Secretly Married for 4 Years, He Regrets to Tears After the Divorce-Chapter 199: The River God Has Manifested

The blazing sun hung high in the sky, scorching the earth.

The air was thick with the acrid smell of dust mixed with ritual herbs, so heavy it felt as if the wind itself had frozen in the silence of death.

Adrian Lancaster was forced down onto a cold stone platform. The rough surface dug into his cheek, and the roar of the river filled his ears.

The shadow of death loomed over him, its chilling coldness devouring him bit by bit.

The force of being held down tore Adrian Lancaster’s wounds open, and they began to bleed. He was in a wretched and painful state.

He didn’t want to die. If he died, he could never return to Aston, never see his family and friends again, and most importantly, never see Wren Sutton again.

The instinct to survive roared like a beast within him, threatening to overwhelm the last of his reason.

In this place, no one could save him but Nia.

’Maybe I should pretend to agree with her, just to survive for now?’ The thought began to quietly take root in his mind.

Adrian Lancaster knew the idea was despicable, but he had no other choice.

"Prepare the sacrifice to the River God," the chief, Barton, called out, his voice aged yet shrill. "Bring forth the Priest."

At that moment, the Priest, Maka, ascended the altar. He was draped in a long robe woven from black crow feathers and carried a magic wand inlaid with animal bones.

His face was covered in painted symbols, his eyes sunken and sharp as a falcon’s. He chanted an ancient prayer, the syllables as obscure as the moans of a subterranean river.

"Eye of Sarankal, with blood as our pact, cleanse us of this disaster..."

The tribespeople prostrated themselves, their foreheads pressed against the scorching earth. Their prayers merged into a low hum that surged toward the altar like a tide.

Chief Barton stood at the very front, clad in a Wolf Skin Battle Robe with a bronze short knife at his waist. His grim face showed no sign of wavering.

He firmly believed that this outsider, Adrian Lancaster, was the source of the drought. Not a single drop of rain had fallen since he arrived in Sarankal a year ago.

Only by sacrificing him to the River God could the deity’s wrath be appeased.

"The River God is furious! Only a sacrifice can calm its anger and bring rain to Sarankal."

Barton’s voice boomed like thunder. His gaze swept over the crowd before finally landing on Adrian Lancaster’s pale face.

Adrian Lancaster tried to struggle, but he couldn’t move at all.

He was like a piece of meat on a chopping block, helpless and at their mercy.

He looked up at the sky in despair, thinking of his distant homeland and his family. His eyes slowly welled with tears, his heart twisting as if being cut by a knife.

’If I had another life, I would definitely spend more time with my family, especially with my wife, Wren Sutton.’

’I owe her so much—my time, my love... I regret not cherishing her from the moment we married, always ignoring her feelings, staying out all night, and even brazenly and unapologetically favoring another woman...’

The brief memories were heart-wrenching. Adrian Lancaster was overcome with guilt and self-recrimination.

’Perhaps this fate is Heaven’s punishment for what I’ve done.’

"Raise the knife."

At Chief Barton’s command, Maka raised the Bone Knife high.

The blade pointed down, aimed at Adrian Lancaster’s neck. But in the instant the edge glinted with cold light, a figure broke through the crowd, shot toward the altar like an arrow loosed from a bow, and spread her arms to shield him.

It was Nia.

Her hair was a mess and her face was stained with tears, but her eyes burned with a defiant flame.

"Stop! Tarn’s life is mine! No one is allowed to hurt him but me!"

Barton’s face turned ashen, and the veins on his forehead bulged.

"Nia, you are being insolent! Get off the altar this instant! Interrupting the ritual will anger the River God!"

Nia ignored her father. She turned, cupped Adrian Lancaster’s pale face in her hands, and forced him to meet her gaze.

Her voice trembled, but every word was clear. "Tarn, look at me. Do you want to live? Tell me, do you want to live?"

Adrian Lancaster’s lips quivered, but he couldn’t make a sound.

’Of course I want to live. Only by living can I have a chance to return to Aston. If I die, I’ll never go back.’

"Marry me!" Nia’s tears fell onto Adrian Lancaster’s face.

"It doesn’t matter if you like me or not, this is the only way you can survive. As long as you nod and agree to marry me, you’ll become a member of Sarankal, and my father won’t kill you. This is your last chance."

Time seemed to freeze.

Adrian Lancaster looked at Nia’s face, so close to his own. Her eyes were filled with love and pleading.

Over her shoulder, he saw Barton’s dark, tense expression, the cold glint of the Bone Knife in Maka’s hand, and the indifferent, hostile stares from the crowd below.

The will to live and the fear of death clashed in his chest, tearing his soul apart.

To submit meant giving up his freedom, his dignity, and his entire past in exchange for the hope of survival.

To refuse meant an immediate, bloody death upon the altar, his soul scattered to the winds.

Adrian Lancaster’s gaze once again drifted toward the horizon.

’If I agree to Nia’s terms just to stay alive, would my wife, Wren Sutton, ever forgive me? If I make it back to Aston one day, will she still accept me?’

"Tarn, what are you hesitating for? If you want to live, agree to marry me. Tarn!"

Nia roared in desperation.

Adrian Lancaster pulled his thoughts back, his complex gaze falling on her face. His stiff neck felt as if it were being crushed by a thousand-pound weight. The choice between nodding and shaking his head rested on a single thought.

The crowd grew restless, their whispers spreading.

The ritual had reached a stalemate.

Barton was furious. "Nia, even if this foreigner marries you, he is not worthy of becoming a member of the Sarankal Tribe."

"Father, Tarn can bring hope to Sarankal," Nia said with conviction.

No one believed her.

"Impossible."

"Someone, drag Nia away."

The moment Barton finished speaking, the clear sky was suddenly engulfed by dark clouds. Thunder rumbled, like a great beast awakening.

The river beside the altar began to rage. Murky water churned against the banks, the waves swelling higher and higher until a whirlpool formed in the center of the current.

"The River God! The River God has revealed itself!" an old woman in the crowd cried out, pointing at the water.

A column of water shot up from the middle of the whirlpool, reaching for the heavens before collapsing into a torrential downpour. The rain extinguished the torches around the altar and soaked everyone present.

Even more astonishing, the river did not rampage through the village. Instead, it gently overflowed its banks, nourishing the parched fields.

The withered yellow seedlings turned green again at a visible rate, and a few flower buds even blossomed in the mud.

The Bone Knife in Maka’s hand fell to the ground with a CLANG. He staggered back a few steps, staring at the sky in disbelief before falling to his knees, his eyes filling with tears.

"The River God has truly revealed itself."

Nia was even more ecstatic, pressing her hands together in prayer. She couldn’t contain her excitement; her Tarn was saved.

Nia shouted to the tribespeople, "The River God has delivered its judgment! Tarn is not a curse! His arrival has saved Sarankal! He is the next chief of Sarankal! Support Tarn, and the River God will bless Sarankal!"

Having witnessed the River God grant them rain with their own eyes, the tribespeople’s gazes turned toward Adrian Lancaster, their hostility transforming into awe.

After a moment of silence, cheers erupted from the crowd. "Free Tarn! It is the will of the River God!"