"The Scarlet Emperor has gone mad!"
Terrified screams echoed throughout the entire palace.
She strolled into one of the grandest palaces of the inner harem. The solid wooden pillars stood majestically tall and layers of purple silk curtains draped down from the high ceiling. The beautifully bloomed purple azaleas were decorated along the hallway. Everything in the palace, from the furniture down to the tiniest detail on the wall was the finest of all in the entire empire. It was truly the grandest palace befitting the most beautiful woman in the world. Dragging her sword, her cold eyes searched the place.
The remaining servants screamed in fear as they tried to escape, but she slashed them down one after another mercilessly. Her stoic face did not betray any slightest emotion as she watched the blood spilled in front of her eyes. She knew they were screaming in agonies, but the only thing she could hear was the sharp and deafening ringing sound in her head.
The long sword in her hand, Devil's Hand was getting more and more excited and thirsty for blood. Very soon enough, everyone in her way were taken down with no exception. The once bustling Sun Palace was now empty and cold like a graveyard. She tore down the layers of curtain one by one as she wandered deeper. She paused at the last layer of curtain when she heard voices.
"Consort Yang! Please save us! We beg of your benevolent self!"
Kneeling on the ground were the once most prideful and arrogant concubines of the inner palace. The desperation in their voices was palpable. Sitting in front of them was a placid and ethereal beauty who was playing her zither. Her face was expressionless as she indulged in her music. Behind her, there was a solemn young man in his twenties dressed in royal guard uniform standing on guard.
"Consort Yang, His Majesty loves you the most! If you ask him to spare us, he will listen to you!" The concubines cried in fear as they continued to beg incessantly. Yang Yi finally looked up and stared at them sadly. Her beautiful hazel brown eyes gazed upon them, as she raised her long slender fingers from the zither.
"Don't be afraid, my dearest sisters. Everything will be over soon."
Her words agitated them, as one of them stood up and slapped Yang Yi hard in the face. The slap left a red imprint on her exquisite face.
"Arrogant woman! We threw our pride away and beg you, yet you refused to help us!" the lady shrieked in anger.
The guard behind Yang Yi immediately stood protectively in front of her and his hand went straight to the sword hilt. Yang Yi quickly held onto his hand. He glanced at Yang Yi, but she just shook her head wearily at him.
"What now? A mere slave dares to raise his sword against the royal concubine? You deserved to be flogged to death!" the mad woman screamed as the other concubines tried to restrain her.
"Consort Zhao! Please control yourself!" The man replied with a fiery blaze in his eyes.
"Ha! Now the slave even dares to raise his voice against me? How absurd! How absurd!" Consort Zhao continued screaming in frenzy.
"Just because the people call you Yang Nu, do you really think that you are the daughter of the Sun?" She started clawing at the man, but he did not even raise his hand at her. Instead, he stood like a wooden statue in between her and Yang Yi.
"Does it matter now?" A sharp and cold familiar voice said.
They stopped, as their attention turned toward the dark shadow standing solemnly behind the purple curtain. Meng Yu finally tore it down with a quick slash. The concubines gasped in fright at sight of the person standing there. Long black hair covered half of her face. She was wearing a scarlet red robe with intricate embroidery of a heavenly dragon. Walking over while dragging the tip of the blade across the floor, she tilted her head slightly and her eerily cold gaze landed on them.
YOU ARE READING
The Devil of Scarlet Rain
FantasyShe was born to live as a man for her entire lifetime. Not an ordinary man, but a man who bore the name of the living devil. She had everything a man could possibly desire for in a lifetime, be it power, status, or wealth. She had long accepted her...