Despite the elder's earnest counsel, the prince's arrogance remained unyielding, a stubborn flame that refused to be extinguished. He seemed utterly impervious to the wisdom offered, as if the very air of the Corrupted Region had inflated his ego to dangerous proportions.
As the tension mounted and the confrontation hung in the balance, the prince's hubris took center stage. In a moment of recklessness, he unleashed a torrent of insults upon Azrael, each word laced with venom, delivered with a sense of entitlement that knew no bounds. "You," he sneered, his voice dripping with condescension, "are nothing more than an object to me. I will snatch your precious wife and gift you as a plaything to the ugliest women in my kingdom."
The prince's words struck like a dagger, and the chill of his audacity was felt by all who heard them. But it was Bianca who felt it most deeply. Her anger flared, not only at the prince's insults but also at the dehumanization of her husband. Her eyes blazed with a fiery resolve, her emotions raw and unfiltered.
"You insolent fool!" Bianca's voice rang out, her anger palpable. "You dare reduce my husband to a mere plaything? You are blind to the power you face. But don't worry, I will show you."
In the heat of the moment, Bianca summoned the essence of her great Dao of Music. A magnificent lyre materialized in her hands, its ethereal strings vibrating with untamed energy. Her fingers danced upon the strings, creating a haunting melody that reverberated through the very souls of those who heard it.
As the otherworldly sound traveled through the army of nearly 2000 cultivators, an eerie stillness overcame them. Their bodies seized with paralysis, they lost control of their own movements. Chaos erupted as they turned upon each other, their limbs moving against their own will, attacking their fellow comrades. Panic and confusion swept through the ranks, turning the prince's grand army into a frenzied maelstrom of self-inflicted chaos.
The prince's once-confident demeanor crumbled, and panic crept into his voice as he desperately attempted to regain control. His words were laced with a mixture of fear and disbelief as the chaos around him spiraled out of his grasp. "What's happening? Stop this madness! Get a hold of yourselves!" he pleaded, but his commands were drowned out by the bedlam that had engulfed his army. The authority that he had once wielded so freely had crumbled into insignificance before the unleashed power of Bianca's music, leaving the prince in a state of desperation and disarray.
Bianca's eyes blazed with fierce satisfaction as she continued to play the lyre, her emotions a tempest of righteous anger and indomitable strength. The Corrupted Region had become an arena where arrogance collided with power, and it was evident that the outcome of this confrontation would not only leave a resounding mark on the very essence of the land itself.
A maniacal laughter erupted from Bianca as her music continued to weave its spell. With dominating authority, she declared, "To anyone who dares cross my husband or insult even a single strand of his hair, know this: you will never find safety, no matter where you go. My music will haunt you for eternity."
"To someone as contemptible as you," Bianca declared with a steely resolve, her voice commanding, "you do not deserve to hear my beautiful notes. Only the haunting melody that can cut deep into your soul befits one such as you."
Azrael couldn't help but be captivated by the stark contrast between Bianca's immortal-like beauty and her eerily cruel actions. Her actions painted a haunting picture, one that seemed to emphasize her enigmatic and complex nature. It was a juxtaposition that both fascinated and perplexed him, adding an intriguing layer to the already intricate tapestry of their existence.
"Beautiful," he passionately uttered, his admiration for her growing with every note of her haunting melody.