"Are you hoping someone might try to steal you away tonight, as that madman did ten years ago?" our OP evil MC asked, his voice calm but edged with a trace of amusement.
His eyes lingered on his fresh bride, Lady Aurora, whose beauty had only grown more radiant with time. He knew well the tale of the madman who had once dared to covet her.
On her previous wedding night, the madman had plotted to steal her away, a twisted act born from obsession. But his plan had been thwarted when Sword Saint Tristan intervened, cutting him down.
The price, however, had been steep—Tristan sacrificed his very soul in the process, a hero's tragic end. Love, he mused, has a way of making fools out of both men and women alike.
Aurora's eyes flickered, but her expression remained serene. "Of course not," she replied with a soft smile, her voice steady. "I'm just looking forward to finally becoming a real woman. You should know that I've kept my purity for more than a thousand years. It's time to lose it, don't you think?"
Her words hung in the air, their meaning clear but laced with a deeper truth. She had mastered the art of playing the docile, faithful wife—a mask she wore not for herself, but for the people she loved, for the legacy of the Harlow clan.
Duty bound her, as much as any vow, to protect those who depended on her. The weight of that responsibility was not one she took lightly.
But behind her composed exterior lay a heart that had witnessed centuries of darkness. Aurora had seen her fair share of cruelty and ambition in the cultivation world.
She had learned, through painful experience, that power often bred selfishness, and those who wielded it could be ruthless.
She knew the wickedness of those who sought to advance themselves at the expense of others, and how quickly they would strike if given the opportunity.
She had spent lifetimes fending off those who wished her harm or sought to use her for their own gain.
Her beauty, once seen as a blessing, had become a curse—a beacon drawing in those with dangerous desires.
"Then let us hope tonight proceeds without any interruptions," he said smoothly, though the spark in his eyes suggested he would welcome a little excitement. And indeed, a little excitement he did bring.
"BANG!" The heavy doors flew open with a thunderous crash, splintering the silence of the room as they flung wide to reveal the disheveled figure of a man.
Sword Saint Tristan, once a beacon of unwavering strength and dignity, now lay crumpled on the floor, hurled in by an unseen force that seemed to mock the very essence of his former glory.
His elegant robes, now torn and bloodied, clung to his sweat-slicked skin, and his breath came in ragged gasps. He blinked, dazed, struggling to regain his bearings.
For a moment, he lay there, his mind a fog of disoriented thoughts, but soon enough, the legendary resilience of the Sword Saint kicked in.
He could feel the strength returning to his limbs, the numbness in his legs dissipating as his senses sharpened. In just a dozen breaths, Tristan pushed himself upright, steadying his swaying body.
His heart pounded as he slowly lifted his gaze, his vision clearing to reveal the room he had been so violently thrown into.
The sight that met his eyes was one he could never have prepared for.
A man, cold and sinister, stood calmly by the bed, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement and cruelty.
And next to him, draped in a thin, seductive gown that barely concealed her ethereal beauty, stood Lady Aurora. The soft fabric clung to her perfect form, its transparency leaving little to the imagination.
The moonlight filtering through the window cast a pale glow over her, making her appear otherworldly, like an untouchable goddess.
But to Tristan, she was so much more—she was the woman he had loved with every fiber of his being.
The sight of her stirred a storm of emotions within him, each one warring for dominance.
His heart ached at the sight of her so near, so vulnerable, yet standing by the side of a man he despised with every breath in his body.
Hatred for the man beside her surged within him, and his fists clenched in fury. But love—love for Aurora—burned even stronger.
It was a love that had never faded, not even after their separation, not even after everything that had happened.
He had sacrificed so much for her, had given up his very soul to protect her, and now, seeing her here, in this compromising situation, his heart broke all over again.
"Oh? It seems I may have spoken too soon," our OP evil MC drawled, his voice dripping with mockery as he eyed Tristan with a smirk.
His cold, calculating gaze flickered between the Sword Saint and Lady Aurora, a knowing glint in his eyes. "Tsk, tsk. I didn't expect a guest. Nope. Not at all in the slightest."
Tristan's jaw clenched, barely containing his fury. His hand twitched instinctively, reaching for his sword within his storage ring, but before he could act, an invisible force froze him in place.
"BOOM!" The Sword Saint doubled over, gasping, as an invisible force slammed into his stomach with brutal precision.
He coughed violently, blood spraying from his lips, the blow not fatal but merciless in its intensity.
Pain radiated through his body, sharper than anything he had ever endured, leaving him struggling to catch his breath.
His legs shook beneath him, yet he was helplessly lifted back to his feet, as though pulled up by unseen strings, forced to stand against his will while agony coursed through his every nerve.
And then, Lady Aurora stepped forward towards her ex-husband.
Her movements were slow, deliberate, but there was an unmistakable trembling in her hands as she lifted her gaze to meet the MC's.
The perfect mask of serenity she had worn since her defeat at the hands of our op evil mc began to crack, the weight of the moment bearing down on her.
Now, her carefully constructed facade was slipping.
"There is no need for this," she whispered, her voice strained and trembling. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, knuckles white with tension. "Take him away, or I will do everything in my power to fight you to my death."
Her words, though soft, echoed with desperation. This was her bottom line, the line she could not allow to be crossed.
She had already accepted her fate—had resigned herself to the fact that she would have to give her body to this man, this monster, in order to protect the ones she loved.
She had steeled herself for the inevitable, determined to keep her heart locked away even as she sacrificed her body. But not like this. Not in front of Tristan.
Tristan, her former husband, the man she had once given her heart to, the man who had sacrificed his very soul for her—he could not see her like this.
She could not let him witness this moment of ultimate surrender. Her heart pounded in her chest, a storm of emotions threatening to overtake her, but she forced herself to stand firm.
She had to protect Tristan, even if it meant breaking her own heart all over again.
The tension in the room was unbearable, thick with unspoken emotions and barely restrained violence.
Tristan's gaze locked onto Aurora's, and for a fleeting moment, their shared past flashed between them—a time when love was simpler, when they had only each other, before the world had torn them apart.
Aurora's hands trembled as she looked at him, her bottom line crumbling before her eyes.
She had faced death, cruelty, and the darkness of the cultivation world, but this—this was something she was not prepared for.
"I will not let this happen," she whispered, more to herself than to the two men in the room.
The MC tilted his head, watching her with mild interest, as though amused by the emotional drama unfolding before him. "Is that so?" he mused, his voice dripping with mock curiosity. "Do you truly believe you have the power to stop me?"
Aurora's heart pounded, her breath catching in her throat as she met his gaze, defiance flickering in her eyes. She was no helpless maiden, and yet, in this moment, she felt trapped—trapped between her past and her present, between love and duty, between Tristan and the MC.
"…" A violent, blood-red aura enveloped Lady Aurora, pulsating with raw, desperate energy.
Her eyes blazed with determination as she summoned every ounce of her strength, her only remaining option—the grim resolve to self-destruct, to take her life and perhaps end this nightmare once and for all.
The aura flared around her, glowing brighter, hotter, until suddenly, it flickered and vanished, leaving the room in eerie silence. The energy she had summoned was gone, as though it had never existed.
"You can't even take your life to end it all." Our OP evil MC's voice cut through the quiet, laced with cruel amusement. He watched her with a smirk, savoring her helplessness.
"I won't allow that, my love. Your life and death are mine to control." His grin widened, the satisfaction of her failed attempt plain on his face.
To him, it was little more than a futile parlor trick, a last-ditch effort to defy him. He barely saw it as a threat—only a sad display of defiance.
Lady Aurora's shoulders slumped, the weight of her situation pressing down on her like an unbearable force.
Tears welled in her eyes, unbidden, and before she could stop them, they spilled over, streaming down her cheeks.
She had lived for over a thousand years, seen more than most could imagine, but this—this was the deepest kind of helplessness.
She couldn't fight him, couldn't protect herself, and worse, she couldn't protect those she loved.
Her tears only fueled the dark amusement in our MC's eyes.
"Oh, come now, don't cry," he said, his voice mockingly soft. "Don't think I'm a cruel man. No, far from it." He stood tall, his posture casual, as though this entire situation were merely an amusing diversion for him.
"I'm giving you a choice, Aurora. I'm not some heartless monster." He paused, savoring the tension in the room. "Serve me. Obey my every word without question, and your clan will live. They'll thrive, even. Isn't that what you want?"
Aurora's breath caught in her throat, her mind racing as she tried to grasp what little hope there might be left. The Harlow clan—her family, her legacy—depended on her.
If she could save them, even at the cost of her own soul, was it not worth it? She had always been their protector, willing to sacrifice everything for them. But at what point did that sacrifice become too great?
"And of course," the MC continued, his voice darkening with a twisted edge, "if you choose not to, if you decide to resist me, I'll let you and your precious Sword Saint go free. Right now, in fact. No tricks. No more games." He gestured to Tristan, who stood helpless on the floor, battered and broken but still alive. "You can walk out of here together. Lovers reunited, free to live in peace."
Lady Aurora's heart ached as she looked at Tristan, his once-proud form now reduced to this. The man who had loved her, who had sacrificed everything to save her, lay before her, broken and powerless.
Could she really leave with him? Could they really escape this?
"But before you get any ideas," our op evil MC continued, his voice dropping into a low, dangerous tone, "know this: your clan will suffer. They will perish—slowly, painfully—and it will all be because of your choice. A choice that could have spared them." He shrugged, the gesture casual, as though he wasn't discussing the lives of countless people. "But I won't stop you. You can walk out that door, and I'll never chase you."
He paused, his cold eyes locking onto hers, his lips curling into a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I'm a man of many abilities, Aurora. You don't think I could find a legion of women willing to spread their legs for me if I wanted to? You're special, yes, but don't think you're irreplaceable."
His words stung, but they weren't unexpected. He had always treated her like a prize to be won, a tool for his own ambitions.
But now, faced with the reality of his power, his control over her, Aurora realized just how deep her despair ran.
The silence that followed was deafening. Lady Aurora stood frozen, her mind reeling with the impossible choice before her. Serve this monster, bow to his will, and ensure the safety of her clan.
Or defy him, leave with Tristan, and doom the people she had sworn to protect. The weight of the decision bore down on her like a mountain, her heart pounding in her chest as she wrestled with the unbearable burden.
The Sword Saint stood still, watching her through half-lidded eyes, his body weak from the blow but his mind sharp. He could see the pain etched on her face, the torment she was going through.
He wanted to hug Aurora, comfort her, to speak, to tell her not to sacrifice herself for him, but he was powerless to move. His body refused to obey him, leaving him to watch in silent agony.
Aurora's hands trembled as she wiped away her tears, trying to steady herself, but the crushing helplessness was overwhelming.
She had faced death, cruelty, betrayal—had fought her way through centuries of strife. But now, faced with this choice, she had never felt more lost.
Our dark lord mc remained silent, watching her with cold amusement, confident in the outcome. To him, this was a game he had already won. All he had to do was wait.
Finally, Aurora closed her eyes, her heart heavy with the weight of her decision.
The seconds stretched on like an eternity, her mind and soul torn between duty and love, between the survival of her clan and her own freedom.
And then, with a voice barely above a whisper, she spoke. "I…"