Chapter 464: The Red Thread of Fate

Her ruby eyes shining with unshed tears of terror.

"We do not have much time," Yue’er whispered, her voice trembling. "The High Council knows what we discovered in the archives. They know what we saw and did. The Stargazing Tower will not permit us to live, Sister. The hounds are already gathering at the borders."

Lady Lin’s beautiful face went completely pale. She clutched the newborn Ji’an tighter to her chest, her knuckles turning white.

"I know," Lady Lin choked out, a tear slipping down her cheek. "The sin of the Tower... it is too massive. We are doomed, Yue’er. We are already dead women walking."

Ji’an stumbled in the dark corridor, her boots scraping against the unseen floor.

’The sin of the Tower?’ Ji’an’s mind raced frantically, trying to process the lore-drop being casually handed to her by the universe.

’My mother and Wangchen’s mother were friends? They uncovered a conspiracy at the Stargazing Tower? They were whistleblowers?! That’s why they died?! It wasn’t just childbirth and illness!’

In the vision, Yue’er leaned closer, her expression hardening into desperate resolve.

"We are doomed, yes," the silver-haired woman agreed, her voice dropping into a fierce, protective hiss. "But our children? They are innocent. They will be punished for a sin they did not commit. The Tower will ensure their lives are miserable. They will be isolated, hunted, and broken by the karmic retribution the Seers will place upon our bloodlines."

Lady Lin sobbed softly, kissing the top of baby Ji’an’s head. "My poor daughter. What chance does she have?"

Yue’er reached out, placing her pale hand over Lady Lin’s trembling fingers.

"There is one chance," Yue’er whispered, her ruby eyes blazing with a terrifying intent. "A way to ensure they never face the dark alone. My son is handsome, and he will bear the strength of the Eternal Cloud. Your daughter is beautiful, and she will bear the unyielding spirit of the Lin generals."

Yue’er gently lifted the swaddled baby Wangchen and placed him directly onto the mattress, right next to the swaddled baby Ji’an.

The two infants lay side by side.

Baby Ji’an was sleeping peacefully. Baby Wangchen turned his head, his tiny ruby eyes locking onto the sleeping girl next to him, completely mesmerized even at three weeks old.

"Let us bind them," Yue’er declared softly. "Let us perform the Ritual of the Crimson Thread of Fate. If we tie their fates together at the root of their souls, the Heavens themselves will not be able to keep them apart. When one falls, the other will rise. Where one walks, the other will follow. They will be each other’s shield against the Tower’s curse."

Lady Lin looked at the two babies.

She looked at the terrified, desperate face of her best friend.

"A soul-binding," Lady Lin whispered, awe and horror warring in her eyes. "Even if that was your forte once, It is a forbidden magic in the Lower Realm, Yue’er. If it goes wrong, it could breed an obsession so deep it shatters their minds."

"Better an obsession that keeps them alive than a loneliness that leaves them dead," Yue’er argued fiercely. "Please, Sister. Let me give my son a reason to survive."

Lady Lin hesitated for only a fraction of a second. She nodded.

"Do it."

Transmigrator Ji’an watched in horror as the two doomed mothers initiated the ritual.

Yue’er bit the tip of her own thumb, drawing a single drop of bright crimson blood.

Lady Lin did the same. They pressed their bleeding thumbs together over the sleeping babies.

Yue’er began to chant in an ancient language that made the dark walls of the Corridor of the Eclipse actually vibrate. The air in the nursery warped.

A brilliant, glowing, ethereal thread of pure, crimson light materialized from the mothers’ blood.

The thread drifted downward.

It wrapped around baby Wangchen’s tiny left wrist, sinking directly into his skin. The other end drifted over and wrapped around baby Ji’an’s right wrist, sinking into her soul.

The moment the thread locked into place, baby Wangchen reached out his tiny, pale hand and clumsily, instinctively grasped the edge of baby Ji’an’s swaddling blanket, refusing to let go.

The vision violently rippled, the golden light fracturing into shards of static.

Ji’an staggered forward in the dark, her breath catching in her throat, her understanding of the universe shattered.

’The Red Thread of Fate,’ Ji’an thought, tears springing to her eyes as the tragedy of the revelation crushed her.

Xie Wangchen was not just a yandere.

He wasn’t just a crazy, obsessive, homicidal stalker who had randomly fixated on her because she smiled at him in a garden.

His obsession was coded into the architecture of his soul. He had been soul-bound to her when he was an infant by a desperate, dying mother who just wanted to keep him alive.

He physically, biologically, and magically could not exist without her.

’It’s not just a personality quirk,’ Ji’an thought, wiping her eyes with the back of her sleeve, gripping her spatula tighter. ’It’s a magical restraining order written by a ghost. He literally cannot help himself. He is trapped in this obsession just as much as I am.’

The scrolling light on the periphery did not give her time to process the emotional devastation.

The timeline accelerated with brutal efficiency.

As predicted by the mothers, the tragedy struck fast. Exactly one year after the ritual, Lady Lin vanished from the memories.

The whispers in the corridor implied a sudden, mysterious "illness," but Ji’an now knew it was an assassination by the Stargazing Tower.

Yue’er, the Ice Queen, vanished shortly after, leaving Wangchen orphaned on the Eternal Cloud Peak.

The vision shifted.

Ji’an watched herself grow up in the Second Timeline.

Without the knowledge of the ritual, and without the memories of the First Timeline, the original Ji’an was once again a sheltered, beautiful, incredibly naive noble daughter of the General’s Estate.

But this time, the universe served up a different flavor of trash.

The peripheral vision illuminated the grand, sprawling, golden-tiled courtyards of the Imperial Palace.

The Second Timeline Ji’an, now a stunning eighteen-year-old maiden, was standing under a blooming peach tree.

Approaching her, draped in heavy, opulent golden robes embroidered with five-clawed dragons, was a man.

He was incredibly handsome, possessing sharp, regal features, a devastatingly charming smile, and an aura of absolute imperial authority.

The Second Prince, Xiao Yichen.

Transmigrator Ji’an, marching through the dark, let out a loud, aggressive scoff of pure disgust.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," Ji’an growled to the empty corridor. "A royal harem plot? Seriously?! We’re doing the ’manipulative imperial prince’ trope now?! Look at him! He looks like a knock-off boyband member who charges people for premium meet-and-greets! His robes are tacky, and his posture screams ’I have never done a single dish in my entire life’!"

In the vision, Xiao Yichen bowed gracefully, offering the original Ji’an a bloomed peach flower.

"The capital boasts a thousand beauties, Lady Lin," the phantom Prince murmured, his voice smooth as oiled silk. "But none possess the quiet, unyielding grace of the General’s daughter. I find myself utterly captivated."

The original Ji’an blushed furiously, taking the flower, her heart completely stolen by the handsome, powerful prince.

"He’s lying!" Transmigrator Ji’an yelled at her peripheral vision. "He’s maintaining unbroken eye contact without blinking! That’s a classic sociopathic manipulation tactic! He doesn’t want your grace, you idiot, he wants your father’s military backing! Hit him with a wok!"

But the original Ji’an did not have a wok.

She only had a fragile, romantic heart.

The scroll accelerated.

The wedding was a grand, imperial affair that blinded the capital with its opulence. The original Ji’an became the official consort of the Second Prince. She moved into the suffocating, political, and deeply toxic environment of the inner palace.

For exactly one month, it looked like a happy ending.

And then, the universal menu brought out the trashy side dishes.

The vision shifted to a dark, rain-slicked courtyard within the palace. The original Ji’an, looking pale, exhausted, and deeply miserable, was standing behind a pillar, watching her "loving" husband.

Xiao Yichen, the Second Prince, was not alone. He was passionately embracing another woman in the rain.

The woman was dressed in plain, unadorned white silk.

She possessed a fragile, tearful, "I-am-so-weak-and-pitiful" beauty.

She looked like a stiff breeze could snap her in half.