The moment the second-in-command finished his grand announcement, the whole hall erupted.

  Someone started beating the drum, someone else grabbed a red bridal veil, and all I could do was sit on that oversized wedding bed, stiff as a mooncake left out since Mid-Autumn.

  “Pick a date? A lucky day? How about asking the ‘bride’ first if she even wants to get married!” I shouted, or tried to—but after a night of hanging upside down like a cured ham, my voice came out weak and hoarse, more like a kitten demanding reparations than a hero protesting injustice.

  Then—thunk.

  A knock.

  Soft, measured. Not the kind of knock that means visitor. The kind that sounds like a fingertip brushing a coffin lid.

  Everyone froze.

  The second-in-command frowned, took a breath—

  And then a voice spoke from outside, cold and unhurried:

  “Your bride. I’ve come to pick her up.”

  The room went still.

  Even the bandits’ laughter died mid-guffaw.

  Before the man could bark orders, BOOM!—the gate exploded. Wood splinters flew like shrapnel, the sound shaking the whole damn mountain.

  Out of the rising dust walked a lone figure in red.

  Hair black as midnight, robes unstained despite the chaos. A soft breeze lifted the corner of his sleeve, and in one hand—he carried a bloody whisk.

  My bloody whisk.

  Lian.

  The Blood Lotus Cult Master himself, my oh-so-gentle, definitely-not-murder-happy boss.

  I blinked at him from the bed, half-swaddled in red silk, hair sticking up in every direction like I’d been pecked by a chicken. “You… why are you here?”

  He didn’t even look at me. His gaze swept the hall, sharp and quiet as a blade drawn in prayer.

  “Which one,” he asked, voice soft enough to chill bone, “was planning to marry my person?”

  The second-in-command puffed up his chest, ready to talk—

  —and then got launched across the room. The man hit a pillar and slid down like a sack of rice.

  The third-in-command stammered, “I-I-it’s not me, I swear!”

  Meanwhile, I rolled off the bed like a carp in a house fire, crawling toward Lian. “Quick, quick—get me out of here! They were gonna force me into marriage!”

  “I saw,” he said calmly. Too calmly.

  A flick of his wrist—one red thread snapped through the air, and the ropes on my wrists and ankles disintegrated. Before I could thank him, he picked me up like I weighed nothing at all. His voice dropped, cold enough to frost glass.

  “Had enough fun?”

  I blinked. “Wait—are you mad?”

  He said nothing. But the way he walked? Let’s just say the ground noticed.

  “Hey! It’s not like I wanted to be their bandit bride!”

  “Oh?” he murmured. “Funny. I heard you introduced yourself as a ‘pure-hearted scholar,’ swore off women, and told them you specialized in… dual cultivation techniques.”

  “That was called stalling for time!” I hissed. “You know I talk nonsense when I panic!”

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  “I’m not angry,” he said flatly. “I just want to know when you started using that same tone with other men.”

  My brain blue-screened. Before I could come up with a response, a third voice—clear, young, and annoyingly composed—cut through the tension.

  “Noisy.”

  A boy stepped into view, dressed in pale indigo, a short blade hanging at his waist. Not a trace of dirt on his boots despite the chaos.

  He couldn’t have been older than twenty, yet his eyes carried that same quiet arrogance mountains get after a few hundred years of silence.

  He looked at me first, a faint smirk touching his lips. “You’re awake?”

  I made a strangled noise and promptly buried my face in the quilt.

  Great. Another witness to my humiliation. Add him to the list.

  Then he looked at Lian. “This is the ‘bride’ you came to fetch?”

  Lian stepped forward slightly, the air around him tightening.

  “Mine to take,” he said. “No one else’s.”

  The boy didn’t flinch—just smiled. “Nothing on this mountain belongs to any one man. Not even the bride.”

  …The hell is this? Am I a person or a communal goat?

  Lian’s eyes narrowed. “Which lineage are you from?”

  “Shenmu (Divine Wood) Stockaded Village,” the boy replied. “Mu Cangli, current head.”

  The air shifted. Even I could feel it—like the pressure before a storm breaks. Lian’s fingers stilled, a faint shimmer of bloodlight curling around them.

  “Shenmu’s old line?” he murmured, almost to himself.

  Before I could ask what in all the heavens that meant, Hua—half-dressed, fanning himself lazily—wandered in through the broken door.

  “Oh,” he yawned, “you two know each other?”

  “Sort of,” said Lian. “Shenmu’s branch should’ve been purged long ago.”

  I blinked. “You people’s family trees are worse than the royal genealogy.”

  Mu’s gaze flicked toward me, unreadable. “There was a child lost when our branch fled south. Now it seems…” His eyes narrowed slightly. “…it landed here.”

  “Excuse me—what landed here?”

  Don’t look at me like I’m your long-lost cousin, young man!

  Hua’s grin turned absolutely sinful.

  “So what you’re saying is—our mighty Lord Gong isn’t just good at subduing bandits…” He leaned in, voice dripping with mock awe. “He could probably subdue the entire mountain while he’s at it.”

  “Shut. Up.”

  I rubbed my temple. First it was bloodlines, then curses, and now apparently I was qualified to sit on a mountain and keep it down. Wonderful.

  Lian’s tone dropped to a warning growl. ““He moves when I say so.”

  Mu’s eyes stayed cool. “You might get him out of here alive. But can you keep him that way?”

  The wooden floorboards trembled. Fine dust rose like breath from the ground. The entire mountain seemed to pulse with his heartbeat.

  Lian smiled. A dangerous one. “We’ll see.”

  The air froze.

  Hua sighed and sidled toward me. “My lord, you might want to, ah… start running.”

  I took one step.

  Then Lian’s voice slid behind me like a blade:

  “You take one more, and I’ll make you finish the wedding.”

  I froze mid-step. “…What?!”

  “Weddings,” he said smoothly, “shouldn’t go to waste.”

  I stared. “You came here to rescue me! Why are you—what—”

  His eyes flicked toward me, the faintest curve in his lip. “Doesn’t it strike you as odd?”

  “Odd?”

  “This place,” he said, “hasn’t held a formal wedding in a hundred years. The mountain was sealed. No joy, no music, no marriage.”

  He tilted his head slightly. “And yet now—they want you in red.”

  …

  Oh.

  So I was not here for a wedding.

  Turns out, I’m just the scout.

  Right on cue, my system’s voice murmured in my head, calm as ever:

  “Warning: abnormal fluctuation detected in sealed zone. Narrative divergence in progress. Suggest host remain in place for observation.”

  And then—

  The bandits around us drew their blades.

  Every single one.

  The cold shimmer of metal turned the air into glass.

  “…I changed my mind!” I said instantly, scrambling back onto the bed like I’d never left. “On second thought, being a bandit bride builds character! Look at me—so obedient, so radiant. What a blessing!”

  The second-in-command, still sporting a new bruise, exhaled in relief. “Told you he was reasonable.”

  My jaw twitched. I was about to let loose a scream that could peel bark when—

  “Side quest unlocked: ‘Mountain Wedding – Bride of the Shenmu Village. Current objective: attend the banquet.”

  “…”

  Finally, the system speaks—

  AND IT’S ABOUT THE DAMN WEDDING?!

  I gritted my teeth. “You insane pile of broken code! I’m about to be sacrificed to some mountain god, and you’re calling it a quest?”

  “This branch merges with main storyline ‘Shenmu Seal: Hidden Chapter.’ Please comply.”

  “Oh, comply my—”

  “Since the feast must go on,” Lian interrupted, voice soft as snow, “let’s pick a date. Keep it simple.”

  I gawked at him. “Easy for you to say! You’re not the one in the suit!”

  He looked me over, eyes glinting faintly. “Red suits you.”

  …

  They’re all mad.

  Every single one of them.

  Even my damn system’s turned into a cosmic wedding planner.