Ruin Wielder-Chapter 23: Wedding Banquet. (1/3)

"Finally... Peak Stage Foundation Building Realm!!"

Luo Tian let out a murky breath, sitting cross-legged on top of Luo Tang’s unconscious body.

Last night, after causing that spectacle, he slipped back into his room and smeared it with his own filth so no one would dare step inside. Then he swallowed the herbs he had bought earlier, pushing his cultivation all the way to the peak of Qi Refining before hunting down Luo Tang and stealing the Spirit Stone.

Hehe... it paid off. With this cultivation, I can barely fight a Late Stage Golden Core cultivator, but that’s nothing. I need more, faster. I won’t rest until I and Yan’er are safe.

His smile faded as he thought of Ximen’s master, a mid-stage Nascent Soul cultivator.

"I can maybe take one blow... two at most. That’s it,"

Luo Tian muttered, mind running through grim calculations.

When the workers returned to finish the wedding decorations, Luo Tian slipped silently out the window. His movements were feather-light, like drifting leaves in the wind. By the time he reached his courtyard, he was already back in disguise, drool slipping down his chin as he sat blankly like a fool until noon.

Servants came at last to prepare him for the wedding. But these were not the usual maids and boys—no one else dared come near after last night. One poor maid had even severed her own wrist when the elders tried to force her to serve Luo Tian, screaming that she would rather bleed out than step into his room.

So today, the ones who entered were prisoners of the Luo family, dressed in servant clothes, their chains hidden under long sleeves. And at their head walked an old man Luo Tian recognized—the head steward, Luo Ren. He was once the trusted servant of Luo Tian’s grandfather, loyal enough to survive through three generations of clan politics. Now he stood at the door, a mid-stage Golden Core cultivator, his face calm but his eyes heavy with disdain.

"If you serve well, perhaps you can redeem your freedom."

Luo Ren said, his voice flat. He himself didn’t step inside. Everyone had heard the rumors—one breath of this young master’s shit-miasma, and your cultivation would start dropping like melting ice.

The new servants didn’t find any difficulty moving around—after all, they were hardened prisoners used to filth. The old maid from yesterday, however, quietly began scrubbing the walls and door, her hands blackened with the dried shit stains. She worked calmly, like it was no different from cleaning dust.

By noon, Luo Tian was already dressed. The wedding was scheduled for the evening, and the entire Luo Mansion was alive with noise. Lanterns hung, banners swayed, and servants—real and fake—rushed in every direction.

In another courtyard, Wang Ximen still lazed about with his maid, acting every bit the honored guest. As a true disciple of the Sword Mountain Sect, no one dared to rush him. He would show up late, and everyone would still bow.

But the real tension wasn’t in the wedding alone. Today, after the ceremony, the Luo clan would choose their new family head. For that reason, countless minor nobles and cultivators from weaker political circles had already gathered, each hoping to curry favor with the Luo family.

The clan elders themselves were no less busy. One after another, they welcomed their own "distinguished guests," powerful men and women they had pulled in through years of personal connections. Big shots from across the Tang Empire entered the mansion with pride, some even escorted by Luo clan elders directly, each arrival like a silent declaration: this elder still has influence, this elder still holds weight. Some guests came to curry favor with the Luo family itself, but most were only here because the emperor and the true disciple of the Sword Mountain sect would be in attendance.

Meanwhile, inside the clan itself, minor uncles and sons-in-law busied themselves with one-upmanship. Some ordered the decorations doubled, others barked at servants until the poor souls shook in fear. Each was desperate to prove their own "authority," as if bullying a servant would remind everyone that they still had some shred of weight in the Luo clan. All of them wanted the new family head to remember, "I am not someone you can casually suppress."

As evening approached, the rush of guests became less and less. The two highest honored seats remained empty, everyone else had already taken their designated places. Only when the honored guests arrived would the ceremony truly begin.

"I heard His Majesty is sending the youngest prince this time."

"I heard it too. They say that prince carries the aura of an emperor... but was punished, never to be crown prince."

"What bad luck for us."

"I heard he’s so talented he’ll leave the Northern Region someday."

The guests whispered among themselves. None dared raise their voice higher—who had the guts? The Tang Royal Family had ruled longer than memory itself, and as for the Sword Mountain Sect... pointing a finger at them was the same as losing it.

"THE TRUE DISCIPLE OF THE SWORD MOUNTAIN, THE ONLY DISCIPLE OF THE SECT MASTER, THE WANG FAMILY’S TREASURED YOUNG MASTER, WANG XIMEN, IS HERE."

A servant rushed into the hall and shouted at the top of his lungs. Such was the honor-bound custom of the Tang Empire—announcing every guest as if Heaven itself should take notice.

Wang Ximen stepped in soon after, clad in a flowing black robe that shimmered beneath the lantern light. His features were sharp, his bearing exotically handsome, and on his lips lingered that dry, arrogant smirk that made people grit their teeth the moment they saw him.

"Hehe, Young Master Ximen, let me take you to your seat."

Wang Mu walked ahead with a flattering smile to personally greet the honored guest. After all, this entire stunt was him trying to borrow the Wang family’s power to consolidate his own standing in the Luo clan.

"I heard... The Wang family is even more powerful than the Sword Mountain Sect itself."

"I heard that too. Their lineage runs deep—they’re said to share blood ties with the only true empire in the Central Region."

The guests whispered among themselves. Rumors had a way of growing fangs in a gathering like this. People repeated them again and again until even nonsense sounded like truth in their own minds.

Liyun, who was flying above the Luo Mansion, finally saw Ximen enter and sit down in the honored guest’s seat. Only then did he slowly descend from the skies and land on the road.

Hundreds of white-armored guards stood in formation, their spears glinting like frost under lantern light. Li Mei, dressed in dazzling new silks, was sleeping inside the carriage. It had been some time since they left the Royal Palace, but they had been waiting quietly on this empty road. Liyun didn’t want to arrive early—he wanted to be as late as possible, to step in when every head had already turned.

Behind him, Ergou walked in silence. His golden-and-white armor reflected the lantern light like a burning shield, every step heavy with killing intent. He was the image of a royal guard commander, towering like a mountain at the boy’s back.

Hehe... that brat sure looks like a villain, so there might be fun tropes. So I’m not the villain, hehe. What a relief! I wonder what trope is this.

Liyun thought to himself, the corner of his lips curling into a smile. He turned, stretched, and knocked on the side of the carriage to wake the maids. One by one they stirred awake, their silks rustling as they rubbed sleep from their eyes.

Ergou gave a firm nod. The carriage creaked as it began to roll forward again, the guards moving in unison, spears raised high.

"It’s time."