Reborn To Be The Imperial Consort [BL]

Chapter 194: Swaying Jasmine — XVIII

Edited

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Terror.

Absolute and utter terror.

No. No. No. Please. Please, heaven! Forgive me. Forgive me but allow my insignificant life to be spared.

Stumbling down the long, dark, harrowing hallways, the man sprinted as fast as his feet would allow.

Eyes wide in fear and aged, withered face twisted in terror, the man panted, robes flapping in the wind accompanied by his dashing feet. Every few steps, sweat pouring down his forehead, the man looked behind himself.

He turned to look ahead, teeth clenched so tight, they creaked. His entire body was strung tight as he tripped on his feet and got up again to keep running.

Hide. Hide. Hide.

The treacherous heart in his ribs rammed against his chest akin to a thundering ceremonial drum. Loud and daunting.

A funeral procession.

Behind him, only darkness stretched its wide maw, sharp claws leaping forward as they licked at the hem of his robes.

The fire lamps lining the winding hallways flickered, swaying with the wind. The shadows they cast loomed, towering, dark and entirely too oppressive.

Every breath he took seemed to be borrowed, stolen from under a monstrous beast roaming the palace. As long as the beast did not see him, he would live.

As long as the beast could not sense him, he would live.

Squelch.

The aged man stopped short, eyes widening more than they already were as he slowly bowed his head to look down.

Squelch.

Chest heaving and back soaked in cold sweat, the man choked back a scream. Limbs stiff from fear and breath hitched in his lungs, he stared.

And stared. And stared. And stared.

He could not look away.

Hands trembling and a thick lump tight in his throat, the old man staggered back, voice lost and face blanched.

A severed hand.

A severed hand with tendons and torn muscles hanging out of it, strew on the floor under his feet.

Blood. Everywhere. Crimson, all encompassing.

Thud.

His body twitched, seized and coiled under something invisible.

Inevitable.

"AHHHH-!!"

The man jumped, eyes snapping to the direction of the scream cut off too short. Too soon.

Too close.

He could not move. He could not take a step.

He was supposed to run. To find reinforcement and report the barging intruder bent on blind slaughter.

He wanted to live. To survive.

They would lose the war. He was certain of it now. This war had been a lost cause in his eyes. It had been a lost cause long before it was dragged on so long.

He had wanted to voice out the pessimism. Wanted to tell the leader to stop and surrender now. But the man had not listened. Their clan had collided head on with their arch-enemy.

One who rarely had any mercy to spare for those deemed unworthy.

He was unworthy. They all were unworthy. They were enemies.

He was going to die. He was going to die. He was going to die. He was going to die. He was going to die. He was going to die. He was going to die. He was going to die.

Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die—

They all were going to die.

Each and every man present in this palace right now was going to die. The beast had begun his slaughter already.

The scream around him rose and fell as abruptly as they began. The monster was inching closer.

The man trembled, body drenched in sweat. In a sudden burst of strength, the man dashed, feet pounding against the floor as he ran for his life, the cacophony of screams dragging with his steps.

He needed to escape. And he needed to escape now.

Woosh.

"There you are."

A hand clasped tight on his shoulder, like a vice he could not escape. A fate he could not outrun.

"I have searched for you everywhere, respected elder."

Stiffly, despite the fear coiling tighter and tighter around his heart, the aged man, pale in fear, turned to look over his shoulder to face the monster.

It smiled at him. It was a pleasant, unnervingly wide, bloody thing. As if there was no blood dripping down his face and hands.

Its eyes shone crimson in the dark.

Distantly, the old man wondered, ’When did the lamps extinguish?’

He could not move. His body refused to obey any movement he tried to execute.

In the dark, the monster’s white hair swayed, carmine blood dripping down his face and hair in languid drops. Its smile stretched wider as the repugnant stench of blood wafted from his person, forcing its path into his nostrils and clawed at his insides.

The smoke from extinguished lamps curled in loose wisps and drifted around them, casting a thin, hazy veil around them.

It was surreal.

Rendered mute by fear, the old man made a strangled noise, the monster’s claws on his shoulders tightened. Its eyes flickered with a blood thirsty curiosity as they flitted down the old man’s face, taking in the sheer terror painted on his face.

"You’re quiet today," it observed, head canting to the side ever so slightly, "not much to say?"

The old man’s legs gave out under him. He did not fall.

His body was held up entirely by the single hand branded on his shoulder. The monster’s gaze traced down his withered body, the trickle of blood and his roaring heart was suddenly too loud.

Crack.

The old man screamed in pain, face twisting as his other hand flew to his shoulder. The monster’s smile only widened as he observed his reaction.

"It is but a broken shoulder, elder." His hand tightened, claws digging harder and deeper into the elder’s shoulder. "Your endurance is more than that."

Suddenly, the beast released his shoulder, allowing the elder’s body to crumple on the floor haplessly.

"Please-"

The elder crawled backwards, not daring to take his eyes off the towering monster. As he dragged himself away from it, he saw its glowing crimson eyes narrow.

But its expression remained unchanged.

"Let me live." His voice came out strangled and thick. Tongue heavy in his mouth, the words escaped him in a tumbling flurry.

The broken shoulder flared. The beast took a step forward.

"Why?" Its silver hair swayed with the wind. The motion was far too gentle for the transpiring event. Its hand moved to touch its abdomen, the action was subconscious.

Before the man could say another word to beg for his life, the monster took another step forward and trampled the elder’s leg under his blood-ridden boot.

Crunch.

The old man screamed as the dissonant echo of snapping bones rose, the sound crunching as the bones crushed under the force.