Nan Banruo lived a life of infantile comfort.
At night, her mother slept beside her. Upon waking, her family would surround her, attending to her every need—clothes handed to her, meals served to her lips. Each day, her ears were filled with the constant inquiries of "Are you hungry?" and "What would you like to eat?" Her stomach and mind were so thoroughly occupied that she had no room left for melancholy or idle sorrow.
Nan Banruo mused: No wonder I used to be so foolish! Turns out I was being raised like a little pig.
The days passed as calmly as a windless sea—peaceful, serene, as if no storm could ever disturb the tranquility.
Then, one day, as Nan Banruo sipped osmanthus pudding, she casually remarked, "The wedding is in three days, isn’t it?"
The air froze for a brief moment.
"Mn." Nan Jihe frowned. "By the time you usually wake, matters outside will already be settled."
Nan Nianyi clenched his fist, pressing it to his lips to suppress a laugh. "That’s why we didn’t bother mentioning it."
Nan Banruo: "..."
Tianshu sneered, "I’m only afraid that Lin Qingyang won’t dare show up, wasting all my efforts."
Nan Banruo thought to herself: He will come.
Lin Qingyang needed to ascend the throne to seize the world’s vital energy and achieve his ascension within a century. He would inevitably move swiftly to eliminate Nan Jihe—his greatest obstacle. That man was ruthless and decisive; this wedding was the life-and-death stage he had set for both sides.
"Don’t let your guard down!"
The words slipped out, and she immediately laughed at herself.
Her parents were seasoned rulers, bold yet meticulous, cautious to the extreme. They hardly needed her reminders.
"Don’t worry," Nan Nianyi reassured her in a low voice. "He can’t bring many men to fetch his bride. We can wear him down just by stalling."
He raised three fingers. "In the world today, there are only three grandmasters of cultivation: Father, the Lord of Flaming Isles; Senior Wu Baiyu; and Lin Qingyang. No matter how much combat experience Lin Qingyang has, he can’t surpass Father by much."
Nan Banruo nodded silently.
Lin Qingyang was not yet emperor. He couldn’t enter the imperial family’s secret grounds, let alone lay hands on the Imperial Dragon Cauldron. There was no way his cultivation could advance by leaps and bounds in such a short time.
"This is our territory. We have traps and ambushes ready to restrain his forces." Nan Nianyi’s refined features sharpened with killing intent as he reassured her again. "Lin Qingyang will stand alone. We’ll make sure he never leaves alive!"
Nan Banruo turned the situation over in her mind but couldn’t find any flaws in their plan.
In her past life, her father had been trapped in the palace and slowly worn down to death. Now, the tables were turned—Lin Qingyang would suffer the same fate.
Daring to walk into their trap—how could he be so bold?
Three days passed in the blink of an eye.
Nan Banruo refused to let anyone take her place as the bride. Nor did she oversleep.
Before dawn, she quietly rose, dressed in the crimson wedding robes the seamstresses had hastily finished, and sat before the vanity to apply her own makeup.
At some point, Tianshu appeared behind her.
Watching her daughter—who had never been skilled at cosmetics—now expertly tracing her brows and painting her lips, transforming into a breathtaking beauty, Tianshu’s smile grew increasingly tender—the kind of tenderness that concealed a desire to kill.
Nan Banruo glanced up. "Mother?"
Tianshu’s brow twitched, and the strange glint in her eyes vanished instantly. "You look so lovely. Do my makeup too."
"Of course!"
Nan Banruo stood and guided her mother to the vanity.
Moments later—
"Don’t use that, it stings my eyes."
"Why does this powder keep falling off?"
"And none on my lips—it’s too greasy."
Nan Banruo: "..."
She buried her face in her mother’s shoulder, shaking with silent laughter.
Nan Banruo had kept her makeup simple, yet as she walked through the Nan estate, several servants walked straight into pillars.
Accustomed to her beauty, they often overlooked it unconsciously.
But now, clad in gold-embroidered crimson bridal robes, radiant as spring blossoms, dazzlingly exquisite—her sudden appearance stole breaths and halted hearts.
Seventh Fairy blurted out in blunt admiration, "Young Miss, you’re too beautiful!"
Taiwei grumbled, "Even a single glance is too good for that scoundrel Lin."
Nan Banruo’s eyes curved in amusement.
Truthfully, what version of her had Lin Qingyang not seen? In their nights together, he always lit every lamp, studying every inch of her under the brightest light.
In the early years, he hadn’t cared much for her. To keep him from growing bored—or worse, killing her—she had meticulously mastered every style of makeup and the arts of the bedchamber...
Nan Banruo shook her head, cutting off the memories.
The atmosphere in the main hall was tense.
Tianshu adjusted Nan Jihe’s collar, murmuring softly, "Don’t look so grim. This is a wedding procession, not a funeral."
Nan Jihe’s temple twitched violently, his thick brows knotting into a single dark line.
"It’s time. Let’s go."
The procession stepped out of the estate.
The streets had long been cleared, no outsiders permitted. Red banners hung on either side, and the ground was deliberately strewn with firecracker remnants.
The sea of red did nothing to warm the desolate street—instead, it evoked an ancient, eerie dread.
Hidden in the alleys and buildings lining the road were elite warriors, armed and armored, holding their breath in silence.
All waiting for Lin Qingyang to step into the trap.
Through the early spring haze at the street’s end, shadowy figures gradually took shape.
Thump. Thump-thump-thump!
Nan Banruo felt her heart lodge itself in her throat, pounding violently against the hollow of her collarbone.
Nan Jihe and Tianshu exchanged a glance before striding forward.
Nan Nianyi turned back with orders: "You two, guard Banruo well."
Taiwei and Seventh Fairy clasped their fists solemnly. "We won’t fail!"
A wind swept down the street.
The scattered firecracker papers rustled faintly.
Clip-clop. Clip-clop. Clip-clop.
Hoofbeats echoed through the mist.
Then—
Gongs, drums, and suona horns erupted in joyous cacophony. Strings of firecrackers leaped and popped along the road.
Sparks flew. Smoke billowed.
The bridal procession drew nearer. At its head rode a man atop a white stallion, dressed in resplendent red wedding robes, his noble bearing as striking as jade—the groom, Lin Qingyang.
Whoosh—
Every gaze and killing intent locked onto the street.
Pupils trembled imperceptibly in their sockets.
All awaited the earth-shattering moment.
Nan Banruo’s breath grew ragged, her nails biting into her palms.
Closer... closer still...
Lin Qingyang made little effort to conceal his forces—the wedding party behind him were clearly all elite fighters.
A bridal sedan swayed beside him.
In his hand rested the Xuanyuan Sword. Beneath his crimson robes, the faint violet glow of the Donghuang Armor shimmered.
Clip-clop. Clip-clop. Clip-clop.
The horse’s hooves struck the cobblestones, step by step, carrying him into the ambush.
"He actually dared to come!" Seventh Fairy and Taiwei exchanged glances, gripping their weapons as they shielded Nan Banruo.
The two processions neared each other.
The jubilant matron of honor trotting beside the sedan suddenly screeched: "The auspicious hour has arrived—!"
The mist trembled.
Nan Jihe, who had stood motionless at the street’s entrance, finally lifted his eyes.
A piercing light flashed in his gaze, slicing through the fog to strike the groom on horseback.
Behind him, Tianshu’s command flag swept down—
"Kill!"
In the same instant, Lin Qingyang raised his hand, pressing a gilded demon mask onto his face.
His voice was calm.
"Kill."
Hmmmm...
The forbidden domain activated.
The forbidden domain descended, and in an instant, the entire street emptied before their eyes—smoke, morning mist, and all traces of life vanished from sight.
Though she couldn’t see it, Nan Banruo could vividly sense two earth-shaking forces colliding violently somewhere not far away.
The forbidden domain swallowed the sounds of clashing steel, confining the battle to a mere sliver of space.
"Screech—screech—screech—"
A piercing metallic shriek echoed in her ears, yet the silence around her remained unnervingly absolute.
One breath, two breaths, three breaths… ten breaths.
Nan Banruo didn’t dare blink. She didn’t dare breathe.
"Young lady," Taiwei spoke softly to soothe her, "it won’t be over so quickly."
Nan Banruo turned to her dazedly, forcing a smile at the corners of her lips. "Yes, I know. Lin Qingyang’s cultivation is so high that even if he stood still and let them strike, it would take a long time to kill him. It won’t be over so quickly, not so quickly…"
Taiwei’s eyes reflected her face with perfect clarity—frail, pale, and on the verge of collapse.
This was a battle of life and death, with no retreat, no room for negotiation.
Nan Banruo clenched her fingers tightly, running the calculations in her mind over and over.
Every breakthrough Lin Qingyang had achieved, every stroke of fortune he’d seized…
His true ascension to the level of a Grandmaster had indeed come only after he forcibly seized the world’s spiritual veins.
She remembered how he had struggled at first, frequently injured, his cultivation regressing rather than advancing.
Once, he had been so weakened that he barely managed to stagger into her bedchamber, slaughtering every palace servant who witnessed his state before sealing the entire palace with a restrictive barrier.
He collapsed into the warm silk curtains, his body convulsing as he vomited blood until the bed was drenched in crimson.
Nan Banruo couldn’t fathom how a single body could contain so much blood.
Staring at the scarlet-soaked bed, then at his deathly pale, fragile form—gasping, helpless, on the brink of death—she had felt an unbearable heat rise in her chest.
…Thankfully, she had restrained herself.
Later, by chance, she learned that he had made a bet with Wu Xiaoyu.
He had won—Wu Xiaoyu had wagered that she would strike.
Nan Banruo knew full well that Lin Qingyang was not so easy to kill. He was far more dangerous than most could imagine.
She stared at the lifeless street before her, only daring to blink after long stretches of time.
The longer the silence stretched, the more at ease she felt.
"Young lady, don’t be anxious," Taiwei murmured, gently stroking her back.
Nan Banruo spoke rapidly, "I’m not anxious at all. This was always meant to be a drawn-out battle. If it ended too soon, that would almost certainly mean terrible news."
Seventh Fairy nodded sagely. "Learn from this, you fool Taiwei!"
Nan Banruo calmly explained to the two attendants, "Lin Qingyang is a top-tier expert, and he carries divine artifacts. Even if he’s fallen into a trap, subduing him won’t be simple."
A swift victory would only mean a swifter defeat.
Against an opponent like Lin Qingyang, the only way was to grind him down, to wear him out.
No news was the best news.
Yet standing outside the forbidden domain, utterly ignorant of the battle’s progress, was its own kind of torment.
The sun crept westward.
Taiwei sighed. "We’ve laid an inescapable net, and with our lord and lady—peerless experts—personally overseeing this, Lin Qingyang must be formidable indeed to last this long."
Unnoticed, dusk had arrived.
Taiwei reminded her, "Young lady, the wind has grown cold."
Nan Banruo shook her head lightly. "It’s fine. Let’s wait a little longer."
"Should Seventh Fairy fetch a cloak for you?"
Just as Nan Banruo was about to nod, a sudden weight settled over her shoulders.
"Hm?"
A soft, warm fur-lined mantle draped over her.
"Eh?!"
Taiwei and Seventh Fairy whirled around in shock.
A young man stood beside them now, as if he had appeared out of thin air. Tall and slender, with refined features and a gentle demeanor, he was the very image of a jade-like noble.
With one hand, he adjusted the cloak over Nan Banruo’s shoulders.
"Who are you?!" "Identify yourself!"
Nan Banruo turned slowly, her breath catching.
When she saw his face, her heart stopped.
He leaned down, lips curving into a faint smile, and whispered soundlessly into her ear:
"Got you."
