Crack! Pop! Bang!
The deafening roar of firecrackers exploded outside, accompanied by the shrill wail of suona horns. The noise crashed into her ears like a death sentence being announced.
Sang Wanwan’s eyes flew open.
A sharp pain tore through her skull, as though someone had smashed her head with a sledgehammer. She sucked in a breath.
Blood.
The thick scent of blood filled her nose.
Warm liquid trickled down from her forehead, covering her left eye in a sticky crimson veil.
“Why are you crying? Hurry up and put her makeup on!”
“What bad luck! Trying to kill herself on such an auspicious day. Who does she think she’s putting on a show for?”
Harsh, venomous insults echoed around the room, mixed with the muffled sobs of a young maid.
Instinctively, Sang Wanwan tried to rub her throbbing temple.
Only then did she realize both hands were tied tightly behind her back with coarse hemp rope.
She had been forced into a seat before a battered old dressing table.
What the hell is going on?
Wasn’t she supposed to be in a top-secret national laboratory, developing a new generation of neurotoxins?
That chain of explosions should have blown her to pieces.
Before she could make sense of her situation, a flood of unfamiliar memories surged into her mind.
The Great Yin Dynasty.
The Marquis Zhen Guo’s State.
A true daughter and a fake daughter.
The owner of this body was also named Sang Wanwan.
She was the real daughter of the Marquis Zhen Guo’s family, lost in childhood and raised in the countryside.
Only three days ago had she finally been brought back to the marquis’s residence.
The original Sang Wanwan had been overjoyed.
She thought she had finally found her family.
Thought she would receive the love of her parents.
Instead, what awaited her was not affection, but a carefully orchestrated conspiracy.
The true treasure of the household was the fake daughter who had occupied her place for sixteen years, Sang Rourou.
Now, the Emperor had issued a marriage decree.
The legitimate daughter of the Marquis’s household was to marry the Ninth Prince, Zongzheng Zhan.
Unfortunately, the prince was infamous throughout the capital.
Rumors claimed he was violent and unstable. Years ago, he had become mentally impaired and was now regarded as a fool.
As if that weren’t enough, he carried the reputation of a cursed lone star. Several previous fiancées had reportedly died under mysterious circumstances.
Marquis Sang Deben could never bear to send his beloved foster daughter into such misery.
So without a second thought, he pushed his newly recovered biological daughter into the fire instead.
The original Sang Wanwan was timid by nature.
But even she knew marrying a fool was a road to death.
After learning the truth, she had begged her parents again and again.
In return, she received beatings and confinement.
Half an hour ago, driven by utter despair, she had slammed her head into a pillar inside this dilapidated room and died on the spot.
And that was how the modern-day master of ancient martial arts and toxicology, Sang Wanwan, had inherited this body.
After sorting through the memories, a cold smile curved her lips.
What a wonderful marquis’s household.
What a touching example of parental love.
Since she had taken over this body, she would settle every single one of these debts herself.
With interest.
“Why are you still standing there? Wipe the blood off her face!”
The sharp voice came again from behind.
The speaker was a wedding matron dressed in dark red silk, her face covered in layers of fat and arrogance.
Her surname was Wang.
She was one of the Marchioness’s most trusted servants and had spent years abusing her position.
Beside her, a young maid named Luliu trembled as she approached with a bloodstained handkerchief.
“Miss, please accept your fate…” Luliu sobbed. “The Marquis said you must marry today, whether you want to or not.”
“Move aside!”
Nanny Wang shoved the girl away impatiently.
Then she grabbed Sang Wanwan’s shoulder and slammed her down against the dressing table.
“Sang Wanwan, do you still think you’re some noble young lady?”
Her voice dripped with contempt.
“You spent sixteen years rotting away in the countryside. You’re not even worth one toe of Miss Rourou.”
“You should be grateful you get to marry the Ninth Prince in her place. That’s a blessing you’ve earned over eight lifetimes!”
Sang Wanwan lowered her eyes.
Blood dripped quietly onto the worn tabletop.
She said nothing.
Instead, she assessed the condition of her body.
Good.
The body was weak from years of malnutrition, but no paralytic drugs had been used.
The rope binding her hands was rough, yet the knot itself was amateurishly tied.
To someone who had mastered bone-softening martial arts techniques, it was practically nonexistent.
“Pretending to be dead, are you?”
Seeing her remain silent, Nanny Wang sneered.
She pulled a thick embroidery needle from her sleeve.
The needle was nearly three inches long, glinting coldly in the dim light.
“The Marquis gave his orders.”
She pointed the needle directly at Sang Wanwan’s arm.
“As long as you’re breathing, we’ll drag you to the Ninth Prince’s Residence if we have to.”
“And if you keep causing trouble, don’t blame me when this needle slips.”
With that, she raised her hand and stabbed downward.
Luliu screamed and squeezed her eyes shut.
At the exact moment the needle was about to pierce flesh—
Sang Wanwan moved.
Crack!
A chilling sound of bones shifting echoed through the room.
Her shoulders twisted at an impossible angle.
The tightly bound ropes instantly loosened and slipped off.
Freedom.
The moment her hands were released, Sang Wanwan snapped her head up.
Blood stained her face.
Her eyes blazed with a murderous chill that could freeze a person’s soul.
Before Nanny Wang could react, her wrist suddenly went numb.
Sang Wanwan’s fingers had precisely struck an acupuncture point.
Then she squeezed.
“AAAAAH!”
Nanny Wang let out a scream fit for slaughter.
The embroidery needle clattered to the floor.
But Sang Wanwan wasn’t finished.
Her expression remained icy.
Without a word, she raised her leg.
The kick cut through the air with explosive force.
Boom!
The woman, weighing well over two hundred pounds, was sent flying backward.
She crashed onto the bed with a thunderous impact.
The entire bed shook violently.
Then the wooden frame snapped apart.
“Aiyo! My back!”
Nanny Wang rolled across the broken boards, howling in agony.
Her face twisted into a grotesque mess of flesh.
Disbelief filled her eyes.
Wasn’t this the same weak, cowardly country girl everyone bullied?
How had she suddenly become so terrifying?
That look in her eyes…
It was like a demon clawing its way out of hell.
Nearby, Luliu stood frozen.
Her mouth hung open.
She had forgotten how to cry.
Sang Wanwan swayed slightly.
Her face was pale as paper.
This body was simply too weak.
That single kick had nearly torn the muscles in her leg apart.
Yet she didn’t even frown.
Calmly, she rotated her wrist back into place and began walking toward Nanny Wang.
Step.
Step.
“You… What are you doing?!”
For the first time, fear appeared in Nanny Wang’s eyes.
She desperately crawled backward.
“I serve the Marchioness! If you touch me, the Marquis and Madam will never let you go!”
“You’re noisy.”
Sang Wanwan snorted coldly.
Standing over the woman, she looked down at the servant who had been acting so arrogantly moments ago.
Then she crouched.
Her hand shot out like an iron clamp and seized the woman’s jaw.
Crack!
With a sharp twist, she dislocated it.
“Mmmph!”
Nanny Wang’s eyes rolled back from the pain.
Her mouth hung open uselessly, unable to form a single coherent word.
Sang Wanwan casually grabbed the bright red bridal veil lying nearby.
It was embroidered with a pair of mandarin ducks and looked unbearably tacky.
“You like forcing brides to marry in someone else’s place, don’t you?”
A cold smile appeared on her lips.
She crumpled the veil into a ball and shoved it directly into Nanny Wang’s mouth.
Still not satisfied, she ripped off the gaudy jeweled hairpiece from the woman’s head.
Then she stuffed that in too.
Deep into her throat.
“WUUUUGH!!”
Nanny Wang’s eyes bulged.
Her face turned purple as she nearly suffocated.
All she could do was writhe across the floor like a dying worm.
At last.
Silence.
A wonderfully peaceful silence.
Sang Wanwan rose to her feet and dusted off her hands in disgust.
Then she walked over to the bronze mirror.
The girl reflected within looked sixteen or seventeen years old.
Her face was thin and stained with blood, yet her features were breathtakingly beautiful.
Most striking were her eyes.
Cold.
Sharp.
Ruthless.
Eyes that seemed capable of deciding life and death with a single glance.
“From today onward…”
She looked at her reflection.
“I am Sang Wanwan.”
Her voice was low but resolute.
Those who had bullied the original owner.
Those who had schemed against her.
She would make every one of them repay the debt.
A hundredfold.
A thousandfold.
As a top-tier poison master and special operative, she had always lived by one principle:
If force can solve the problem, there’s no need to waste words.
Just then—
A series of hurried footsteps approached from outside.
Jewelry clinked softly with each movement.
A sweet, delicate voice rang out, dripping with false concern.
“Father, although Elder Sister is a bit stubborn, she’ll surely come to understand. After all, the safety of our household depends on it.”
“Hmph!”
A middle-aged man’s furious voice followed immediately after.
“Whether she understands or not doesn’t matter! Even if we have to tie her up, she’s getting into that bridal sedan chair today!”
Creak—
The broken wooden door was shoved open impatiently.
Marquis Sang Deben strode inside in luxurious robes.
Beside him walked Sang Rourou, dressed elegantly and wearing a mask of concern.
But hidden beneath her worried expression was unmistakable triumph.
Unable to wait any longer, father and daughter stepped into the room together.