The Wrath of the Thunder

My name is Bella Gabriel, the only legitimate daughter of the Hall of Thunder. Innate thunder elemental energy has flowed within me for three thousand years, long since fused with my very soul. Three thousand years of cultivation in the Heavenly Realm, day after day practicing thunder summoning, thunder evasion, and celestial thunder purification—these have become nothing but tiresome repetitions to me. The ground of the Hall of Thunder, paved with golden bricks, reflects the Thunderlight; the thunder pearl lanterns hanging from the ceiling burn eternal and bright, yet they cannot illuminate the curiosity in my heart for the mortal world. I lay beside my father's Thunder God throne, swaying the hem of my skirt adorned with Thunderlight; as it swept across the ground, it sparked delicate electric flames. This is my third entreaty, beseeching Father to grant me leave to descend to the mortal realm and endure the Tribulation, my tone laced with an unyielding stubbornness that brooks no refusal. "Father, I yearn only to behold the visage of mortal love," I lift my gaze toward his solemn countenance, "why does it compel immortals to willingly forfeit their celestial status? Why does it urge mortals to go through hardships, even at the cost of shattering their very flesh and bones?" My father's thunderous eyes lie as deep as an ink-black abyss, within them surge tempestuous clouds of unspent lightning. Thunderlight gathers and dissipates at his fingertips, a subtle harbinger of restrained wrath—the fury of the Thunder God, potent enough to cleave the Three Realms. "The mortal realm is fraught with suffering; greed, wrath, and delusion are but tribulations to be borne," my father's voice echoed, low and resonant as thunder rolling across the heavens. "Your immortal essence is pure and immaculate; should it be sullied by mortal defilement, it may never return unto its primordial source." He has never permitted me to be tainted by the mortal world, for the bloodline of the Thunder God clan tolerates no impurity. Yet I beseeched him for three full months, gentle and resolute, standing vigil day and night before the gates of the Hall of Thunder. I even staked a millennium of seclusion, vowing that upon my Tribulation's passing, I would devote myself wholly to cultivation and never again utter mortal matters. At last, my father sighed deeply, a sigh weighted with helplessness and apprehension. With a wave of his hand, he pressed a Talisman inscribed with Thunder Patterns into my palm; a gentle spark of Thunderlight from his fingertips, and my immortal soul was swept into a dazzling pillar of light: "Go forth, and taste the joys and sorrows of the mortal realm. Should you falter, crush this Thunder Talisman, and you shall return." In the final moment before my consciousness dissolved, I saw the tenderness in my father's eyes, and the silent tears my mother discreetly brushed away. A sudden pang of guilt flickered in my heart, only to be swiftly drowned by the exhilaration of stepping into mortal life. When I opened my eyes once more, I found myself wrapped in soft brocade, gentle whispers coaxing tenderly at my ear. The radiance of the Crystal Chandelier pierced my gaze, tassels adorning the carved canopy bed stirred lightly, and a subtle scent of milk lingered in the air. "My dear young lady, you have finally awakened," a woman clad in a simple cheongsam leaned over me, her eyes and brows suffused with kindness, "Henceforth, you shall be named Bella Gabriel, the treasured jewel of the Gabriel Group." She was my wet nurse who, for the ensuing twenty-two years, faithfully tended to my every need. I have become the sole daughter of the Gabriel Group, Bella Gabriel. My father in the mortal realm, Daniel Gabriel, is a titan of commerce; my mother, Mia Scott, a lady of noble lineage. They have cherished me as a true daughter favored by the heavens. From my first babblings to my poised blossoming, I have dwelt in a standalone villa graced with gardens and pools, adorned in haute couture gowns, attended by devoted drivers and vigilant bodyguards. Yet material abundance can never fill the void within my heart—mortal days seem even more wearisome than those within the Heavenly Realm. Twenty-two years have passed in the blink of an eye; I have been raised beneath the radiant halo of the richest heiress, encircled by sycophantic friends and fervent suitors alike. What they coveted was nothing but the wealth and status of the Gabriel Family; none truly understood the solitude that dwells within my heart. It was not until the Christmas charity banquet in my twenty-third year, held within the grandest hall of the city's most opulent hotel, that I encountered Harry Shaw. That evening's gathering was a constellation of nobility and prestige, where fragrant silks and whispered shadows intertwined, and glasses were raised in ceaseless revelry. The wealthy merchants and celebrated figures laughed and spoke with carefree ease, their discourse incessantly revolving around commerce, connections, and exchanges of advantage, filling me with profound weariness. I quietly slipped into a side chamber of the banquet hall, where I espied a solitary figure crouched in a shadowed corner, tenderly feeding a stray cat with cautious care. That cat had somehow wandered into the hotel, its body filthy, shriveling and trembling in the corner. He wore a perfectly tailored black suit, an exquisite bow tie fastened at his shirt collar, free from the flamboyance and arrogance of other scions of wealth. The warm yellow light fell upon his face, softening his sharp contours; the tenderness in his eyes was like the gentle rain of a spring night, quietly saturating my heart. He sliced the steak on his plate into small pieces and patiently fed the cat, his movements gentle and his gaze intent. At that moment, the surrounding clamor fell silent, and my gaze could no longer stray from him. He seemed to perceive my gaze, and as he lifted his head, a faint smile graced his lips. That smile was pure and warm, polite yet without servility, bearing no trace of contrived flattery toward a wealthy heiress.