Aurora didn't immediately answer Tristan's question. Instead, she tapped into her spiritual sense, seeking out the expression on her groom-to-be's face.
She was right—there it was, a subtle, knowing smile playing at the corners of Quinn's lips.
It was a smile that confirmed her worst suspicions: Quinn had been the one to heal Tristan's grave injuries, something no one else in the city would have dared attempt, let alone succeed at.
In another time, another place, she might have felt relief at knowing Tristan was whole again. Perhaps even gratitude for Quinn's intervention.
But now, those emotions were drowned by the weight of the situation.
The fragile equilibrium they had managed to build was teetering on the edge of disaster, and she knew this confrontation could lead to devastating consequences for everyone involved.
Aurora kept her composure, but the tension was evident in the way she stood, her back straight, her eyes unwavering.
She couldn't allow her emotions to break through the mask she wore, not now.
Instead, she used an ancient trick, a signal she and Tristan had devised centuries ago when they were still young cultivators.
She blinked her eyes three times, rapidly and in succession—an unspoken message of danger, one only he would understand.
"You shouldn't have come, Tristan," she said, her voice calm but laced with hidden meaning. "I've already given my heart to another."
Sword Saint Tristan froze, the words striking him with unexpected force.
His mind raced back to a thousand years ago when he and Aurora had been nothing more than fledgling cultivators, struggling through the Qi Gathering Realm.
The blink, that silent, shared signal of impending danger, had saved both their lives more times than he could count. And now, she was using it again.
But why?
Tristan's heart clenched. He knew Aurora better than anyone. Her words were a cover, a diversion from the truth that only they shared.
Still, the thought of her being with another man—of her marrying Quinn—sent a wave of jealousy and anger surging through him.
He had known her for centuries, fought beside her, bled for her. How could he simply stand by and watch her hand be given to someone else? Impossible.
"I know, Aurora," he said, his voice low, as if trying to contain the storm of emotions roiling inside him. "But how do you expect me to just stand here and watch you marry another man? You know that's impossible. I would even kill gods if they dared come between us!"
His words were filled with both anguish and defiance, each syllable a reflection of the love and pain that had built over centuries.
He couldn't walk away, not this time. His gaze shifted from Aurora to Quinn, and his eyes narrowed as he took in the man who stood beside her.
There was something more here, a story he didn't yet understand.
How had this man—a nobody, as far as Tristan was concerned—managed to entangle himself with someone as powerful and complex as Aurora?
Quinn, meanwhile, stood his ground, his face still wearing that enigmatic smile.
It was as if he found the entire situation amusing, like he was playing a game only he knew the rules to.
That infuriating smile didn't sit well with Tristan. In fact, it only stoked the flames of his growing resentment.
Tristan's hand instinctively tightened around the hilt of his sword, the legendary blade humming with barely restrained energy.
He had battled countless foes, vanquished enemies that others would have fled from in terror, but this confrontation felt different.
This was personal.
Without hesitation, Tristan pointed his sword directly at Quinn, the tip gleaming ominously in the light.
"I'll deal with you first," Tristan declared, his voice colder now, filled with the kind of resolve that had made him a legend.
His words were as sharp as the blade he wielded, and the air around them seemed to grow heavier, charged with the anticipation of a duel that could shake the very foundations of the city.
Gasps rippled through the crowd as the tension escalated.
Everyone knew that this was no mere dispute. A clash between a Sword Saint and anyone else, especially in such a setting, could lead to untold destruction.
The gathered guests, many of them cultivators in their own right, exchanged uneasy glances.
Some whispered amongst themselves, speculating about the true nature of this confrontation, while others stepped back, giving the two men space, fearing they might be caught in the crossfire.
But Quinn didn't flinch. Instead, his smile deepened, a calm and calculating expression that seemed to mock the threat standing before him.
He didn't need to draw a weapon or make a grand gesture. His power was beyond such theatrics.
The expression he exuded was quiet and composed, like the calm before a storm.
Aurora's heart pounded violently in her chest, each beat reverberating in her ears, but she couldn't afford to show weakness. The weight of the situation pressed down on her, yet her face remained calm, her voice steady. "Tristan, don't do this," she pleaded, her tone soft yet firm.
"There are many women out there who deserve your love and affection, women far worthier than someone like me… someone who's broken her oath of fidelity." The words left her lips, a carefully constructed facade, but beneath the surface, her mind raced with desperation.
Without shifting her expression, she sent another message, this one carried on the waves of her spiritual sense, cutting through the air with silent urgency.
"Run! He killed Master Magnus! Tristan, escape now!"
The mental cry was filled with panic and fear, a stark contrast to her outward calm. Her mind screamed for Tristan to flee, to leave before it was too late, yet the Sword Saint stood, his eyes narrowing, trying to comprehend what was happening.
Aurora's body, driven by another will she could not resist, moved of its own accord, reacting before even she could fully grasp the unfolding danger.
Suddenly, a deep, resonating sound echoed through the air.
"DING!" The sky above Lotus Grove City rippled as a colossal formation manifested, its intricate lines stretching across the heavens, encasing the entire city in an impenetrable barrier.
In the blink of an eye, Tristan was ensnared, caught within the delicate yet deadly web that materialized around him.
It resembled the intricate weave of a spider's web, gleaming with the ominous glow of spiritual energy, each thread pulsing with power.
The web tightened around Tristan like the jaws of a predator preparing to devour its prey. His body tensed as he attempted to break free, the aura of a Sword Saint flaring as he unleashed his strength.
The web shifted, changing shapes several times, writhing like a living entity, reacting to each surge of Tristan's power. But for all his might, for all his attempts to cut through the formation, it was no use.
The struggle lasted mere moments—barely a dozen breaths—before his spiritual essence began to drain. Slowly at first, then faster, until the Sword Saint's energy was completely depleted.
The web pulsed with a final flare, and Tristan's body sagged within its grip, defeated.
"That formation…" A murmur rippled through the onlookers, disbelief written on their faces.
The once serene and peaceful Lotus Grove City was now enveloped in a formation so fearsome that few had ever witnessed its like.
"That's a heavenly rank formation—the Void Silk Trap Formation!" an elder cultivator exclaimed, his voice tinged with shock. His wizened eyes widened as he stared at the massive structure encasing Tristan.
"It's said to be able to subdue even a peak Celestial Ascension realm expert with ease. If this conflict hadn't broken out, none of us would've known that Lady Aurora had such a powerful formation up her sleeves."
Around him, the other cultivators could only stare in stunned silence, their gazes shifting from the defeated Sword Saint to the mysterious figure of Aurora.
She stood in the center of it all, her aura commanding, her eyes sharp, though the tension beneath her calm exterior lingered.
No one had suspected that such a terrifying formation had been lying in wait, ready to strike at a moment's notice.
Aurora's breath came in ragged gasps, her chest heaving as the weight of her spiritual essence ebbed away, siphoned by the heavenly rank formation she had unleashed.
This was the price—an unavoidable cost for wielding such a powerful and huge formation.
The Void Silk Trap Formation was her greatest safeguard. She had acquired it years ago, after paying a steep price, both in resources and in blood, after the tragedy that had struck her life a decade ago.
She had always been prepared for the possibility of a new enemy, a fresh danger lurking just beyond the horizon.
But never in her wildest nightmares had she foreseen using it against Tristan—the man she loved more than life itself.
The thought of him, sealed and helpless in the very web she had conjured, tore at her heart, but there was no room for regret now. The trap had been sprung, and her fate was set.
Aurora's body moved again, driven by a will that was not entirely her own. With a flick of her wrist, she guided the immobilized, helpless form of the Sword Saint.
His body, once powerful and commanding, now limp and unresponsive, hovered in the air, bound by the formation's unyielding strands of spiritual energy.
She directed him into the depths of one of the dungeons beneath the Thorne Clan estate, a place few ever left once they were cast within.
Aurora desperately wanted to regain control of her body, but she found herself just as helplessly trapped as Sword Saint Tristan.
"Well done, my love," came a proud, arrogant voice from behind her. The young master, her soon-to-be husband, stepped forward, his eyes gleaming with smug satisfaction.
"That man dared to covet my woman," he spat, his lip curling in disdain as he looked down on the ground at the place where Tristan's sealed body disappeared.
"Tomorrow, I shall personally see to his punishment. He'll be tortured for daring to even look at you." His voice swelled with venom, puffed up with his own sense of importance, the cruelty in his tone unmistakable.
Aurora said nothing, her heart a tangled mess of regret, guilt, and sorrow. She didn't meet his gaze, couldn't bear to.
Instead, she turned her eyes toward the cold stone floor of the dungeon grounds, her thoughts consumed by the man she had just condemned.
Tristan, once strong and proud, now lay at the mercy of the one person she despised the most. Her groom.
Aurora inhaled deeply, forcing herself to adopt the mask she had worn for so many years.
She straightened her back and forced a smile, one that would convince even the sharpest observer that she was at peace with her choices.
"Let him rot in the dungeons," she said coolly, her voice devoid of the emotion swirling within her. "I don't care." She turned to Quinn, her smile growing sweeter, more eager to please. "But for now, don't we have a wedding to finish, my dear?"
The shift in her demeanor was immediate. With practiced ease, she slid her arm through Quinn's, as though she truly were the loving bride about to marry the man of her dreams.
Her smile, though beautiful, was hollow—her heart fractured beneath the surface.
Since she couldn't change the trajectory of today's events, Aurora resolved to hasten them and be done with it. Her fate was sealed, and she was ready to accept it with open arms.
She would not give our op evil MC the satisfaction of seeing her flinch in the face of absolute defeat. Aurora would deny him that pleasure.
Quinn, quite aware to her inner turmoil, grinned broadly, pleased with her response.
He had not expected less from someone who had faced countless tribulations in her more than a thousand years of existence.
"Yes, my love, we shall celebrate! The city will remember this day forever." He gave a loud, boisterous laugh, puffing up his chest in pride. Yes, our op evil mc can also act and can act well indeed.