In this rural community, the tradition is to welcome the bride in the evening. By the time the guests had departed, the sky had darkened. Zagonnas gazed nervously at Cendrarsa seated on his bed, his palms sweaty with tension. Accustomed to a solitary existence, the sudden presence of another person in his already cramped abode felt suffocating. Moreover, he found himself perplexed by the turn of events—wasn't he supposed to kill her first? How did things progress to the point of them getting married? In a moment of inexplicable impulse, he even vowed to give her a proper wedding! When will he finally carry out his plan to end her? With the Monster Slayer Tournament only six months away, he was adamant about not letting anyone impede his quest to conquer the entire martial world. Hence, he resolved to fulfil his vow within the next half-year before taking action. But now that they were wed, how were these two supposed to coexist?
"My Lady, are you hungry? I shall prepare some noodles for you," Zagonnas said, turning as if to leave.
"I am not hungry, noble husband. Shouldn't you lift my veil?" Cendrarsa's neck stiffened, but she had to maintain her composure as her head covering remained in place.
"Oh, yes, I am a bit nervous on our wedding night. I'll do better next time."
"Are you anticipating another time?" Cendrarsa's tone turned chilly.
"No, no! What I meant to say was, when circumstances improve, I shall undoubtedly take you as my bride again, ensuring a grand ceremony for you." Zagonnas began to sweat on his brow as he explained, reaching out to gently lift her veil.
In the dimly lit room, illuminated by the glow of two red candles, Cendrarsa's face flushed crimson. She raised her eyes, their gaze meeting the man standing before her.
"I find this arrangement quite acceptable. I have no interest in grandeur, and our modest circumstances suit me fine. As long as we have food to eat, we shall be content," Cendrarsa expressed, aiming to embody virtue and obedience. If Zagonnas, setting aside his identity as a high-ranking disciple of the Sword Sect, chose to abandon the bustling world and teach in this remote area, she supposed he must derive pleasure from such a lifestyle. As time passed, she believed that the harshness in his demeanour would eventually soften through daily life experiences. This was how Cendrarsa viewed the situation, although Zagonnas held a different perspective.
Without granting her a wedding, how could he proceed with his plans to eliminate her? Furthermore, he had arrived in this humble locale to seek solace, with no intention of residing there permanently. An immense fortune awaited him for inheritance.
"Very well, my Lady."
"Not at all," Cendrarsa sweetly smiled. "Noble husband, it is getting late; let us rest. I have clinic duties tomorrow; could you heat some water for me? I wish to bathe."
"What? Ah! Of course, please wait here; I have set up a bathing area behind the house. I shall prepare it for you," Zagonnas hurriedly left the room.
Left alone in the small chamber, Cendrarsa glanced about at the drafty walls woven with thatch and the paper-covered windows, feeling compassion for Zagonnas. How had a man known for his agility and mastery of the sword, a wanderer of the martial world for over a decade, ended up enduring such hardships in this secluded place?
Lost in thought, Cendrarsa summoned the system.
"Please search for any information regarding Zagonnas in this novel. The more detailed, the better."
"Master, I have provided all relevant details. Your roles in the story are short-lived cannon fodder. For additional information, only the memories shared by Skoll, Zagonnas's martial brother, concerning him have been mentioned."
"Memories will suffice. Please share."
As Cendrarsa removed the borrowed clothing, she listened attentively to the system's response.
"Skoll once recalled that despite his early fame, Zagonnas led a tragic life, orphaned at a young age and consumed by an excessive zeal for martial arts. His obsession almost destroyed the Sword Sect's century-old legacy. In your fateful duel, he inadvertently fell to your venom, a truly regrettable outcome."
"Is that all?"
"Yes, you both met an early demise, so naturally, there is little more to tell."
"Damn it!"
Uttering a curse under her breath, just then, Zagonnas pushed open the wooden door and reentered the room.
"My Lady, I have prepared the water for you to bathe. Please proceed."
"Ah, thank you, noble husband. And what about you?" Cendrarsa rose and approached Zagonnas.
Having changed out of his wedding attire, Zagonnas was clad in a simple, slightly faded inner garment. His damp hair and moist skin indicated that he, too, had recently bathed.
"I took a quick bath. The warm water is still for you. Please go ahead," he urged.
"A bath at this hour? What if you catch a cold?"
"No worries, I'm accustomed to it. Hurry, or the water will cool," Zagonnas reassured.
"Alright."
Feeling weary, Cendrarsa refrained from further comment and pushed open the door, heading to the water source behind the house. The dwelling was rudimentary, and the bath even more so—a decrepit tub being the sole amenity. Despite its modesty, the tub and water were clean.
Before the bathwater chilled, Cendrarsa hurriedly completed her ablutions. Trembling as she dressed, she returned to the room to find Zagonnas engrossed in a book.
Feeling the chill, Cendrarsa climbed into bed, only to discover that there was a single thin blanket on his wooden bed. Better something than nothing, she nestled beneath the covers, holding the edges close, and lay down, gazing at Zagonnas.
"Noble husband, I am weary."
"In that case, you should rest first; I need to prepare for classes." Earlier, during her bath, Zagonnas had decided that if necessary, he would sleep at the academy that night.
"Noble husband, it's too cold. Join me; perhaps we shall be warmer together," Cendrarsa's intention was truly not to entice him; she was genuinely cold. Tomorrow, she had to bring over blankets from her clinic and fetch a few charcoal pots.
"Cold?"
Upon hearing her words, Zagonnas set aside his book.
Coming from a southern background, Cendrarsa found herself in the most northern region; it was late autumn, and his thatched home had no heating facilities. Her chills were understandable. Observing her pallor and pleading gaze, Zagonnas relented and moved to sit at the edge of the bed.
"Tomorrow, I will gather some clay and mend the drafty areas of the house to keep you warm," Zagonnas stated, sitting on the bed. He removed his shoes, pulled back the covers, and lay down beside Cendrarsa.
Zagonnas practised a unique internal energy technique that kept his body perpetually warm. Even though he did not touch Cendrarsa, she felt the warmth emanating from him instantly.
Thinking to shift closer to him, Cendrarsa inadvertently moved, causing a creak to sound from an unknown part of the wooden bed... "