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Marrying The Fake Invalid Dragon Lord

Marrying The Fake Invalid Dragon Lord

Author: Yan Shui
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Chapter 1 

Word Count: 1117    |    Released on: 15/09/2026

a P

ter Gale, I had already been locked in this rotting dungeon for a full year, my Dragon C

pun sugar yet dripping with sickening venom. She wore a magnificent crimson gown woven w

st the stench of my rotting flesh. "After all, His Highness and I are officially marrying today. The bells of the Dragon Crown Sa

wedding decreed by the King, with ten miles of red silk draping the capital-what a spectacular display of glory. Yet, two years ago, when I entered Alistair's estate,

essionless, as if I didn't

sed Gale's eyes. What she hated the most was that, eve

e good news. Your precious little brother, Rowan. Only twelve years old, yet he cried and begged at the palace gates, screaming that he want

lank, the blood in my v

eated you like a real sister, and y

I truly cared about in this world. But he had been brainwashed and manipulated by Gale and her mother, treating me

e actually dared to storm the Dragon Court alone to rescue you. Guess what happened? He was shot through by

ched, a jagged shard of ic

shattered soul forced the sound out. Quinn was the loyal guard my mother had left me, but I h

orthless life, it would cost b

ned in my gut. I lunged at her like a madwoman, desperate to tear her throat out with m

ves me the most. His Highness Prince Damian loves me the most. Even your former fiancé, Ansel Beaumont, has been beggi

ve my sister her wedding toast. I must ret

uid was poured down my throat. It was the 'Soul's Extinction,' a poison that b

ls of black, poisoned blood. The agoniz

stared dead at Gale's retreating back, etching her

you all to hell. Gale, Damian, Ansel, and my co

swallowed

gone. The agon

chest heaving. The liquid hellfire in my thr

furnishings. After a brief moment of

was not my bedroom at Griffith Manor. This was a guest chamber in the

r. I scrambled out of bed and rushed to the vanity mirror. The face stari

s re

is day. In my past life, Gale had drugged my tea. But I hadn't realized until now that it was Elara who must have hel

tsteps and a woman's shriek echoed

AS

ior wall. Lachlan Beaumont, the bastard son of a vassal family, stood in th

. Look at this skin... I'm g

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Marrying The Fake Invalid Dragon Lord
Marrying The Fake Invalid Dragon Lord
“After my own father shattered my Dragon Core and chained me in a rotting dungeon for a full year, my half-sister finally came to visit. Wearing the majestic gown of a Dragon Queen, she forced the "Soul's Extinction" poison down my throat. "Still waiting for someone to save you? Your twelve-year-old brother was beaten into a pile of mashed flesh at the palace gates! And your fiercely loyal guard captain? Shot through by heavy crossbows and fed to the rogue drakes!" Listening to her gloat about how she stole my beloved Crown Prince and turned my entire family against me, I choked on black blood, letting out a bestial screech of pure despair. I swore that if there was a next life, I would drag them all to hell and make them beg for death! When I opened my eyes again, I was back at age eighteen. Outside the door, my sister was leading a crowd of nobles to "catch" me in a scandalous affair with a drunken intruder. Looking at the disgusting man lunging at me, I didn't cower and beg like in my past life. Instead, I grabbed a heavy iron poker from the hearth and mercilessly shattered his kneecaps! When the door was violently pushed open, everyone gasped. I was stepping on the intruder's bloody face. Right then and there, I slapped my hypocritical sister across the face and tore my betrothal contract to pieces, throwing it at my scum fiancé. Since my father saw me as a disgrace, fine. I severed all ties with the family, took my mother's loyalists, and willingly took my sister's place to marry Drake Spencer-a crippled, bloodthirsty young lord with only days left to live. Everyone eagerly waited for the news of my brutal death on my wedding night. But when the bedroom doors closed, I pinched the chin of my supposedly paralyzed husband and whispered in his ear with a cold sneer: "Was that a good show, my lord?" In the next second, the "paralyzed" man instantly pinned me down. His golden eyes, like an awakening primordial dragon, narrowed dangerously in the dark as his husky voice brought a crushing pressure: "My lady, knowing too much... can be fatal."”