The Deity of War - Chapter 95: Smashed Head

Hey Guys, this story is written by Sinyk on fanfic net. This is not my work. The only reason I am putting this up is because someone has copied Sinyk's entire work word-for-word on this site (claiming it as his own: Harry Potter and the 7 angers), releasing it at a snail's pace, and is also making money off of it on patreon. Pisses me off to no end.Art is by CruderFive1 on DeviantArt-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe belongs to JK Rowling, Scholastic, Bloomsbury, Warner Bros and some other high falutin' companies. Me, I'm just a PR professional. I don't profess to own - and would never dream of making any money off - JKR's wonderful world. However, its her sandbox and she's left the gate unlatched so we can go in and play a bit. Which, I've done.-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Okay, guys and... guyettes,This one is of epic length. And by that I mean really really long. For those who sent me a note about 'Four Heirs' and thought it long - well, this one blows that one out of the water for length. So, if something only up to - say - 150k words is your cup o' tea, then this isn't for you. No sir-ree! This story hits approximately 480k words.To stop all the whining and bitching right now - yeah, like that's ever going to happen - you'll figure out this is a 'Haphne' story; Dumbledore is (somewhat) good but still manipulative as per canon; Ron's an ineffective non-entity; Snape tries to keep sticking his beak in - and get's it repeatedly thwacked with a rolled-up newspaper; McGonagall gets over her hero-worship of DumDum (I mean, Dumbledore); Hermione is a good friend; Sirius is free; kids are kids; and teenagers are walking bags of hormones.The story follows canon a lot; and I've even included many quoted sections out of the books. I didn't do this to pinch JKR's works. Rather, it's in there to demonstrate similarities while being a different story. So, no biatching about that, either. You've been well and truly warned.Yours,Da crazy bastard who thinks he's an author.

Song Cheng transmigrated and became a blind errand boy in a medicine shop in a remote town.Fortunately, after he found a wife who did not disdain him, his “Golden Finger” also followed.Demons and ghosts roamed the Chaotic World, Profound Techniques went with Occult Sciences, Divine Weapons dazzled the cosmos, the Yin and Yang were inexhaustible.Song Cheng did not seek to dominate as a king, he simply wished to live his life well....This is the story of a person with Longevity, who walked through long years and witnessed innumerable Dynasties.

Tang Qiu was a substitute bride–forced to take her half-sister’s place and marry the young master of the Jiang family, a deformed cripple with less than 6 months left to live.

“Who would have thought that even a sickly whelp like Jiang Shaocheng would find himself a bride?”

“I hear that he’s practically on his deathbed and he’s only marrying the Fengs’ daughter to improve his lifespan.”

Tang Qiu ignored the whispers around her and focused on her husband-to-be, who coughed violently in his wheelchair. At the altar, after they had said their vows, she lifted her veil and knelt in front of Jiang Shaocheng, pressing a hesitant kiss to his lips.

The marriage contract was signed. No matter his physical deformities, he was now her husband.

She wasn’t afraid of the scars that marked his face, nor was she repulsed by him being confined to a wheelchair. Every morning, she made him breakfast, attended to his needs, and thought of little else beyond her duties as a wife.

“Young Master Jiang is a cripple who can’t get it up,” her best friend argued. “When he dies, you’ll still be untouched. You should set your sights higher.”

“A sickly invalid like Jiang Shaocheng can’t give you happiness,” her ex-boyfriend insisted. “I’ll wait for you.”

But Young Master Jiang only scoffed. “I have plenty of time left to be with her.”

Later in their marriage, Jiang Shaocheng wanted to enjoy his little wife in all ways–the press of her lips against his, the brush of skin on skin; the way a husband and wife were supposed to. But Tang Qiu refused him, blushing. “No, we can’t. The doctor says you can’t exert yourself.”

Jiang Shaocheng’s desire was surging through him, a heat in his core that demanded to be satiated. He cursed, I should have gotten rid of that doctor and the wheelchair long ago.

But he yearned to make love to his little wife, and so he revealed his true identity. In the blink of an eye, the deformed cripple transformed into a powerful businessman–tall, dark, and handsome. He quieted Tang Qiu’s protests, his body positioned over hers, his arms caging her as she lay on the bed. His voice was low when he asked, “What about now?”