Heavens' Laughter

No response…

Jet Daoming, ever the silent person, remained hidden within the dense veil of mist, his breathing slow and controlled.

He had no desire to engage in unnecessary words or noise, especially with an opponent like this.

Someone who, by all accounts, seemed to be a little too eager for bloodshed, perhaps even to the point of madness.

'This one… is unpredictable,' Jet Daoming thought, eyes narrowed.

This man's reckless aggression, that almost feral excitement…

'Definitely a madman,' Jet Daoming mused inside his head, a hint of disdain flickering across his mind.

But he was not here to pass judgment, only to survive, and then to strike.

The mist, his creation, was his ally.

It shrouded Jet Daoming and offered him the perfect cover, a shield against the brute force.

The last thing he wanted was to make himself an obvious target for a man who appeared to enjoy pain and violence far too much.

Jet Daoming's fingers twitched ever so slightly. Explore stories at My Virtual Library Empire

With a subtle flick of his wrist, two kunai—sharp and deadly—manifested in his hands.

But these were no ordinary weapons.

They were forged from pure mist, their edges shimmering with an eerie, almost ethereal glow.

Now, with everything Jet Daoming needed cloaked in the thick veil of mist, he was no longer hiding.

He was waiting for the right moment to strike—waiting for the perfect opportunity to slip through the gaps in the madman's defenses, like a python ready to strike its prey.

Feng Shen stood motionless, his body calm despite the mist swirling around him.

His grin stretched wider, his eyes alight with a manic excitement.

Feng Shen breathed in deeply, as if savoring the air, and then tilted his head, as though the danger surrounding him was nothing more than a mild distraction.

"Hello~" He called out, his voice lilting and playful.

Feng Shen's eyes looked around the mist, zeroing in on the subtle shifts within.

With a nonchalant wave of his hand, he mocked his opponent:

"Are you going to start attacking now? You give off a smell~ such a rookie mistake!"

Feng Shen's grin deepened, his golden eyes alight with a twisted excitement.

He had already tasted the air, caught the faintest hint of his opponent's presence.

That small, lingering scent—distinct and out of place in the mist—was all Feng Shen needed.

He inhaled deeply once more, letting the smell settle in his senses.

Jet Daoming's lips curled into a grimace as he clicked his tongue in frustration.

The realization hit him like a cold slap—this madman had already figured out his position.

Without wasting a moment, Jet Daoming's body blurred, his form vanishing into the thick mist as if swallowed by it.

He moved quickly, disappearing from the platform and reappearing in the air, high above the ground.

A small, dense cloud of mist formed beneath Jet Daoming's feet, lifting him off the platform and into the sky, where he could gain some distance.

He began to float, his feet barely touching the cloud that carried him.

Jet Daoming could feel the rush of air as he sped through the mist, circling rapidly in tight loops, moving in erratic patterns to throw off the madman's focus.

From this elevated vantage point, he could see everything clearly.

'I'm untouchable for now… I just—'

Before Jet Daoming could even complete his thought, a sudden burst of manic laughter filled the air, slicing through the thick mist.

Out of nowhere…

Feng Shen appeared, his grin stretched wide, eyes alight with madness.

It all happened in an instant.

With a primal roar, Feng Shen shot upward through the mist like a rocket, his body moving at an explosive speed.

The mist parted around him.

Feng Shen didn't need to think.

He didn't need to plan.

Feng Shen only needed one thing: to strike.

His hands rose above his head, fingers curling, and with a terrifying force, he slammed them downward toward his opponent's position, his whole body weight and Qi pouring into the attack.

Jet Daoming's eyes widened in disbelief as the madman's hands connected with his head.

The impact was brutal—an explosion of power that sent him spiraling downward, his body crashing into the platform below with a sickening thud.

The mist around Jet Daoming dispersed violently, leaving a cloud of debris and mist swirling in every direction.

For a moment, everything was still.

The once mist settled, and the platform quivered beneath the force of the impact.

Jet Daoming lay motionless on his back.

The once-vibrant red of his eyes had dulled to a lifeless shade, the light within them completely extinguished.

Jet Daoming's breathing was shallow, irregular—a sign that the blow had left him unconscious, unable to move or defend himself.

His robes, once pristine, were now stained with dust and the faint blood from the impact, his body sprawled out on the platform like a broken doll.

Feng Shen landed lightly beside his defeated opponent, the faintest thud echoing as his feet touched the platform.

Looking down at the unconscious form…

Feng Shen crouched down.

"Pathetic," he muttered to himself, shaking his head:

"That was quite boring~."

Feng Shen leaned in a little closer, his voice turning mockingly sweet:

"You didn't even attack me. Not once. You just hid! I swear, the younger generation is full of cowards. Back in my day, we fought head-on, like men. No tricks. No hiding in mist. No cheap tactics!"

Sighing, Feng Shen sat down, his legs casually folding beneath him:

"Did you really think you could beat me with all those little tricks? Hiding in the mist? Clinging to the shadows like a frightened mouse."

Suddenly…

The mechanical voice resounded throughout:

"Jet Daoming has been DEFEATED!"

"Spare or kill?"

Hearing those words, Feng Shen paused, a finger lightly tapping his chin as if contemplating something.

"Well, that is an obvious answer!" he mused aloud.

Without another word or second of hesitation, Feng Shen slowly stood up as he raised his foot high in the air.

And then, with a sickening crunch, his foot slammed down on his opponent's head, the force of the impact breaking the man's skull in an instant.

There was a loud, audible pop—like a melon being crushed underfoot—and a spray of blood and bone exploded across the platform.

The mechanical voice once again spoke:

"Feng Shen has chosen KILL!"

The holographic screen flickered to life once more, cutting through the heavy silence that had fallen over the coliseum.

It hovered in the air above the platform

The faces of both Feng Shen and Jet Daoming appeared side by side on the screen, their bodies displayed in full, as the words "VS" were emblazoned in the center.

The crowd, still in a stunned daze from the brutal scene, turned their attention to the screen.

But before anyone could truly process it, the image of Jet Daoming's body was marked with a large, ominous X.

Above the image of Feng Shen's body, the word "VICTORY" blazed in bold, shining letters.

As the silence that had settled over the stands began to fade, it was replaced by a low murmur of conversations:

"Is he a monster?"

"How could this bastard kill without hesitation?"

"Does he not have a pure Dao Heart?"

"Is he from the Underworld Realm?"

Most people were trying to process what had just happened, as they hadn't expected killing to be so sudden.

As Feng Shen was teleported back to his seat. He casually slouched, stretching out his legs and making himself comfortable.

Almost immediately, he noticed the people who had previously been sitting around him had taken several steps back, keeping a cautious distance from him.

Feng Shen's lips curled into a satisfied grin as he tilted his head back:

"Little ants. Scurrying away in fear. How amusing."

However…

"You demon! How could you be so heartless? There was no need for this death!"

A young man with short, tousled blonde hair stood up from his seat, his sharp, light blue eyes narrowing.

The earrings in his ears glinted in the light.

The young man's blue robe, embroidered with intricate cloud patterns, billowed slightly as he moved.

A sword was strapped to his back, its hilt just visible beneath the folds of his robe.

With a fluid motion, the young man crossed his arms over his chest.

Feng Shen's gaze slid lazily over, his eyes half-lidded in mock disinterest.

Sighing theatrically, he ran a hand through his hair.

"Hmm~ and who might you be, little guy?" Feng Shen asked.

The young man glared at the way this demon was displaying himself, showing disrespect, as he pointed angrily at him:

"Me? Little guy? You bastard! I am the Great Jay Chou! A chosen descendant of the Fated Clan, destined to rise in the cultivation world! I have no tolerance for demons like you! You vile cultivators who care only for yourselves, destroying everything in your path and sparing no one!"

Hearing this…

Feng Shen threw his head back and let out a laugh. It was deep, almost mocking, as if he couldn't comprehend the absurdity of what he'd just heard:

"The Fated Clan? Never heard of it~."

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Author's note:

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