“Married? Married to whom?”
With a sickening crack, it sounded as if some bone in Jian Zhen’s cheek had shattered.
The entire hall began to tremble, beams and pillars twisting, the floor tiles rippling like waves.
Jian Zhen, who should have died on the spot, clung to life only by the wisp of immortal power beneath Wu Zhaohua’s foot.
“You think you have the right to decide his marriage? Even if your Yu Kingdom’s Empress came herself, she wouldn’t be worthy to look me in the eye.” Wu Zhaohua ground her shoe against Jian Zhen’s collapsed cheekbone, hatred burning in her every word.
The thought of Jiang Huai being married off to another woman made her chest tighten, a suffocating discomfort turning into hatred for the person beneath her feet.
All these years, Jiang Huai had been plagued by Human Tribulation, enduring endless suffering and injury—she’d witnessed it all, remembered every bit.
Now, when it was finally time for him to enjoy a good life, he was nowhere to be found. How could she accept that?
Besides, she’d already lived with Jiang Huai for five or six years—eating together, living together, even sharing a bed!
How could he marry someone else? How could he possibly marry someone else?! He should stay by her side!
“He… married the River God, married the River God,” Jian Zhen stammered out the truth.
It turned out that years ago, a beast who had achieved minor cultivation lurked at the river’s bottom, acting as the black-gloved hand for Jian Zhen and her ilk, while also ensuring Feng Tiao Yu Shun for the area.
But the price was steep: the beast was both lustful and bloodthirsty, demanding the sacrifice of a young man every so often—none ever returned.
This filth had long been hidden by Jian Zhen and the others.
Only when the previous Jian Zhen was promoted and left did she reveal the truth to her successor.
Yet, the beast hadn’t appeared for a long time, and recently, drought and hardship had left the people destitute.
For the sake of her career, Jian Zhen took a desperate gamble—she chose a man without local ties and offered him to the River God, praying for Feng Tiao Yu Shun.
Unfortunately, the River God gave no response, as if she were already dead.
“You deserve to die!”
Upon learning the truth, Wu Zhaohua’s phoenix eyes brimmed with rage as she kicked Jian Zhen’s head with all her might.
With a sickening burst, Jian Zhen’s body was torn to pieces, blood splattering across the hall.
The sight terrified Lin Cai, who stood not far away. Her legs trembled uncontrollably, her delicate face drained of color, and she collapsed to the floor.
She was deeply implicated in Jiang Huai’s death—she’d known the truth, yet still tricked Jiang Huai into going.
If Wu Zhaohua found out, she’d surely end up just like Jian Zhen.
At that thought, Lin Cai could barely breathe, as if she were drowning.
Wu Zhaohua stamped her foot elegantly and turned her cold gaze to Lin Cai.
“You must know something about what happened, don’t you? Otherwise, how would you know Jiang Huai isn’t coming back?”
“Lead the way. I’ll fly you there. Otherwise, you know what your fate will be.”
Lin Cai nodded frantically, too terrified to speak. She tried to get up but found she had no strength at all.
Qi Yuyong lifted her by the back of her collar, tapped her toe, and floated into the air.
“Why aren’t you dead yet?”
In the Dragon Palace at the river’s bottom, Jiang Huai was hunched over, carefully polishing a Night-Luminescent Pearl in his hand.
These past two days, he’d seen countless dazzling treasures in the Dragon Palace, each one priceless at a glance.
Blades, spears, swords, and staves—every weapon was there. Jewels and spiritual treasures abounded.
The only thing missing was living creatures. The vast Dragon Palace was filled with loneliness, mirroring the solitude in the East Sea Dragon Lord’s heart.
In these days, Jiang Huai learned that his wife’s name was Qin Qingyue, known as the East Sea Dragon Lord.
As for why the Dragon Lord of the East Sea was here in this great river, Jiang Huai had no way of knowing, and Qin Qingyue wouldn’t tell him.
It felt as if she’d simply left a pet in the Dragon Palace, ignoring it, leaving it to live or die as it pleased.
At this moment, Qin Qingyue regarded Jiang Huai as though he were some rare specimen, scrutinizing him closely.
It had been two days already.
With the fate of misfortune that clung to her, anyone bold enough to call her wife should have died long ago within these halls.
Her cursed fate wasn’t some fortune-teller’s trick, but genuine, carved deep into her destiny.
Anyone who became intimately involved with her would share her misfortune and die an unnatural death.
Because of this, she’d been expelled from the Dragon Race early on, struggling alone in the Cultivation World, living by the blade, surviving to reach her current Da Cheng stage.
Her luck was terrible, but her life was tenacious—unusually so.
“There’s fish and shrimp outside, and I found some pastries here in the Dragon Palace. I haven’t starved,” Jiang Huai said with a smile, still polishing the Night-Luminescent Pearl.
As long as he worked diligently, it seemed she wouldn’t kill him for now.
Qin Qingyue still wore her Black Xuan Armor, as if she’d never take it off, her black hair draped over her shoulders.
She stood in place as the black-scaled Dragon Tail behind her suddenly shot forward, wrapping around Jiang Huai’s waist and pulling him in front of her.
Before Jiang Huai could react, the world blurred, and in the next instant he was face to face with Qin Qingyue.
“W-wife… Wife Lord,” Jiang Huai stammered with a flattering smile, his voice trembling.
What was she going to do? Was she going to eat him?
For a moment, he had no idea what this mysterious Dragon Lord wanted.
A faint fragrance filled the air.
Qin Qingyue leaned in, lifting Jiang Huai with her tail, her delicate nose twitching as she sniffed him from head to toe.
Her elegant brows furrowed slightly, as if she’d caught a familiar scent, and she leaned in even closer to investigate.
Finding the clothes in the way, Qin Qingyue revealed her Dragon Claw. In a few swift motions, she tore Jiang Huai’s clothes to shreds, leaving not a thread behind.
The shredded fabric fell to the floor.
Jiang Huai tensed, a chill running through him, but dared not resist. He clenched his teeth, letting Qin Qingyue have her way.
What does this mean? What does it mean! Is she going to take me?
No wonder the books say dragons are naturally lustful—is she really going to do it?
Would her scales cover that part? Would it hurt?
Would she kill him afterward? Probably not, right?
Should he say some sweet words to please her?
Could he touch her dragon horns?
As Jiang Huai’s mind spun with wild thoughts, Qin Qingyue sniffed him even more intently.
From his neck to his chest, from his chest to his abdomen, and then further down…
Jiang Huai looked down. Seeing Qin Qingyue’s face so close, he held his breath, doing his best to control his reaction.
Stop smelling, stop smelling, you lustful dragon.
Noticing Jiang Huai’s reaction, Qin Qingyue glanced at him with mild curiosity, then looked away, continuing to sniff him, her nose almost pressed against his skin.
At least this man was clean.
She’d been alone for many years, with no man willing to approach her. She’d never been intimate, never even seen such a thing.
But all of that could wait—right now, something even more interesting had caught her attention.
This scent was extremely subtle—so subtle that even with her Da Cheng cultivation, she’d had to rip his clothes and use immortal power to detect it clearly.
“Interesting. Why do you have the scent of Human Tribulation on you? And so strong—it’s clearly been with you for years.”
“To be tainted by Human Tribulation for so long and still be alive as a mortal?”
“What I’m even more curious about is…”
Qin Qingyue used her Dragon Tail to suspend Jiang Huai in midair, drawing him closer.
The hand with black dragon scales pinched his cheek as she curled her lips into a chilling smile: “Why do you have Wu Zhaohua’s scent on you? Is she still alive?”
“Where is she now?”
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