When I woke up, my first thought was—

  …why the hell does every muscle in my body feel like overcooked noodles?

  Then it hit me.

  Last night, I’d “volunteered” to guard the Seal Stone, which apparently meant sleeping on a slab of still-warm volcanic rock behind the altar.

  I’d passed out there till noon.

  So much for “spiritual awakening.”

  I was still trying to get my legs to remember how “walking” worked when I heard the soft clink of porcelain.

  Lian walked in—calm, immaculate, sleeves whispering as he snatched away my teacup.

  “…What was that for?” I croaked.

  He said flatly, “You’re awake. Good. The east vent loosened last night. We’ll need to place another seal stone.”

  I stared at him.

  “I just spent the entire night sitting on one! The vent’s rock cracked under my ass!”

  “That was the south vent,” he replied serenely, like he was reciting sutras. “There are three. East, west, and south. You’ve done one. Two remain.”

  The world tilted.

  “You’re enslaving me! Forced labor! Even the imperial court has labor laws!”

  “You are blessed,” he said.

  I nearly vomited blood.

  “Blessed? I’m basically a walking pressure plate!”

  “You’re finally self-aware,” drawled Hua, appearing out of nowhere with half a rice cake in hand. He was smiling like a man watching someone else’s house burn.

  “I heard we’re heading east to bury another sealing rock. Don’t worry, I’ve got ropes and water channels ready. All that’s missing is our—” he eyed me from head to toe “—‘Holy Mountain Gem.’”

  I: “…”

  At this point, I must’ve owed these people several lifetimes of feng shui debt.

  “Move,” Lian said, already descending the steps. His tone was calm but left no room for argument. “If the east vent stabilizes, the divine tree will stop cracking.”

  I groaned. “System! Are you sure I’m the protagonist? Not an underpaid civil engineer in a fantasy mining sim?”

  No response.

  Figures.

  So I packed my dried rations and followed them into the sun like a doomed pilgrim—sweating, staggering, and radiating the tragic aura of a man personally responsible for geological stability.

  After an entire day of backbreaking labor, we finally anchored the last two sealing stones.

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  And then—something shifted.

  The moment the final stone thudded into the ground, a stillness spread through the air. The sulfur fog that had coiled around the shrine for days… just vanished. The acrid scent faded.

  The wind turned gentle.

  The leaves whispered.

  Even the birds in the distant trees took flight without panic.

  I lifted my head. Lian stood a few paces away, hands clasped behind him. His face was calm—too calm—but there was a strange flicker in his eyes. Something between thought and memory.

  Mu’s expression was no less complicated. His gaze lingered on Hua, who, true to form, was flicking mud off his shoe with a fan rib.

  When he realized Mu was staring, he froze. Then gave a shaky grin and looked at me like, You saw nothing.

  “Did… we succeed?” I asked quietly.

  Hua blinked, then grinned. “Looks like it.”

  That night, the whole village lit up.

  Torches, drums, roasting meat—the works. For the first time in a century, the mountain breathed easy, and the people celebrated like gods had just clocked out.

  Mu raised a cup, bowing deeply. “For a hundred years the divine tree’s veins were sealed. Tonight, that curse ends—thanks to you all. Will you not honor me with a few cups on the high terrace?”

  Before I could refuse, they’d already hauled out the cauldrons and cracked open ancient jars of mountain flower liquor.

  Lian nodded in quiet acceptance. Hua? He slung an arm over my shoulders, grinning.

  “So, no longer the bride of the mountain bandits. Feeling relieved yet?”

  I shot him a look. “Deeply moved by your concern.”

  Inwardly, I was plotting my great escape.

  Let them drink. Let them toast. Once Hua started hiccupping and Lian’s gaze got foggy, I’d quietly slip out, climb over the back ridge, and vanish into sweet, glorious freedom.

  Or so I thought—until Mu poured three bowls of sojus.

  “One for each of you who saved us,” he declared, solemn and grateful.

  Lian, stoic as ever, drank.

  Hua, of course, drank twice.

  By the third round, their faces had that faint, dangerous warmth that screamed “almost drunk.”

  Perfect.

  Meanwhile, I was doing everything short of crawling under the table—pretending to sip, fake coughing, even joining the dance circle to “blend in.”

  That was a mistake.

  The local men were way too enthusiastic.

  “Hey! Our blessed one’s so pretty today!”

  “Look at that smile—could light up the whole damn mountain!”

  “Sing the ‘Lucky Bride Tune’ next!”

  …

  I wanted to die.

  And then they started rhyming. About me.

  “The Blessed One shines, fair and fine—

  May he warm our sacred shrine!”

  I froze.

  Nope. I wasn’t singing anything.

  But before I could sneak away, Hua grabbed me. “Come on, mountain idol, dance! The people demand it!”

  “Let me go!”

  Too late. Someone kicked me straight into the circle.

  Firelight blazed. The drums thundered. Somehow my legs decided to cooperate and I found myself stomping along with the rhythm, muttering random lines to keep up:

  “Who’s the prettiest man alive—

  Not a bride, but still survives—”

  As soon as it left my mouth, I wanted to crawl into the firepit.

  Worse, I was wearing a red-trimmed robe the village aunties had forced on me “for luck.” Under the glow of a dozen lanterns, I looked like a sacrificial dancer possessed by joy itself.

  Then I felt it—that stare burning into the back of my skull.

  I turned.

  Lian.

  He sat at the edge of the fire circle, white sleeves untouched by the chaos, a cup of wine cooling in his hand, eyes fixed on me.

  Not cold. Not mocking.

  Just… steady. Like the mountain itself watching its own sacrifice.

  I froze mid-step.

  Pulled my robe straight.

  Pretended my last three movements were definitely not dance moves.

  Then, poker-faced, I shuffled back to my seat, accepted a cup of tea from Hua, and said primly:

  “It’s chilly tonight. Have some hot tea.”

  Hua smirked. “Chilly? Your face is burned enough to light the torches.”