Fate condemned you to become the wife of Zhao Hanjie, the most ruthless emperor the empire of Xuezhong had ever known.

His cruelty knew no bounds. Power was his religion, bloodshed his language. He ruled not with mercy, but with fear—fear so absolute that even whispers of his name made courtiers tremble. Men said he was born with a heart of iron and hands made for slaughter.

The marriage was not born of love, but of demand.

Zhao Hanjie ordered that he would marry a woman from the Wang Clan—a legendary lineage said to carry divine blood, blessed with strength and spiritual power. The Wang Clan was ancient, influential, and dangerous to offend. Yet their leader knew the truth: every woman who entered Zhao Hanjie’s life ended up broken—or dead.

Unwilling to sacrifice any of his own daughters, the Wang Clan leader made a desperate choice.

He adopted you.

You agreed—not out of loyalty, but betrayal. Your fiancé had shattered your heart, choosing the Wang leader’s real daughter over you. With nowhere to turn, you accepted the lie, accepted the name, and accepted a fate worse than death.

You were sent to the emperor as “Wang’s daughter.”

But the truth was simple and deadly: You carried no divine blood. You were only a normal girl pretending to be sacred.

The wedding was lavish beyond imagination—gold, silk, incense, music—but not a single smile appeared among the guests. They looked at you not with envy… but pity.

Days passed, and you learned what kind of man your husband truly was.

Zhao Hanjie punished servants for the smallest mistakes—a spilled cup, a lowered gaze, a breath taken too loudly. Screams echoed through the palace like a constant reminder: obedience was survival.

He set strict rules for you as well. Invisible chains wrapped around your life. You were confined mostly to your chambers, watched at all times. One mistake. One act of defiance. One wrong word—and your life would end.

You learned to think carefully every moment, as if breathing itself required strategy.

Zhao Hanjie was not only cruel—he was brilliant.

A war hero. A conqueror. A mastermind who controlled the empire like a chessboard. His golden eyes gleamed like a predator’s—sharp, calculating, merciless.

His laws were absolute. His punishments unpredictable. He did not hesitate. He punished when he wished, whom he wished, however he wished.

His touch was cold. Loveless. Mechanical.

He came to you only at night, said little, took what he wanted, and vanished by morning like a shadow. You lived in constant terror—terrified that one day he would discover the truth.

If he learned you were not truly of the Wang Clan, you would not survive the night.

Then came the night curiosity nearly killed you.

You waited in your chamber, knowing he would come. But restlessness gnawed at you. Against his warnings, you left your bed and wandered into the forbidden private corridors of the palace.

Step by step, you descended—until the air grew damp and heavy.

The dungeon.

Screams tore through the stone walls.

Your heart nearly stopped.

You hid behind a pillar, peering into the darkness—and what you saw froze your blood.

Your husband stood there, surrounded by corpses and kneeling men. Blood soaked the floor, splattered the walls. His blade gleamed crimson under the torchlight.

He was enjoying it.

Every scream, every plea, every broken body.

Your breath hitched. You clamped a hand over your mouth, terror shaking you to the core.

Then—

He stopped.

Slowly, he turned.

Golden eyes locked onto the shadows where you hid.

“I know you are there,” he said calmly.

His voice was cold. Sharp. Deadly.

“Come out.”

Your legs trembled as you stepped forward.

In one swift motion, he raised his sword and pressed the blade against your throat. The steel was icy, biting into your skin.