Chapter 16: I Am Unwilling

At that moment, a soldier hurried in through the side door of the church and whispered a few words into the ear of the elderly master, Nalan Tian. Upon hearing him, Nalan Tian’s expression immediately improved.

Tong Xiaoman raised an eyebrow, sensing that something interesting was about to unfold. She smiled faintly, settled back into her seat, and decided to stay. After waiting so long, it would be a shame to miss the spectacle.

She was certain that everyone present shared her thoughts. Though they all revered the power of the Nalan family, deep down, they were eager to witness the drama.

Sure enough, before long, the groom finally appeared—carried in by several strong men.

Everyone was struck dumb, their astonishment evident both inside and out.

They had attended countless weddings, but this was the first time they had ever seen a groom carried into a church.

It was truly unprecedented. While the crowd was curious, no one dared to speak. The church was so silent that, besides the stirring wedding march, one could even hear the crashing of waves outside.

The groom seemed unconscious, eyes tightly shut as he was borne in by the burly men.

With just one glance, Tong Xiaoman immediately recognized that the groom had been drugged. Her eyes sparkled as she stared intently at his face, a strange sense of familiarity washing over her.

She had seen many handsome men before—considering her own noble lineage, both the Tong and Zhao families were filled with strikingly beautiful men and women.

Yet this man felt different. Handsome and striking, yes, but exuding an undeniable aura of royal authority and a rugged, masculine charm that set him apart.

The unfortunate bride’s eyes lit up upon seeing him; she didn’t mind having waited so long, as long as he was here.

This was likely her first time meeting him, but where did that inexplicable sense of familiarity come from?

Tong Xiaoman furrowed her brow.

The priest officiating the wedding, heedless of whether the groom was conscious, immediately assumed a professional smile under the old master’s command and began the ceremony.

Standing up for the oppressed was not her style; she preferred to kick a man when he was down.

But drawn by that mysterious sense of recognition, she resolved to make an exception today.

Silently, she slipped off the cufflink from her sleeve and swiftly flicked her finger. The exquisitely crafted cufflink shot forth with lightning speed and struck the groom’s acupuncture point designed to awaken consciousness.

At that very moment, the priest asked the groom if he would take the bride as his wife.

What kind of eyes did the groom have?

They were deep and unfathomable, like a bottomless abyss, yet carried a chilling, sinister sharpness that sent a shiver down one’s spine.

Tong Xiaoman’s eyes suddenly widened. No wonder he felt so familiar—those were the same eyes as someone she knew closely. But one was an assassin, the other the leader of the Imperial Sha Group. Impossible, right?

The groom shook his still-dazed head, clenched his fists tightly, and abruptly reached up to loosen his tie.

His voice, cold and boundless, rang heavy in the taut air: “I do not agree. Damn it, no one’s marrying this woman.”

At his words, the church erupted into shocked murmurs.

The bride lowered her head and sobbed silently, her pitiful appearance stirring sympathy—though not from the groom.

Cold sweat beaded on the priest’s forehead; who could tell him how the ceremony was supposed to proceed now? Did it even need to continue?

“Nalan Che, say that again,” the old master roared in anger, suddenly rising from his seat at the head of the assembly, his face contorted with rage.