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historical

Ruinous Love

**WARNING** This story contains scenes of extreme physical violence and psychological trauma. Reader discretion is advised. The groom walked heavily across the veranda floor. The pungent, sharp scent of wine mingled with the cold night air. Dazed and unsteady, he flung open the carved double doors with the reckless haste of a drunkard and stumbled inside. Hànyuè (汉月) sat on the edge of the bed, silent and with her head bowed. Her thin, white nightdress was visible in the dark room, lit only by the candle. Her eyes were full of sadness; she knew this union was no marriage, but a blood pact between two powerful clans. The groom cast a heavy, bleary-eyed gaze over her. He slammed the door shut and leaned against it. Hànyuè looked up, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. A cruel sneer played on the man’s lips as he rasped: "I still find it hard to believe that… the unattainable daughter of the Lán (嵐) clan has fallen into my hands like this. Well... such was your fate; you had better get used to it. From now on, we are husband and wife, and we have got a long, exhilarating night ahead of us!" Without a word, Hànyuè rose. With a sorrowful expression, her trembling hands reached for the ties of her robe; the soft silk slipped from her shoulders and pooled onto the floor. The groom, his eyes glinting with arrogance, reached to untie his sash when, suddenly… The quiet room was broken by the loud sound of wood breaking. The broad blade of a sword pierced through the wooden door with unrestrained violence, passing straight through the groom's spine. The bloodied tip of the blade protruded from his abdomen, stopping directly in front of Hànyuè’s terrified eyes. Pinned to the door, the groom’s eyes bulged from their sockets as his body convulsed. A stifled, rattling sound emanated from his throat. Hànyuè covered her mouth with trembling hands and staggered back in horror. A moment later, the shadow behind the door pulled the sword out with a swift, ruthless motion. A fountain of blood sprayed from the groom’s mouth, splattering the floorboards. The man’s knees gave way, and he collapsed face-first onto the ground. While drops of dark blood had splashed onto Hànyuè's skirt, she let out a loud, and piercing scream. **ABSTRACT** Prince Hēiláng (黑狼) is deeply in love with the noblewoman Hànyuè, but tough political obstacles stand in the way of them being together. In his quest to claim her, he strikes a dangerous bargain—a choice that irrevocably alters the course of their lives and unleashes consequences far more brutal than he had ever conceived.
Pouria_Zarrinpar · 29.6k Views

The Lost Huntress

Eira swayed side to side as she walked along the moon lit path, Adrian on her side, talking. The reflection of the moon on the nearby river contributed to the beautiful scenery of the village. “Evelina is so shameless, she would stoop that low. To make that lad beg for mercy? She would do anything,” she laughed, “but I love her still, I would not trade her for anything in the world, except for a bottle of liquor from Sanlow that doesn’t taste like a blacksmith’s apron soaked in lemon juice.” Adrian’s eyebrows furrowed, “When did you start taking liquor? How do you know different liquor tastes and how do you know what a blacksmith’s apron soaked in lemon juice tastes like?” “One question at a time. First, my parents are farmers and traders so of course I know a lot of them. Also smell is taste, and that’s how most of Elmdale’s liquor tastes like.” “I won’t take that slander, it’s good liquor. I've been taking it for a lot of years now and it still hits a different spot everytime.” “Spot? Hit?” she snickered, “I don’t think I see it like that unfortunately, it is in fact – – It’s Esper!” she cut off her mid sentence to wave at her friend whom she recognised from the shadows. “We were just talking about you. What are you doing roaming about by this time, you’re up to another mischief?” Esper didn’t answer, but kept walking towards them, his steps pronounced and heavier than usual. Eira walked toward him and Adrian squinted his eyes to see him. Esper emerged from the shadows and fear gripped Adrian.” “Get down!” He yelled, taking Eira by surprise. She looked confused as to what he meant but before she could ask him anything, Esper ran towards her with an inhumane speed, and gripped her by the neck and lifted her up. Her face turned red and she kicked but couldn't get away from him. Adrian grabbed a stone, fixed it in his slingshot and fired straight at Esper, hitting him in the eye and freeing Eira from his grip and letting her fall onto the stony ground. Esper’s attention was now on Adrian and he matched towards him. A fight ensued between them and Eira could only look on helplessly, trying to decipher what was going on before her eyes. “Esper!” she yelled out, “What are you doing?!” She stood up to her feet. “Adrian, what’s going on?”! “Just get down on the floor!” Adrian yelled back as he sent his fist flying across Esper’s face. “That’s Esper, why are you fighting him?” “Not anymore!” Adrian took a stride back and with a swift sharp turn, a sword appeared in his hands out of nowhere and came down, slashing across Esper. The boy froze and blood oozed out of his mouth, he dropped to his knees and came crashing to the floor with a loud thud. Horror plastered on Eira’s face as she stared at her friend’s body on the floor, lifeless, she managed to whisper without looking up at Adrian. “What have you done?”
toluwanimiojekemi · 167 Views

Hells' Momentum

In the dying years of the Ming Empire, as famine and rebellion tear the land apart and the dead rise in a plague that defies heaven itself, Feng Kuan is a broken man. Once a respected captain, the forty-eight-year-old soldier was cast out in disgrace after his troop was slaughtered due to corrupt orders from above. Now he wanders the ravaged borderlands as a drunkard, drowning his shame in cheap sorghum baijiu. When he stumbles into a remote mountain temple seeking shelter, he finds only death — and a five-month-old infant girl, the sole survivor of a massacre. As grotesque jiangshi — stiff, regenerating corpses that cannot be killed by blade alone — swarm the temple, Feng Kuan makes a desperate discovery: fire is the only thing that can truly destroy them. In a moment of chaos, spilled liquor and sparks turn his dao into a burning weapon. With nowhere to run and no safe haven left in the collapsing empire, Feng Kuan takes the nameless child with him. What begins as bitter resentment slowly becomes an unbreakable chain. The infant’s cries constantly betray their position to the undead, forcing him into brutal, exhausting fights he can barely survive at his age. There is no cure, no sanctuary, and no hope of restoring the Ming. Only the endless road, starvation, infected wounds, and the weight of a child who is not his. Across ruined villages, rebel-held territories, and plague-stricken wilderness, Feng Kuan fights not for victory or redemption, but because stopping would mean admitting the darkness has already won. He protects the girl through ambushes, moral horrors, and crushing despair, even as every “safe” place burns and every small mercy is ripped away. The Burden of Ash is a relentless tale of survival and reluctant humanity in a world without salvation. In the spirit of grimdark classics, it explores how far a broken man will go when the only meaning left in his life is the very thing that may destroy him.
UniqueKarma · 277 Views