The chamber was vast, dim, and lined with grotesque stone effigies.
Upon a cold, throne-like stone chair at the hall's far end sat a man. He wore ancient, flowing black robes, his long hair cascading around features that were unsettlingly beautiful. An aura of untouchable menace radiated from him.
His dark, narrow eyes, half-lidded, were fixed on his own unnaturally pale wrist. A gossamer-thin, shimmering red thread had appeared there just moments before.
"HOLY HELL!"
A woman's voice shattered the tomb-like silence a split second before Yun Jianyue materialized out of thin air and crashed directly into the man's lap.
Their eyes locked. After a beat of stunned silence, Yun Jianyue flashed a brilliant, slightly awkward grin.
"Hey, handsome."
The man's expression remained utterly impassive. Only his gaze shifted, sliding from Yun Jianyue's face down to her own wrist.
An identical, ethereal red thread shimmered around it. One end circled Yun Jianyue's arm. The other led straight to his.
"My… unwanted afterlife spouse?" The man – Mo Chen – murmured, a dangerous, predatory amusement curling one corner of his lips. Who dared bind him to such a mortal trifle? And how had this marriage thread possessed the sheer audacity to take hold?
"What bride?" Yun Jianyue blinked, noticing the red thread for herself. She experimentally flexed her wrist; it didn't impede movement. Then, fueled by an unwise dose of reckless courage, her gaze swept over Mo Chen.
Damn, she thought. He was unreal. Like he'd stepped out of a filter – flawless skin, not a pore in sight. Pity about the total absence of a breathing chest.
"Accidental intrusion. Got stuff to do." Yun Jianyue scrambled to extricate herself. One leg swung towards the floor, but before she could plant it, a large, cold hand clamped hard onto her waist, yanking her back down.
"Going somewhere? Spouse." The low voice vibrated with ancient menace.
Instinctively, her hands shot out to brace herself—and landed squarely on surprisingly firm, defined muscle beneath the silken robe.
The reckless courage surged again. Curious fingers betrayed her, giving the solid flesh an experimental, appreciative squeeze.
Damn, that felt good.
Mo Chen's obsidian eyes instantly frosted over. The air crackled with killing intent.
"Still groping?" The words hissed between clenched teeth.
Yun Jianyue snatched her hands back like she'd been scalded. "Would you believe it was purely accidental?" she offered weakly.
A derisive snort was Mo Chen's only reply. A wave of invisible force slammed into Yun Jianyue, flinging her violently across the stone floor.
She landed hard, palms scraping painfully. Looking down, she saw skin shredded, small beads of blood welling up across both palms.
"Man, your mood swings are vicious," she coughed, pushing herself up. "Not so eager to put your hands on my waist anymore, huh?"
Mo Chen didn't move from the throne. He merely raised his hand, fingers slowly curling into the shape of a claw.
Instantly, Yun Jianyue choked. An invisible vise clamped around her throat. Air vanished.
Five, maybe six meters separated them. Mo Chen remained seated, a chillingly detached observer as her face flushed crimson. "Whatever trick you used to forge this bond ends now. With your life."
"Seriously?" Yun Jianyue gasped, fighting for each scrap of oxygen. "No passing attraction for a face like mine?" She was squandering precious air on sarcasm.
"Aspiration still intact? Clearly, I underestimated your resilience." Mo Chen's fingers tightened fractionally within the phantom claw.
Stars exploded behind Yun Jianyue's eyes. Fine. Playing nice was over.
With a sudden, jarring motion, Yun Jianyue gathered the voluminous skirt of the elaborate red gown with one hand. With the other, she plunged it… down the front of her pants.
Mo Chen's lip curled in utter revulsion. "Have you no sha—"
His words died. Yun Jianyue withdrew her hand. Clutched in it was not what he expected, but a bizarre, miniature chainsaw.
What in the desolate realms…? For the first time in millennia, genuine confusion flickered across Mo Chen's ancient face.
He found out immediately.
Yun Jianyue yanked the starter cord. The tiny chainsaw roared to life with a deafening WHIIIIIRRRR!
Fueled by panic and sheer, bloody-minded will, Yun Jianyue surged through the crushing force pinning her. In two strides, she was back at the throne, chainsaw screaming.
Mo Chen's eyebrow arched minutely. Genuine surprise touched him. Mortals shouldn't breach even a fraction of divine power. Interesting.
"Still breathing. Admirable tenacity," he conceded, a cruel edge to the praise.
Yun Jianyue's face was beetroot red. She bared her teeth in a feral grin. In a blink, her free hand shot out, tangling violently in Mo Chen's waist-length waterfall of raven hair. The screaming chainsaw blade descended towards the thick strands near his scalp.
Mo Chen didn't flinch. He was divine. Endless eons of power flowed through him. Hair, flesh, bone – trivial matters to reconstitute. This futile defiance amused him.
WHOOSH!
A cascade of severed black silk tumbled to the cold stone floor.
A low chuckle escaped Mo Chen. He focused his will, commanding the hair to regrow instantly.
Nothing happened.
The laughter died. Cold, unfamiliar dread sliced through him. Utterly impossible.
Still bald.
His hand flew to the harshly shorn hairline above his neck. Where strands should have sprung anew—smooth skin met his touch.
Mo Chen's head snapped up. The cool composure was gone, replaced by primal, livid shock. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!"
Yun Jianyue used her last sliver of air for something truly suicidal: a gasping, triumphant, blood-smattered giggle. "Hah... Heh... Handsome no more, eh?" she wheezed.
Before the searing rage could fully claim him, Yun Jianyue made her move. The screaming chainsaw lunged not for his head, but for the center of his black-clad chest!
DANGER! Every instinct roared. Not the blade itself – but what coated it. Mo Chen reacted faster than thought. A brutal backhand, fueled by a surge of startled fury, caught Yun Jianyue mid-lunge. It hurled her across the chamber like a ragdoll.
She slammed into a stone effigy with a sickening crunch, then slid to the floor in a heap, chainsaw sputtering out.
Mo Chen's attention fixed on the dark strands littering the ground near his throne. Tiny droplets of fresh, brilliant red blood glistened on their ends – Yun Jianyue's blood, shed when her hands hit the floor. Blood that shouldn't affect him.
And yet… radiating from those minute droplets… it pulsed. A resonance pure, ancient… sanctified.
Not the taint of his own fallen divinity. Not the hollow, manufactured power of false idols worshipped by foolish mortals. This was… sacred. The mark of a True God. Gods who had walked the earth and vanished millennia before his own rise to forbidden power.
His ancient gaze snapped back to the crumpled, gasping woman trying to rise from the stone flags.
"Who. Are. You." The words sliced the frigid air. Ancient power coalesced around his left hand. Darkness gathered, swirling thick as tar. The oppressive Yin energy suffocating the entire chamber stirred, drawn to him like moths to an inferno, coalescing into a vortex of pure, destructive malice around his form.
Yun Jianyue sucked in a ragged, burning breath. A trickle of blood escaped her split lip. Her eyes, however, sparkled with defiant, utterly unhinged mischief.
She managed a sloppy, bloodied grin. "You called me your Bride. Now you ask my name? Oops. Forgetful in your old age, hubby?" She deliberately used the modern slang 'hubby'.
A pause. Then, remembering his archaic dress, she cleared her throat. Years of practiced vocal gymnastics came into play, her voice shifting into a saccharine, breathy warble dripping with mock innocence:
"Husbaaaaaand~"
Mo Chen's fist clenched. Fingernails bit into his own spectral palm. Cold logic screamed: Interrogate. Ascertain the source of this blasphemous power.
But millennia of untouchable supremacy and the visceral outrage of his violated head collided. Red mist tinged his vision. The vortex churned violently around his fist.
He raised his left hand, crackling with stolen death and condensed malice. Logic lost.
Whatever she was, whatever sacred blood ran in her veins… right now, he would erase her existence from the very fabric of reality.