Chapter Fifty-four: I Am the Mad Dog, Part Three: Beaten to a Pulp

Thunder surged through the waist-high tall grass, his speed like a shooting star, his movements as swift and fierce as a leopard, or a celestial dragon. He seemed almost to glide atop the grass, racing soundlessly across the landscape.

But within, his heart was a furnace of rage.

Just moments before, he had received a report from Huang Xiwen: on Shui Yao Immortal’s position transmitter, there was an exceedingly covert communication chip. Had it not been for Bei Shiliang’s intuition and timely discovery, and his destruction of the chip in the nick of time, the device would have triggered the explosives still partially installed on the plane. More than two hundred souls—his entire squad, the rescued Cao Jingren, children barely two years old, elders over seventy, citizens of the Republic and passengers from other countries—would have perished in a cataclysmic blast, swept away by the shockwave, obliterated beneath a mushroom cloud that would light up half the sky.

“Damn it!” Thunder’s fury erupted.

How could such a person exist in this world, one so utterly indifferent to human life? For the sake of a petty mission, willing to slay friend and foe alike, detonating two hundred people without the slightest hesitation? This was madness beyond comprehension!

Fueled by wrath, Thunder’s speed surged again.

He could not know that his judgment of James Sam was uncannily identical to Shui Yao Immortal’s. Nor could he know that, at that very moment, Shui Yao Immortal was painstakingly weaving her slender fingers into a series of mysterious gestures—gestures of the most rudimentary divination, simple for her in ordinary times, but now weighted as if a thousand pounds pressed upon her hands. Each movement was laborious, every action heavy with strain.

In those brief seconds, Shui Yao Immortal seemed to endure centuries. After coughing up another mouthful of blood, her face was drained of color, but a cold light of joy flashed in her eyes.

“Could it be you?” she murmured inwardly, and before her mind’s eye appeared those black, gem-like eyes, sparkling with boundless radiance...

There were no crowds on this island. Thunder’s all-out sprint covered the dozen kilometers in mere minutes, and before him loomed the colossal statue of the Radiant Holy Emperor!

This monument stood a hundred meters tall, its base more than twenty meters on each side, constructed entirely from hard stone quarried from the island’s seabed—rugged yet intricately designed. The statue was pure white, undiminished by centuries of wind and rain.

Facing the sea, one hand pointed forward, the other rested gently upon its chest, as though guiding lost ships or offering direction to those who had lost their way.

From Thunder’s perspective, only the statue’s profile was visible, yet even this side revealed an endless majesty, an invisible pressure descending from the heights.

Twenty meters from the statue, a tall, robust figure stood defiantly, hands clasped behind his back, staring unblinkingly at Thunder’s rapid approach. Surprise flickered on his face, but arrogance was his dominant expression.

James Sam!

Thunder’s eyes narrowed into dangerous slits, cold light flashing. With a sudden burst of speed, his already swift form accelerated impossibly further.

“Damn you!” he roared, his body charging like a runaway train, wind howling as he barreled straight toward James Sam.

When he was just over a meter away, Thunder’s right fist shot from his waist like lightning, aimed directly at James Sam’s face.

This punch was devoid of flourish and technique, but with Thunder’s full strength behind it, the force was terrifying, the speed meteoric. It seemed to crackle with thunder, exuding unstoppable dominance.

For an instant, James Sam experienced an illusion—the punch had broken the sound barrier!

James Sam never expected such a sudden, wordless assault, nor did he anticipate the sheer power and speed. In desperation, he summoned all his strength to his arms, muscles bulging and threatening to tear his black shirt. With a shout, he met Thunder’s fists head-on.

Boom!

The collision echoed like thunder, an invisible shockwave radiating outward, flattening the surrounding grass in sweeping circles, as if a massive whirlpool had formed.

James Sam’s body flew backward like a kite with a snapped string, slamming against the statue behind him. He managed to land on his feet, but dizziness overwhelmed him, and his fists instinctively shielded his face.

“What the hell!” Thunder was shocked. “How is that possible?”

Though James Sam had used both fists to block, and was ultimately knocked back, Thunder’s punch carried all his strength, fueled by hatred, transcending human limits. Yet his opponent was merely thrown back, not gravely injured.

Even Thunder felt his arm suddenly heavy, unable to follow through—this was a first in his twenty years of life, not even Huang Xiwen or Wu Yun could match it!

But Thunder had no time for further thought. He lunged forward, feigning a left punch before James Sam’s eyes, then swung his right hand at his opponent’s chest.

James Sam, just regaining clarity, saw Thunder pounce like a tiger. As an expert in global martial arts, he knew the left punch was a feint, meant to distract, while the right was the true killer. If struck, injury would be inevitable!

Clear-headed, James Sam ignored the left, channeling all his strength into his arms to meet Thunder’s right fist.

Bang! Another collision. James Sam felt as if a mountain had crashed upon him. With a roar, his arms strained, producing a series of firecracker-like pops as he barely withstood the attack.

This punch seemed less potent than the first, but before he could comprehend why, a thunderous impact struck—an unexpected, brutal kick smashed into his groin.

A piercing scream tore from James Sam’s lips, agony searing through every nerve, his body sent flying three meters into the air.

Before James Sam could land, Thunder leapt high, delivering an upward hook in midair, pounding James Sam’s abdomen with unrestrained force.

This blow combined the Western striking hook, the precise power of the Jade-Breaking Fist, and the circular force of Taiji, blending hardness and softness into an unstoppable assault. Unable to withstand it, James Sam spat blood.

Then, Thunder’s fists rained down like a hailstorm, pummeling James Sam relentlessly. Finally, a vicious uppercut struck his jaw, and with a resonant hum, James Sam’s mind reeled, falling to this unorthodox, anonymous opponent in a single punch.

With a heavy thud, James Sam crashed to the earth. Immediately, a booted foot landed savagely on his spine; he felt his entire vertebrae collapse, a muffled groan escaping as his body went limp and unconscious.

Before losing consciousness, James Sam heard his adversary spit out a venomous curse: “To hell with you!”

But this was far from over. Thunder, unconcerned by his foe’s blackout, hauled the limp body upright and landed another brutal punch to James Sam’s face, cursing, “You bastard, hijacking a plane!”

James Sam was sent flying again, blood spraying from his face.

The splattering blood seemed to awaken the most ferocious instincts within Thunder. With eyes glowing red, he slammed another punch into James Sam’s abdomen, sending him airborne again: “You bastard, planting a bomb!”

When James Sam fell, Thunder kicked him in the chest, smashing him against the Radiant Holy Emperor’s statue: “You bastard, treating human life as nothing!”

Thunder, pent up with rage all the way here, now seemed possessed by madness. He surged forward, fists and feet raining down like a storm—head, shoulder, arm, elbow, chest, abdomen, thigh, knee, ankle... Every bone and inch of flesh on James Sam’s body was subjected to relentless, merciless assault.

After five minutes, battered by untold thousands of blows, James Sam’s body was reduced to shattered pulp—save for his skull, not a bone or muscle remained intact. Yet his skin was unbroken, his body limp and soft as a ruined rag doll, his oversized head drooping pitifully—a sight both terrifying and pitiable.

The five-minute beating seemed to drain Thunder’s fury. His red, feral eyes faded back to their sharp, cool black. With a flick of his left foot, he tossed James Sam into the air; his right leg snapped up, launching him with the force of a catapult.

James Sam’s body soared dozens of meters, hung upon the outstretched finger of the Radiant Holy Emperor’s statue, swaying in the sea breeze.

“Son of a bitch!”