The seven days leading up to the wedding ceremony were a blur of ritual and invasive preparation. Jianyu, still outwardly Niánmei, was subjected to a series of "cleansing rites" within the inner sanctum of Yuegu Zong. These were not mere spiritual purifications; they were half-spiritual, half-corporeal invasions, designed to ensure he was "the true reincarnation" of the Moonlotus Saint. The air in the ritual chambers was thick with incense and the faint, unsettling scent of preserved flesh.
He was immersed in pools of chilled, luminous qi, felt ancient needles pierce his meridians, and endured chants that sought to resonate with his very soul. Each procedure was designed to align his spirit with the Moonbone sect's ancestral lineage, to bind him to their traditions. He allowed it, his serene smile unwavering, his body seemingly pliable. But beneath the surface, his System was a silent, voracious observer. He felt every probe, every invasive qi thread, every attempt to imprint their will upon him. And as he felt them, he rewrote their effects.
He used the invasive qi to map their soul-binding techniques, understanding the intricate pathways they manipulated. He absorbed the knowledge of their ancestral rites, learning how they sought to control and harvest spiritual essence. The pain was a dull thrum, secondary to the intellectual hunger of his System. He was not being cleansed; he was being educated, turning their tools into his own.
One evening, as the moon, now almost full, cast long, skeletal shadows across the bone-carved courtyards, Mei Ling'er found him. Her face was pale, her eyes wide with a terror that transcended her usual apprehension. She had been assigned to assist the Moonbone elders in preparing the "ancestral womb," a sacred artifact for the wedding night.
"Master Niánmei," she whispered, her voice trembling, "they… they don't mean to truly marry you." Her gaze darted around, as if fearing unseen listeners. "The previous brides of the Empress… they were all killed during the wedding night. Their qi… it was harvested. To feed the ancestral womb."
Jianyu felt a cold knot tighten in his gut. He had suspected as much, but Ling'er's words confirmed the full horror. The "sacred union" was a ritualistic sacrifice. They planned to bind Niánmei's soul into the ancestral womb, ending his autonomy, turning him into a permanent, silent qi battery for the sect. The Moonlotus Saint was not meant to return; she was meant to be consumed.
He looked at Ling'er, her face etched with genuine fear for him. "Thank you, Ling'er," he said, his voice as Niánmei, soft and calm, yet with an undercurrent of steel. "You have done well."
He dismissed her, his mind already racing. The Moonbone sect had underestimated him. They saw a vessel, a reincarnation, a tool. They did not see the malevolent intelligence, the calculating fury, the System that devoured and adapted. He would allow the ceremony to begin. He would walk down the aisle, allow himself to be brought to the precipice of their ritual.
And then, he would destroy it from within. The Moonbone sect would learn the true meaning of a "bloomless" union.