"Screw you!"
On the fourth morning since Han Yu lay comatose, the sky above the Bitter Lotus Sect suddenly filled with turbulent clouds, and within moments, thunderclouds loomed heavily, crackling with lightning.
Inside the Sea of Consciousness, Han Yu had already cursed dozens of times.
The Artifact Spirit's damn mouth seemed blessed, never hitting the mark with good things, but always dead on with bad ones.
Didn't you want a commotion?
Well, now there's a commotion, and it's not small—it's deadly!
"Tribulation Lightning!"
Ling Wuce ran outside, glanced at the sky, and almost peed himself. In a panic, he rushed back in.
"Which one of you bastards did something so heaven-defying?"
The Great Elder of the Piaomiao Sect immediately questioned the group of elders who had come along, his face stern.
"Are you kidding? Do you think Tribulation Lightning is so easy to attract?"
