The golden hollow high heels encasing the delicate, pale feet appeared and disappeared with each step beneath the long hem of her dress.
Dai Yun'er sat down at the edge of the bed. As her skirt lifted slightly, the faintly flushed soles of her feet parted from the heels.
She sat extremely close to Long Yue, so close that it made him wrinkle his nose and furrow his brow.
The smell was overwhelming.
Not the smell of feet—but of alcohol.
A pungent, stinging stench of liquor rushed through Long Yue's nasal cavity straight to his brain.
Clearly, the liquor she drank wasn't just strong in potency—it had to be consumed in large quantities as well.
She hadn't used soul power to dissipate the alcohol. Intentionally allowing herself to become drunk, she'd marinated her entire body in the scent.
But then again, what kind of liquor could get a Title Douluo with a spiritual-type martial soul drunk?
Naturally, none.
The sound invading Long Yue's ears from under the bed wasn't the thunderous snoring of someone passed out drunk, but rather a deeply sorrowful sobbing.
"Drip... drip…"
Tiny teardrops fell to the ground. One even bounced up and landed on Long Yue's face, making him slowly clench his fists.
But to stick to his strategic plan—to use the hostage as leverage against the blue-haired divine consciousness—he restrained his urge to comfort his sister-in-law.
Reality, for the most part, had not let Long Yue's reason down.
At least the first half had gone as he expected.
Then came a soft "creak"— the sound of the bridal chamber door opening once again.
This wasn't a proper wedding—no wedding games, no bridesmaids or groomsmen.
So, the identity of the next person to enter the bridal chamber, after Long Yue and Dai Yun'er, was self-evident.
His strategic target—the hostage!
At once, Long Yue's muscles tensed to the extreme under the bed.
His burly arms coiled like dragons, his entire being like a giant mountain dragon about to erupt.
But in the very next moment, just as he was about to spring, his body abruptly slammed down harder, his cheek pressed tightly to the floor, nearly glued in place.
It was as if he were being crushed under a chain of mountains, while an invisible soul technique kept him firmly pinned, rendering him immobile.
Long Yue pushed with every ounce of strength he had—his eyes nearly bulging out from effort—but it was useless.
The gap between a god-level being and a Title Douluo was as vast as an ocean.
Yet his senses—sight and hearing—remained unaffected.
Then, he heard something that utterly confused him.
"You?!"
"Why is it you?!"
It was Dai Yun'er's voice, filled with utter disbelief.
Her tears immediately stopped, even the ones that had splashed on Long Yue's face.
Even the alcohol on her body was unconsciously dispersed.
"Tap, tap!"
She stood up abruptly, took two steps forward, and grabbed Tang Wulin by the collar.
She shouted, "That blue-haired divine consciousness—who is he to you?!"
"Why are you doing this to me?!"
"Why?!"
Her emotions were turbulent, unstable, nearly uncontrollable.
Tang Wulin's expression showed no smile—only a gloomy, ash-gray bleakness.
Even as Dai Yun'er's aggressive shaking made him sway from side to side, he remained emotionally flat.
He simply said, "I'm sorry. The blue-haired divine consciousness you speak of… he is my father, Tang San."
"On his behalf, I apologize to you. I'm sorry."
"Your son has been poisoned by a compound toxin that can only be cured in a specific sequence—only my father knows the method."
"He doesn't intend to kill your son. He only wants to use him… to control you. And… me as well."
"To deal with an enemy—his enemy, and mine—Beast God Di Tian."
"..."
Tang Wulin had long known what his father had done to Dai Yun'er.
After years of being together, he understood Tang San's character well.
The word "control" had defined Tang San's entire life. His obsessive need to control was like a dog unable to stop eating feces—something deeply ingrained in his nature.
Unfortunately, Tang Wulin had neither the power to stop him nor the ability to resist.
All he could do was silently hold onto the faint hope of mediating things.
"Heh…"
A bitter laugh crept onto Dai Yun'er's face.
Now that she knew the truth—Tang San's relationship with Tang Wulin, his ties to her ancestors—she seemed drained of all strength.
"Tap, tap…"
She staggered backward several steps, falling again onto the edge of the bed.
Her expression was indescribably complex, a mess of emotions layered over one another—more emotional than the God of Emotions himself—like she had been struck by a full round of "Haodong's Three Supreme Moves" of confusion.
She stared blankly at Tang Wulin.
At the little boy she'd fallen for in her girlhood dreams.
At any other time, if Tang Wulin had come to see her, she would've been genuinely happy.
But not now.
Not when Tang Wulin's father was using her son to threaten her.
Not when both father and son wanted to drag her into a war against the ultimate enemy—Beast God Di Tian.
"That bastard father of yours... And to think he was once an ally of my ancestors, using such vile, despicable means!"
"A compound toxin... Why involve my child?! Couldn't you just ask? Wouldn't I have helped anyway?"
"Truly unworthy of being called a god…"
Dai Yun'er gritted her teeth, cursing over and over.
Tang Wulin said nothing. He only listened silently.
Internally, he murmured: Perhaps… to him, the promise of a stranger is just too unpredictable to rely on.
And it was precisely for this reason that Tang Wulin continued to suppress Long Yue beneath the bed.
If Long Yue suddenly sprang out and ruined everything, Tang San's plan could collapse—and that would only lead to disaster.
Old acquaintances had fallen like leaves in the wind.
He and Long Yue had once been close. He didn't want to see him die for nothing.
Inside the bridal chamber, though three people were present, the air remained oddly quiet.
Only Dai Yun'er's gradually weakening curses broke the silence.
Perhaps she'd realized that yelling did nothing but vent her frustration.
Or perhaps she had simply run out of insults, having exhausted every foul phrase she'd learned as a palace princess.
Eventually, even her swearing ceased.
After a pause, she spoke again, this time with a hint of resignation:
"Go ahead."
"I hope your father really doesn't intend to harm my son, only to control me."
With that, she reached for her waist, preparing to untie her sash and accept the fate of being pricked by a needle.
At this moment, the only small consolation was that the person about to inject her… was the boy she had once secretly loved.
But unexpectedly, Tang Wulin grabbed her hand and instead placed a clear, crystalline pill in her palm.
(End of Chapter)