Chapter 43: Am I going to be a star wrath?
The old woman held Xie Qiyang’s hand, chattering on about their heartwarming “grandmother-granddaughter” bond, weaving a tapestry of false memories to fill the gaps in her supposed amnesia.
How Tianze fell for her at first sight, how obedient and sensible she was, how harmonious their family was… Her words dripped with affection and patience.
But beneath that “affection” lurked a chilling warning, like a viper’s hiss: My dear granddaughter-in-law, you’ll be good tomorrow, won’t you?
Each time the old woman’s tone grew colder, Xie Qiyang felt the air in the room solidify, an invisible pressure crushing down like a mountain, making it hard to breathe.
Is this old hag onto me? Are we just acting against each other to see who’s the real master performer?
Suppressing the turmoil in her heart, Xie Qiyang maintained her docile, confused expression, nodding obediently, her voice soft and sweet: “Mm, I’ll listen to Grandma…”
Her submissive demeanor clearly pleased the old woman, who let out a satisfied laugh, finally releasing her hand and leaving the room.
The room fell silent, leaving only Xie Qiyang and the fiery red wedding dress the old woman had left behind.
The dress lay there, still, like solidified flames or flowing sunset clouds.
Its intricate gold and silver threads glimmered with restrained starlight in the dim room, tracing profound patterns of sun, moon, stars, mountains, and rivers.
Each stitch seemed to hold the truths of heaven and earth.
Clearly no ordinary thing.
Xie Qiyang took a deep breath, approached, and picked up the dress—heavy as a thousand tons yet light as nothing.
It felt cool to the touch, yet sent a strange thrum through her.
She walked to the polished bronze mirror, its surface reflecting her faintly, and held the dress against herself.
The mirror showed a silver-haired girl, breathtakingly beautiful yet tinged with lingering confusion and resistance.
The fiery dress made her skin look even fairer, its ornate patterns contrasting starkly with her fragile expression, creating a breathtaking juxtaposition.
It fit… perfectly. As if tailored for her.
Staring at her reflection, Xie Qiyang felt a surge of absurdity.
In her two lives, her experiences were nothing short of fantastical.
In her past life, in an era of information overload, she’d watched countless weddings—lavish or simple—binged sweet romance dramas, sighed over fairy-tale love stories, and fantasized about her own, whether grand or quietly tender.
And now?
The heavens played a cruel joke.
No sweet romance—instead, she’d skipped straight to the wedding night!
And in such a powerless, forced-marriage scenario!
Looking at the girl in the mirror, about to don this divine wedding dress and marry a man, she felt fate was a scriptwriter with a black-hole-sized imagination.
“Heh… watched so many weddings, and now it’s my turn to marry as a woman.”
She gave her “bride” reflection a self-mocking smile uglier than crying.
And the worst part?
In this world, “marriage” wasn’t just a ceremony or a night in the bridal chamber.
This was a fantastical world of chaotic forces and manifest laws.
Fragments of Jiang Ningshuang’s memories recalled a book, Annals of the Primordial Realm, written by a bored, hopeless cultivator who spent his life courting death—exploring forbidden zones and deadly realms.
It described the wild Opening Heaven Era: when cultivation first emerged, humans broke free from frail mortal shells, forging bodies and wielding mana, gaining the strength to rival races mutated by spiritual resurgence, some surpassing human intelligence.
It was an era of explosive ideas and untamed paths.
Visionaries of all races rose, forging new ways, seeking immortality and world-shattering power.
Clashes of ideals between races and individuals sparked endlessly.
Some preached, “Flesh is weak, ascend through machinery,” aiming to transform into immortal constructs.
Others countered, “The body is the pinnacle of creation,” insisting external tools were illusory, focusing solely on physical refinement.
Worse, with no Heavenly Dao in sight, there were no consequences.
Slaughter entire races for bloodlust?
Force breakthroughs with drugs?
No thunder tribulation to judge.
This led to madness: stability be damned.
Why perfect a realm when others raced ahead, crushing you like an ant?
Unstable foundations? Fix it later.
Many never did, perishing in body-rupturing failure.
After the blood-soaked Breaking Heaven and Mending Heaven Eras, erased by time, the Heavenly Dao emerged.
Breakthroughs began triggering terrifying thunder tribulations, and many horrific, heaven-defying “evil” cultivation methods were branded heretical, eradicated or driven from the Primordial Realm.
In that lawless era, the Primordial Realm was a dark forest where “slaughter” was the eternal anthem.
Over eons, the Heavenly Dao’s oversight grew stricter:
Swear an oath to the Dao? It became an impartial, ruthless contract enforcer.
Massacre recklessly? Your next tribulation might double in power, annihilating your soul—though unproven, who dared gamble?
Thus, Heavenly Dao Contracts were born, swiftly becoming widespread, including for marriages, aligning with the yin-yang laws of heaven and earth.
And this was the true terror Xie Qiyang faced tomorrow.
At the wedding, both partners must sign a Heavenly Dao Contract scroll, condensed by universal laws and steeped in yin-yang principles, with terms (usually set by the stronger party or elders) sealed by blood and soul.
Once signed, the contract was binding, guarded by the Heavenly Dao.
Breaking it brought unimaginable backlash—minor cases destroyed your Dao foundation, severe ones erased your existence, even cursing your bloodline’s karma.
No one would be there to speak for her or negotiate in her favor.
Xie Qiyang realized in despair: tomorrow, she had no room to perform.
She’d be a puppet, signing a contract likely filled with tyrannical terms, then… lying back obediently.
Resist?
Against these old monsters, what could her meager cultivation do?
“What’s the point of overthinking?”
She gave the gorgeous yet imprisoning wedding dress a mocking smile.
“No matter how unwilling, can I escape what’s coming? Will Li Tianxing let this chance to ‘devour’ me slip?”
Instead of wasting energy on futile resistance, she’d rather seize the moment, cycle one more revolution of her cultivation, even if it was a drop in the bucket, even if it only added a sliver to her shaky technique’s spiritual energy.
It was better than waiting for doom.
Taking a deep breath, she suppressed her churning thoughts, sat cross-legged on the bed, and closed her eyes.
Tomorrow might be hell, but every ounce of strength she could muster now was a chip for survival.