CHAPTER 112: CHAPTER 112 - KILLING SON OF HEAVEN

Zhao Tianlong’s fist clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white, the veins in his neck bulging like twisted ropes under his golden skin.

The system’s words echoed in his mind like a profane chant, each one stoking the inferno of rage building within him.

’How dare you even think of treating them like dolls?!’

The thought exploded through his consciousness, raw and unfiltered, as the Pleasure Palace’s opulent chamber seemed to warp under the pressure of his unleashed aura.

The air thickened, growing heavy with the scent of ozone and crackling energy.

Outside the dimensional confines of the palace, the sky above the southern territories responded instantly, as if Heaven itself recoiled from his fury.

Dark clouds gathered in unnatural haste, swirling into a vortex that blotted out the sun.

Bolts of crimson lightning arced across the heavens, setting the firmament ablaze in a hellish glow.

The once-serene landscape trembled—trees bent under invisible winds, distant mountains groaned, and the ground cracked in spiderweb patterns radiating from Tianlong’s position.

His eyes, usually sharp and commanding, now burned a deep, blood-red, the pupils dilated with unbridled wrath.

His aura erupted outward, no longer contained or precise, but a devastating force that suppressed everything within a hundred miles.

The air itself seemed to solidify, pressing down on the world like an iron fist.

Cultivators in the makeshift camp below—former enemies turned followers—collapsed to their knees, gasping for breath as the weight crushed their meridians.

Even the spirit beasts in the vicinity whimpered and prostrated, their instincts screaming submission.

Tianlong stood there, his muscular frame trembling not from fear, but from the sheer effort of containing the storm within.

His neck veins popped visibly, throbbing with each ragged breath, and his face twisted into a mask of pure, unadulterated fury.

’These bastards,’ he thought, his mind a whirlwind of betrayal and indignation.

’How dare Heaven try to bind my women’s names to someone else? As if they belonged to another from the start?’

The realization hit him like a tribulation bolt—Heaven’s Will had attempted to force a narrative, to designate his wives as mere pieces in some cosmic game, fated for the harem of its chosen "Son."

It was an insult beyond measure, a violation of everything he had claimed, fought for, and loved.

He looked skyward, his red eyes blazing with defiance, the aura around him intensifying until it warped reality itself.

Miles of forest bowed under the pressure, leaves shredding from trees as if caught in a hurricane.

The suppression was so absolute that even the wind ceased to blow, trapped in the vice of his rage.

’You think you can rewrite my fate? Bind my women to another? I’ll shatter your will!’

"Liege!"

The voice cut through the chaos like a blade—Zhang Wuji’s, strained and urgent.

The legendary swordsman blurred into view, his gray robes whipping in the gale of Tianlong’s aura, his perfect blade half-drawn from its sheath.

Wuji’s hands trembled visibly, not from fear, but from the overwhelming force bearing down on him.

Even he, a master whose sword could sever cause and effect, staggered under the weight, his knees buckling as he fought to remain standing.

"My liege, wait—!"

But Tianlong didn’t hear the words. He leaked so much of his energy that it was as if he had turned into a burning sun, causing even Wuji to be thrown back. Wuji quickly drew his sword and pierced the ground beneath him for support, but it seemed that all of his cultivation base was instantly suppressed.

Even though they were at the same level, the nature of their abilities and affinities was much different.

Wuji’s was based on precision and sharpness, while Tianlong’s was characterized by brute force, clearly resembling a sword and a bull.

It was only natural that Wuji would be thrown off balance.

Tianlong’s enraged state drowned out everything else.

The system chimed in his mind, its mechanical voice laced with rare urgency:

[Stop, host. Emotional override detected. Risk of self-destructive actions: 89%. Recommend immediate calming protocols.]

’Shut up,’ Tianlong snarled internally, his body already moving. His jaws clenched as fog seemed to be forming due to the condensing of the qi.

SWHOOSH

More shockwaves were thrown out of him, far stronger than when he fought with the Immortal sect, given that it was pure fury.

The air around him compressed, then exploded outward as he blurred forward, breaking the sound barrier with a deafening boom that shattered nearby trees into splinters.

Due to his speed, the sound barrier didn’t just break—it exploded.

The shockwave alone flattened a swath of forest, sending debris hurtling like arrows.

His speed was far stronger than before, propelled by raw fury—space itself seemed to fold around him, carrying him miles in an instant.

His eyes pierced a thousand miles, a hundred miles, fifty miles—far faster than his own speed—as if trying to find the one on whom he was going to pour all of his anger since he couldn’t see where heaven was.

Finally, he sensed it—the presence that had ignited this final spark of rage.

Zhao Chen.

His grandson, the so-called "Son of Heaven" according to the story in which right now Tianlong had transmigrated.

The one Heaven had tried to bind his wives to, as if they were prizes to be claimed.

The thought alone made Tianlong’s vision tunnel, red haze clouding the edges as killing intent poured off him like poison mist.

In a heartbeat, he arrived at the source—a small clearing near the camp’s edge, where Zhao Chen stood holding the hand of a young woman while smiling and as if talking something or clearly flinching as if some kind of warning had just been told to him.

Beside them was a child, wide-eyed and trembling—Xiao, Mei’s brother, the boy they had rescued from the sect’s clutches.

’!’

:: DISCIPLE! MOVE! :: as if an internal sound resonating in his mind but far delayed, Zhao Chen tried to process the words, and swiftly turned but his bronze eyes widening in shock as Tianlong materialized like a vengeful demon.

A demon indeed—There were veins all over his neck, on forehead, eyes gleaming red like filled with blood, jaws clenched, canines visible, fog out of mouth and body shrouded by dense energy.

Tianlong looked like a monster.

Without a word, Tianlong lunged, his hand shooting out like a striking serpent to grab Zhao Chen by the throat. His grip clenched the young man’s neck with such brute force that it seemed his bones were about to crack, if not for the Qi still holding them intact.

Zhao Chen’s face turned red, and his eyes were about to pop out of their sockets from the pressure of Tianlong’s fingers digging into his flesh.

’I will kill you.’ The thought of pure, unfiltered murder coursed through Tianlong, as if he didn’t care about the warning red alerts hovering all around him from the system.

His hands tightened their grip, far beyond anything someone like Zhao Chen could withstand for even a second.

Zhao Chen’s body dangled in the air, held aloft by Tianlong’s grip, his face turning red as he coughed and gasped, veins bulging in his neck.

Sweat poured down his skin, soaking his robes in seconds, his broad-shouldered frame thrashing futilely against the overwhelming strength.

The killing intent radiating from Tianlong was cataclysmic—waves of it crashed outward, suppressing everything in sight.

The woman beside Zhao Chen collapsed to the ground, clutching her throat as if suffocating, her body trembling uncontrollably.

Xiao, the child, fared no better; he fell to his knees, tears streaming down his face as the pressure crushed the air from his lungs, leaving him gasping and wheezing like a fish on dry land.

"I will kill you," Tianlong snarled aloud, his voice a thunderclap that echoed across the clearing.

His red eyes bored into Zhao Chen’s, promising death.

ALERT!

[System Alert: Host emotional state critical - recommend immediate de-escalation!]

[Warning: Current trajectory will result in—]

’Stop now, system!’ Tianlong seems to have been just flushed with the burning rage, uncaring about system, ’How dare Heaven try to make my wives yours? How dare you exist as its tool?’

The rage was all-consuming, his grip tightening until Zhao Chen’s eyes started to bleed.

But then—something changed.

Zhao Chen’s body began to glow with a golden radiance, not his own power, but something far older, far stronger.

His eyes widened in desperation as he choked out, "Ma...st..er... save m..e!"