See No Evil

In the opulent palace,

Oleg Elro sat upon the throne, quietly listening to the reports from below.

On the adjacent wall hung portraits of past kings.

Upon closer inspection, one might notice that while each king's attire differed, their faces bore an uncanny resemblance.

Yet, no one bothered to question why, despite the existence of magical and technological means to capture images, each ruler still commissioned painters for their portraits.

Oleg's face was neither youthful nor aged—he appeared to be in his forties, sporting a signature thick beard, his piercing eyes exuding an air of profound depth.

Many would find him familiar, for he was the very face engraved on the gold coins circulating among the human race...

"Your Majesty Oleg, the knights have returned. The Stark Family—all one hundred and seventy of them—have been completely eradicated."

Below, a minister knelt, sweat dripping down his forehead. "Forgive my bluntness, Your Majesty, but the Stark Family once rendered many military services to the crown. Your sudden decision may chill the loyalty of other families sworn to the royal house..."

"Oh?"

Oleg's brow twitched, and the minister immediately prostrated himself in fear.

Oleg spoke slowly, "You're not wrong... But once we reveal some of the vile deeds the Stark Family committed in secret, the public will condemn them, and the other families will quickly wipe the distaste from their faces."

"Your Majesty is wise."

Oleg waved his hand, and the ministers below withdrew.

The grand hall was left with only Oleg.

From the shadows behind a towering white pillar emerged a tall, crimson figure.

Oleg hastily descended from the throne and approached the figure with reverence. "Lord Dorian."

"You've done well." Dorian cast a dismissive glance at the king before him, then extracted a drop of blood from his fingertip.

Oleg's face lit with joy, his pupils tinged with red as he tremblingly extended his hands, received the blood, and swallowed it.

Few could imagine that the king of the Yalan Empire had become a thrall of the Blood Clan.

If this were made public, it would undoubtedly cause an uproar.

"How long have you sat upon this throne?" Dorian asked calmly.

"Two hundred years, my lord," Oleg replied respectfully.

Dorian's gaze shifted to the row of portraits on the wall—each one was, in truth, Oleg himself.

As a king... the pursuit of immortality was only natural.

To avoid suspicion, Oleg had passed the throne to his descendants generation after generation, only to reclaim it from them later.

"I never expected you to descend personally for such a trivial matter," Oleg said with an ingratiating smile.

Though he didn’t know how the Stark Family had offended the Blood Clan—nor dared he ask—he would spare no effort to fulfill their wishes.

After all, his life was in their hands.

"Trivial? Hardly. This was a task assigned by Lady Aina," Dorian shook his head. "It must be executed flawlessly."

"What? The True Ancestor herself?" Oleg's expression turned fervent. "Could it be... the True Ancestor has also—"

"Lady Aina would never deign to meet a lowly thrall like you," Dorian sneered. "Strictly speaking, you aren’t even a true Blood Clan—just a mongrel prolonging his life with our power."

"Yet I would offer everything to the True Ancestor... Just to see her once... If she would grant me the right to become one of the Blood Clan, I would do anything." Oleg's face was one of devotion.

Dorian studied him. "Frankly, I doubt Lady Aina would ever favor someone like you."

......

"Did you hear? The Stark Family was wiped out!"

"What? That Stark Family?"

"Yes! The king himself passed judgment—the entire family was exterminated without a trace..."

Xia Lun overheard the students in front of him and instinctively turned to Aina beside him.

"What is it?" Aina smiled sweetly.

"The Stark Family was annihilated," Xia Lun said.

"Oh? So it seems," Aina covered her mouth in feigned surprise. "What a coincidence."

Xia Lun’s gaze remained fixed on her.

"What’s wrong, Xia Lun? Are you suspecting me?" Aina played with his hand nonchalantly. "I didn’t lift a finger—I’ve been right here with you."

"Did you have anything to do with this?" Xia Lun asked softly.

Aina’s eyes gleamed with amusement. "Want to know? Use the eyes I gave you. See if I’m lying."

"Aina, you said it yourself."

A blue glow swirled in Xia Lun’s pupils.

Then, he saw.

He saw last night’s passion—himself pressing greedily against Aina, claiming every inch of her skin.

Every detail, her trembling body, her lust-filled gaze, their perfect union—all replayed in his mind like a slideshow.

Xia Lun quickly averted his eyes, shutting them tight.

"Hah! Hahaha! Xia Lun, what’s this reaction? Are you blushing?" Aina giggled behind her hand before leaning in to whisper, "Did you like what you saw?"

"Aina!" Xia Lun’s ears burned. How could she show him such things?

"We’ve been married for years, yet you still get flustered over this... How adorable, my hero." Aina wasn’t done teasing. "Ah, I see. You’re the type who prefers action. After all, when it comes to the real thing, you’re nothing short of a relentless beast..."

Xia Lun pinched her chin. The Demon Queen knew she’d pushed far enough—if she kept this up, she might not be able to stop him tonight... even if she begged.

"It was me," Aina admitted freely. "I pulled some strings to give the Stark Family the ending they deserved."

Xia Lun took a deep breath. "Thank you."

"I thought you’d scold me."

"You did it for me. I have no right to blame you," Xia Lun shook his head. "And I should trust your judgment."

"Oh? I’m the Demon Queen, and you, the hero, would side with me?" Aina narrowed her eyes.

"Aina... You’re my wife." Xia Lun interlaced their fingers. "I’ll believe in you unconditionally."