The birth of the Tyrant had sent ripples of dread through the Luo Region, but the Black Dragon Citadel, under the Ancestor's absolute control, had offered no explanation. The event became a dark legend, a whispered rumor of some ancient demon beast awakening within the Lu Clan's depths. Silence was its own kind of weapon, fostering paranoia and uncertainty among their enemies.
But silence was no longer the strategy. Months had passed since the birth. The Tyrant child, named Lu Feng by the Ancestor—a name meaning 'Wind' for the change he would bring—was a disquieting marvel. He did not cry; he observed with those ancient green eyes. He did not crawl; he floated. His mere presence suppressed the qi of those around him, a natural aura of dominion. Chu Ling, tasked with his care alongside a host of mute, fearful wet nurses, found a strange, terrifying purpose in tending to this tiny god of darkness.
The Ancestor, now at the Peak of Full-Step Soul Transformation, found his progress stalled. The System's path was clear: more offspring, from more high-quality vessels. But the other heroines of destiny, the ones who should have been orbiting Ye Fan, remained elusive. His spies and the Destiny-Severing Array could find no trace of them. It was as if the heavens had withdrawn them, protecting its investment.
This would not do. If the prey would not come to the hunter, the hunter would smoke them out.
Thus, the announcement went forth, carried on enchanted scrolls that burned with black fire: The Eternal Ancestor of the Lu Clan, Lu Tian, would officially take Su Wan of the Hidden Su Clan as his Noble Concubine in a grand ceremony. All forces of the Luo Region and beyond were invited to witness and pay tribute.
The audacity was breathtaking. The expenditure was obscene. A wedding for a concubine? And not just any concubine, but the mother of the Lu Clan's most hated enemy, Ye Fan! The invitations were seen as both a lavish display of power and a profound, calculated insult.
On the day of the ceremony, the Black Dragon Citadel was transformed. The grim, oppressive atmosphere was temporarily gilded. Spirit lanterns shaped like coiling dragons floated in the air, casting a warm, expensive light. The air thrummed with the music of rare earth-attuned instruments, their deep notes vibrating through the bones of the thousands of guests—sect leaders, clan patriarchs, demonic cultivators, and righteous alliance representatives, all wearing expressions of forced smiles and deep unease.
They marveled at the expenditure. The pathways were lined with glowing Spirit Jade stones. The wine served was a thousand-year-old vintage that could enhance a cultivator's base. Each guest received a minor spirit tool as a wedding favor. The message was clear: the Lu Clan's resources were bottomless, and they would spend a king's ransom to celebrate the claiming of a single woman.
And then, they saw the woman.
Su Wan appeared at the end of a long, obsidian pathway, and a collective, stunned silence fell over the assembled mighty. She was dressed not in the modest red of a bride, but in the brilliant, phoenix-tailored gown of a Queen. The dress was a masterpiece of crimson and gold, so vibrant it seemed to bleed into the very air. It hugged her matured curves, the fabric woven with threads of solidified sunlight and phoenix down, shimmering with every step. A headdress of gold and rubies shaped like a rising phoenix crowned her head, its wings sweeping back into her elaborately styled hair. Her face, veiled by a diaphanous sheet of gold, could not hide her devastating, sorrowful beauty. She was a vision of tragic perfection, a goddess forced to walk the mortal plane. The guests understood, then, the obsession. She was not just a woman; she was a prize so magnificent that such insane expenditure seemed almost justified.
She walked alone, her head held high not out of pride, but because a subtle, invisible pressure from the dais forced it so. At her side, though unseen by the crowd, the golden brand 有主 - Owned seemed to burn beneath her gown.
At the head of the procession, on a throne of black diamond, sat the Ancestor. He was a stark contrast to the opulence, dressed in simple, profound black robes that seemed to swallow the light around him. His boyish face was serene, his glowing green eyes scanning the crowd, missing nothing. Chu Ling stood behind his throne, holding the infant Lu Feng, who was unusually quiet, his evil eyes taking in the scene with preternatural awareness.
The ceremony began. There was no officiant. The Ancestor himself presided.
"We are gathered," his voice, amplified by his will, rolled over the crowd, "to formalize what is already mine. To mark the elevation of a vessel who has proven her worth."
He looked at Su Wan, who now stood before him. The traditional three bows were omitted.
"Instead, you will speak your vows," he commanded. "You will renounce the heavens that failed you, the parents who sold you, and the son who could not protect you. You will pledge your soul, not your love. Your body, not your heart. You will swear to be my slave, in this life and all others."
The crowd was deathly still. This was not a wedding; it was a public branding.
Su Wan's voice, when it came, was a tremor of sound, yet amplified for all to hear. It was half-choked, forced by his will, yet laced with a terrifying strand of truth that had been beaten and bred into her over the months. "I… renounce them all. I pledge my soul… my body… to you, my Master. I am your slave."
"Seal it," he whispered, the command for her alone, yet the intent was felt by all.
Trembling, her face a mask of exquisite shame under her veil, Su Wan slowly knelt before his throne. The crowd watched, aghast and mesmerized. She leaned forward, and with a grace that made the profane act seem like a sacred rite, she pressed her lips to the bulge in his black robes, kissing the shaft of her new master through the fabric. A gasp rippled through the assembly.
The Ancestor looked down at her, his expression one of cold approval. Then, he moved.
Slap!
His hand, moving faster than sight, struck her right cheek, the sound sharp and shocking in the silence. Her head snapped to the side.
Slap!
The left cheek. The force was stinging, humiliating, a public correction.
"Your vow is accepted," he declared, his voice resuming its ceremonial volume. "For your service and the gift of a heir, you are elevated. No longer a mere slave. You are my Phoenix Queen. My Noble Concubine. The first jewel in my crown."
He placed a circlet of black gold around her neck—a collar disguised as a necklace, set with a single, pulsing ruby that matched the Lewd Crest on her navel.
The ceremony was over. The wedding feast began, though few had the stomach to eat. The guests mingled, their conversations hushed and anxious. They had come expecting a display of power, but they had witnessed something far more intimate and terrifying: the complete and utter breaking of a world-class beauty, and the monstrous nature of the being who had accomplished it.
And throughout it all, the Ancestor's senses, and the System's analytics, were stretched to their limit, scanning the crowd, the skies, the edges of the Citadel.
[Scanning for high-value emotional response…]
[Scanning for Destiny Threads in turmoil…] [Scanning for presence of 'Protagonist Aura'…]
This was the true purpose. The wedding, the humiliation, the title—it was all the most exquisite bait. He had dangled the most painful possible sight before Ye Fan and his hidden protectors. He had flaunted his possession of the Protagonist's mother in the most degrading way imaginable.
Someone, somewhere, would be unable to resist. A destiny heroine would rage. A master would be provoked. Or Ye Fan himself, wherever he was, would feel this profound violation like a knife to his soul and come rushing into the trap.
The Ancestor sat on his throne, sipping his wine, watching his terrified, magnificent new wife be shown off to the guests. The net was cast. Now, he waited for the thrashing of a golden fish in the dark water.