Chapter 1: Divorce? Leave the Husband!

Chu Yuyao’s head throbbed with excruciating pain. As her consciousness returned, before she could make sense of her situation, a cold, disdainful male voice cut through the air beside her.

“Chu Yuyao, don’t think you can play dead. This wretched contract—you’ll dissolve it today, whether you want to or not.”

The man in violet who spoke first gazed down at her condescendingly. Gold-threaded sash at his waist, his bearing was one of arrogant nobility—a strikingly handsome face, venom on his tongue, and a vermilion mark upon his brow that lent him a mysterious, demonic air. His entire demeanor radiated contempt, as though he were looking at something filthy and repugnant.

“Miss Chu,” said another, all in crimson, as Yan Jingchen strolled over, fluttering his fan. His eyes, shaped like peach blossoms, seemed to smile, but the amusement never reached their depths, where only coldness and aversion lay. “A melon forcibly twisted off the vine is never sweet. Why add to the embarrassment? Wouldn’t it be better to part on good terms?”

“My time is not meant for enduring the stench of garbage. Hurry up,” came a third voice, deep and magnetic, from the shadows—a black-clad man, wickedly handsome, exuding a chilling, oppressive aura, his patience clearly worn thin.

There were two more in the room. One, clad in snow-white robes, was as aloof and cold as a thousand-year-old glacier. The other, dressed in gentle blue, was warm and soothing, like a spring breeze. Neither spoke a word, but their gazes toward her were indifferent. Their meaning was plain: dissolve the contract.

Chu Yuyao frowned slightly. She understood none of this—what was this about playing dead? What contract?

Without bothering to untangle their words, she immersed herself directly in the memories of this body.

Only after some time did she piece together the truth.

The original owner of this body was also named Chu Yuyao—a false heiress of the Heavenly Dao Sect, born with a dual-faced visage: one side a beauty, the other withered as a ghost. She wore a half-mask year-round, ugly and useless, with five renowned Daoist companions, yet her reputation was abysmal, her infamy widespread…

Recently, her so-called father, Chu Xiong—the sect master of Heavenly Dao Sect—had found his long-lost true daughter, Chu Ruoyan. Pained by the hardships his real daughter had suffered for over a decade, he wished to bestow upon her the five companions originally selected for Chu Yuyao.

Thus, in secret, he demanded that Chu Yuyao dissolve her Daoist contracts with these five men. After all, they all despised her; there was only the title, not the reality, of companionship.

These five men were now standing before her.

Naturally, the original Chu Yuyao was determined to refuse, plotting every way to avoid dissolution. She even tried to drug the true daughter in secret, hoping to ruin Chu Ruoyan’s reputation and thus keep the contracts intact.

Of course, she failed—and her scheme was exposed.

The five men had always detested her; after this, their loathing only deepened, considering her filthier than dog’s excrement.

Their union with her had been forced by sect alliances—a marriage of convenience.

Now, hearing that Sect Master Chu Xiong wished them to dissolve these contracts, each man was eager to rid himself of her. Whether they would then contract with Chu Ruoyan was a matter for the future.

In short, their greatest desire was to rid themselves of this piece of trash.

At present, the five men had cornered her in her own quarters, wielding their authority, intent on forcing her to dissolve the contract.

And she had arrived just in time to inherit this mess.

After digesting these memories, Chu Yuyao was left speechless, not knowing what to say.

Seeing her silent, the five men assumed she was stalling for time, unwilling to dissolve the contract. Their attitudes soured further, patience dwindling, every word laced with threat.

Were it not for the rules within Heavenly Dao Sect, she suspected they’d have resorted to violence already.

Of course, some among them tried persuasion—though even their earnest words dripped with contempt.

Chu Yuyao cast her gaze over the five men before her—each devastatingly handsome, each unique in bearing—and felt nothing but irritation.

She couldn’t be bothered to argue. Dissolve the contract? So be it. She had no interest in clinging to them anyway.

“If you’re all so desperate,” she said, rising and brushing the dust from her robes, “then I’ll grant you your wish. But let it be clear: it’s I who am casting you off. Only what Chu Yuyao discards should be left for others to pick up.”

Her tone was light, her expression detached, as though the five men before her were beneath her notice.

Their faces froze, stunned by the abruptness and ease with which she agreed—so uncharacteristic, so unlike anything Chu Yuyao would say. Suspicion flickered: was this some new ploy?

But the next moment, her words about casting them off landed, and their faces darkened instantly.

Each of these men was a paragon, accustomed to scorning others, never the other way around. If word spread that they had been dismissed by a worthless, ugly freak, how could they bear to show their faces?

Ji Ciyuan was the first to snap. His demonically handsome face turned thunderous, his voice icy and cutting: “Dismiss us? Chu Yuyao, do you even deserve to utter such words? Ugly, useless, born with that freakish face—if not for the forced union between our sects, who would deign to spare you a glance?”

His gaze swept over the half-silver mask on her left cheek, as if seeing through to the skull beneath, his revulsion deepening.

His look set Chu Yuyao’s temper ablaze. She touched her mask unconsciously, then suddenly laughed. “What’s this? You’re allowed to scorn me, but I’m not allowed to scorn you? Or is it that you’ve never tasted rejection and can’t bear it now?”

While absorbing the original’s memories, she’d learned all she needed about these five men—their softest spots, their greatest pride.

Especially Ji Ciyuan, arrogant and conceited, for whom being scorned was more painful than death.

Sure enough, her words made their expressions even worse, each colder than the last, the very air in the room dropping several degrees.

She showed not the slightest fear, indifferent to the black looks on their faces. The original’s memories contained the method for dissolving the Daoist contracts—she’d just follow the instructions.

Just as she moved to begin, a sudden, stabbing pain twisted through her chest. Her vision blurred and darkened, her body collapsing uncontrollably to the floor, cold sweat soaking her inner garments, her complexion as pale as gold foil.

Alarmed, she wondered if the original owner had some hidden ailment.

Before she could check, a blaring warning rang out in her mind.

[Ding! Host’s vital signs plummeting rapidly. Countdown to death: 29 minutes 59 seconds…58 seconds…57 seconds…]

[Warning, warning! Host, do not seek death—these five targets are your conquest objectives. Only by conquering them can you survive.]

Chu Yuyao: “……”

What kind of nonsense was this?

She had only half an hour left to live?

Was this some cruel joke?

But the agony was all too real…

The pain wracked her body, robbing her of thought, leaving her curled on the floor, convulsing uncontrollably, rolling in agony.

Yet she bit her lip hard, refusing to make a sound.

The five men watched as, one moment, Chu Yuyao had been bold enough to dismiss them; the next, she was writhing on the floor in pain. They all assumed she was feigning suffering—a trick she’d used many times before; they’d seen her weep, rage, and threaten self-harm more times than they could count.

Seeing her resort to this ploy again, their contempt only grew.

Ji Ciyuan’s gaze passed coldly over the curled-up Chu Yuyao, his tone biting to the extreme. “Tch, at it again, Chu Yuyao? Are you not tired of these pathetic theatrics? Do you think playing at life and death will buy you time? How utterly disgusting.”

Chu Yuyao was so angry she could spit. She was in agony—who had the energy to put on an act?

But she understood: this was all the original’s doing.