The Master and His Wealthy Fiancée

At that, Chen Dong knew they were talking about him.

He couldn’t help but recall the concept of fortune. Without it, the entire world would be against him.

He had just arrived in this world only to be carried into a coffin. He had barely recovered a sliver of his breath when they tried to kill him for a ghost marriage. Chen Dong couldn’t help but suspect that if this family hadn’t brought him in, the girl they called Xian’Er might have survived a few more days.

But now, he refused to die. He struggled with every fiber of his being, straining with all his might, but he couldn’t even open his eyelids.

’Move! Get moving, damn it! Move!’ Chen Dong screamed at himself internally, but it was useless.

His Divine Sense perceived a pair of calloused hands closing around his neck, followed by a vicious squeeze.

’Am I going to die again?’

His last wisp of breath began to fade.

Pain! Excruciating pain! Chen Dong felt as if his neck were about to snap. Then, he coughed.

”St...op!” Chen Dong managed an incredibly weak groan. He realized he could move a little now, and he could speak.

It seemed that at the critical moment, his body’s survival instinct had kicked in, allowing him to move.

”Master, he’s awake. Should I still kill him?” the man asked hesitantly, his grip on Chen Dong’s neck loosening considerably.

Chen Dong’s vision was blurry, but he could make out an ancient-styled room. Beside the bed, a furiously roaring, ball-shaped man bellowed, ”Kill him! Of course, kill him! Wait. First, ask for his name and his full birthdate and time. I can’t have my daughter not even knowing her husband’s name.”

Hearing this, the man asked Chen Dong, ”Kid, what’s your name? Spit it out, and I’ll make your death quick!”

This was his only chance. Chen Dong struggled to say, ”I can save her. I can save your Miss!”

The man sneered. ”Look at the state of you. Who do you think you can save? Just spit out your name and birthdate.”

One should never underestimate a parent’s love for their child. Take Master Wang, for instance. He knew Wang Xian’Er was gone, yet he still clung to the folk belief of a ”joy-warding” ceremony. And even knowing such a thing was unreliable, he was still determined to arrange a ghost marriage for his daughter.

For Wang Xian’Er’s sake, he was willing to grasp at even the faintest glimmer of false hope.

Hearing Chen Dong’s words, he shoved the servant aside and grabbed Chen Dong by the collar. His eyes, red and swollen, locked onto Chen Dong as he demanded, ”Are you telling the truth?”

This was Chen Dong’s last hope. He said weakly, ”I can save her.” Though his voice was faint, his tone was unshakeable.

”You’d better be telling the truth!” Master Wang said, dragging Chen Dong to Wang Xian’Er’s bedside.

The servant who had just been strangling Chen Dong spoke up. ”Master, Miss Xian’Er has already passed. An Immortal from the Qixia Sect even came to see her and said she couldn’t be saved! Why do you torture yourself like this?”

Master Wang roared, ”Shut up!” Then, his voice broke into a sob. ”I know. I know everything you’ve said, but what if this person really has a way? If he can’t save her, I’ll kill him with my own hands!”

Chen Dong looked at the person on the bed. She had a hereditarily round and plump physique and was dressed in a new, bright red gown. A thick layer of rouge had been applied to her face to mask its purple-blue hue. Her eyes were shut tight, and she wasn’t breathing.

In terms of vital signs, she was well and truly dead.

’This is tricky. Very tricky.’ Even at his peak, Chen Dong would have been at a loss. Now, his body was half-ruined, his cultivation had been completely sacrificed and drained, and he didn’t have a single shred of True Qi left.

Fortunately, however, he still had the Divine Sense he’d gained from surviving a Pill Tribulation.

This was something he didn’t have before. Divine Sense was faster and clearer than any medical diagnostic tool.

”Get me closer,” Chen Dong said. ”I just regained consciousness and am still weak.”

His current Divine Sense only had a one-meter range, and he couldn’t perceive anything clearly from this distance.

Master Wang tightened his grip on Chen Dong’s collar, hoisting him up and dangling him over the bed until he was practically on top of Wang Xian’Er, who was built like a sumo wrestler.

After a moment of assessment, before Master Wang could ask, Chen Dong declared, ”She can be saved. Prepare a set of Silver Needles and a pill that can quickly restore physical energy. And be quick about it!”

Master Wang shot a cold glance at the nearby servant. Without him even needing to speak, the servant immediately scurried off to prepare.

Soon, two Marching Pills and a set of Silver Needles were brought over on a tray.

Chen Dong had never seen this type of pill before, but one sniff told him what it was for. He swallowed both Marching Pills at once. He didn’t begin the treatment immediately, however. Instead, he sat down to the side and began to meditate.

Master Wang didn’t press him. In his eyes, this was merely a fleeting, extravagant hope—a plea for a miracle without any real expectation of one. The ghost marriage was scheduled for midnight, so there was still time. He could kill this boy anytime before then.

Chen Dong didn’t spend much time recovering. He meditated for only two minutes, regaining a bit of strength before getting to his feet. Wang Xian’Er was already gone; the longer he waited, the slimmer the chances of bringing her back became.

Generally speaking, the golden window for resuscitation is five minutes after breathing stops. It was just past the five-minute mark now. Any further delay would damage Wang Xian’Er’s brain, and it would be hard to say if she could be revived at all.

Chen Dong didn’t hesitate. He steadied his wrist, getting a feel for this body that lacked any cultivation. Forcing himself to ignore the searing pain wracking his own frame, he picked up a three-inch large needle and plunged it directly into the Baihui acupoint at the crown of Wang Xian’Er’s head.

Master Wang gasped. Having dealt with Wang Xian’Er’s long illness, he’d become something of a doctor himself and understood a few things. He’d never seen anyone’s first move be to stick a needle into a fatal acupoint.

The servant who had tried to kill Chen Dong sneered inwardly. ’This kid’s just afraid of dying. He clearly has no idea what he’s doing, just jabbing needles around randomly. It’s a good thing the Miss is already dead, or Master would never allow this. I just hope he doesn’t push his luck. If the Master loses his temper, we servants might not make it out alive.’

But then Chen Dong picked up a two-inch medium needle for his second insertion, plunging it into the very same Baihui acupoint.

The servant’s heart leaped in shock. ’Two Silver Needles in a single acupoint? This is just madness!’ Even he, a man who knew nothing of medicine, could tell this was wrong. He couldn’t stop himself from shouting, ”You! Boy! Stop!”