Weapon seller in the world of magic-Chapter 718: The Wedding Banquet

Mark nodded slowly, his eyes scanning the hall with a calm expression that failed to hide the sharpness beneath.

"I don’t know..." he murmured. "Can’t trust those who play with politics. They won’t even give things out of mere goodwill, especially to the people whom they saw as mere ants for centuries..."

Lan Xia’s smile froze for a second. She opened her mouth, but Mark simply squeezed her hand lightly and smiled, "Forget about them. Today’s our wedding day. Not a day to care about others."

Lan Xia’s smile returned at that. She too squeezed his hand and nodded.

Almost two hours later, when the final important guest crossed the threshold, the couple finally stepped into the banquet hall.

Their seats were arranged at the host’s table, an elevated platform overlooking the hall. To the right sat Yuxuan, composed as ever, and Lan Jing, wearing a proud smile. To the left sat Shang Jiao with a bright expression... and Yujin, whose eyes hid a storm no one else noticed apart from the loyalists.

The hall quieted when Mark rose with a cup of wine in hand. The lantern lights reflected off the cup’s surface, casting a warm glow over his face.

"Everyone," he said, voice steady but warm, "thank you for honoring our wedding with your presence. Your blessings are our joy. Let us drink together."

The hall rose at once. Cups were lifted unanimously. A chorus of voices echoed:

"To the couple!"

The wine was drunk in one gulp, marking the official start of the feast.

Dishes were brought out: spirit beast roasts, frost lotus soup, celestial fruits, and endless streams of delicacies. The musicians resumed their soft melodies, and laughter filled the air as Mark and Lan Xia finally took their seats.

Mark calmly picked up his chopsticks and took a bite. Lan Xia did the same. Everything looked normal... but across the table, Yujin was frozen mid-motion, fingers tightening around his cup.

It should have acted instantly.

For a moment, the old man stared so hard that even the flickering candles seemed afraid to move. His gaze stuck to Mark, waiting... searching...

But Mark ate, talked lightly with Lan Xia, and enjoyed the wine with an easy smile. He turned his head slightly and caught Yujin’s stare.

Their eyes met.

Mark didn’t say anything, didn’t frown, didn’t give any reaction, only lifted the cup again and sipped with deliberate calmness. Inside his mind, Ark’s notifications flashed one after another:

*Ding!

[ Poison Detected: Zhen Venom ]

[ Neutralized ]

His plan, so carefully timed, so meticulously arranged... had crumbled before it even began. Originally, he had two plans. One to use assassins. Two, to use the poison. The first one ended up a failure, not because of Frost and Pyro’s presence, but also due to the attendance of two imperial princes. He then used the potent version of zhen poison, which carries no scent and is completely mixed with any drink, but now even that failed.

Yujin got the urge to suddenly strike Mark, who was sitting nearby him, with his most powerful attack. It wouldn’t matter what others think as long as Mark dies. Yujin was confident in making damage control, but then he remembered something and glanced up.

High above the banquet hall, concealed in the rafters, Frost and Pyro watched over their master. Frost’s eyes were sharp and focused. Pyro, arms crossed, looked half-interested, still stayed alert enough that a ripple of killing intent flickered whenever someone suspicious moved too close to the platform.

Meanwhile, the feast below grew lively.

At the highest guest section, where imperial guests sat, the Fifth Prince leaned toward the young Prince Zetian with a knowing smile.

"Don’t be so obvious, nephew," he murmured.

Zetian, startled, nearly dropped his chopsticks. "W-What’s obvious? It’s not, I wasn’t..."

The Fifth Prince chuckled softly, swirling his wine. "You keep glancing in her direction. I know that she is a rare beauty, but if you continue to become obvious, someone will spot and in no time, the entire hall will hear of it. And you don’t want her anger on your head, do you? You have to stay here, after all. Don’t worry, you will get plenty of chances..."

Lei Zetian stiffened, face turning red beneath the mask. He quickly nodded, head bobbing like a startled chick. "Understood."

He turned back to his food with forced seriousness.

But habit betrayed him; his gaze flickered once more toward the host table. When Shang Jiao briefly smiled at someone’s joke, Zetian immediately ducked down and grabbed his cup as if hiding behind it.

The Fifth Prince shook his head with amusement.

The banquet carried on peacefully, with laughter, toasts, gentle music, and guests exchanging words of admiration for the new couple. There were no fights, no ominous shifts, no dark clouds gathering overhead.

No one dared cause trouble at an event guarded by two transcendent beasts and a Patriarch whose ruthlessness had already spread across half the dominion.

But one thing did happen.

Yujin failed.

His brow twitched several times throughout the meal, each twitch a dagger stabbing whatever plan he had built. Mark’s subtle smirk every time he lifted the cup only made the old patriarch’s heart sink deeper.

By the end of the banquet, all guests were full, cheerful, and satisfied. Even the imperial envoys had enjoyed themselves.

Only one man was left with trembling hands hidden within his sleeves.

And he wasn’t a guest.

He was family.

Because now he couldn’t help but wonder whether Mark knew about the poison and was acting ignorant or whether the wine was swapped at the last minute.

Yujin swallowed hard in a bit of nervousness.

*

The moment the final dish was cleared away, the elders signaled the close of the banquet. A soft chime echoed across the vast hall, followed by the soothing notes of the musicians shifting into a slower, more auspicious melody. The air grew gentler, more intimate; laughter faded and was replaced by warm well-wishes as guests rose from their seats.

Clan elders and sect dignitaries stepped forward one after another, offering short blessings to the newlyweds.

Some spoke of fortune, some of longevity, some of harmony between fire and frost. Mark nodded politely to all of them, keeping Lan Xia’s hand securely held as if promising her silently that he would not leave her alone even for a heartbeat during their wedding night. Lan Xia, cheeks still rosy from wine and emotions, bowed gracefully at each blessing.

As the atmosphere softened into the final phase of the ceremony, attendants carrying lanterns appeared, forming a gentle procession of light toward the exit of the hall.

Some carried trays adorned with peanuts, lotus seeds, dried dates, and little red pastries, the ancient symbols of fertility and abundant blessings. Others held candles protected within crystal casings, their flames steady despite the slight breeze.

The guests made way as the couple stepped down together. Mark stood tall and composed; Lan Xia walked in small, careful steps beside him, her fingers curling slightly around his as if grounding her nerves.

The escort procession guided them through quiet pathways lit with red lanterns. Elders, disciples, and guests watched with smiles, whispering blessings as they passed. The palace attendants followed respectfully behind, carrying the auspicious items meant to be placed in the bridal chamber.

When they reached the chamber, the doors were already decorated with red ribbons and the double happiness sigil shimmering faintly under the dim lantern light. Red curtains draped the walls, lotus motifs embroidered across them. A large marriage bed sat in the center, its sheets crimson, with Frost Dragon King and Blizzard Pegasus stitched across the silk.

The moment the couple stepped inside, the elders outside activated a noise-cancelling barrier for the couple’s privacy. Once the barrier shimmered subtly in place, the doors closed gently with a soft thud, leaving only the glow of red candles dancing inside the quiet room.

Mark led Lan Xia to sit on the edge of the marriage bed. She lowered her head, her hands resting atop her knees, her heartbeat almost audible in the intimate silence. The slight tremor in her fingers revealed her nervousness far more than her calm expression ever would.

Mark’s gaze softened. With deliberate gentleness, he reached for her veil. For a breath, Lan Xia held her breath, her eyelashes trembling behind the thin fabric.

He lifted the veil slowly.

Lan Xia’s shy, slightly flustered face appeared beneath the candlelight, cheeks pink, lips parted slightly, eyes lowered but shining bright.

Mark smiled faintly.

"You look beautiful," he said quietly.

Lan Xia’s breath hitched, and she murmured back, "You... don’t have to say things like that just because it’s the wedding night."

"I’m not saying it because of that," Mark said, voice softer. "I’m saying it because it’s true."

She quickly looked away, ears turning even redder.

Mark chuckled under his breath and reached for the small gourd the attendants had placed on a tray. It was cut into two halves, each filled with red wine. A symbol dating back thousands of years: two halves of one whole, joining again.

He offered one half to Lan Xia and held the other himself.

Their fingers brushed lightly as they raised the cups.

The candles flickered.

The night waited.

Only the two of them existed within that warm, quiet space.

"To our union," Mark whispered.

Lan Xia looked up at him, her eyes soft and brimming with warmth. "To our future."

They tilted the halves and drank together, a single, symbolic act binding them in the eyes of ancient tradition.

Outside the chamber, the grand elders began escorting VIP guests to their accommodations. The princes were led to their specially prepared chambers. Clan leaders returned to their guest houses. The music faded into the distance.

One by one, the pathways emptied, lanterns dimmed, and quiet settled over the estate.

The world outside rested.

Inside the bridal room, a single pair of shadows sat together on the red silk bed, just beginning the long night of their union.