"Your Majesty, Knox and I are deeply in love, and I will marry no one but him. If Your Majesty does not agree, I, Isolde, will sever all ties with the Hale family and leave this family right now!"
The sharp, unwavering declaration rang through the grand hall like a blade drawn from its sheath.
Alex woke up to that voice.
For a brief instant, his mind was empty, no cultivation, no enemies, no schemes, only the echo of a woman's resolve vibrating against marble pillars.
He opened his eyes.
Before him knelt a young woman in a long pale-blue gown, silk pooling around her slender knees.
Her figure was graceful, refined by noble upbringing, yet her posture carried stubborn defiance rather than humility. Tears shimmered at the corners of her eyes, but her gaze was unyielding, fixed directly on him without fear.
Beautiful. Proud. Foolish.
She looked at him as though he were the final villain standing between her and happiness.
Alex frowned slightly.
Something was wrong.
This was not his bedroom.
There was no dim glow from a phone screen, no lingering headache from staying up all night reading trashy cultivation novels. Instead, towering stone columns loomed overhead, engraved with ancient beast patterns. Spiritual pressure lingered faintly in the air, heavy and oppressive, like a sleeping dragon's breath.
And the girl kneeling before him.
She was dressed in ancient aristocratic robes.
At that moment, pain detonated inside his skull.
Memories... violent, foreign, overwhelming, poured into his consciousness like a collapsing dam.
Alex shut his eyes, his expression tightening as his temples throbbed. Images flickered past, cultivation techniques, blood-soaked purges, political marriages, the land of the Hale family, and a throne soaked in authority.
Saint Lord of the Hale Family. Second only to the Empress. A tyrant. A villain.
Before he could fully digest the memories, another voice burst forth, righteous and indignant.
"Isolde, don't waste your breath on this kind of person. Come with me!"
The voice was young, firm, and filled with self-righteous fervor.
"The dignified Lord of a noble family, holding a position above all others, second only to the Empress, actually disregards your happiness for the sake of profit—using you, a woman, as a bargaining chip for political marriage!"
A young man stepped forward.
His clothes were plain, almost crude compared to the luxurious robes of the Hale family disciples. His face was ordinary, the kind that would disappear into a crowd at a glance.
Yet there was something about him—an invisible aura of confidence, as though the world itself bent subtly in his favor.
He pointed at Alex, eyes burning with condemnation.
"Such a family, opportunistic, greedy for power and reputation, is better abandoned!"
A murmur spread through the hall.
The Hale family disciples stiffened, their expressions darkening instantly.
Upon hearing his words, the young woman's trembling resolved into conviction. Isolde lifted her head, her gaze softening as she looked at the young man with deep affection.
"Knox…"
Her voice quivered.
Alex's memories aligned.
Knox.
The protagonist.
"So this is him," Alex thought calmly, though his heart sank slightly.
"How dare you!"
A furious roar erupted from the elders' seats.
"Who do you think you are, to criticize the Saint Lord's decision within the Hale family?"
"You insignificant ant—who gave you the audacity to spout such nonsense here?"
"Isolde, is this the wild man you brought into our family hall?!"
Killing intent surged.
Several Hale disciples unconsciously stepped forward, spiritual energy rippling as murderous gazes locked onto Knox.
Yet Knox did not retreat.
Instead, he straightened his back and spoke loudly, as though he were standing at the center of heaven and earth.
"I am Knox!"
His voice echoed.
"Though I am merely a commoner now, with weak cultivation, I possess an indomitable heart! Sooner or later, I will surpass all of you spoiled brats who rely on your lineage!"
His words were arrogant. Childish. Provocative.
But they carried the unmistakable scent of destiny.
Alex finally understood.
He had transmigrated.
And not into the protagonist.
But into Alex, the Saint Lord of the Hale family.
The greatest villain in the early stages of the novel he had stayed up all night reading.
A cold chill crept up his spine.
He remembered this scene clearly.
This was the beginning.
The spark that ignited everything.
In the original plot, Alex would sneer coldly, suppress Knox's cultivation, and order his subordinates to "teach him a lesson" without killing him, of course.
That single act would allow Knox to escape humiliation, gain hatred, and later return stronger.
Then came the endless cycle.
One subordinate after another would be sent.
One after another would die.
Each death feeding Knox's growth.
Each defeat elevating him further.
Until Alex, the Saint Lord, the true powerhouse, stood alone.
Only then would he personally move to crush the protagonist.
Too late.
Far too late.
By that time, Knox would be surrounded by peerless beauties, ancient inheritances, heaven-defying treasures, and righteous allies.
The Hale family would be exterminated.
Infants slaughtered in their cradles.
And the novel would call it "cleansing evil."
Alex felt a strange bitterness rise in his chest.
He slowly opened his eyes.
This time, he looked at Knox—not with anger, not with disdain, but with icy clarity.
"So," he thought, "this is how it begins."
A villain with overwhelming power, doomed not by weakness, but by stupidity.
Sending dogs to die instead of snapping the protagonist's neck while he was still an ant.
Alex almost laughed.
If villains truly died because they were evil, then fine.
But dying because of plot-induced idiocy?
Unacceptable.
His gaze swept across the hall.
The murderous disciples.
Isolde kneeling in defiance.
Knox standing proudly, basking in righteous fury.
When Alex was reading the novel, he didn't think much of it.