Water surged from all directions into the sedan chair, the icy river soaking Jiang Huai to the bone and squeezing the air from his lungs.
The freezing water stabbed into his chest like countless steel needles, wringing out his last breath as his eardrums buzzed under the pressure.
A faint trace of blood drifted from Jiang Huai’s wrist—evidence of his desperate struggle.
Even with all his might, even tearing his own skin, he still couldn’t break free from these bindings.
These people clearly weren’t doing this for the first time; their practiced methods left him no chance to resist.
His vision blurred, his lungs burning with pain, and soon Jiang Huai’s strength was spent.
He could only sit in the chair, drifting with the current.
In the last scraps of consciousness, Jiang Huai thought of Wu Zhaohua, bedridden and frail.
A wave of heartache surged within him, and he couldn’t tell whether it was river water or tears that slid from the corner of his eye.
What will she do? If I’m gone, what will happen to her?
He’d never formally accepted her as a godmother, but he’d always meant to care for her into old age—that was his only attachment in this world.
He realized that he was a wretched soul, too. Ever since coming to this world, nothing had gone right, as if some curse clung to him.
Every few days, misfortune struck: sometimes bones broken, sometimes lightning striking the stove or bridges collapsing under his feet, leaving him and Wu Zhaohua nursing each other’s wounds.
Other times, it was just endless frustration, a stifled chest, and restless mind.
Even so, all these years he and Wu Zhaohua had survived together.
He’d just been thinking of saving up to move away with her—never imagining he’d end up like this.
Wu Zhaohua, what will you do? If I’m gone, what will you do?
Wu Zhaohua……
His mind grew hazy, death closing in, when suddenly the suffocating pressure left him. It felt as if he’d been yanked from the riverbed and thrust onto dry land.
“Ah……”
“Haa… cough, cough—”
Air rushed into his lungs.
Jiang Huai gulped it down instinctively, water streaming from his hair as his teeth chattered with cold.
Why is there no more water? Did someone save me? Who could it be?
Or… could there really be a monster at the bottom of the river?
Jiang Huai strained his ears, listening for any sound outside the sedan.
His heart thumped wildly in his chest.
He thought he heard something, or maybe nothing at all.
Sitting inside, he couldn’t even tell what the world outside looked like.
This was the most agonizing kind of uncertainty.
“Is… is anyone there?” Jiang Huai called out carefully.
Suddenly, a fierce gust whipped up the curtain, and Jiang Huai saw a red, vertical pupil—about the size of a water jar—peering in from outside.
He froze, forgetting to breathe, his body taut with fear.
Is this for real? Am I really being offered up as a husband to some River God?
She won’t eat me, will she?
“Honored River God, the townsfolk have betrothed me to you.”
“I’m very diligent and capable. Could you untie me so I can serve you?” Jiang Huai poked his head out and asked, voice trembling.
That was just how he was—if there was even a sliver of hope, he would seize it.
He wouldn’t just sit and wait for a monster to decide his fate.
What if she really didn’t plan to eat him, just wanted to keep him here as a husband? That was better than dying.
If he lived, Wu Zhaohua might survive too.
Would this face of his appeal to a demon? Their standards for beauty must be different, right?
“Betrothed to me as a husband?” A hoarse, teasing woman’s voice wafted in from outside, carrying a fragrant breeze.
“Do you dare to be my husband?”
Creak, creak—the sedan shook violently at her words, as if a giant hammer was pounding it, threatening to toss Jiang Huai right out.
“The townsfolk offered me to you, so I belong to you! Please, let me serve you at your side.”
“As long as the River God is willing to have me.” Jiang Huai clung to this lifeline, hurriedly declaring his willingness.
Why wouldn’t he be willing? It was certainly better than dying.
“Hehehe, do you know who I am?”
Through the curtain, Jiang Huai saw the massive shadow shrink, transforming into a vaguely human-shaped, black silhouette.
If it was a demon, he could make out the outline of a human figure, even the curves of her chest, accentuated by a slender waist.
But if it was a human, there were horns atop her head and a tail swaying behind her.
With a bang, the sedan exploded into pieces, splinters flying everywhere.
Jiang Huai remained seated on the chair, looking up at the River God—and his terrified gaze met an exquisitely beautiful face.
Beautiful, perhaps only in Jiang Huai’s eyes.
Her features were striking and forceful, with a high nose bridge and phoenix eyes deep as an abyss, exuding heroic energy.
Her dragon horns were jet-black, covered in fine ridges.
She wore pitch-black armor, splattered with blood, and a black dragon tail swayed behind her.
Except where the armor covered, her hands and neck were all sheathed in black dragon scales.
She was tall and imposing.
“H-hello… Wife… Wife Lord.” Jiang Huai shrank his neck, forcing himself to speak, survival outweighing shame.
“I can brew fine wine, cook, and help you manage affairs.”
He forced out his most obedient smile: “Even… even if you just need something to amuse you… I can do that too.”
She was clearly not someone to trifle with—one wrong word, and she might just eat him alive.
From the corner of his eye, he noticed piles of human bones everywhere, skulls stacked high. Were these the remains of past sacrifices?
“You called me Wife Lord?” The dragon beauty’s lips curled into a mocking smile, as if she’d heard something outrageous.
“Seems you’re just a mortal, don’t even know who I am, or you wouldn’t dare say that.”
With her notorious reputation and cursed fate, who would dare call her Wife Lord?
Jiang Huai chuckled awkwardly, trying to please her: “I really am just a mortal, but mortals have their own ways.”
“Since I’ve married the River God, I’ll do what a husband should. Calling you Wife Lord is only right.”
“Besides…”
The beauty arched her phoenix eyes and smiled: “Besides what?”
“Besides, the River God is so beautiful—being at your side is a blessing.” Jiang Huai offered, eager to please.
All the other words were empty, but this one was true.
She really was beautiful—not just her features and figure, but her aura was bold and fierce, rare in the human world.
The beauty fell silent, looking down at her hand covered in black dragon scales, her lips twisting in self-mockery: “Seems you’ll say anything to survive.”
She took two steps forward, lifting Jiang Huai’s face with a slender hand, her voice icy as she looked down at him: “Look at my dragon horns. Look at these black dragon scales.”
“Are you sure there’s anything beautiful about me?”
This half-demonic body, these inescapable dragon horns, the black tail behind her—every part marked her as an ominous being, the ugly outcast of the cultivation world.
“I think… you look great, Wife Lord.” Jiang Huai looked up at the beauty, forcing a fawning smile.
“Please let me stay and serve you.”
It seemed this beauty didn’t plan to kill or eat him—he had to keep up the act and win her favor.
As long as he lived, he could find a way to get back and settle things for Wu Zhaohua.
“If you want to stay, then stay. My Dragon Palace just happens to need a steward—if your fate is strong enough.”
With a casual wave, the beauty slashed the ropes binding Jiang Huai, freeing him, then turned to leave.
“Oh, and you don’t have to call me River God.”
“The ‘River God’ you speak of must be this one.” She stopped, her dragon tail sweeping across a pile of nameless bones.
The bones shattered into dust, unrecognizable as any creature.
“A mere little demon. I killed it some days ago.”
“Call me Dragon Lord. As for ‘Wife Lord’…”
“We’ll see if you survive long enough to earn it.” The beauty turned, revealing half of her stunning profile as she smiled knowingly at Jiang Huai.
She was born under a curse—her fate brought misfortune to all close to her. No one in her life had ever survived for long.
Let this little one live a few days more. He’d die soon enough, anyway.
“Speak! Where did you take Jiang Huai?!”
“You beast, give me back Jiang Huai!”
In the magistrate’s hall, Jian Zhen lay on the ground like a dead dog, her chubby face covered in blood and her greasy belly spasming from repeated kicks.
Wu Zhaohua’s foot pressed down on her face, a trace of Heavenly Fire pinning Jian Zhen so she couldn’t lift her head, several teeth already knocked out.
“If you don’t talk, I’ll rip out your soul and refine it with Heavenly Fire for hundreds of years—see if you talk then.” She gnashed her teeth, eyes blazing with fury.
This scoundrel had annoyed her even when arranging a marriage for Jiang Huai before. Now, daring to have him kidnapped, her rage was boundless.
“M-married… He’s married.” Jian Zhen’s broken voice barely managed a reply, trying to shift the blame.
“What did you say?! Married?!”
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