Free Web NovelChapter 66: Chapter 66: Can Your Husband Protect you from a God?
The moment the screen went black, a collective roar of fury echoed across the four empires.
From the burning sands of the Sand Empire to the deep underwater cities of the Sea Empire, hundreds of thousands of orc males stared at their frozen terminals in a state of pure shock.
"He cut it! That faceless bastard actually cut the feed!" a massive scorpion-orc in the Sand Empire screamed, slamming his fist onto his table. The table shattered into dust. "He was touching her! He was marking his territory right in front of us!"
The comment section had been a battlefield, but now the real-world destruction began. frёewebnoѵel.ƈo๓
In the Sand Empire
High-ranking warriors, known for their hot tempers, were seen tossing their furniture out of windows.
"Did you hear what he said? ’He is very greedy’?! Who does he think he is?" one hyena-orc howled, kicking his training dummy until it exploded.
"He’s probably some old, ugly high-official who used his power to trap our Goddess! I’ll tear him apart at the Temple!"
In the Sea Empire
The calm waters turned turbulent as powerful shark-beastmen thrashed in rage. "The way he leaned into her neck... the way she turned so red..." a commander gritted his teeth, his eyes glowing with jealousy.
"The livestream didn’t just end. It ended because he wanted her to himself. We all know what happens after the camera stops! That shameless Orc!"
In the Sky Empire
Winged orcs screeched in frustration, their sharp talons shredding the cushions of their nests.
They were obsessed with beauty, and seeing their "Pure Goddess" being held by such a large, dominating hand felt like a personal insult.
"He’s a bully! He’s definitely a bully! Look at those marks on his hand...he’s a brute! Our Goddess is too soft for a monster like that!"
The Interstellar Star Net was melting down. Within minutes of the cutoff, the "Goddess’s Husband" was the number one trending topic, followed closely by the hashtag #RescueTheGoddess.
"The way she looked at him... she called him ’Husband’ so naturally," one fan sobbed into his pillow, his room a mess of broken glass and torn posters.
"And then he whispered about ’last night’... my imagination is going to kill me! He’s probably ravaging her right now while we’re staring at a black screen!"
The jealousy was like a physical poison spreading through the empires. The boldest warriors began sharpening their weapons.
They weren’t just going to the Temple for the ceremony anymore; they were going for a manhunt.
"Let him show his face at the Celestial Bloom Rite," a shadowy figure in a high-ranking military uniform muttered, staring at a frozen screenshot of Han Soi’s hand on Yue Yue’s waist.
"I don’t care if he’s a Duke or a King. No one snatches the Empire’s treasure and walks away without a fight."
Back on the spaceship, Han Soi had no idea that he had just declared war on every male in the galaxy. Or perhaps, he knew exactly what he was doing, and he was looking forward to the challenge.
***
Deep within the most sacred, secluded wing of the Temple, the air was heavy with the scent of ancient incense and cold stone. This was a place of absolute silence, where the laws of the mortal world were supposed to mean nothing.
But today, the silence was shattered by the sharp shing of metal.
A blade, thin as a hair and glowing with a faint spiritual light, sliced through a pale, elegant hand. Blood, thick and unnaturally vibrant, began to flow smoothly, dripping onto the pristine white marble floor.
The man holding the blade did not flinch. It was the High Priest...the Fourth Villain.
His usual blindfold, a symbol of his supposed impartiality and connection to the stars, lay discarded on a velvet cushion.
His eyes were wide open, and they were terrifying. The deep, swirling red within his pupils was churning violently, like a sea of blood caught in a storm.
He wasn’t looking at his wound; he was staring at the blank, black screen of a terminal.
A temple man-servant, kneeling nearby with a tray of holy water, let out a stifled gasp. His entire body shook with terror.
"Highness! Your hand!" he cried, his voice trembling. "What kind of omen is this? To bleed before the Celestial Bloom Rite... it is unheard of! Please, let me..."
He scrambled forward, his hands glowing with healing magic, trying to close the gash. But as his light touched the High Priest’s skin, it flickered and died.
The wound refused to close. The High Priest’s spiritual energy was so chaotic, so filled with a dark, possessive rage, that no healing spell could take root.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
The blood pooled on the floor, a glaring crimson stain against the white. The man-servant trembled even more, his forehead hitting the ground. "My Lord... please... your highness..."
The High Priest didn’t even look at him. His gaze remained fixed on the spot where, moments ago, a large, hand had been wrapped around a small, delicate waist.
His mind replayed the scene like a torturous loop: the way the female had looked up at that man, the way she had fed him, and the way she had called him Husband with a voice full of sweetness.
"Husband..." the High Priest whispered, the word sounding like a curse on his tongue.
His hand suddenly clenched into a fist, squeezing the wound and forcing more blood to spill.
"Get out," he commanded.
His voice was low, but it carried a pressure that made the man-servant feel like his lungs were collapsing.
"My Lord, the bleeding..."
"I said, GET OUT!"
The roar of his spiritual power sent the man-servant flying backward, his tray clattering across the floor. He didn’t wait for a second chance.
He scrambled to his feet and fled the room, tears streaming down his face, leaving the "Holy" man alone in his dark sanctuary.
The High Priest stood up, his long, white robes trailing through his own blood. He walked to the window that looked out over the floating docks where the military spaceships were beginning to descend.
"You think you can hide her behind a title and a uniform?" he murmured, a cold, twisted smile appearing on his face. "You think a beast can keep the Moon for himself?"
He traced the mark of the blade on his palm, his eyes glowing with that unstable, violent red. The ceremony was supposed to be a ritual of peace and fertility, but in his heart, he was already preparing a cage.
"Welcome to the Temple, little one," he whispered toward the sky. "Let’s see if your ’Husband’ can protect you from a God."
