Midsummer in July.
The weather was stiflingly hot that night, pitch-black and windy. Shadows bustled about a luxury villa on the outskirts of the Capital, people coming and going.
Looking closer, one could see they were actually busy setting up for a wedding.
Red lanterns hung from the doors, plastered with large, crimson double-happiness characters—it was clearly a traditional Chinese wedding.
Yet, the faces of the busy workers bore not a shred of joy.
Instead, they wore an expression of apprehension and dread.
The people doing the setup appeared to be from a wedding planning company.
Two of them whispered to each other, "Let's speed up a bit more. The bride is about to be sent over."
"Let's get out of here as soon as we're done! This place gives me the creeps!"
"Right? Once I stepped inside just now, I felt something was off. My spine has been freezing."
"No wonder they're paying so much money! If they paid any less, I doubt anyone would come do this work!"
"You're overthinking it. Do you even know who the client is?"
"Of course I do! The Shang family of the Capital, who doesn't know? The biggest super-tycoon in the Capital! The Crown Prince of the Beijing Circle!"
"Word has it the groom is the head of the Shang family, the eldest grandson, Shang Jingchen—"
The man looked around, lowering his voice as if spilling a heaven-shaking secret, "I heard he's already dead—"
The other man's face shifted drastically. He swallowed hard, his voice trembling slightly, "You mean... that kind of wedding?"
"Have you ever seen anyone hold a wedding celebration at night?"
"And not a single guest is here, not even any of his relatives—"
The situation grew increasingly bizarre, enough to make one's hair stand on end.
Rumor had it that this villa had been uninhabited before. Everything inside was brand new.
Just as his voice trailed off, the wind began to howl from all directions around the villa. The surrounding large trees rustled violently in the wind.
The wailing sound of the wind was like someone crying, filling people with an inexplicable sense of oppression and deep discomfort.
The two speakers couldn't help shuddering, their scalps tingling.
"Let's go, let's go! This is way too eerie!" The two workers picked up their pace.
At that moment, someone shouted out.
"The bride is here—"
Ye Zhixing sat inside the bridal car.
Dressed in crimson bridal robes, she was the protagonist of this wedding—the bride.
Her face was cold, devoid of any superfluous expression.
In truth, she had only been fetched back that morning from a nameless mountain Taoist temple in Jicheng, a neighboring province, by her so-called "family."
According to her sparse memories, she had been sent away when she was five years old.
That father of hers had claimed she was a jinx who had caused her mother's death and bankrupted him. He had consulted a master who declared her a lone star of heavenly doom, destined to bring terrible misfortune to her family.
Her father had trusted that man implicitly. Driving for the better part of a day, he had taken her to the countryside in Jicheng, dropped her out of the car, and resolutely driven away.
She hadn't cried or shouted, because at five years old, she couldn't even speak yet.
At the time, all the surrounding relatives and friends had called her a freak!
Later on, her luck turned, and an old man brought her back to a Taoist temple. That man was her master, Taoist Xuanming.
In fact, three days prior, her master had already calculated that her father would come looking for her.
It was even her master who had provided the clue and told them her address.
Her master had said that a heavenly tribulation hung over her, and she needed to find someone with a special life fate to break it.
As long as she resolved that person's problem, her own heavenly tribulation could also be neutralized.
And so, after a lapse of fifteen years, that father of hers had actually brought her stepmother along, putting on a hypocritical, sanctimonious act about wanting to take her back home and begging her to save them.
They claimed they wanted her to marry someone in place of her stepdaughter.
Because her younger sister had just turned eighteen and was still a child.
In reality, the Shang family had specifically requested a girl born within this particular range of the Eight Characters of Birth Date, and her sister's birth date was very close to it. If the matter succeeded, the benefits gained would undoubtedly be massive.
Since her father wanted to protect his daughter and cash in on the rewards at the same time, he cast his scheming eyes upon Ye Zhixing.
After all, the Shang family's status in the Capital was untouchable, an existence looked up to by everyone.
Ye Zhixing understood none of these matters, nor did she care to hear a single word of their hypocritical nonsense; she simply agreed straight away.
Ye Zhixing's goal was very clear: the man she was to marry.
Pulling back her thoughts, the luxury car had already stopped.
The car door opened, and an old woman stood waiting outside holding a red umbrella.
Ye Zhixing stepped out of the car. Looking at the villa before her, she frowned almost imperceptibly.
Yin Energy weighed heavy all around; the entire villa was shrouded in a layer of gloomy malefic energy. Furthermore, numerous Yin spirits and vengeful ghosts wandered the perimeter of the villa, staring at it with bizarre gazes, as if something within held a tremendous temptation, yet they were temporarily unable to enter.
So what was it inside this villa that attracted them?
Having cultivated the Dao under her master for fifteen years, she could see through all of this at a single glance.
The old woman holding the umbrella was presumably the matchmaker, muttering auspicious phrases under her breath.
Though called a wedding, not a single member of the groom's family was to be seen tonight—her scumbag father and stepmother certainly wouldn't show up either.
After going through a tedious series of procedures, the matchmaker escorted her upstairs and stopped at the door of the bridal chamber. "Young lady, go on in," she said. "From now on, the person inside is your husband."
"Have a good life together. Wherever he goes, just follow along."
With a couple of parting admonitions, the matchmaker hurried away, moving at lightning speed—as if afraid that lingering would trap her there forever.
Ye Zhixing cast a cold gaze at the woman's retreating back, her cool face free of excess emotion.
She knew that once the matchmaker left, this vast place would contain only herself and, inside the room, her "husband."
What kind of wedding this was—she had known the very instant she stepped foot into this villa!
She pushed open the door plastered with double-happiness characters.
A dense wave of Yin Energy rushed at her instantly. Her footsteps paused for a fraction of a second, and she immediately pulled a few talismans from her pocket, sticking them onto the doorframe and the four corners of the room.
The Yin Energy instantly dissipated quite a bit.
Stepping inside, she saw a man lying on a large bed.
The man was also dressed in wedding attire; without a doubt, he was the groom.
Ye Zhixing walked over to the side of the bed, lowering her gaze to study the man with closed eyes on the bridal bed.
The man had thick, sword-like brows, a full forehead, and refined, three-dimensional facial features—he possessed the physiognomy of an emperor at first glance. He was truly handsome!
A wisp of Purple Qi lingered around his body, but it was being suppressed by black Qi and malefic energy. She calculated on her fingers.
This must be the person with the rare, special life fate her master had mentioned!
Indeed, he was very special.
With so many Yin spirits and wandering ghosts lurking outside with covetous eyes, the primary reason he attracted these netherworld entities so easily lay in his life fate.
It was quite literally the most suitable vessel for those Yin spirits and vengeful ghosts to possess.
To be precise, his altered destiny should be called: an Extreme Yin Life Fate.
His original life fate should have been exceptionally good—one of the finest in the world.
Beyond that, he had also been cursed.
At this moment, his complexion was ashen, with heavy bags under his eyes.
It was Ye Zhixing's first time seeing someone in such a state, and she actually stood by the side observing him closely.
Fortunately, she didn't linger too long in observation; she was well aware of what mattered most right now.
She pulled out a piece of yellow paper, bit her finger, and drew a protective talisman upon it. Folding it neatly, she placed it in the pocket over his chest.
Then she grabbed his wrist and felt his pulse.
Sure enough, his body still harbored some chronic poison.
She swiftly produced a small porcelain bottle, poured out a brown pill, and fed it to him.
The next moment, a miracle occurred.
The man who had already reached the Gates of Ghostly Death suddenly opened his eyes.