"Kekeke…"
The twisted, high-pitched laughter rang out, as if a spoiled child had been given far too much power.
The corrupted monk, towering at ten ters tall, stomped through the beach with his oversized head bobbing like an overinflated balloon.
His chubby limbs flailed wildly, and his once-golden body—now a shinning bronze—glimred in the flickering light of chaos, barely held together by erratic bursts of demonic energy.
His every movent was childish, unstable, like a tantrum-throwing child with the strength to shatter mountains.
Crash!
Wherever his fists and feet landed, guests were reduced to re blood mist.
The banquet, once adorned with silk banners and golden ornants for the grand wedding, was now a bloody battleground.
The monk's laughter was coupled by the crack of bones and the screams of the guests.
"Stay behind !" Xin ifang cried, her heart pounding as she pulled Qian Ruixin, now pale and trembling in her crimson bridal dress, further back behind the stage. 'What is happening? This was supposed to be in the plan!'
The rest of the Wang family stood nearby, their faces locked in varying shades of horror.
It was as though they were stuck in a nightmare, and frankly, it was starting to feel a little unfair to them.
Who signs up for a wedding and ends up in the middle of a demonic monk's rampage twice?
Nearby, a lone figure stood out. A man with rugged features and dark brown hair, appearing no older than his late twenties, was dressed in a faded green tuxedo, seemingly out of place.
His brow was furrowed with worry, yet his stance was firm, his protective arm placed around a younger girl.
Qian Yifan, the elder brother of Qian Ruixin, guarded his youngest sister, Yaoyao, who clung to him with trembling hands.
'How can this be happening at the wedding banquet?' His mind spun with disbelief, yet his gaze remained sharp, focused on any threat that might co their way.
As Xin ifang's gaze swept over the scene, it landed on Murong Shan.
The man, clad in his resplendent golden-embroidered Hanfu, stood rigid, his once-calm deanor now cracking under the weight of frustration and fury.
His sharp, straight brows furrowed as he looked toward Qian Ruixin, the one person who was supposed to be the key to his freedom.
"This is not supposed to happen…" Murong Shan seethed through gritted teeth.
'The day I finally lift the curse, and now a tantrum-throwing giant decides to crash my wedding!' His mind swirled with venomous thoughts, and his knuckles whitened as he clenched his fists. "Uncle Long, must you wait until I'm buried under rubble before you act?"
Uncle Long, standing a few paces away, appeared almost ditative, as though the chaos was nothing more than a mild distraction.
His long white beard swayed peacefully as he leaned on his cane, his eyes closed as if he were listening to a distant, more soothing lody.
It was hard to tell if he was ignoring the destruction or genuinely waiting for sothing to amuse him enough to warrant his attention.
"Calm yourself, young boy," Uncle Long said calmly, his voice deep and tiless, "you must learn patience. The Dragon's Gate Dojo has seen worse than a large child throwing a fit."
Murong Shan sneered. "Patience? If I wanted a lesson in patience, I wouldn't have arranged your dojo for protection, now would I?"
Uncle Long finally opened his eyes, casting a long, thoughtful look at the rampaging monk.
He gave a slow, deliberate nod. "Xiao Lu, Xiao Chen, Xiao Feng, Xiao Lin. Handle this."
From the shadows, four disciples erged. Their black robes fluttered in the wind, each adorned with the symbol of the Dragon's Gate Dojo.
Their expressions were serene, yet beneath their calm lay a pride that bordered on arrogance.
The corrupted monk, noticing their approach, bared his yellow ugly teeths in a grin.
"Pests...!" he scread, his voice cracking like a petulant child denied a toy.
Swoosh! Swoosh! Swoosh!
His enormous arms flailed as he attempted to squash the disciples like bugs.
The ground quaked with each of his clumsy swings, but the four figures were already gone, darting through the air like specters.
His attacks hit nothing but dust.
Xiao Lu, the tallest, let out an exaggerated sigh. "Honestly, they never make these things tough anymore, do they?" He shook his head, forming a hand seal with one hand as if he were bored. "Let's end this quickly. My tea's getting cold."
But before Xiao Lu could strike, the corrupted monk's wild laughter cut through the air again. "Pests… You… all die!" he roared, his rage boiling over.
Staggering back to his feet, the monk stomped on the ground with such force that the entire hall quaked.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
The entire ground trembled like a leaf in a storm, sending people scrambling to keep their footing.
Suddenly, a voice bood from the sky. "Hey, kid, stop making such a scene!
From the sky descended a red-skinned boy, barely a ter tall, his chubby body gleaming with a strange, fiery light.
His appearance was that of a child, but his eyes carried the arrogance of a king.
In his hands, he held a spear adorned with golden embroidery, its sharp edge glinting ominously.
The irony of the scene was not lost on anyone.
The red boy, smaller than most mortals, was addressing the towering monk like a misbehaving child.
"Arghhhhh! Pests! Pests! I hate pests!" The monk's eyes widened, his unstable energy flaring as the red boy's words seed to ignite his fury even further.
His entire body trembled with barely restrained madness as he started crushing everything around him with reckless abandon.
The red boy raised an eyebrow, then sighed dramatically. "Right, right. Big bad tantrum. We've all seen it before." He lazily pointed his spear at the guards trembling nearby. "You lot, co at all at once! Let's get this over with.
I've got a nap scheduled."
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The guards opened fire, their bullets slicing through the air like rain, but the red boy moved as fast as the wind, his body a blur.
He danced through the bullets effortlessly, each strike of his spear knocking down ard and unard n alike.
"So weak!" he cackled as he leaped from one guard to the next, his spear spinning in a blur of red light. "Trash! Absolute trash! Your little toys are useless!"
"Hehe…" The boy's voice turned manic as he began to cut down the guards, each kill accompanied by his disturbingly childish laughter.
A scream tore through the air as a guest was split in half, blood splattering across the ruined hall.
Puchi! Puchi! Puchi!
The red boy didn't pause, continuing his massacre without hesitation, each kill more brutal than the last.
The scene was beyond comprehension. What had once been a festive wedding banquet had devolved into a blood-soaked nightmare.
'Do I have to deal with this myself…?' Xin ifang and Murong Shan exchanged tired glances, both realizing that they were rapidly running out of options.
And just as the blood-thirsty Red boy prepared to charge toward them, sothing astonishing happened.
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