Bound to the Enemy: The Mafia's Obsession

The gunshot tore through Cassandra Feng's waist, narrowly missing her dantian. Her body-once a great weapon envied by all was now riddled with wounds, her qi reserve damaged and leaking, her strength drained.

She had fought for hours, her impeccable martial skills honed through years of brutal training by her Master and Grandmaster. Yet even she could not endure against hundreds of assassins wielding both ancient techniques and modern weapons who attacks her with the sole mission of taking her life.

Every breath she took burned her lungs. Her throat felt raw and sore. Every movement threatened to split her meridians apart as poisoned blood raged violently within her clashing with her qi and tearing her veins.

A question appeared in her mind. Who could command such great forces? Who could know her body, her immunity, her secrets so well to trap her in such a vicious net?

With her current condition, despite her unparalleled skills and qi cultivation, fighting against the countless assassins was impossible. Her dantian was on the verge of shattering, her qi dispelling, her cultivation dropping down at a speed visible to the eyes, the poison clashing against her organs, her vision started to turn blurred and hazy as she ran forward.

Even the hope of escaping was very slim for Cassandra Feng as she was pursued by countless assassins, tension of them qi cultivators using qi and spirit aura to attack her.

Still, she clung to one faith-that her aloof Master would come. He had to come. She had sent the emergency signal of the Sect, the blare reserved for the deadliest and most urgent situations.

Surely, her Master must be on his way to rescue her.

Staggering through the forest, vision blurring, Cassandra pressed on with sheer will and hope. Her dantian trembled on the verge of collapse as the accumulated qi depleted like sand, her blood stained the earth with every step she took. She couldn't use her qi to run away from her pursuers as the more she use her qi, the faster it depleted and the cracks in her dantian increased.

Her enemies were closing in on her from behind. Ahead of her was a deadly cliff. There was no way out for her. Had she been at the peak of her cultivation, she could have easily jumped off the cliff.

Yet, her pursuers seemed to grasp her skills and cultivation very well to poison her first, rendering her unable to use her qi.

Helplessly, she stumbled, crawled, rolled and ran- until she saw him.

The man she had prayed for, the one she always knew would appear to save her and rescue her.

Standing at the sharp cliff's edge, framed against the beautiful skies, he was magnificent and otherworldly -like an immortal god descended to earth. Long black hair streamed behind him like ink spilled across the heavens, his silky white ancient Chinese robes billowing in the winds with an elegance that defied the chaos behind him and the abyss below.

Sharp nose, coral lips, a sculpted jaw-his beauty struck her with the same force as his cold, fathomless eyes. Eyes that could swallow a soul whole. He looked like an oil painting of a master craftsman.

"Master..." she whispered hoarsely between her bloody lips, stumbling toward him with a smile that defied her bloody and tattered ruined appearance.

For a moment, her heavy, bleeding and aching body felt light.

For a moment, she believed she was saved like always.

Her dull eyes burst into life as countless lights sparkled like starts, the pupils reflecting the otherworldly beauty and presence of the man who turned towards her direction.

But unbeknownst to Cassandra Feng, the immortal- god- like- man clenched his fists inside his flowing sleeve. His gaze-so icy, so unreadable, so frozen-did not soften or thaw like usual.

Instead, with a sudden turn he summoned a torrent of qi so powerful the very air around him quivered and spiralled into a chaos, the surrounding trees uprooted and branches and leaves flew with the debris as the beautiful sky was covered with dark gloomy tornadoes.

The people pursuing behind Cassandra Feng were shocked. Some weak ones were swept into the eye of the storm, their bodies shredding into pieces by the sharp wind blades.

And then, with reddened eyes and clenched jaws he released it.

The blast struck Cassandra Feng's dantian with merciless precision, shattering her golden core.

Cassandra Feng widened her eyes as she spurted out a mouthful of blood, dyeing her body with her blood. Her skin ripped and blood gushed out but her heart hurt even more.

She could not believe it.

For a moment, she thought it was her extremely tensed brain hallucinating.

But the gut wrenching pain of her dantian shattering, her meridians tearing and her body ripping from the chaos of force within made her realize that it was really happening.

Tears streamed down her face as her eyes searched for her beloveds. Yet what met her eyes were not the firm ones which held gentleness, warmth and love for her.

No, his eyes were cold, icy, sharp and unreadable. Tinged with pain.

Why did he looked hurt when he was the one who hurt her?

When he was the one who dashed her hopes!

When he was the one who betrayed her!

Extreme anger, unwillingness and pain of being betrayed by the one she loved and trusted the most welled up in Cassandra Feng.

The betrayal pierced deeper than the shattering of her core. The pain wasn't just physical-it was the realization. No wonder the assassins knew her every move and techniques. No wonder they wielded the extremely rare poisons she could not resist.

Because they were her brothers, her sisters... her fellow disciples. Her family. Her sect members.

Mobilized not by her enemies, but by him.

By her Master. By her lover. By her man.

Her Master had orchestrated her ruin.

Her lover planned her death.

Her knees buckled as she fell weakly on her knees.

Her long silky hair billowing in the wind , the ends tenderly brushing past the strands of the man's hair in a last dance of rites. Bidding farewell even as they tried to cling to each other before the roaring wind separated them, the sharp wind blades slicing off a few strands of hair which fell lifelessly on the ground.

Blood gushed from Cassandra Feng's lips, staining her white ancient Chinese robes which was now stained crimson with her blood. Her robe was a couples outfit, matching with the pristine white ones he was wearing. She embroidered peonies on the sleeves of their robes herself, symbolizing their love.

And wearing their matching lovers outfit, he killed her.

She stared at him, disbelief and unwillingness cracking into agony. "Why, Master?" Her voice was ragged, raw and hoarse like a small pleading beast. It was breaking like her soul. "Why?"

He did not answer. Did not respond.

His face remained a mask of frozen beauty, his silence more devastating than the blow itself.

Her body convulsed as her dantian finally collapsed, the unfathomable amount of qi surging in her golden core and shattering it with her organs. A final surge of power ripped through her frame, tearing her apart from within.

A huge resonance came as the powerful surge of qi shattered her form with a final tragic cry that escaped her lips.

And then-silence.

From her ruined body, only a single tear fell. A lone drop of grief, of love, of betrayal. It slipped down her bloodied cheek as her form dissolved into nothingness.

That lone teardrop crystallized midair, shimmering with an otherworldly glow, as though heaven itself mourned her and her deep love, and the sorrow and pain that followed.

It landed in the outstretched palm of the immortal god like man, delicate and translucent-her last gift, her last curse.

The only remaining part of her.

The immortal like man stood upon the cliff, gazing at the jewel of sorrow resting in his hand. The crystallized teardrop pulsed faintly with her essence, fragile yet eternal.

As the storm calmed down, the assassins all moved away with a wave of the man's hand.

He stood alone, his long hair billowing, the strands searching for their counterpart yet failing to find it. He suddenly spurted out a mouthful of blood staining his robes scarlet. His blood staining the crystallized teardrop which pulsed faintly in his palms.

Unable to hold back the cry in his throat anymore, the tall and mighty man collapsed on his knees as his first tears since he was ever born spilled from his forever frozen eyes.

Her life was gone. Her love was broken. And yet, a piece of Cassandra remained-forever trapped in his grasp. A piece of her sorrow and hatred which was borne from love.

Rowan Empire

In the sprawling luxurious estate of House Bolton.

A splitting headache tore Cassandra Feng from the abyss of dreams, one of hers in a loop of escaping and the pain of her body exploding as her golden core shattered, the other a strange one filled with strangers.

Dreams that weren't hers-faces she had never seen, voices that weren't her own, places she had never walked, an entirely strange world she was unfamiliar with. She gasped awake with a cry, body soaked with sweats and heart pounding as though it still remembered being torn apart.

Her vision sharpened, and she froze as she sensed the presence of others around her.

Four women stood around her bed like silent sentinels, clad in black suits, their presence radiating cold intimidation. Their stillness was unnatural, their gazes sharp enough to cut. The kind of pressure that would crush any ordinary girl into obedience.

Cassandra's throat tightened. Where was she? Who were they?

One of them stepped forward, her voice like a blade of ice.

"Young Miss, First Madame ordered that you are to remain confined to your quarters until the Eldest Young Master returns."

Without another word, the four women turned in mechanical unison and left, the door slamming shut with a finality that reverberated through Cassandra's chest. A heavy bolt scraped into place, locking her away.

She was a prisoner.

She sat up abruptly, her body trembling-not from fear, but from the sudden, searing flood of memories not her own. Images, names, sensations-foreign and invasive-crashed into her skull, the searing pain nearly tearing away her consciousness.

She clutched her head, rolling onto the bed as a strangled cry tore from her lips.

When the storm receded, she lay gasping, pale and clammy, her chest heaving as though she'd clawed her way back from death. Slowly, she turned her head.

The mirror placed beside the bed reflected everything.

Her reflection stared back at her-an exquisite young girl with delicate features, her long black hair spilling like silk over a fragile frame that was not Cassandra's.

Her stomach dropped.

"Aaaaaaahhhhhh!"

The scream ripped through her throat, piercing and raw. But outside the door, the guards didn't even flinch. To them, this was routine. Their "Youngest Miss" often wailed whenever locked inside by the First Madame.

But this wasn't routine for Cassandra.

She stumbled from the bed and lunged toward the mirror, gripping its sides with bloodless knuckles. Wide, disbelieving eyes stared back at her from a stranger's face. Her breath came ragged, too fast, too shallow.

What the hell happened?!

Her memories clawed their way forward-blood, assassins, betrayal. Her Master's hand striking her dantian, the explosion of qi, her body ripping apart from within.

She had died!

She remembered dying.

So why... why was she alive, trapped in the body of a girl she had never known, in a family she had never belonged to?

Waking up and finding herself trapped inside the body of a seventeen-year-old girl-Cassandra Bolton, the youngest daughter of the infamous Bolton Family, and inheriting the memories of original Cassandra Bolton.

What in the world is happening?

Is this her brain concocting hallucinations before her last breath out of sheer will to survive?

For a few hours, Cassandra Feng decided to do anything to wake up to reality.

Like banging her head, pinching herself, slapping herself, pouring the cold water over her head. And with a heavy mind realized that she was already dead. Or her original body was already dead. Only her soul or consciousness remained and now she was inhabiting the body of a girl who died after being drowned by her step siblings.

Through the strange flood of memories that weren't hers, she realized with mounting disbelief who these people were. The Boltons-rulers of the underworld, their name whispered like a curse in the Rowan Empire. A clan of villains who fed on blood and fear, cloaked in elegance but rotting with cruelty. And she... she had reincarnated into the body of their weak and bullied youngest miss.

Her breath caught In her throat. Did she... turn into an evil ghost? After dying so wretchedly, did her soul crawl into the body of a stranger?

The thought was absurd. Insane. Completely unscientific. Yet here she was, alive inside a body that was not hers, surrounded by memories that tasted of smoke, blood, and crime.

Cassandra Feng's mind reeled. I escaped one dungeon only to wake up in hell itself.

Her chest tightened, the bitterness suffocating. Even death offered her no release. What kind of twisted fate was this? What rotten luck chained her to misery across lives?

Rage, grief, and disbelief coiled in her chest until her delicate new frame shook. Her beautiful borrowed face distorted into something almost feral as her aura turned sharp and bloodthirsty, vengeful enough to chill the air.

A raw scream tore out of her throat as she hurled her fist at the marble floor. The sound cracked like thunder. A thin spider-web fissure appeared beneath her knuckles... yet the ground held firm.

She froze, staring.

What the hell?!

In her old body, that punch would have shattered stone like glass. But here-barely a scratch.

Cold realization struck like lightning.

This wasn't her body. Not her strength. Not her qi. There wasn't even a flicker of energy flowing through her veins.

"No..." she whispered, trembling, horror widening her eyes.

She had gone from being a tempered blade, a great cultivator unmatched among her peers to now a commoner- to a fragile porcelain egg that could crack at the slightest touch.

The indignation clawed through her veins, setting her blood alight. How could she, Cassandra Feng, once feared across continents, now be forced to crawl in such a weak, powerless shell?

Her fists clenched, nails digging into her palms as a violent rage rose within her. She wanted to tear this cursed fate apart, to smash someone's smug face into the floor that dared defy her strength.

But all she could do was seethe. Seethe, and resign herself to the cruel irony of being alive-yet stripped of everything that once made her formidable.

She had not escaped death. She had been sentenced to a worse fate.

Cassandra Feng realized with urgency that she was now in the body of the weak, bullied and helpless Cassandra Bolton, and if she wanted to survive in this strange new world, she would have to wear that mask convincingly.

Unfortunately, Cassandra Bolton was not just anyone. She was the infamous youngest daughter of House Bolton-grounded, despised, and loathed by none other than her own mother. And watched by many eyes.

She was no longer Cassandra Feng. She has become Cassandra Bolton.

First Madame Karmilla Visent Bolton, the mighty and dignified first wife of Ragnos Renatus Bolton, held the household in an iron grip. Her word was law, and her presence could silence even the most ruthless underworld killers. To the outside world, she was the untouchable queen of House Bolton. To Cassandra Bolton, she was a towering shadow that pressed down with suffocating authority.

But instead of warmth or protection, First Madame reserved for her daughter only disdain and disgust. Her unconditional love was poured into her son-the Eldest Young Master-leaving Cassandra as little more than a shameful burden in her eyes.

And shame was exactly what had ignited her fury this time. Cassandra Bolton had gone to fight the Ninth Young Miss, Jessica Bolton, daughter of Third Madame-her mother's most bitter rival-and not only lost but been beaten and tossed into a pond like a stray dog. The humiliation cut deeper than the bruises, and for Karmilla, her daughter's disgrace was intolerable.

Now locked away in confinement, Cassandra sat on the bed, her face pale but her mind racing. The words of the guard echoed in her ears:

"...until the Eldest Young Master returns..."

Her stomach sank. The Eldest Young Master-her so-called brother, the only person tied to her by blood. From Cassandra Bolton's inherited memories, she knew him well enough to shiver. He was a cruel, heartless man who carried the authority of House Bolton as easily as one carried a dagger. He never spared his only sister a glance, let alone kindness. To him, she was just an embarrassment that even his mother disdained.

"When will my villainous big brother return?" Cassandra murmured with a heavy sigh, irritation pooling in her chest.