Six Months Later.
The political landscape of the Nine Provinces had shifted subtly, like sand under a tide.
The Zhao Clan was effectively a puppet state. Their mines, their trade routes, and their auctions were all managed by "Young Master Nether's" shadowy consortium.
The Azure Cloud Sect was crumbling from within. Elder Zhang (Mo Tian's puppet) controlled the pill distribution, artificially creating shortages that drove up prices and discontent. The Sect Master was still in seclusion.
Mo Tian sat in his office in Silver City. It was a skyscraper of spirit wood, overlooking the bustling metropolis he now practically owned.
[System Status Update] [Host: Mo Tian]** [Realm: Foundation Establishment - Stage 9 (Peak)]** [Villain Merit: 15,000]** [Organization: Shadow Court (Level 3)]**
"Master," Ghost One entered. He was now a Foundation Establishment cultivator himself, thanks to Mo Tian's resources. "The envoy from the Divine Sword Sect arrives tomorrow."
"Ah, the wedding party," Mo Tian smiled, signing a document that authorized a 20% tax hike on spirit rice. "Is Yan Luo ready?"
"She is. She is... unhappy. But obedient."
"And the trap?"
"Gu Sha and the Blood Devil unit are positioned in the Weeping Valley, along the bride's escort route. We have prepared the 'gifts'."
Mo Tian stood up and walked to the window.
"The Divine Sword Sect is arrogant," Mo Tian mused. "They think they are acquiring a vassal by marrying the Saintess. They don't know they are inviting a plague."
"Do we kill the Young Master?" Ghost One asked.
"No," Mo Tian's eyes glinted. "We kidnap him."
"Kidnap?"
"The Divine Sword Sect possesses the Heaven-Splitter fragment," Mo Tian explained. "It is a key component for my Golden Core breakthrough. I need leverage to make them hand it over."
He turned back to the room.
"Prepare the carriage. Young Master Nether needs to pay a visit to the Azure Cloud Sect to wish the Saintess 'good luck'."
Azure Cloud Sect - The Saintess Peak
Yan Luo sat before her mirror. Maids were arranging her hair, placing elaborate gold pins into the silky strands.
She looked like a doll. Beautiful, expensive, and lifeless.
"You look radiant, Senior Sister," a maid giggled. "Young Master Jian of the Divine Sword Sect is said to be very handsome."
Yan Luo didn't answer. She touched the Seven-Petal Soul Lotus pendant on her neck—the gift from Mo Tian. It felt heavy.
"Leave us," a voice commanded.
The maids bowed and left.
Mo Tian (as Han Fei) walked out from behind the screen. He wore his humble grey robes, a stark contrast to the gold and silk of the room.
"You look expensive," Mo Tian commented, leaning against the wall.
"Are you here to mock me?" Yan Luo asked bitterly. "You are selling me like cattle."
"I am investing you," Mo Tian corrected. "This marriage is a stage. You are the star."
He walked over and placed his hands on her shoulders. She stiffened, but didn't pull away.
"Tomorrow, the procession leaves. When the attack happens... do not fight. Scream. Cry. Be the victim. Let the Divine Sword disciples die protecting you."
"And Young Master Jian?"
"Leave him to me," Mo Tian whispered.
He leaned down, kissing the top of her head. It was a gesture of ownership, cold and absolute.
"Play your part well, Yan Luo. And I will give you the one thing you want."
"What is that?" she whispered.
"Freedom from your conscience," Mo Tian said. "I will burn the world so thoroughly that your sins will look like virtues in comparison."
He vanished before she could reply.
Yan Luo looked in the mirror. Her reflection stared back—the perfect Saintess, hiding a soul that was slowly turning black.
"Freedom," she murmured.
She picked up the rouge and painted her lips blood red.
The wedding was going to be a funeral. And she was ready to mourn.