Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Didn’t You Want to Marry Me?

“If you want to live, you have to work hard to clear your name and win the male lead’s favor, or you’ll repeat your fate!”

The Three Lives Mirror’s warning still echoed in Song Wan Ning’s mind.

She laughed—low, sharp, and utterly without warmth.

[Clear my name?]

[Since when did a villainous supporting character get to clear her name?]

Her fingers tightened around the Three Lives Mirror until her knuckles went white and the veins on the back of her hand stood out. This mirror was a divine artifact she had obtained in her previous life. After her horrific death, it had dragged her soul back to the beginning.

Scene after scene flashed before her eyes. The memories hit like blades, and she couldn’t stop the tremor that ran through her.

She had been born to a powerful family. She had been gifted beyond measure. And yet, in the end, she had still been nothing more than a villainous supporting character—someone destined to lose the man she loved, someone meant to be stepped on so a so-called transmigrator could shine.

Song Wan Ning closed her eyes.

Abandoned. Humiliated. Betrayed.

Those memories were carved into her bones, burned into her soul. No matter how she tried, she could not tear them out.

Every last one of them would pay.

She put away the Three Lives Mirror and stepped out of the main hall.

Brows like distant ink mountains, skin whiter than snow—she looked as if she had walked straight out of a painting. Even the dull daylight seemed to brighten when she appeared.

But no one outside the hall had the mood to admire anything.

“Wan Ning,” someone said coldly, “Chu Xue is already hanging by a thread. Are you really going to stand by and watch her die?”

Gu Qing Yuan’s expression was icy, and killing intent surged through Song Wan Ning so hard it almost made her dizzy.

Her long nails bit into her palm. Hatred rose in her throat, thick and metallic, so fierce she wanted to peel his skin and drink his blood.

The man in front of her was her betrothed Dao Companion, Gu Qing Yuan.

He was also her childhood sweetheart—her Senior Brother.

They had grown up together. He had cared for her in every detail. They had gone into secret realms and clawed their way out alive again and again. They had shared quiet, happy days too, and it had felt only natural to set an engagement, to wait until after they both reached the Nascent Soul Stage and then become official Dao Companions.

Then he took in a disciple named Ye Chu Xue.

After that, even when they had both been in the Nascent Soul Stage for years, Gu Qing Yuan kept delaying their marriage—dragging it out, pushing it back, as if the promise meant nothing.

“Song Wan Ning!”

Gu Qing Yuan suddenly stepped right up to her, close enough that she could see the tension in his jaw.

“Chu Xue is my disciple. I’m only asking you for a single dose of the Heaven-Origin Heart-Nourishing Pill!”

His eyes sharpened, disgust creeping into his voice. “Since when did you become so narrow-minded and selfish?”

[Narrow-minded?]

[Selfish?]

[So not handing over your precious things to someone else makes you selfish.]

[So wanting your Dao Companion’s love to yourself makes you narrow-minded.]

[Heh.]

Song Wan Ning lifted her eyes and stared at him, the corner of her mouth curling.

“It’s mine,” she said lightly. “I’ll give it if I want to. I won’t if I don’t. What can you do about it?”

She folded her arms, a clear, deliberate provocation.

“You—”

Gu Qing Yuan froze, shock flashing across his face. When had Wan Ning ever spoken to him like this?

Before he could recover, three anxious figures rushed in.

Song Wan Ning’s gaze swept over them. Pale fingertips, calm face—yet a murderous aura rose around her like frost and refused to disperse.

Her three “dear” disciples.

“Master! Junior Sister Chu Xue isn’t going to make it—please take the pill out!”

The eldest, Bai Yang, was flushed and frantic, eyes bright with panic.

The second, Lu Nan Feng, dropped to his knees with a heavy thud, voice trembling. “Master, please save Junior Sister Chu Xue!”

The third, An Ze, lifted his head, stubborn and furious. His eyes were red as he glared at Song Wan Ning like she was an enemy. “Master, why are you standing by and letting her die?”

The killing intent in Song Wan Ning’s chest surged so violently it nearly drowned her.

She pressed a hand against her heart. Nothing there—only cold emptiness.

[What right do they have to blame me?]

And Bai Yang—her eldest disciple, the one she had loved and cared for most—had, in the end, led people to raze the Song Family. He had personally ground her bones to ash.

[How could I not hate them?]

Song Wan Ning said nothing. Her aura rippled, unstable, the air around her tightening with pressure.

An Ze’s agitation flared. “Master, you’ve disappointed me. If you were the one injured, Senior Sister Chu Xue would definitely take the pill out for you!”

His voice rose into a shout. “Why are you so selfish?”

In the next instant, Song Wan Ning snapped her hand up.

A massive hand of spiritual energy appeared out of nowhere and yanked An Ze forward. It clamped around his throat. His breath cut off with a strangled sound; his face reddened, eyes bulging.

“How dare you curse your master?” Song Wan Ning’s voice went flat.

She flicked her fingers.

An Ze was flung away like trash, streaking toward the mountainside.

“Bang!”

He crashed onto the training platform halfway up the mountain. Disciples who had been pretending to practice while secretly watching the spectacle recoiled in shock.

“Pfft—”

An Ze spat blood and collapsed like a dead dog, unable to move.

“Hiss! Is that Senior Brother An?”

“What happened to Senior Brother An?!”

Whispers erupted—bewilderment, fear, and unease spreading through the crowd.

The people in front of the hall finally snapped out of it. They stared at Song Wan Ning as if she had gone mad.

“Master… what are you doing?” Bai Yang looked from the platform to Song Wan Ning, face tense. Then he ran over, hauled An Ze up, and fed him a pill with shaking hands.

Lu Nan Feng scrambled to his feet and rushed over too.

An Ze’s internal organs were damaged. It would take at least two months before he could recover fully.

Gu Qing Yuan frowned, reproach settling into his cool gaze. “He’s your disciple. How could you strike so heavily? Song Wan Ning, do you even know what you’re doing?”

Song Wan Ning half-lidded her eyes and swept them all with a lazy, faint smile.

If not for the Three Lives Mirror’s warning, she would have ended them the moment she saw them.

But she couldn’t act on impulse.

These people clung to Ye Chu Xue, basking in her halo. Every one of them carried strong fortune. And because of them, heart demons had wrapped tighter and tighter around Song Wan Ning’s soul.

If she wanted to protect herself and the Song Family, if she wanted a chance to break those heart demons, she had to plan—step by step—and watch them walk toward ruin with her own eyes.

“An Ze was arrogant and disrespectful,” Song Wan Ning said evenly. “As his Master, I taught him a lesson.”

Her gaze turned sharper. “What—do you want to tell me how to do my job?”

“You—”

Gu Qing Yuan’s face darkened.

Lu Nan Feng looked between them, confusion and worry all over his features. “Master… you’ve always treated us the best. You never laid a hand on us before. Why did you injure Third Junior Brother today?”

Song Wan Ning had always been domineering—and fiercely protective.

She had cared for them. For more than 10 years, none of them had ever been punished like this.

Today, she was different, and everyone could feel it.

“So you do know I treat you best,” Song Wan Ning said, eyes locking onto all three disciples until guilt flickered across their faces. “Then why are you acting like this for an outsider?”

A frantic sect disciple came sprinting over, voice hoarse with urgency. “Martial Uncle Gu! Junior Sister Ye’s condition is terrible—she needs the pill immediately! She can’t afford any delay!”

Gu Qing Yuan’s shoulders tensed. The image of Ye Chu Xue lying unconscious flashed before his eyes, and his breath hitched.

[Chu Xue is still waiting for me.]

He shut his eyes for a heartbeat. When he opened them again, resolve had settled in.

“Didn’t you want to marry me?” he said, voice tight. “Hand over the pill, and I’ll agree.”