Weapon seller in the world of magic-Chapter 690: An Assassination Attempt

"Great... Just great. I’m stuck leading an ancient clan, stuck in a frozen world, stuck in inter-realm politics, stuck with conspiracies waiting to bloom, and I haven’t even changed diapers for my children in months."

He closed his eyes and leaned backward, muttering softly, "I just want to go home..."

But he couldn’t.

Not yet.

Because deep down, he knew it wasn’t that simple. Even if he teleported home in eleven days, he couldn’t stay long. The Empire was watching. The Fire Clan relations were pending. The Ravagers’ war was hanging over everything. And the sect elders...

The sect elders.

He didn’t know what was happening in the hidden chamber beneath the Ice Palace, but he was sure that not everyone was happy to see him on the throne.

Mark had been sitting there for so long that even the jade lamp beside him had grown dimmer, its flame shrinking with a soft hiss every now and then. His thoughts had run in circles, like resign, don’t resign, run away, force them to remove him, hold the position temporarily, pass it down, handle the Empire, secure the clan, stabilize the realm...

He rubbed his forehead.

"This is turning into a headache."

He knew the sect elders were restless. He knew the clan was divided. And he knew the Empire would definitely respond soon. A part of him wondered if he should just give up, resign early, and let Lan Yuxuan take over while he escaped with Lan Xia and maybe Shang Jiao. Another part wondered if forcing a crisis and letting them oust him might resolve everything more cleanly.

But every time he entertained that thought, something pinched inside his chest. Responsibility. Guilt. Attachment. Obligation. Family.

He closed his eyes and muttered, "What a mess..."

KNOCK. KNOCK.

Mark opened his eyes and stood up slowly. It was late enough that even the night birds had fallen asleep.

He walked to the door and pulled it open.

Lan Xia stood there.

Her hair was loose, falling behind her shoulders like a soft waterfall, and her eyes curved into a crescent smile as soon as she saw him.

"Zhen-ge," she said lightly. "You’re awake."

Mark stared at her for a moment before sighing softly. "Sister Xia... it’s late. Is something wrong?"

"No," she said, stepping inside without waiting for permission. "I’m here to discuss something important."

She walked in as naturally as if the residence were hers.

Mark quietly closed the door and followed. "Important?"

Lan Xia turned toward him with a very calm, very bright expression.

"Our wedding."

Mark froze mid-step. "Our... what?"

Lan Xia tilted her head. "Wedding. The one you agreed to?" She blinked. "You didn’t forget, right?"

Mark scratched his cheek and looked away. "No, no, I didn’t forget. I just thought... maybe this isn’t the right time."

Lan Xia blinked again at him, then narrowed her eyes slightly. "Zhen-ge... you’re not planning to escape the promise, are you?"

Her tone sharpened a little. Just a little. Enough to make her sound dangerous.

Mark let out a weary breath. "No. I promised I would marry you, and I will. But the situation is complicated right now."

"Even more reason to hold the wedding," Lan Xia cut in. She moved to sit on the couch, crossing her legs and patting the spot beside her. Mark sat reluctantly. She leaned forward, speaking in a soft but persuasive tone, something she only speaks to him. "The clan is tense. If we marry, everything stabilizes."

Mark stared at her like she was making up logic on the spot. "You’re... really eager about this."

"Of course," she replied without hesitation. She leaned back and looked at him seriously. "You were too eager to return home. And every day, it feels like you can disappear at any time. And I want to go back with you, as your wife."

He opened his mouth, about to respond, but Lan Xia raised her hand.

"I would rather enter your home properly," she said softly, "than chase you to the mortal plane and cause trouble for your existing marriage."

That sentence carried a weight that made Mark fall silent.

She looked away, cheeks turning a faint pink. "Also... ever since you accepted... well... I’ve been dreaming about you a lot." Her voice shrank near the end. "It’s becoming hard to sleep..."

Mark stared at her.

She immediately covered her cheeks with her hands, looking away. "Don’t look at me like that... it’s embarrassing..."

Mark let out a long, deep sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Fine... alright." He dropped his hand. "We’ll have the wedding in a few days, if you want. I’ll make the formal announcement and formally come to your master to talk about it."

Lan Xia blinked once.

Then her face exploded with pure joy.

"Really?!"

Before he could answer, she was already standing, practically hopping on her toes like an excited child. "Good! Very good! I’ll go tell my friends."

She ran toward the door, half-skipping, half-floating, and humming a tune under her breath. Even from a distance, one could see that she was filled with joy.

Mark watched her back as she disappeared into the night.

Silence returned.

He closed the door.

Then leaned his forehead against it with a sigh so heavy even the AI stayed quiet. "What do I do with this girl..."

He walked back to his meditation seat, dropped onto it, and stared at the ceiling again. "Her feelings keep growing, day by day... But I don’t feel that way toward her."

He rubbed his face and whispered miserably, "I already told her before... I already explained my relationship with Song Yue... but I’m not sure she really grasps the reality..."

He exhaled deeply, shoulders slumping. "There’s no use crying over spilled milk. let’s just get the wedding over with."

He looked toward the window, where moonlight seeped through in pale silver streaks. "One problem at a time..."

*

A few hours later;

The lantern by Mark’s bedside flickered once, then steadied. Mark lay on the bed with one arm over his forehead, the weight of his thoughts finally giving way to exhaustion.

He drifted into sleep without noticing that the window latch trembled slightly.

A shadow slipped inside like smoke.

The figure glided across the room soundlessly with each step precise. The assassin’s palms were wrapped in cloth soaked with something thick and black.

He reached the side of the bed, leaned forward, and his hands hovered over Mark’s throat.

*Ding!

"Master... Danger" "Danger" "Danger"

As his head filled with sounds of alarm, Mark’s eyes snapped open.

He rolled off the bed instantly, hitting the floor as two black palms slammed into the pillow where his head had been. The pillow dissolved, melting into a pile of rotting mush.

Mark’s heartbeat spiked as he watched the scene. "That..." he whispered, but before he could finish, the figure turned its head toward him.

He frowned, staring at the hooded figure. "A Saint level expert? I knew that someone would certainly act foolishly, but I didn’t expect it to be this soon. Who are you?"

The assassin didn’t answer his question and instead commented. "So you woke up, but it changes nothing."

He flickered and turned into a blue.

Mark’s body moved purely on reflex as the first strike brushed past his cheek, slicing a thin line through the wall behind him. The second palm shot toward his ribs. Mark twisted, the poisonous wind scraping his clothes.

The third strike, however, connected.

"Gaaah!"

The moment it did, an intense, sudden pain exploded instantly across his shoulder. A burning heat surged inside the wound, followed by a terrifying chill.

As the black poison seeped through his veins, Mark stumbled backwards, clutching his shoulder while black veins pulsed violently across his skin.

His lungs seized. His fingers trembled. His vision blurred. In that just couple of seconds.

The assassin laughed softly. "Did you think you could escape?" he whispered. "This poison is made from the feathers of Zhen, the Abyssal Phoenix of Corrosion. Even a second-stage Transcendent (13-circle) wouldn’t be able to live once he was hit by that."

Mark tried to raise his gun, but his fingers slipped.

He tried to speak, his throat tightened, and he couldn’t even scream for help.

The assassin stepped closer, lifting his hand again. "And don’t bother yelling. I cast a silence barrier the moment I entered. No one will hear you die."

Mark’s body convulsed once and collapsed to the floor. Black veins crawled up his neck, nearing his jawline. His breathing grew faint. His vision tunneled further until only darkness remained at the edges.