"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…"
Please vote, comment and review to give this lazy author some motivation. Thank you! Cheers! ^_^
Your gift is the motivation for my creation. Give me more motivation!
Like it ? Add to library!
Have some idea about my story? Comment it and let me know.
Aurora paused mid-step, her heart heavy with an unbearable weight.
Slowly, she turned her head to glance at her ex-husband, the man she had once loved with all her heart.
His eyes, usually so full of strength and resolve, now reflected only helplessness.
A sad, bittersweet smile touched her lips, though it barely reached her eyes.
Then, with quiet resignation, she shifted her gaze back to the one who now held the reins of her fate—our overpowered, malevolent protagonist.
"You won't kill him, will you?" Aurora's voice was barely more than a whisper, tinged with both fear and hope. Her question hung in the air like a fragile thread.
A smile curled at the corner of his lips, chilling and merciless. "Of course not," he said, his tone light but laced with cruelty. "Where would be the fun in that?"
Aurora's heart sank. She had expected no less. "Predictable," she muttered, bitterness seeping into her voice.
Her eyes, once filled with affection for the man she loved, now hardened as they turned back to Sword Saint Tristan.
The man who had fought for her, who had once been her everything, now stood immobilized, bound by invisible forces far beyond his control.
Despite the power that had earned him his title, he was completely at the mercy of the villain's twisted game.
She stepped closer to him, her breath shallow. "I've loved you in this life, and I'll love you in a trillion lifetimes to come. He may take my body, but my heart—my heart will always be yours. You must never doubt that, Tristan."
Tears welled in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.
Her resolve hardened as she looked into Tristan's eyes, searching for some hint of the man he had once been.
The man who had fought to protect her, even at the cost of his own life.
He struggled against the unseen bonds that held him, his muscles twitching with futile effort, but his gaze never left hers.
He could do nothing but watch, powerless to stop the events unfolding before him.
With trembling hands, Aurora reached for the delicate fabric of her bridal gown. Each movement felt like a betrayal, but there was no turning back.
She slipped it from her shoulders, letting the fine material fall in a pool of white at her feet.
What remained were two flimsy undergarments that did little to conceal her form.
Her chest, ample and full, strained against the bra, the fabric threatening to tear under the pressure.
Her skin gleamed faintly in the dim light, a stark contrast to the dark fate that awaited her.
Both men's gazes were inevitably drawn to the space between Aurora's legs, their throats tightening as they gulped in unison at the tantalizing sight that lay before them.
The once-flowing bridal gown now pooled at her feet, leaving her clothed in nothing but a pair of delicate white undergarments.
The fabric clung to her skin, highlighting the soft curves of her body, a stark contrast to the cruelty of the situation.
The pristine white of her underwear seemed almost symbolic, reflecting not only the purity she had fought so hard to protect but also the innocence that was about to be stolen from her.
It was a cruel irony—she stood there, exposed, yet untouched by the darkness that threatened to consume her.
Her body, though revealed, carried an ethereal grace that neither man could ignore.
Our op evil MCs eyes lingered, his lips curling into a satisfied smirk.
To him, this was more than just a physical display—it was power, a conquest waiting to happen.
Tristan, on the other hand, could hardly bear to look. His heart twisted in agony, his fists clenching despite his inability to move.
Every fiber of his being wanted to protect her, to shield her from the violation that loomed, but all he could do was stand there, helpless, as the sight of her body in those fragile white garments burned itself into his memory.
Aurora's breath hitched, aware of the attention her body commanded. Though her face remained composed, a storm of emotions raged beneath the surface.
She stood like a sacrificial offering, knowing that despite her exposure, her heart and spirit remained untouchable.
Tristan's jaw clenched. His heart raged with frustration and despair, but his body refused to obey.
He wanted to scream, to fight, to tear apart the chains that bound him, but he could do nothing.
He stood there, paralyzed, forced to watch the woman he loved prepare to sacrifice herself for a fate worse than death.
His eyes burned with unshed tears, his mind tortured by his helplessness.
Aurora took one last glance at him, her expression softening as she whispered, "I'm sorry."
Aurora turned around, her movements deliberate and unhurried, as she finally walked toward the overpowered, evil protagonist.
Each step felt heavier than the last, the weight of her decision pressing down on her like an invisible force.
There was no room for second thoughts, no turning back from the path she had chosen.
She had made up her mind, and with it came an unsettling sense of finality that echoed in the silent room.
Her heart pounded in her chest, but outwardly, she appeared calm. The tension in the air was suffocating, her skin prickling under the intensity of the villain's gaze as it traced her every move.
She could feel the weight of their expectations pressing in on her, but she refused to let it show. If this was how it had to be, she would face it on her own terms.
Stopping just in front of him, she tilted her head slightly, allowing a fake playful smile to curl her lips. It was a hollow smile, devoid of the warmth it once held. "How would you like to take me, my dear Quinn?" she asked, her voice soft but dripping with feigned amusement.
The words felt foreign on her tongue, like a bitter pill she was forcing herself to swallow.
This, she knew, would be her last act of rebellion—the last vestige of control she could cling to in a situation where she had none.
The smile, though false, was her shield, a thin veneer of defiance that she had chosen to wear like armor.
It was a mask, one she had carefully crafted in the last moments of her resolve, and it would be the face she presented to the world from this point forward.
No matter what happened next, no matter how much she had to endure, this mask would remain firmly in place.
It would be her final weapon against the cruelty of fate.
Inside, her heart ached, but she would not allow herself to break—not ever!
Her gaze flickered briefly toward Tristan, her former love, who could only watch helplessly.
His anguish mirrored her own, but she knew that if she showed even a hint of weakness, it would all be over.
She couldn't afford that—not for herself, and certainly not for him.
"That's the way I like y—" the villain began, but his voice was abruptly silenced as Aurora's lips crashed into his with a fierce, almost desperate hunger.
The words died in his throat, swallowed by the force of her kiss, which was anything but soft or hesitant.
It wasn't a gesture of passion or desire, but one of pure defiance, a bold claim on the very thing that sought to claim her.
Aurora had decided to seize the reins of her own destruction, taking the offensive in a situation where she had seemed powerless.
Her lips moved over his with an intensity that was both calculated and raw, as though by acting first, she could reclaim a shred of the agency that had been stolen from her.
Our op evil mc, momentarily stunned by the unexpected assault, froze before her.
His eyes widened in shock, his body stiff as he processed the sudden shift in dynamics.
Still, he was nonetheless pleased with how things went.
Aurora's heart raced as she pressed herself against him, her body betraying none of the turmoil roiling beneath the surface.
She had taken up the mantle of her mask and wore it flawlessly, her performance so convincing that even she, for a brief moment, almost believed it.
The mask didn't just hide her vulnerability—it made her feel as if she could conquer the inevitable.
Her hands gripped the front of his clothing, pulling him closer, tightening the illusion of control.
In the end, this was not just an act of survival, but a declaration that, no matter how our op evil mc tried to take her, she would meet him on her own terms.
— Novo capítulo em breve — Escreva uma avaliação
Você também pode gostar
Comentário de parágrafo
O comentário de parágrafo agora está disponível na Web! Passe o mouse sobre qualquer parágrafo e clique no ícone para adicionar seu comentário.
Além disso, você sempre pode desativá-lo/ativá-lo em Configurações.
Entendi