Lin Yue woke before dawn, which would've been admirable if she hadn't done it out of pure anxiety, not discipline. Outside her window, the sky was a thin slice of blue, trembling like a blade deciding whether to cut someone today.
Today was supposed to be her wedding day.
Canonically, she'd get married, humiliated, framed, defamed, and eventually murdered in a back alley like an unwanted footnote.
Cute storyline. Very romantic. Zero stars.
She dressed with deliberate slowness, as if dawdling might change the calendar. The inner sect courtyard buzzed with servants preparing tokens, dowry chests, and far too much red ribbon. Madame Lin practically glowed with greed, while her sisters whispered about her good fortune.
If only they knew the groom's family intended to use Lin Yue as a stepping stone to a political alliance and then dispose of her like tea leaves.
Lin Yue forced a smile and dipped her brush into ink. She needed one thing before daring to ruin this marriage:
Insurance.
A contract. A record. Something to weaponize later.
She drafted a dowry receipt with airtight language only a modern brain could invent. Clauses. Sub-clauses. A witness requirement. A liability clause. Even a penalty fee.
Her stepmother squinted."What is this?"
"A misunderstanding-prevention document."
"Why would we misunderstand anything—?"
"You would be shocked," Lin Yue said gently, "how often people misunderstand money."
While the elders became tangled in her paperwork trap, a wind cut across the courtyard. Not a normal wind — it smelled like cold lightning and moonlight sharpened into a blade.
Everyone froze.
A shadow descended.
A pressure soaked the air, bending reality as if the world bowed its head. Even the red wedding ribbons fluttered in submission.
Then—
CRACK.
The sky tore open in a perfect line of silver.
A figure stepped through.
Tall. Dark robes. Eyes like an eclipse slowly swallowing a star.
Night Emperor Xuan Mo.
Lin Yue felt her soul try to leave her body for spiritual safety reasons.
Madame Lin screeched and dropped a tray. Elders knelt so fast their knees threatened retirement. Someone fainted. Honestly reasonable.
Xuan Mo did not look at any of them.
He looked straight at her.
Ice tightened behind her ribs. So did confusion. And a little irritation. She had specifically planned NOT to interact with him until at least chapter twenty.
He extended a hand and, with a voice made from quiet catastrophe, said:
"Lin Yue. Come here."
Several elders gasped.Her stepmother choked.Shen Qiao stared like someone witnessing a major plot rewrite in real time.
She swallowed. "…Why?"
His gaze deepened, as if peeling back her excuses like cheap lacquer.
"You are not marrying the Ruan scion today."
Oh great. The most powerful being alive had joined her anti-wedding campaign. Lovely. Convenient. Terrifying.
"Your Majesty," the Ruan envoy stammered, bowing so deeply he nearly became flooring. "This girl is promised to our young master. The negotiations—"
Xuan Mo lifted a single finger.
The envoy stopped speaking.
Not metaphorically.Literally.
His voice evaporated. His throat locked. His eyes bulged with silent horror.
The Night Emperor didn't even look at him.
Instead, he tilted his head toward Lin Yue with a subtle, unfathomable intensity.
"Do you wish to marry him?"
Lin Yue felt every pair of eyes stab her like daggers.
She chose honesty.
"No."
The world inhaled.
And the Night Emperor smiled — the smallest, most dangerous smile a man could have without committing a war crime.
"Then the marriage is void."
His aura surged, sweeping across the courtyard like a tidal wave of starlight. The red wedding arch shattered. Ribbons burst into silver sparks. Every contract scroll snapped in half as if edited out of reality.
Her dowry paperwork literally dissolved into celestial dust.
Madame Lin wailed.Elders cowered.Shen Qiao mouthed, This is not normal protocol.
Before anyone could recover, Xuan Mo stepped closer until his presence pressed against Lin Yue like a second heartbeat.
"You," he said softly, "will come to the palace. Immediately."
Lin Yue blinked. "Um. Why?"
He leaned down, voice low enough to knock sense out of a mountain.
"Because you touched my Lunar Thread."