Chapter 899: Do You Want the Three Media and Six Pledges?

Chapter 899: Do You Want the Full Betrothal Rites?

The note Zhao Changhe saw read as follows:

“The Heavenly Dao’s covetousness never ceases; a great war is imminent. Our ambiguous distance harms the battle. Now with Ruo Yu, I cannot bear to see her and Yue Hongling like mother and daughter, while I remain an outsider.”

“We are no longer young boys and girls; some matters are best laid out for discussion.”

“You desire me out of lust, not love. But I am Ye Wuming; I will never be anyone’s trophy of desire. You lack the means, so this can only remain a deadlock.”

“If you truly had the means, I might concede. If not, you might as well follow human customs—the full betrothal rites, with three matchmakers and six gifts. Settle this title, so Ruo Yu may come and go from Night Palace, basking in maternal grace. After that, regarding the Heavenly Dao, I can cooperate with your actions. Beyond that, the Milky Way separates us; heaven and man shall never meet.”

After all, it was a note, few words, ending there.

Zhao Changhe scratched his head.

This letter was very Ye Wuming.

Whether in the night-sky intent of the handwriting or the literary style of the Chaos Chronicles over the years, it resembled Ye Wuming perfectly. Only it wasn’t as pedantic as the Chaos Rankings, more colloquial—reasonable for a casual private note.

The content, too, was something Ye Wuming’s temperament might say, perhaps even her true thoughts… Of course, in reality, she would never speak such words aloud, but to an observer, the letter seemed utterly genuine.

At least at that moment, Zhao Changhe had no suspicion, nor did it occur to him that Ruo Yu, that girl, would dare impersonate Ye Wuming to write a letter.

But even if it might truly reflect Ye Wuming’s thoughts, it could only go as far as “I might concede.” The part about the full betrothal rites was impossible.

That was Tang Wanzhuang’s added private touch, wanting to see how Ye Wuming would react if Zhao Changhe actually took the initiative with the full betrothal rites.

Additionally, the letter contained a subtle implication—you desire me out of lust; I, Ye Wuming, am no one to entertain that. But if it were love? What response would that bring?

The words were left unfinished for him to ponder.

Now Zhao Changhe’s mind wandered endlessly; he stood dazed for a long time.

Was that how she thought?

He had pursued Jiuyou with tender affection for so long, finally achieving mutual love. Did Ye Wuming, seeing this, mean to say that if he were willing to do the same for her, she might consider giving him a chance?

But in truth, that path had never been viable. Zhao Changhe himself couldn’t distinguish his feelings for Ye Wuming… His resentment toward her hadn’t faded; she hadn’t apologized, so what love could there be? Not to mention the enmity between Jiuyou and Piaomiao—what room for affection? Thus, their meetings were only cold words and arguments, a deadlock.

And in this letter, Ye Wuming still showed no sign of yielding or apology, so the deadlock remained unbroken.

As for the betrothal rites—was she asking him to yield first, offering a step down? Why should he yield to her first, with three matchmakers and six gifts? How about three cents of bride price?

In the end, it all seemed to converge on that one line: “If you truly had the means, I might concede.”

Tang Wanzhuang had merely moved her pen, and poor Tom was toyed with in her palm, lost in countless thoughts.

Ling Ruo Yu cautiously observed her master’s ever-changing expression, her eyes clear: “Master, how… how is it? What does it say?”

Zhao Changhe snapped back: “Oh, nothing… You didn’t read it?”

“How could I casually read my mother’s private letter to my father…”

Longque glanced at her sidelong, wanting to speak but stopping, careful to hide her own thoughts from her master’s shared senses… Thus, Zhao Changhe felt his beloved blade’s strong intent: Little bitch.

Zhao Changhe glared at Longque. Ruo Yu was heroic and obedient; how could you, as a sister, curse her behind her back?

Longque: “…”

“It’s nothing.” Zhao Changhe ruffled Ling Ruo Yu’s hair, asking softly: “Ruo Yu, tell your master honestly—do you want to be with Ye Wuming?”

Ling Ruo Yu hesitated, then said quietly: “After all… after all, she is my mother… And this trip to Night Palace, to the outer realms, she was really good to me… I don’t think there’s any irreconcilable hatred between everyone and her…”

She trailed off, her voice fading. In truth, Zhao Changhe’s petty resentment, Ye Jiuyou’s age-old grudges—none were truly insurmountable problems. But no one else could forgive on Piaomiao’s behalf.

“Forget it.” Zhao Changhe tucked the note into his ring: “Let’s go out first.”

Leaving the Galaxy Sword, father and daughter both froze.

The sky, already growing light, suddenly seemed to retreat into night, dark and sunless.

A pair of jade-white hands reached out from the darkness. Zhao Changhe’s ring space, as if nonexistent, was directly invaded. Touching nothing else, they went straight for the note.

Ye Wuming’s terrifying assault, like turning heaven and earth upside down, was merely to see what the note said…

In fact, the ring on Zhao Changhe’s hand came from the Xuanwu Secret Realm, once containing the Night Emperor’s token and the Galaxy Sword blank—it was Ye Wuming’s ring from years past. Always her possession.

Zhao Changhe had no idea what Ye Wuming was doing. You gave the note—are you regretting it? Do you think this is QQ or WeChat, where you can recall a message?

Without time to think, he instinctively withdrew his left hand and pushed his right palm forward, aiming at Ye Wuming’s chest and abdomen to force her back.

But just a moment before, at the instant Ye Wuming appeared, on the distant witch altar, Ye Jiuyou smiled: “I think now is the time.”

Ye Jiuyou, Piaomiao, and dozens of spirit tribe high priests, surrounding the bronze vessel containing Ye Wuming’s hair on the altar, cast their spells simultaneously.

Over there, Zhao Changhe’s palm struck toward Ye Wuming’s chest and abdomen. Ye Wuming, unconcerned, casually brushed with her left hand while her right hand snatched the note.

But that casual brush failed to block Zhao Changhe’s palm. As their hands met, Ye Wuming suddenly felt her body go weak, her strength dissipating by seven or eight tenths. Zhao Changhe easily broke through her defense. His large hand, overcoming the obstruction, pressed directly between the two hemispheres.

Ye Wuming: “?”

Zhao Changhe: “…”

Zhao Changhe himself hadn’t expected this palm, meant only to force her back, to have such an effect. Who was she? Ye Wuming, whose casual strike could change heaven and earth!

Fortunately, his cultivation now allowed him to control his power at will. The moment his hand pressed against her lower hemisphere, he had already retracted most of his force. The impact on Ye Wuming was roughly like swatting a fly—harmless.

But to Ye Wuming’s senses, it would have been better if he had struck viciously without restraint. That would only bring pain and injury, not this electric, tingling touch.

Already inexplicably weak and limp, this touch made her not only soft but hot. Strange, lascivious thoughts flooded her mind—desires she had never known since birth rose from her chest and abdomen, swiftly surging into her mind and descending to the deepest springs.

Ye Wuming retreated rapidly, but her legs gave way, and she stumbled.

Zhao Changhe wouldn’t miss this chance. He lunged forward and wrapped his arm around her waist.

Ye Wuming instinctively leaned against his solid chest. This close embrace intensified the witch spell’s effect to its peak. Suddenly, everything turned pink; the familiar scent of Zhao Changhe became what they call “masculine aura,” making her heart race wildly.

The instigators, Ye Jiuyou and Piaomiao, hadn’t expected such a perfect outcome. It was just that the timing of Zhao Changhe’s embrace and the witch spell created a chemical reaction.

Ye Wuming gritted her teeth, mustering her last strength. Space and time twisted; she vanished in an instant.

Zhao Changhe had already pulled out the Soul Chain, trying to lock her, but he was a step too slow. Ye Wuming was still the strongest in this world—too powerful to control.

A swift telepathic message from Ye Jiuyou reached him: “Chase! Strike while the iron is hot. Don’t let her digest and break the spell alone, or all will be lost!”

Zhao Changhe quickly understood that Ye Wuming’s abnormality had been caused by someone’s scheme. He didn’t have time to analyze how; he grabbed Longque and dashed straight for Night Palace.

Ling Ruo Yu, shading her eyes, watched her parents disappear into the sky, her heart uneasy: “He even brought Queque… N-nothing bad will happen, right…”

On the other side, Piaomiao said: “Changhe took his blade. I think we should swarm her now and take her down. This is the best chance.”

Tang Wanzhuang, standing nearby, stroked her chin in thought: “I think swarming would backfire. Let Changhe handle it. The timing is too perfect—he just read that letter… I wonder what reaction it will provoke.”

“What should we do then?”

“Nothing. Just keep the witch spell going…”

…

Ye Wuming fled far away, with no other refuge but Night Palace.

Night Palace had powerful defenses built over two epochs, enough to contend even with the Heavenly Dao’s descent. Fleeing beyond the realm might cause more trouble.

She stumbled onto the Star Observation Platform, still overwhelmed by lust, her face flushed. She took several deep breaths, quickly formed hand seals, and examined herself internally to see what was wrong.

Such a state should never have befallen her…

Indeed, her internal examination revealed the problem: a witch ritual using her own hair.

"Night Jiuyou, Piaomiao..." Ye Wuming gritted her teeth. "Do you really think this can deal with me?"

As it turned out, even if the triple play of Night Jiuyou's sacrifice refinement, sorcery activation, and Piaomiao's safety net could take effect for a time, Ye Wuming found it easy to resolve—in but an instant, her state had already recovered considerably.

The precondition was that no man came to meddle.

Pity even this simple precondition could not be met... No matter how formidable the Night Palace's defenses were, they were utterly useless against Zhao Changhe.

Because Zhao Changhe's coordinate anchor for the Night Palace was set by the Star River, located at the very core of the observatory platform. His appearance bypassed all outer defenses directly, manifesting right beside Ye Wuming.

Ye Wuming: "..."

The man suddenly appeared, crouching before her to stare, his face so close it was nearly touching, their breaths already mingling.

Ye Wuming could no longer concentrate her mind to break the sorcery; the state she had just resolved swiftly reversed. She choked back a mouthful of stagnant blood, suppressing the carnal urge to throw herself into his arms, and panted through gritted teeth: "Zhao Changhe, are you stooping to such shameless means to get a woman? I misjudged you."

Zhao Changhe crouched before her, studying her with keen interest. Ye Wuming's pale face, disheveled hair, and furious eyes were far too rare a sight—it nearly shattered every preconception he had of this woman.

The Ye Wuming he usually saw was serene and aloof, her thoughts unfathomably deep, her gaze spanning past and present, her chessboard laid across two epochs, with all living beings as her pieces. She could treat everything with indifference, including her own life—she had never cared... She had never even shown a hint of urgency, let alone the panic she displayed now.

She was truly panicking at the thought of being taken by a man... Was that more terrifying to her than death?

Hearing her words, Zhao Changhe laughed. "Why do you think I have such intentions? You've watched me for so many years—don't you know me at all?"

"Other matters, yes; but when it comes to women, your integrity is hardly reliable." Ye Wuming gritted her teeth. "Didn't you yourself say you desired me? Otherwise, why did you chase after me?"

"Uh..." Zhao Changhe scratched his head at that. "I don't really know why I chased after you... Maybe it's just that they schemed and exerted effort, and it wouldn't be right to leave it without a result."

Ye Wuming fumed: "What result do you want to achieve?"

Zhao Changhe stroked his chin with interest, though inwardly he felt that just seeing Ye Wuming like this was already worth the price of admission.

Of course, he couldn't say that—if he did, Jiuyou and Piaomiao would fight him to the death. After all their effort, you just came for this?

So he could only say: "After everything you've done, don't you feel you owe someone an apology?"

Ye Wuming said coldly: "No."

Zhao Changhe leaned in a little closer, their noses almost touching.

Ye Wuming was not actually immobilized; she could move, yet she couldn't. Because what she truly held back was the urge to burrow into the man's arms and kiss him—and more.

To suppress herself from falling into his embrace had already taken all her strength. As for pulling back to avoid him—she didn't want that at all.

But her mouth still said: "If you take advantage of this chance to be frivolous, I will never respect you!"

Zhao Changhe reached out, lifted her chin to examine her closely, and murmured in admiration: "So beautiful. Is this considered frivolous?"

Ye Wuming gritted her teeth: "Disgusting."

"I won't use such means to be frivolous with you, even if I truly want to kiss you." Zhao Changhe dropped his smile and said seriously: "But I will throw you before Jiuyou and Piaomiao, and let them mock you for the rest of your life."

Ye Wuming's heart wanted to say, you might as well just take me. But she couldn't bring herself to say it, and could only glare at him.

Zhao Changhe said slowly: "I only hope you will apologize to them, especially Piaomiao. When you were strong, I wanted to say this too, but you wouldn't have listened then... Now, in this state, can we talk?"

Ye Wuming took a deep breath: "You only care about Piaomiao? What about your so-called hatred for me?"

Zhao Changhe reached out to brush the stray hair from her temple and said softly: "Between you and me, that is between us, and has nothing to do with others. Even if I want to settle it, I won't use their methods."

Ye Wuming pressed her lips tight, and after a long while said: "What if I absolutely refuse to apologize?"

Zhao Changhe suddenly flared up: "Are you insane? You are the most meticulous mind under heaven—don't you know that without resolving these grievances, I cannot give you the formal betrothal you desire?"

Ye Wuming's mouth hung half-open, her mind clouded by lust, unable to grasp for a moment: how did you suddenly decide to give me a formal betrothal?