Deep in the back hills of the Nine Treasures Glazed Tile Sect, red lanterns hung all over a secluded Separate Residence.
Two large wedding banners had been posted at the entrance. A middle-aged man walked inside, his face full of worry.
He looked at his daughter, locked in her room, and could not help sighing.
"Qingshu, this isn't just the former Sect Master's decision. Your grandfather has agreed to it too."
"The Netherflame Duke is a duke of the Star Luo Empire, after all."
"You won't suffer by marrying him."
Feng Qingshu's father only dared stand at the doorway. He did not dare step inside.
Glass shattered in the room. A cup had been smashed.
"I don't believe you!"
"Grandfather is a Titled Douluo. How could he agree to a marriage like this?"
"How old is that Netherflame Duke, anyway?"
"He's fifty or sixty—thirty years older than me. What kind of father are you?"
"If Mother were still alive, how could this have happened to me?"
Her clear voice carried a trace of familiarity. Gradually, she began to cry.
The man outside stood there for a while, then shook his head. "Fine. Keep insisting!"
"Your Soul Power has been sealed anyway."
"Suit yourself. Think through your own affairs."
"If you make a scene at tomorrow's wedding and turn us into a laughingstock before all the guests, what will become of the Nine Treasures Glazed Tile Sect's reputation?"
"What will become of the reputation of my Wind Sword line?"
The man shook his head, his voice thick with resentment.
He flicked his sleeves and left.
Inside, Qingzhu slowly drew her knees to her chest.
"Mother, why did you choose a man like him?"
"They tricked your daughter into coming back to the sect just to marry her off to an old