

Too late.

The disciples scoffed at the clumsy throw. "Ha! Third Young Master's no expert in hidden weapons!" Five of them even rushed forward, blades raised, eager to slice the bombs mid-air.

Then—five near-simultaneous blasts.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The ground shook. Five mushroom clouds erupted, merging into one black dragon of smoke and ash that soared skyward.

When the dust cleared, there was a fifty-foot-wide crater, three feet deep. The eighteen disciples? Gone—blown to pieces so small that chunks no larger than fingernails were scattered across the battlefield like grotesque confetti.

Ye Yingxue was thrown backward by the shockwave. Her conical hat and veil were ripped away, revealing her true face.

Gasps echoed from all sides. Eyes widened. Jaws dropped. Throats gulped audibly.

Her long black hair danced in the wind. Her snow-white combat attire billowed with force. Her face, though sharp-featured and somewhat masculine, was mesmerizingly beautiful—a portrait of fierce grace.

Her almond-shaped eyes blazed with fury, like two speaking black pearls. Her nose, proud and defined, spoke of resilience and unbending pride. Her lips, though not delicately curved, oozed wild sensuality. Bathed in the sunset's crimson glow, she stood like a victorious war goddess on the battlefield—untamed and magnificent.

She was in her mid-twenties, yet time had not dulled her beauty. If anything, it had gifted her with a mature allure, a blend of ripened femininity and athletic power.

And that, precisely, awakened a dangerous craving in the Third Young Master.

He licked his lips and muttered to himself with a smirk, "So you bandits don't just rob gold, huh? You know how to take pretty women back as camp wives too. Well then, let this Young Master learn from you today—by taking your woman!"

His eyes gleamed. "Let's see how you bastards like this: 'The joy of defiling others' women is boundless; when it happens to your own, what can you do?' Hmph, today I'll make you understand true despair!"

In his heart, Ye Yingxue was no match for the likes of Xiao Xiangyue, Liu Piaopiao, Qin Nier, and the others he adored. Ye Yingxue was in a class of her own—fierce, wild, untamed.

What he saw in her was pure primal energy: the unyielding, defiant fire of a tigress. To conquer such a woman was the ultimate proof of manhood. To fail meant being trampled underfoot.

Laughing maniacally, he pointed his fan at her, now standing atop a rock by the creek.

"I live by one rule: I came, I saw, I conquered!" he shouted. "You—yes, you! I've seen you. Now I'll conquer you. I don't care who you are, whose woman you are—starting now, you belong to me! Any man who dares to look at you? Dead!"

This was no longer the gentle rogue or charming thief the Jianghu knew. This was a declaration of absolute dominance.

Even a flower thief has rules. But today, the Third Young Master had become a warlord.

And why not? A woman like Ye Yingxue demanded a fiercer, more ruthless predator.

She wasn't just beautiful—she was the leader of one of the six great powers of Jiangnan: Snowdrift Hall.

The Third Young Master wasn't about to let her slip away.

Ye Yingxue, trembling with rage, could hardly believe her ears. All her life, men bowed before her. She had never been treated like this—especially not by some arrogant teenage devil!

She ruled her sect with precision. She amassed over a hundred million taels of silver in assets. In the entire martial world, what woman could rival her?

And now Qin Ren—this devil-child—had slaughtered her elite disciples and dared proclaim her his woman?

She was ready to kill.

But before she could act, a few bootlicking warriors stepped in first.

From the cliff came a righteous cry: "Insolent brat! I am Master Liuxiang, third protector of Emei. For your evil deeds, I shall now cripple you!"

The white-bearded elder leaped down, sleeve sword flashing like a silver storm.

Another man descended. "Ning Pingzhi, first disciple of Allure Sect!" He attacked with a whirling fan in one hand and a devastating palm strike in the other.

Then came the claw-fingered elder, shouting, "I'm Fei Fei of Hollow Sect. Taste my Five Flood Palms!"

Three top-tier martial masters, descending like falling stars, sealing all paths of retreat.

Within seconds, the entire carriage was engulfed in their collective killing aura. Any lesser man would've been torn to shreds.

But the Third Young Master stood firm, his hair and robe whipping in the wind. He smirked coldly.

"Three old masters, attacking one fifteen-year-old boy. Have you no shame?"

Inside the carriage, Qiao Wei panicked. "Young Master! Either run or fight! Don't just stand there posing—they're going to kill you!"

The Third Young Master laughed.

"Old dogs, eh? Very well. Let me show you what law and justice really mean in this chaotic world."

He slowly raised both hands to the sky.

His long hair turned crimson under the setting sun. His robe transformed, glowing blood-red. His face, his eyes—everything radiated demonic majesty.

He raised his hands—he became the heavens.

With his hands, he summoned an apocalyptic vortex. His signature move—Sky-Splitting Palms—erupted with cataclysmic force.

The wind howled. The sky darkened. A storm of seven deadly energies blasted forth, turning the world to chaos.

Because when he raised his hands—he was the law, and he was the heavens.