Heavens' Laughter-Chapter 130: Dance of Death

"..."

Wang Yibo stood frozen, his expression darkening with rage as the veins on his forehead throbbed. His bloodshot eyes burned with fury, and it felt as though his head might explode.

Gritting his teeth, he clapped his hands together sharply; the sound echoing through the camp.

Instantly, dozens of assassins materialized from the shadows, their cloaks shrouding their forms, each one gripping a weapon ready for death.

They knelt before him, awaiting his command.

"I want this bastard dead!" Wang Yibo barked:

"And kill the 1st Princess! She’s useless to me if she’s impure!" He didn’t care who heard him — his rage consumed all rational thought.

The assassins nodded in unison, their movements eerily synchronized, and they rose to carry out their orders.

They moved toward the tent like a pack of silent predators.

The first assassin reached for the tent flap and began to ease it open—

CRACK!

The sound of bone shattering rang out as Feng Shen’s fist collided with the assassin’s face.

The man’s body crumpled like a ragdoll, his head twisted at an unnatural angle as he fell lifelessly to the ground.

Feng Shen stepped into view, shirtless, his toned chest gleaming faintly under the moonlight. A casual, almost mocking smile tugged at his lips as he wiped his hand on his pants.

"Now, now," he said, his voice playful. "It’s terribly rude to interrupt a man’s evening. Couldn’t this have waited until morning?"

Feng Shen let out a low chuckle, his piercing gaze locking onto the young man, who stood trembling with barely-contained rage.

"Oh, and about the princess…" he tilted his head, his tone feigning disappointment:

"Such a fragile little thing. She tried her best, but she couldn’t keep up with me. She’s dead now—probably couldn’t handle the excitement."

With a theatrical sigh, Feng Shen stepped aside, revealing the scene inside the tent.

The 1st Princess lay on the ground, lifeless.

Blood streaked her pale form, and her wide, unseeing eyes glimmered with tears that hadn’t yet dried.

Wang Yibo’s hands clenched into fists, his nails biting into his palms as his fury reached its peak.

"You’re going to regret this," he snarled, his voice like a venomous hiss. "Every single thing you’ve done, you’ll pay for it tenfold."

Feng Shen spread his arms wide in a mock gesture of invitation. "Well then, come on. Show me how much your rage is worth. Let’s make this interesting, shall we?"

"What are you waiting for!? KILL HIM!" Wang Yibo roared as he pointed.

The assassins surged forward.

Feng Shen’s grin widened, a flash of delight behind his golden eyes.

As the nearest assassin lunged with his sword…

Feng Shen caught the blade mid-swing with his bare hand. The metal groaned under the pressure before shattering into jagged shards, scattering like glass.

Before the assassin could react…

Feng Shen spun with lightning speed, lifting his leg in a high arc and driving his heel into the neck of another assassin who had appeared with a dagger.

The sickening crack of bone echoed as the man crumpled to the ground.

Another assassin stepped forward without hesitation, pulling out a set of kunai knives and flinging them with precision.

The knives struck Feng Shen’s body — but instead of piercing flesh; they clinked harmlessly against his skin, falling to the ground with dull thuds.

"Really?" Feng Shen raised a brow, amused, before snatching the fallen knives from the ground in an instant.

With a flick of his wrist, he hurled them back at the assassin with such speed that the man didn’t even have time to dodge.

The knives struck true, piercing his neck in a neat row and pinning him against a nearby tree. Blood dripped in slow rivulets as the assassin’s body went limp. Enjoy new chapters from novelbuddy

Suddenly, a dark mist enveloped Feng Shen, consuming him in total blackness:

"Hmm~? What’s this?"

The world around Feng Shen disappeared, but instead of panicking, he simply closed his eyes and took a deep, steady breath.

His senses sharpened, and time seemed to slow.

Every sound, every movement, became a vivid thread in the fabric of his surroundings.

An assassin crept up behind him, dagger raised…

But Feng Shen moved first.

With a graceful backflip, he soared over the man’s head.

The assassin looked up in shock.

Too late to stop Feng Shen from landing squarely on his shoulders. A sickening crunch followed as he stomped down, driving the man into the ground and shattering his spine.

Blood sprayed from the assassin’s mouth as his body twitched once, then went still.

More assassins poured in from all directions, weapons drawn.

Feng Shen’s tongue darted out to lick his lips, his expression of insanity.

"Ah… more killing~," he murmured, his voice brimming with excitement.

As they rushed him, Feng Shen moved like a phantom, weaving through their attacks with ease.

He twisted their momentum against them, dodging blows so effortlessly that the assassins struck one another instead.

The clang of blades meeting flesh and the cries of surprise filled the air as, one by one, they fell to their comrades’ accidental strikes.

It was a dance of death, and Feng Shen was its maestro.

He relished every moment, his laughter ringing out as the assassins, once so confident, began to fall.

The noise from the carnage began to wake the camp.

One by one, people stumbled out of their tents, groggy and confused, only to freeze at the horrifying scene before them.

It was a fatal mistake.

Feng Shen’s attention shifted from the remaining cautious assassins to the growing crowd of onlookers.

His twisted grin returned, and without hesitation, he shot forward, closing the distance between himself and the bystanders in the blink of an eye.

Screams erupted as bodies hit the ground in quick succession.

Feng Shen tore through the gathering like a hurricane, a blur of movement and blood.

Panic spread as people scrambled to flee, but none were fast enough to escape.

The assassins, once wary and hesitant, found themselves ignored entirely, watching in grim silence as the madman killed.

The chaos grew louder.

Guards from across the camp rushed to the scene, their swords drawn, shouting orders as they formed ranks.

Their faces paled as they took in the carnage — a sea of corpses strewn across the ground.

Without waiting for further orders, they charged forward, their collective war cry echoing.

Feng Shen didn’t flinch. Instead, he turned toward them, his grin widening.

The slaughter only continued.

Amidst everything…

Wang Yibo sat on the ground, frozen in fear. His back pressed against a wooden crate, his legs too weak to hold him upright.

His face was pale, his body trembling uncontrollably.

The acrid stench of urine wafted through the air as Wang Yibo realized he had wet himself.

He stared at the scene, his eyes wide as he watched guards and commoners alike fall to the madman’s unrelenting assault.

It was as though the camp had descended into hell, and he was the only one left untouched — yet paralyzed, powerless to stop it.

"Why… why did I make an enemy of such a monster?" Wang Yibo muttered through chattering teeth, his voice barely audible over the screams.

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His hands shook violently as he looked down at them, then at the blood-soaked ground around him.

"All over a woman? I’m such an idiot…" Wang Yibo’s voice cracked, the weight of his realization crushing him.

His breath hitched as he glanced up again, just in time to see the madman dispatch the last of the guards with terrifying ease.

Feng Shen turned…

Wang Yibo looked forward…

They both locked eyes…

With a small, twisted smile, his body painted in blood, Feng Shen began walking.

Wang Yibo didn’t run. He didn’t beg. He didn’t even try to resist. He knew it was pointless.

He simply sat there as a dry, bitter laugh escaped his lips. He clutched his cheek, pulling it slightly as if trying to ground himself in the moment.

"I really am a fool, aren’t I?" Wang Yibo spoke.

Feng Shen stopped directly in front of him and crouched down, their eyes locking:

"Indeed you are. But the fate of everyone here was sealed the moment my eyes fell on this place."

A soft chuckle escaped Feng Shen, and then he tilted his head. "Now~ tell me, how would you like to die?"

The question was delivered so casually that it sent a shiver down Wang Yibo’s spine.

"…Painlessly? If you could…" he replied after a long pause, his voice weak but steady.

Wang Yibo held on to the faintest hope that his suffering might end without pain, that he wouldn’t have to endure the horror he had witnessed.

Feng Shen’s smile widened. "Alright! Pain it is!"

Before Wang Yibo could even react…

Feng Shen turned and strolled over to a nearby corpse, plucking a bloodied knife from the lifeless hand of a woman.

He inspected it with care, turning it over in his fingers like he was appraising fine art.

Then he turned back around; the blade glinted.

"Don’t hold back your screams," Feng Shen said with a sing-song tone, his eyes gleaming with sadistic glee.

Wang Yibo sighed heavily, his shoulders sagging. He wanted to bite his tongue, to end things on his own terms, but his body betrayed him.

He couldn’t muster the courage, couldn’t follow through.

All Wang Yibo could do was glare at the ground, the weight of his regret crushing him:

"Shit…"