Thunder's Wrath, Yu Yuanzhen's Choice

Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan, council hall.

The atmosphere in the hall was as oppressive as the sky before a storm.

All the doors and windows were tightly shut. Only a few oil lamps flickered in the corners, casting wavering shadows.

The Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan's leader, the ninety-sixth-ranked Thunder Douluo Yu Yuanzhen, sat in the seat of honor at the center of the hall, clutching three letters in his hand.

The first was from Heaven Dou Empire's Crown Prince, Xue Qinghe. Its wording was polite, but its stance was unmistakable: Yu Tianheng had hired an assassin to murder a student of Heaven Dou Royal Academy. The circumstances were vile and the impact extremely grave. The Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan was expected to discipline him strictly and give the Heaven Dou Royal Family an explanation.

The second was from Poison Douluo Dugu Bo.

Its meaning was as follows: What your grandson did has reached me. Lin Chen is my savior, and he is also the grandson-in-law I have chosen.

If even a single hair on his head is harmed, I will risk this old life of mine to make sure the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan knows no peace.

I may not be able to defeat you, Yu Yuanzhen, but your clan has hundreds of people. I can poison them one by one. Let's see how many you can protect.

The third was from Spirit Hall.

It bore Pope Bibi Dong's personal signature. The wording was official and cold, its meaning clear: Lin Chen was the holder of Spirit Hall's Saintess Token and an honored guest of Spirit Hall. Any hostile action against him would be regarded as a provocation against Spirit Hall. Spirit Hall reserved the right to take all necessary measures.

Three letters, three powers, three different tones—all conveying the same message: your grandson had caused a colossal disaster.

Yu Yuanzhen slowly placed the three letters on the table, then remained silent for a long time.

The hall was so quiet it was terrifying; even breathing could be heard clearly.

The steward standing at the side lowered his head, not daring to even breathe loudly.

He had served Yu Yuanzhen for decades and knew well that the more silent this old clan leader became, the angrier he was.

At last, Yu Yuanzhen spoke. "Where is that wretch?"

His voice was low and hoarse, like a massive boulder pressing down on everyone's hearts and leaving them unable to breathe.

"Reporting to Clan Leader, Young Master Tianheng has already been confined in the ancestral hall, awaiting your judgment." The steward's voice was cautious, afraid that one wrong word might provoke the old clan leader, who was on the verge of erupting.

Yu Yuanzhen said nothing. He slowly rose to his feet and headed for the hall's entrance.

His steps were slow, each one seeming to tread upon everyone's heartstrings. The steward hurried after him, not daring to ask anything.

The Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan's ancestral hall stood deep within the clan grounds, housing the memorial tablets of its ancestors.

At that moment, Yu Tianheng knelt on the cold stone floor before a wall full of ancestral tablets. His face was pale, and his entire body trembled.

He had knelt there for a full day and night. His knees had long gone numb, and his back ached unbearably, yet he did not dare move.

Because he knew the real punishment had yet to come.

The ancestral hall doors were pushed open.

Yu Tianheng's body jerked violently. He slowly turned his head and saw that tall figure standing in the doorway, silhouetted against the light.

There was no expression on Yu Yuanzhen's face. In those weathered eyes, countless emotions churned—anger, disappointment, heartache, and humiliation.

He entered the ancestral hall and shut the doors behind him. The sound of the bolt sliding into place rang especially loudly in the silent hall, like a sentence being pronounced.

Yu Tianheng's lips trembled, his voice hoarse and weak. "Grand... Grandfather..."

Yu Yuanzhen did not answer him.

He walked before the ancestral tablets, lit three sticks of incense, and bowed respectfully three times before placing them in the incense burner.

Then he turned around and looked at the kneeling Yu Tianheng, remaining silent for a long time.

"Tianheng." He finally spoke, his voice frighteningly calm. "How old are you this year?"

Yu Tianheng did not know why his grandfather had suddenly asked this, but he still answered tremblingly, "E... eighteen."

"Eighteen." Yu Yuanzhen nodded. "Eighteen years old. An adult now, with ideas of your own. Good. Very good."

His tone remained calm, yet it sent a chill down Yu Tianheng's spine.

He would rather his grandfather cursed him, beat him, or even blasted him away with the power of the Thunder Douluo than hear that terrifyingly calm tone.

"Tell me," Yu Yuanzhen said as he walked up to him and looked down at him, "did you decide to hire an assassin to kill a twelve-year-old child yourself, or did someone incite you?"

"I... I decided it myself."

"For what?"

Yu Tianheng lowered his head, his voice seeming to squeeze out through clenched teeth. "For... Dugu Yan."

Yu Yuanzhen closed his eyes.

He had lived for more than eighty years. He had seen countless absurd things and heard countless absurd reasons.

But "hiring an assassin to kill a twelve-year-old child for a woman"—

That reason still redefined his understanding of the word absurd.

"Just for a woman?" Yu Yuanzhen opened his eyes, and at last, a trace of emotion entered his voice.

It was rage overflowing after being suppressed to the limit. "Just for a woman, you spent three hundred thousand Gold Soul Coins to hire a Soul Saint assassin to kill a twelve-year-old child? And you even botched it, letting the whole world know it was you?"

His voice rose higher and higher until he was nearly roaring.

The entire ancestral hall trembled faintly under his roar, and the ancestral tablets on the walls buzzed in resonance.

Yu Tianheng was so terrified that he collapsed flat onto the floor, shuddering like a leaf.

"Do you know who that child is?" Yu Yuanzhen's voice echoed through the hall.

"A twelve-year-old Soul King! A peerless genius that only appears once in several thousand years across the entire continent! Behind him stands Poison Douluo Dugu Bo, the Heaven Dou Royal Family, and even Spirit Hall! You dared lay a hand on him? What did you think you could use against him? Your thirty-seventh-ranked Soul Elder cultivation? Or that Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan face of yours?"

Yu Tianheng lay sprawled on the ground, not daring to utter a word. Tears and snot ran down his face, leaving him a complete mess.

Seeing him in such a state, the fury in Yu Yuanzhen's heart suddenly faded by more than half, replaced by profound weariness and disappointment.

He had once placed great hopes on this grandson. The future of the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan should have been entrusted to this generation.

But today, what he saw was not a qualified heir, but a coward blinded by jealousy, heedless of consequences, and incapable of taking responsibility when things went wrong.

"From this day onward," Yu Yuanzhen's voice returned to calm, but that calm was more despairing than anger.

"You are no longer a candidate to inherit the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan. The clan will retain your martial soul, but all your privileges will be halved. You will be confined for one year, and without my orders, you are not to take a single step outside the clan."

Yu Tianheng suddenly raised his head, his face filled with terror and pleading. "Grandfather! No! I know I was wrong! I truly know I was wrong! Please, give me one more chance."

"Take him away." Yu Yuanzhen waved his hand, his tone beyond question.

Two guards entered from outside the doors, grabbed Yu Tianheng from either side, and dragged him out of the ancestral hall. Yu Tianheng's wails grew more distant until they finally vanished into the night beyond the doors.

The ancestral hall fell silent once more.

Yu Yuanzhen stood before the wall of ancestral tablets in silence for a long time, then slowly let out a sigh.

He reached out, picked up the three letters, and read them once more before tossing them into the nearby brazier. The paper curled in the flames, blackened, and turned to ash.

Watching the dancing flames, he murmured, "Lin Chen... a twelve-year-old Soul King..." His gaze was deep and complex. No one knew what he was thinking.