The night was thick with an eerie silence. A blue-gray mist coiled around the gnarled tree trunks, its wispy tendrils shifting like ghostly hands. Not even the wind dared to stir.
Divya remained quiet as the group of ghost cultivators led her into the mansion. The entrance to the main house was unusually large—large enough for the dark red sedan chair to pass through with ease.
Her eyes swept over the vast interior.
At the center of the room stood an altar.
It was surrounded by countless red strings, draped and intertwined like a massive web, some even piercing through the wooden pillars and beams. The sight made her uneasy—the red threads reminded her of veins, as if the mansion itself were alive, pulsing with something sinister.
The ghost cultivators carried the dark red sedan chair deeper inside, setting it down alongside the small sedan she had been placed in. Most of them exited the house, shutting the heavy doors behind them with a deep thud, leaving only five behind.
They paid her no mind.
Divya carefully peeked outside through the small window of her sedan chair, scanning the room. The red sedan chair remained motionless, giving no sign of movement from whoever—or whatever—was inside. Was the occupant unconscious? Or worse…?
She pushed the thought aside.
The five ghost cultivators stood before the altar, their hands shifting rapidly into intricate gestures. They muttered under their breath, their voices weaving into an unsettling hum that resonated through the eerie space.
Divya's pulse quickened.
It was obvious—they didn't care about the little beggar they had tossed into the sedan.
Good.
That meant they wouldn't expect her to be a threat.
Divya stared at the five ghost cultivators as they stood in a circle, their hands raised, chanting mantras in unison. Their low murmurs intertwined, echoing eerily through the dimly lit space.
She squinted.
Wait… isn't this…?
Her eyes widened as the ground beneath them started to glow faintly, a pulsating shimmer spreading outward. Teleportation array? A grin flickered across her lips, but before she could get too excited—smack!—she slapped herself lightly. Idiot, focus!
She quickly turned her gaze back to the ghost cultivators. They finished their chanting, exhaled deeply, and then—unexpectedly—turned to look directly at her sedan chair.
Divya held her breath.
Then, just as suddenly, they turned away and walked out of the room, their robes billowing slightly in the strange stillness.
She blinked.
Eh? They're leaving? Just like that?
Her confusion deepened as the heavy doors shut behind them.
For a long moment, silence reigned.
Divya hesitated before slowly emerging from the sedan chair. Her bare feet touched the cold floor, and she warily glanced around. Nothing. Just the flickering of lanterns and the unsettling stillness of the altar.
She turned toward the other sedan chair.
Unlike hers, which was small and simple, this one was dark red, luxurious, and carried an ominous aura. Something felt off.
Curiosity tugged at her.
She reached out.
Her fingers grasped the thick cover draped over the sedan chair, and with a sharp tug—
She froze.
For a long moment, she could only stare.
Then—
A slow, incredulous smile spread across her face.
"Oh… wow."
She let out a low chuckle and muttered, "Looks like I've even lost my eyesight."
Because what she saw was—
A man.
A breathtaking man.
And no, not breathtaking in a good way.
This wasn't the kind of beauty that made one's heart flutter. No, this was the kind of face that could literally take someone's breath away—from sheer shock.
His head was completely bald, shining under the dim lantern light. His face was round—no, pumpkin-like—with thick lips that seemed to pout even in sleep. His cheeks were swollen, giving the impression that he had either stuffed them with food or drank an entire vat of water before passing out.
What… the hell… is this pig-like face?
She eyed him skeptically.
If this man were to open his eyes, he would definitely look like a pig moments before slaughter.
The sheer absurdity of it all made her lips twitch.
This… this is the person they put in a grand, ominous sedan chair?
Divya exhaled, stepping back slightly.
What. The. Hell.
Divya froze.
Wait.
Wait a damn minute.
Ghost wedding.
Wedding.
WEDDING?!
The word started echoing in her mind, bouncing around like an annoying mosquito that refused to be ignored.
Her gaze snapped back to the thing—no, man—inside the sedan chair.
Her stomach lurched.
Her face twisted into pure, unfiltered disgust.
Hold on… does this mean…
She gulped.
I'M SUPPOSED TO MARRY THIS GUY?!
"BLEH—"
She turned to the side and violently dry-heaved.
Oh. Oh, she felt sick.
She was trembling. Not from fear, not from excitement—no, from sheer horror.
Marrying this pumpkin-faced, water-balloon-looking, pig-resembling—?!
Her foot twitched.
Forget it.
BAM!
Without even thinking, she lightly—very lightly—kicked the sedan chair.
And immediately regretted it.
Because instead of just wobbling a little, the entire thing was blasted across the room.
CRASH!
The sedan didn't just hit the wall—it slammed into it, rebounded, and slid straight into the altar where the ghost cultivators had been chanting.
BOOM!
Candles toppled over. The eerie glowing light flickered. The entire setup looked like someone had just taken a wrecking ball to their sacred ritual.
Divya stood there, stiff as a board.
Slowly, very slowly, she turned to glance at the now-destroyed chanting area.
The air was dead silent.
Then—
SHOOOOOM!
A gust of eerie wind surged through the room, and in the distance—
Furious footsteps.
The ghost cultivators had definitely heard that.
Divya slapped her forehead with her palm.
"Oh my god."
She was just thinking about escaping peacefully, and now…?
Now, she had basically announced her presence to the entire damn underworld.
As soon as the dark cultivators stormed into the room, they froze in pure shock.
The slim beggar, a.k.a. Divya, was standing there, completely unharmed.
Meanwhile, their so-called young master was lying sprawled out on the floor like an overturned sack of potatoes.
The air grew heavy with anger.