After a deafening boom, the entire hall fell so silent that dripping water could be heard. The explosion, flames, and brief screams became the main melody, but after the blast came a cloud of death. No one dared breathe, because they realized the other side was not joking. This was a gang of utterly ruthless criminals.
Yet the fear lasted less than a minute because of Qin Fen's words. Yeah, everyone took a look and thought, Damn, that explosion was pretty intense... and it looked like it blew up one of their own! How vicious did someone have to be to pull that off?
Then... there was no then. The host wanted to laugh, but could not laugh at all, because Yan Bing's face had twisted out of shape. No one could accept an outcome like this.
How could Yan Bing have imagined that Jack was no longer Jack, but a thousand-year-old country bumpkin Wraith Demon? Would he recognize a bomb? That would have been quite the progress for the times. Since he did not know, and had wanted to get close to Yan Bing, Wraith Demon got shot while lying down for no damn reason!
The moment the bomb went off, Wraith Demon felt utterly miserable. He cursed inwardly, What the hell is this? Then the flames swallowed him, and pain tore through his body as though it were being ripped apart. Do not be fooled by the fact that he was a Demon God—in the Mortal Realm, even he found bombs painfully troublesome. Besides, this body was neither immortal nor Demon Tribe, so it had even less ability to defend itself.
Damn it. Wraith Demon lay motionless on the ground, his entire back a bloody blur. He looked utterly miserable, with even a huge hole blown through him.