One person: Go talk to my Rumble-Rumble Fruit!

A reporter from a self-media outlet suddenly raised his hand in the corner: "But the person in the video is wearing..." The microphone instantly blared, the rooftop sprinkler system activated, and he was drenched in a spray of foam mixed with ice water. As security guards "helped" him away, the USB drive containing evidence in the reporter's pocket quietly melted into a lump of solder.

..........

Meanwhile, on the other side.

The city of Tianjin was filled with the sweet, metallic scent of ionized dust after the thunderstorm.

Lin Shen stood alone atop the broken wall of the Tianxia Building, with molten steel flowing beneath his feet, reflecting the shimmering gold of the rising crescent moon.

The phone vibrated in the inner pocket of the blue shirt, the blue light of the screen piercing the night—the caller: Lin Yuliang.

Lin Yuliang's voice carried a deep, resonant quality, like that of mahogany furniture, as he said, "Back to Beijing."

"Before seven o'clock tomorrow morning," the crisp sound of the medicine pot hitting the stove cut off all attempts at negotiation, "I want to see you in Beijing."

Lin Shen remained silent for a moment.

Lin Yuliang continued, "You know, Zhao Fangxu's younger brother, Zhao Laosan, just came to see me. He also knows what happened in Tianjin."

“The third son of the Zhao family just delivered two boxes of White Peony tea.” The father’s blowing sounded like a snake’s tongue flicking as he blew on the tea froth. “He said… there’s a ship in Tianjin Port carrying three hundred tons of quicklime.”

Lin Shen's pupils suddenly contracted.

Quicklime boils when it comes into contact with water, making it the cleanest material for disposing of corpses—Zhao Fangxu is warning in the most dignified way: the company is prepared to erase all traces.

"The tea is good."

Lin Yuliang's voice amplified in the silence, "It's a pity the water is old... it's time to replace it with a new spring." Lin Shen understood the unspoken meaning: Zhao Fangxu's influence would lead to his removal from the core of power because of tonight's events.

Lin Shen suddenly swooped down from the hundred-meter-high building, his afterimage flashing across the electronic screen at Tianjin Station, where a meteorological bureau announcement was scrolling: "...the once-in-a-century ball lightning has ended." The last high-speed train bound for Beijing quietly departed.

Lin Shen fell silent for a moment, because it was all his own fault.

However, Zhao Fangxu is about to be transferred away from the center of power.

All of this is because Lin Shen's father is Lin Yuliang.

All of this was just a small act of capriciousness by those in power.

In order to protect Lin Shen, Lin Yuliang had no choice but to shift the blame to Zhao Fangxu.

It doesn't matter who started it.

It doesn't matter who caused the trouble.

The important thing is that someone takes responsibility.

.......

.......

Chapter 103 Wang Bing: I'm discharged from the hospital. What? The Wang family is gone?

Meanwhile, on the other side.

A high-end hospital.

The smell of disinfectant from the hospital stubbornly wafted into Wang's nostrils, and he frowned in disgust. The expensive silk hospital gown rubbed against his new skin, causing a slight itch and pain.

He held his head high, like a rooster that had just won a battle but whose feathers were ruffled and whose inside was empty, and walked out of the VIP ward door that had imprisoned him for who knows how long.

Behind him, several obsequious caregivers carefully carried large and small bags of supplements and luxury shopping bags, following closely behind.

"Hmph, a bunch of quacks! It took them so long to cure me!"

At this time, Wang Bing was unaware that the Wang family had already been wiped out.

He casually picked up a warm, smooth jade bead and toyed with it between his fingers. It was a gift from a certain "famous doctor" who was trying to curry favor with the Wang family. "How much important business has he delayed for me! Is that bastard Feng Xingtong's bone completely broken? Don't tell me he's still breathing!"

His tone was venomous, still immersed in the gleeful memories of torturing others in the past.

The priceless Patek Philippe on his wrist shone brightly under the pale corridor lights, its cold light glaringly bright.

His steps were unsteady, yet he tried his best to take arrogant strides, as if he were still treading on the magnificent land that belonged to their royal family.

The family's motorcade was already lined up at the hospital entrance, all black luxury cars, so shiny they reflected his face, which was a mixture of sickly paleness and triumphant blush.

The black convoy wound its way up the mountain road, heading towards the ancestral home of the Wang family, shrouded in the vast twilight.

The scenery outside the car window gradually became familiar yet tinged with a strange, lifeless stillness.

Wang Bing leaned back in the soft leather chair, closing his eyes to rest. His fingers tapped impatiently on the armrest as he plotted how to complain to his grandfather, Wang Ai, and then severely punish a few "incompetent" servants, while also asking for a few new magical artifacts that he had his eye on.

He even imagined how his father and second uncle, Wang Yi, would look gloomy, yet forced to satisfy all his demands, a twisted smugness creeping onto his lips.

The car slowly approached the two vermilion gates of the Wang family mansion, which had once instilled fear in countless extraordinary individuals.

Wang Bing lazily lifted one eyelid and casually glanced out the window. In that one glance, his tapping motion on the armrest suddenly froze.

The gate was wide open, facing the dimly lit mountain path without any obstruction.

The entrance was completely empty.

Without those two rows of guards standing like javelins, exuding a chilling aura!

I didn't see a single familiar servant!

Even the rare ironwood bonsai on both sides of the gate, which symbolized good fortune and evergreen life, were now reduced to withered branches and fallen leaves, rustling softly and harshly in the cool evening breeze, like the sighs of the dying.

"Stop the car!" Wang Bing sat up abruptly, his voice sharp and trembling without him even realizing it.

He pushed open the car door and, before the car had even come to a complete stop, staggered onto the cold, empty stone steps in front of the door.

A faint, indescribable odor, a mixture of dust, decaying plants, and something else entirely—something like rust but even more nauseating—wafted into his nostrils.

"Where are they? Are they all dead? Get out here!" His roar echoed in the deathly silent courtyard, crashing against the high wall and bouncing back hollowly, eliciting no response.

Only a few startled crows flapped their wings and took flight from the withered trees not far away, emitting a few hoarse and unpleasant "caws," circling above the mansion like ominous black talismans.

His heart began to pound uncontrollably, and a chilling premonition crept up his spine like a snake.

He stumbled and rushed through the door.

The spacious front square, wide enough for horses to run, was covered with withered branches and fallen leaves on the bluestone slabs. No one swept it, and it looked messy in the twilight.

The once ornately decorated house now has its doors and windows tightly shut, devoid of life. The dark windows, like countless vacant eyes, indifferently watch him, the sole intruder.

Fear, like cold vines, instantly tightened around Wang Bing's heart.

He stumbled along, relying almost entirely on his remaining memories and instincts, heading towards the ancestral hall, the core area of ​​his family.

Her steps were unsteady and hurried; her expensive leather shoes crunched on the thick layer of fallen leaves with a chilling sound.

He hoped that perhaps everyone was gathered there? Perhaps they were discussing some confidential matter? This thought was like a drowning man's straw, something he desperately tried to grasp.

The heavy ancestral hall gate was ajar, a chilling darkness seeping through the crack. Wang Bing, panting, used all his strength to forcefully push it open!

The piercing scraping sound was especially startling in the deathly silence.

The envisioned scene of bright lights and solemnly standing clansmen did not materialize.

What hit you was a strong, old, and chilling aura mixed with the ashes of paper money, rotten wood, and a strong smell of blood!

The ancestral hall was dimly lit, with only a few remaining eternal lamps emitting a faint, pale green glow, flickering and trembling, barely illuminating the solemn shrine directly in front of it—the place that should have been dedicated to the spirits of the ancestors of past generations.

Just then, a woman walked in.

She saw Wang Bing.

She covered her face and wept, "Wang Bing, you're back?"

When Wang Bing saw the woman, he felt like he had grasped a lifeline. He shouted, "Auntie, where are my great-grandfather, my second uncle, and my father? Where have they all gone?"

"Your great-grandfather, Wang Ai, was killed by Lin Shen. He died at the Luo Tian Grand Ceremony from a fatal wound that pierced his chest by lightning."

"Your second uncle led the Wang family to the World Society to seek revenge."

"As a result, they all died, and you are now Wang Jiahao's only male heir."

Om-! ! !

It was as if a bomb had exploded in Wang Bing's head! The world spun before his eyes!

Time, space, and all perception collapsed and shattered in an instant!

His father Wang Ai's charred appearance, his second uncle Wang Yi's cold and hard face... countless fragmented images that he once took for granted were frantically assaulting his consciousness!

"Uh... Pfft!"

A sudden sweetness rose in his throat, and a mouthful of scalding blood gushed out without warning, splashing onto the cold, dusty blue bricks beneath his feet, blooming into a glaring and ferocious dark red flower.

His legs could no longer support his weight, and his knees slammed heavily onto the ground with a dull thud. A violent tremor instantly swept through his body, and his teeth chattered uncontrollably, as if he were in an extremely cold ice cave.

“No…it’s impossible…it’s fake…it’s all fake…” He moved his lips like a dying fish, emitting broken and incoherent hisses.

The charred image of his great-grandfather Wang Ai being swallowed by lightning, his father Wang Yi's always stern face, his second uncle Wang Yi's cold and resolute gaze at the end... countless fragments of images exploded and rolled in his chaotic mind, accompanied by the deafening thunder and blinding lightning on the training ground that day, and Lin Shen's calm eyes that sent chills down one's spine!

The family is destroyed! The empire collapses! The enemy goes free!

These words were like a barbed steel whip, lashing fiercely at his already fragile soul.

"Ugh... Ugh... Ughh ...

A piercing scream, so shrill it was inhuman, a mixture of extreme pain, boundless fear, and utter despair, finally erupted from deep within Wang Bing's convulsing throat!

The howl echoed, collided, and amplified wildly in the empty, deathly silent shrine, like the wailing of thousands of souls!

He suddenly arched his back, as if struck hard in the internal organs by an invisible force. His hands gripped his chest tightly, his nails digging into his flesh, drawing blood, as if he wanted to rip out his broken heart alive!

His body convulsed violently, like a fish thrown ashore, each spasm accompanied by suffocating gasps and bloody foam spilling from the corners of his mouth.

The dantian and sea of ​​qi that had been ravaged by Lin Shen's thunderous power were now experiencing a tearing, bone-deep phantom pain once again!

It was as if the cold, violent lightning had never dissipated, still raging and tearing through his withered meridians!

It turns out that on that day at the Luo Tian Grand Ceremony, Lin Shen's lightning bolt that tore through the sky not only shattered the Wang family's lintel, but also destroyed the very foundation of the world upon which Wang Bing depended for survival!

He was like a foolish frog in a well, hopping around triumphantly at the bottom of the cracked well for months, until he looked up and realized with despair that the well walls he relied on for survival had long since collapsed, leaving only the boundless, cold, mocking starry sky above him!

Boundless hatred, like boiling magma, mixed with deep-seated fear and utter despair, surged and burned wildly within Wang Bing's body!

But in the next moment, it was ruthlessly extinguished by the cold reality, leaving only suffocating ashes and deathly silence.

He lay curled up on the cold, icy floor tiles like a puppet whose life had been instantly drained, his face pressed against the dusty, blood-stained ground, his body still convulsing violently and nervously, and a dying hoarse sound emanating from his throat.

Unconsciously, his fingers dug into the cold cracks in the floor tiles, as if trying to grasp something that had long since turned to dust.