THE SOVEREIGN GOD'S MORTAL VENGEANCE!

2.

Breathing heavily, Long Bai—who now inhabited the body of Lucas Wine and was determined to become a new Lucas—exhaled a gust of foul air from his mouth. A thin streak of blackish smoke spurted out, carrying the remnants of dead blood and impurities from deep within his internal organs.

Fifteen minutes passed. It was a brief moment in time, yet excruciatingly agonizing.

Lucas slowly opened his eyes. His gaze was weary from immense fatigue, yet beneath his bruised eyelids, the spark of his haughty pride remained unquenched. He tried to shift his shoulders.

Crack! Clack!

A faint sound of grinding bones echoed inside his chest cavity.

"Ugh..." Lucas groaned softly, wiping the cold sweat that drenched his pale forehead.

Is that all? After fifteen minutes of exerting the Primordial Supreme God Cultivation Technique—a Heavenly-grade technique he had created himself, capable of absorbing the energy of an entire continent in an instant—the results he obtained were completely beyond expectation.

Not only was the Qi energy in this world pitifully sparse, but it was also contaminated by strange impurities. To make matters worse, Lucas's blood vessels were ruined beyond recognition from years of relentless abuse. The Qi energy he managed to gather from the cold night air was barely enough to repair a few of his cracked ribs and reset his dislocated shoulder joint. Meanwhile, the bruises covering his body, the bleeding cuts, and most critically, the foundational damage to his soul... remained completely untouched.

"Tch! Truly trash among all trash!" Lucas spat onto the dusty wooden floor. Thick blood clots stained his spittle.

"This body is like a leaking vessel. Gathering even a tiny sliver of Qi nearly bursts its blood vessels. If I force it to absorb any more Qi, this physical form will blow itself apart before I even get the chance to take my revenge!"

He clutched his chest, which still throbbed with pain. Although his bones no longer scraped together excruciatingly when he moved, his current physical strength was not even superior to an ordinary soldier in the Immortal World. He was considered nothing more than TRASH!

Just as Lucas was busy regulating his breath and planning his next step to cleanse his wretched body, heavy, hurried footsteps suddenly resounded down the outer corridor.

BANG!

The dilapidated wooden door of the room where Lucas lay was kicked open, snapping off its hinges and crashing to the floor!

A cold night wind rushed in, carrying a pungent stench of alcohol along with the figures of two heavily built men clad in the armor of the Wine family servants. They held lanterns in their left hands and thick wooden clubs in their right.

"Heh! The bastard child is still breathing!" yelled one of the guards, a bald man, laughing mockingly.

The second guard, who had a large mole on his chin, stepped forward two paces and shone the lantern's glare directly into Lucas's face.

"Young Master Edward sent us to check on you, Lucas! He was worried he beat you too hard this afternoon and killed you. But it seems your life is as tough as a cockroach!"

The guard with the mole stepped forward arrogantly. Raising his wooden club, he pointed it straight at his chest...

"Get up, Trash! Young Master Edward is summoning you to the back hall. He needs a new 'target board' for his archery practice tonight. If you're late by a single second, the two of us will break your left leg!"

The atmosphere inside the small room suddenly turned freezing cold. It was not because of the night wind, but rather the suffocating killing intent radiating from Lucas, who sat cross-legged on the floor.

For Lucas did not tremble. He did not weep or beg for mercy as the 'Lucas' of the past used to do.

He slowly raised his head. A gaze as cold as eternal ice from the depths of hell pierced straight into the eyes of the two guards.

"How dare two mere guard dogs of the Wine estate bark and point at me?"

The two guards froze for a moment. The atmosphere in the filthy room, which was previously stuffy, instantly turned heavy and oppressive, as if an invisible weight was pressing down on their chests. However, that brief shock was quickly replaced by burning rage, fueled by alcohol and wounded pride.

Since when did a skinny dog they routinely kicked around dare to look at them with such eyes?

"What did you say, Trash?!" The bald guard growled in fury, his face—already flushed red from the alcohol—turning as red as a boiled crab.

He stomped forward violently, making the dusty wooden floor creak loudly. He gripped the thick wooden club in his hand even tighter.

"How dare you call us dogs, Lucas!" barked the guard with the mole, pointing the tip of his wooden club directly at Lucas's forehead.

"Have you forgotten who you are?! You're just a bastard child! The dirty blood of a cheap servant girl whom the Head of the Wine family accidentally bedded... And then that slut died miserably in a horse stable!"

"That's right! HAHAHAHAHA!" The bald guard's mocking laughter erupted again, attempting to mask the uncomfortable, creeping chill that suddenly ran up his spine when meeting Lucas's gaze.

"Did you forget your disgraceful mother died in poverty and starvation, and you are nothing more than the lingering filth she left behind?! You don't even deserve to breathe beneath the roof of the Wine Family!"

Venomous insult after insult spilled from the mouths of the two guards. The past memories of the original Lucas suddenly surged within Long Bai's mind... As a former God Emperor, he could feel how deeply painful those insults were to the original owner of this body. A mother who never knew a moment of happiness, dying in agony without a single soul to defend her.

Yet, instead of leaving Lucas crushed or weeping as usual, the insults sparked a faint, spine-chilling chuckle from his throat.

"Hahaha..."

The laugh was soft, yet its coldness was enough to freeze the blood of anyone who heard it.

"My mother may have passed away in suffering..." Lucas slowly stood up. Every movement was deliberate, momentarily ignoring the excruciating pain from the bones that had just fused back together without mercy.

Though his frame was frail and covered in bruises, his posture now stood as upright as an eternal sword ready to cleave the heavens. The sheer arrogance of a God Emperor radiated from him, exploding without restraint.

Lucas now looked down upon the two guards from head to toe, as if gazing at two worthless piles of filth.

"But the two of you..." Lucas whispered, his eyes narrowing with dense killing intent. "...will precede her to hell tonight."