He Qing spent the whole night poring over legal books, trying to figure out how to get a quick divorce after the wedding.

Finally, he found an answer: both parties must feel incompatible, and the relationship must be broken.

Additionally, Jing Yi reminded him that there was another unwritten rule—if an Omega hadn’t produced children within three years, they would often be despised by their husband and his family, leading to a “relationship breakdown” and divorce.

“If you want to speed things up, you need the General to dislike you,” Jing Yi, his ever-loyal friend, stayed up all night helping him brainstorm. “Make yourself out to be a clinging, parasitic weakling! The General probably hates people who are fragile and useless, who can’t do anything on their own. I hear proud, strong ABOs are E’s type.”

“Not a bad idea.” He Qing smiled faintly. “If this marriage has to happen, then this humble monk will just have to make sure the General is disappointed.”

“But… on the wedding night, will he mark you?” Jing Yi asked hesitantly. “Pheromones, even just a little, can influence a person’s thoughts.”

He Qing lifted his eyes slightly, his black-and-white gaze fixed on the screen: “How could that happen?”

Jing Yi exchanged a knowing smile with him: “Ever since you got injured, you’ve been different.”

“I simply had an epiphany and decided to start anew.” He Qing absently twirled his prayer beads. However, as an Omega, he could indeed be marked—unless he found his original body and escaped this mortal shell.

—

The next day, He Qing was brought to the General’s residence. As soon as he stepped inside, he noticed the dense network of surveillance cameras and the heavily-guarded perimeter.

He Qing sighed inwardly. This place felt even more oppressive than a prison, and he couldn’t reveal his true abilities. This body, due to his cultivation, did possess 3S-level mental power. He figured he could use his spiritual energy without raising suspicion. He just needed a chance to test it out.

The butler led the way: “Mr. He, we’ve prepared a room for you. If you need anything, feel free to call on me. This is the General’s private estate.”

“Hmm.” He Qing nodded, glancing at the garden’s flowers and trees. He suddenly noticed a lotus pond that seemed out of place and walked over to it, seeing the blooming lotuses. “Does the General like lotus flowers?”

“No,” the butler shook his head, “it’s just that they’re delicate, and the General wanted to try growing them. They ended up spreading all over the pond, and everyone’s quite envious of the General.”

“…” He Qing choked slightly, fidgeting with his prayer beads. “The General sure has a way with plants.”

This lotus pond was probably because of the golden karmic glow he had seen around Duan Chenhui. Since He Qing cultivated karmic virtue, being around him felt oddly comfortable. If he cultivated near Duan Chenhui, it would likely yield twice the results with half the effort…

The butler chuckled, nodding: “Yes, the General is indeed quite skilled with plants. This way, please. The General is waiting for you.”

He Qing glanced once more at the lotus pond, then followed the butler inside. In the living room, he saw Duan Chenhui sitting on the sofa, watching TV.

“Good morning, General.”

Duan Chenhui looked over at him. He Qing’s face was still as radiant as ever today. His gaze shifted to He Qing’s bandaged arm: “Not healed yet?” With the Empire’s medical technology, a minor injury like that should’ve healed in a day with the right treatment.

He Qing immediately put on a weak expression: “I have a frail constitution, General. Please forgive me.”

Duan Chenhui seemed to find this amusing, raising an eyebrow as he looked at him. His lips quirked into a smirk: “Sit. Join me for breakfast later.”

Duan Chenhui’s tone always carried a bit of command.

He Qing hesitated for a moment, then sat down—choosing the farthest single seat from Duan Chenhui.

The General didn’t seem to mind, gesturing for the robotic servant to pour tea: “The wedding will be held in about half a month. If you’d like to meet my family, I can arrange that.”

Family members? That would involve a lot of people, like in the old noble families, and once connections were made, it would create many karmic entanglements.

He Qing smiled faintly, his face pale as he clutched his injured arm: “No need… I’m a bit nervous about those kinds of events.” Meeting the in-laws? No thanks. They were supposed to get divorced anyway.

Duan Chenhui glanced at him, raising an eyebrow: “Not meeting them is fine. No one will hold it against you.”

What an overbearing man, He Qing thought as he watched the servants bring tea. He quickly picked up his cup, using it as an excuse to end the awkward conversation.

Taking a sip, he noticed something unusual. He Qing looked down at the tea cup and saw a lotus petal at the bottom.

The General eats lotus flowers?! So that entire pond wasn’t for decoration—it was for eating!

Shocked, He Qing set the cup down, the soft clink drawing Duan Chenhui’s attention.

“What’s wrong? Don’t like it?”

“No,” He Qing glanced at him, then looked back at the cup, leaning weakly against the sofa as he touched his forehead. “Maybe I lost too much blood yesterday… feeling a bit unwell.”

“That kind of injury, treated promptly, wouldn’t cause excessive blood loss,” Duan Chenhui reminded him with a faint smile.

“Maybe it’s psychological. The star pirates were too cruel,” He Qing added, not feeling guilty in the least, and continued his act, painting himself as a useless, fragile flower.

Duan Chenhui raised an eyebrow at his increasingly pale face, finding it amusing. The General smiled slightly, deciding to play along: “Uncle Cai, call Dr. Zhang over.”

He Qing immediately put his hand down: “No need to trouble the doctor. I’ll be fine after a bit of rest.”

Duan Chenhui motioned for the butler to hold off on calling anyone: “Alright, then rest well.”

He Qing sat upright, closed his eyes, and pretended to meditate, absently fiddling with the prayer beads on his wrist. Sigh, the General was tricky to deal with. Had he already noticed something? He thought the General hated fragile vases.

Duan Chenhui’s gaze landed on He Qing’s prayer beads. He had never seen such an object before. Leaning back into the sofa, he absentmindedly watched the morning news, deep in thought. He Qing had indeed seemed a bit odd, especially over the past three years.

He Qing was truly meditating, though not cultivating. Sitting next to the strongest person in the galaxy, Enigma, he feared being discovered and dared not extend his spiritual sense.

After a while, Duan Chenhui roused him: “He Qing, breakfast is ready.” Duan Chenhui had subtly shifted to a more familiar way of addressing him.

He Qing opened his eyes and stood up: “Alright.”

“You can call me by my name,” Duan Chenhui said as he led He Qing through the living room to the dining area.

“It sounds better if I keep calling you ‘General,’” He Qing replied, not taking the hint. Watching Duan Chenhui’s footsteps, he noticed a slight limp—he probably couldn’t walk for long periods.

Duan Chenhui placed a hand on the back of a chair and turned to look at him: “Suit yourself.” He pulled the chair out slightly.

He Qing glanced at it and sat down: “Thank you.”

Duan Chenhui took a seat across from him, raising a hand slightly as the robotic servants began to serve the dishes. Everything proceeded in a quiet, orderly manner.

He Qing slipped the prayer beads onto his wrist, observing the breakfast spread. It was quite lavish, featuring a fresh fruit platter, seafood, and six or seven delicate dim sum dishes.

“Eat,” Duan Chenhui picked up his chopsticks.

He Qing followed suit, eating from the fruit platter and taking a few bites of osmanthus cake, but didn’t touch much else.

Duan Chenhui glanced up: “Not to your taste?”

“I don’t eat much,” He Qing replied politely. As a frail, delicate Omega, it was only natural that he ate lightly.

Duan Chenhui put down his chopsticks and ordered dessert to be served: “Perhaps you’ll like this.”

He Qing stared at the excessively ornate swan-shaped cake. The General probably assumed he was like other Omegas, fond of sweets. To be fair, he did enjoy sweets.

Picking up a fork, He Qing slowly devoured the swan, starting from its head, then its neck, and finally its wings.

Duan Chenhui propped up his hands and watched as he finished: “How was it?”

He Qing set down the fork, realizing he had been a bit too engrossed in eating, so he smiled and admitted: “Delicious.”

When He Qing smiled, it exuded a warm, gentle feeling, almost sweet.

“Then we’ll have a different flavor tomorrow.” Duan Chenhui continued watching him.

“There’s no need to trouble yourself.” He Qing politely declined.

“It’s the chef’s job,” Duan Chenhui picked up his chopsticks again. “You can wait in the living room or return to your room to rest.”

“Enjoy your meal, General.” He Qing’s refusal once again failed. He stood up and gave a small one-handed bow before turning to leave.

Duan Chenhui glanced at his retreating figure, then resumed eating breakfast. After finishing, he returned to the living room, unsurprised to find He Qing had already left.

The butler reported: “Mr. He returned to his room. He said it’s time for his meditation and sends his apologies.”

“No problem.” Duan Chenhui nodded and headed upstairs. Passing by He Qing’s guest room, he heard the rhythmic tapping of a wooden fish. The sound was unique, steady and precise, like the ticking of a clock.

It also had a strange calming effect.

Duan Chenhui couldn’t help but stand at the door for a moment, listening, before finally heading to the medical room, where his personal physician was waiting.

Duan Chenhui sat down, feeling a dull ache in his right leg. He rolled up his pants to reveal his leg covered in red, branching lines resembling lightning scars.

Dr. Zhang bent down to apply medicine: “How’s it feeling today?”

“I can only bear the pain for half an hour before it becomes numb,” Duan Chenhui looked at his leg, his expression calm. “Is there no solution?”

“The medicine can only suppress it,” Dr. Zhang shook his head. “We’re waiting for the research lab’s results on the mother insect’s toxin. Hopefully, it won’t spread to any vital organs, especially the heart.”

“It’s reached my thigh,” Duan Chenhui said, his voice heavy as he touched the armrest of the chair.

Dr. Zhang had no solution, silently applying the rest of the medicine: “I’ve been reading ancient texts on traditional medicine. We can try them.”

Duan Chenhui nodded: “Thank you for your efforts.”

“It’s my duty,” Dr. Zhang placed the medicine bottle aside and handed him another. “Three times a day. If it becomes unbearable, use this.”

Duan Chenhui accepted the bottle, rubbing its surface. He knew he didn’t have much time left. Marrying He Qing served multiple purposes—it would stabilize the military’s morale and quash any ambitions of a royal alliance. Plus, He Qing would gain his freedom afterward.

Just then, a communication came through. Duan Chenhui opened it, his expression hardening.

[General, the star pirates have finally confessed. They were looking for something stolen from an underground auction.]

“What was it?” Duan Chenhui asked, absentmindedly stroking the armrest.

[A Zerg egg.]

“Track it.”

“Yes, sir.”

—

After finishing his meditation, He Qing opened his eyes, feeling refreshed. He slipped the prayer beads back around his neck and calculated that tonight would be the full moon. He could perform the ceremony to renounce his monkhood tonight.

In the early hours of the morning, after confirming that everyone in the estate was asleep, He Qing quietly made his way to the rooftop. He gazed up at the moon, closing his eyes slightly to absorb the essence of the sun and moon.

Once the time was right, He Qing retrieved a small table from his storage space, setting it with white wine, incense, and a lotus flower to represent Buddha.

Placing the lotus in the vase, He Qing pressed his palms together and closed his eyes: “This humble monk, He Qing, has been bound by the karmic thread with Duan Chenhui and will wed in half a month. I must now renounce my vows to resolve this marriage. Please, Buddha, forgive me.”

As soon as He Qing finished speaking, the wind picked up, and dark clouds rolled in, covering the stars and moon. Thunder rumbled ominously as He Qing stood still, eyes closed. Moments later, a bolt of lightning struck down.

He Qing felt the table in front of him get hit by the lightning, raindrops falling onto his eyelashes.

He sighed inwardly, feeling the end of his connection with Buddhism. Opening his eyes, he saw the lotus flower had turned to ash, but the lightning had not struck him.

Amitabha. He Qing bowed respectfully and lowered his hands, feeling his body. Fortunately, his cultivation of karmic virtue had not been affected.

He suddenly had an epiphany: as long as Buddha resided in his heart, there was no need to cling to forms. He had always thought his path was singular, but in truth, he had been limiting himself.

He Qing packed up the table and looked up at the sky, deep in thought. This world wasn’t the same as his original one. While there were similarities in history, they were not identical.

“What are you doing?” Suddenly, Duan Chenhui’s voice came from behind him.

Startled, He Qing turned around and locked eyes with Duan Chenhui. The atmosphere was awkward and strange. He tried to explain:

“I was performing a ritual to renounce my vows, but the weather wasn’t cooperating. I’ve been having bad luck recently.”

“And now?” Duan Chenhui raised an eyebrow, walking over with an umbrella. He had been woken by the sound of thunder and had come up to find He Qing standing on the rooftop, staring at the sky.

“Now it’s done. Buddha has forgiven me,” He Qing quickly ran over and grabbed Duan Chenhui’s arm, speaking in a flattering tone. “General, let’s head down. It’s raining heavily.”

Duan Chenhui glanced at him from the corner of his eye but didn’t press further: “It’s late. Get some rest.”

“Yes,” He Qing rubbed his forehead and glanced up at the receding storm clouds, finally feeling relieved.

After helping Duan Chenhui back to his room, He Qing quickly excused himself: “Goodnight, General.”

He Qing hurried back to his own room, hugging his wooden fish as he nervously wondered: “Did I expose anything?” He hadn’t expected the sudden appearance of storm clouds.

But no matter what, Duan Chenhui wouldn’t link it to cultivation.

He Qing calmed down and hugged his wooden fish as he drifted off to sleep.