On the ICU bed, Ethan Blackwood spent half an hour confirming one thing: the mighty North Abyss Immortal Emperor had indeed been reborn—and reborn into the body of a pathetic live‑in son‑in‑law who happened to share his name.

After sorting through the memories of this body’s former owner, Ethan let out a low, bitter chuckle.

This Ethan Blackwood had been born into an ordinary family. Back in university, he’d been hopelessly infatuated with the class beauty, Christine Colvin—chasing after her like a fool, confessing over and over, only to be rejected just as many times. Yet a year ago, he finally got what he wished for. He “married” Christine.

Or rather—he married into her family. A son‑in‑law taken in like baggage.

One year ago, Christine fell ill with leukemia. Ethan volunteered his own bone marrow. By some ridiculous stroke of luck, he was a perfect match. For the sake of her own life, Christine agreed to register their marriage.

The transplant succeeded. She recovered after a year of care.

And that was when Ethan’s nightmare began.

Three days ago, she demanded a divorce. Ethan couldn’t take the blow. He swallowed armfuls of sleeping pills and was rushed to the hospital.

Half an hour ago, he’d died—otherwise the North Abyss Immortal Emperor would not have claimed this body.

“Brother, go in peace. From now on, I’ll live your life to heights you never reached. Your name will shake this world.”

A faint arc lifted Ethan’s lips.

The soul of an Immortal Emperor still lingered. Even if this body was trash, he had every confidence he could temper it into an unparalleled vessel and return to the Immortal Realm—where he would wipe out every last person who sabotaged his tribulation.

Creak.

The ward door swung open. A seductive woman with a fiery figure sauntered in, clinging to the arm of a tall man in a suit.

“Oh? I thought you were dead. Didn’t expect you to cling to life like this.”

Christine’s brows rose. She had planned to press Ethan’s still‑warm hand onto the divorce papers and avoid being blamed for “killing her husband.” She didn’t expect him to wake up.

With a shrug, she reached into her LV bag, pulled out the divorce agreement, and stepped to the bedside. “Stamp your handprint. After that, however you want to die, that’s your business. I’m not dealing with your crazy mother barging in and wailing at my door. People might think I murdered you.”

“My life saved yours, and this is how you treat me?” Ethan asked quietly, wanting to see just how black her heart truly was.

Christine snorted. “Don’t act like I’d have died without you. Let me give it to you straight—Sheldon Cripps heard I had leukemia and spent a fortune in America searching for a suitable donor. Just two months after your transplant, he found a perfect match. Even without you, I’d still be alive and perfectly healthy right now.”

“Two months?” Ethan’s gaze sharpened. “Two months is long enough for cancer cells to spread through your whole body. Even if a transplant succeeded later, missing the best treatment window means high risk of relapse. One way or another—your life is something I gave you.”

Sheldon Cripps snapped, fury twisting his face. “Bullshit! Don’t think you’re some damn savior. I’ve got money—plenty of it! Even without you, Christine would be just fine. You’re a filthy toad dreaming of swan meat. Trash like you isn’t fit to marry into any decent family, and you still want to cling to Christine? Put your damn handprint on that divorce paper, or I’ll send you to hell myself!”

“You know what? If you hadn’t given me your bone marrow back then, if I’d really married a useless piece of trash like you, my parents would’ve beaten me to death. Do you have any idea how much they despise you? Dirt‑poor, not even worthy to carry Sheldon Cripps’ shoes. And you still thought you could cling to my family and eat for free? I tell you to divorce and you go crying and dying about it. Hurry up and stamp your handprint. Just looking at you makes my skin crawl.”

Christine Colvin’s voice was sharp as a blade, her face twisted with contempt.

Ethan Blackwood narrowed his eyes. “I finally see what you really are. Won’t be long before you regret every word you said today.”

He pressed his handprint onto the divorce papers, then tossed the document toward her without a second glance.

“Ha! Finally, I’m free of this useless burden!” Christine Colvin clutched the paper to her chest, letting out a long breath, her face glowing with excitement.

“Get out,” Ethan Blackwood snapped. If his body weren’t so weakened, if he still had even a shred of cultivation, he would’ve left a burning handprint across that smug, twisted face.

“Why should I get out? Who do you think you are?” Christine Colvin sneered. “Let me tell you the truth. On the fifteenth of next month, I’ll be marrying Sheldon Cripps. Heartbroken, aren’t you? Devastated? If you are, just remember one thing—don’t go kill yourself on our wedding day. I don’t want your bad luck ruining our celebration.”

Then, right in front of Ethan, she slid her arm around Sheldon Cripps, her voice instantly soft and sweet. “Shaojie, marrying that loser was so embarrassing I didn’t even dare hold a proper ceremony. But next month, when we tie the knot, you have to give me a wedding I’ll never forget.”

“Don’t worry, baby,” Sheldon Cripps puffed up proudly. “I’ll book the Number One Pavilion and throw you the grandest, most luxurious, most talked‑about wedding Jiangzhou has ever seen.”

“You said it. You better keep your word.”

“Of course. A mere hundred million, right? For the Cripps family, that’s pocket change.”

“Mwah! You’ll make me so happy I’ll die!”

“Wait till the bridal chamber—you’ll be even happier.”

“Oh stop it, you!”

“......”

The two of them flirted and whispered to each other endlessly, clearly savoring the chance to stab Ethan Blackwood right in the heart, before finally strolling off with triumphant smiles under his cold, silent stare.

“Disgusting pair of cheats,” Ethan spat once they were gone.

He wiped the bitterness from his voice and murmured, “When the time comes, I’ll make your wedding the biggest joke in all of Jiangzhou.”

There were more than twenty days before the fifteenth of next month—plenty of time for Ethan Blackwood to rise again, more than enough time to secure himself a far better place to stand.

From the memories of the body’s former owner, he knew the Qin family—one of Jiangzhou’s four great clans—was heavy with daughters and lacking a capable male heir. Their only boy was infamous, utterly unfit to lead. For the sake of continuing their bloodline, the Qin family’s most urgent need… was a son‑in‑law who could carry the name.

For the Qin family’s eldest daughter, Devon Ashworth, her beauty was the kind that could topple kingdoms. Half the young nobles of Jiangzhou dreamed of winning her favor. Once Ethan Blackwood and Devon held their wedding on the fifteenth next month, who in Jiangzhou’s upper circle would still bother showing up for Sheldon Cripps and Christine Colvin’s little ceremony?

That alone would be enough to slap those two shameless traitors across the face.

“Devon Ashworth it is.”

Ethan made up his mind right then, a faint, wild grin tugging at his lips. If he had to live off someone for a while, so be it.

So what if he was broke? Christine Colvin tossed him aside, but Jiangzhou’s number‑one beauty wanted him.

So what if he was a penniless divorcé? Sheldon Cripps, rich as he was, could only marry a woman who’d already been married once. Ethan Blackwood, poor and divorced, could still marry into power and money.

Let those two choke on their rage.

Just then, the door creaked open and a young nurse walked in. Seeing Ethan awake, her eyes widened in disbelief.

“Huh? Ethan, you’re actually up? That’s… honestly a miracle.”

Her name was Chloe Burch. She had been Ethan’s classmate back in med school, and even lived next door. When they were toddlers running around in open‑crotch pants, they’d even compared why they looked different down there.

After graduating, Chloe came to work at Jiangzhou First Hospital. The moment she heard Ethan had been admitted, she applied to take charge of his room.

“So it’s you, Chloe.”

Recognizing her, Ethan gave a sheepish smile. Attempting suicide wasn’t exactly a proud topic.

“If it wasn’t me, who did you think it’d be? Christine Colvin?” Chloe shot him a glare, then began checking his vitals while saying, “I just saw Christine walking out with some guy, holding a divorce agreement. Did you sign it?”

“She forged my handwriting ahead of time. I only pressed my fingerprint.” Ethan didn’t bother hiding it.

“Christine Colvin is truly heartless,” Chloe said, anger flaring in her eyes. “You saved her life. And the moment she got better, she couldn’t wait to cut ties. Not even a shred of gratitude. And you—back in college, plenty of girls liked you, but you just had to cling to Christine. Regretting it now, aren’t you?”

By the time she finished complaining, her examination was done.

“People grow only after they’ve been burned. Isn’t that how it works?” Ethan answered with a faint smile. He couldn’t very well say he’d been blind.

“Excuses. You were blind, plain and simple.” Chloe glared again, then suddenly froze as something hit her. “Right—come with me. Hurry. Go see your father one last time. He… he might not make it.”

“What happened to my dad?” Ethan’s brows knitted tight.

“It all happened because of you. Your father already had a weak heart. When he heard about the stupid thing you did, he collapsed on the spot, spat blood, and fell into a coma—same as you. Only difference is, you woke up. He… he might never open his eyes again.”

Hearing that, Ethan Blackwood swung his legs off the bed and rushed out, dragging Chloe Burch with him.

“Yao-hua, wake up… come on, wake up!”

He burst into the next intensive care room. Charlotte Hopkins was clutching Harold Blackwood’s limp body, her tears streaming as she shook him gently. She turned to the panel of expert physicians nearby, choking on her cries. “Doctors, I’m begging you, save my husband… please, I’ll kneel if I have to.”

Before Ethan could reach her, Charlotte fell to her knees before the white‑robed doctors.

A senior physician stepped forward and sighed. “Mrs. Hopkins, please… we’ve tried everything. Your husband’s heart has stopped. Once the brain cells die, we will issue the death certificate. You should settle the medical fees and prepare for the funeral.”

“Rubbish.”

Ethan caught Charlotte’s arm, helping her up. His eyes were cold as steel as he faced the doctors. “You call yourselves healers? My father still has a chance, and you’re already pushing us toward his burial. Do you even realize you’re playing with a man’s life?”

He stepped closer, voice sharp as a blade. “With this level of skill, you dare call yourselves experts? It’s laughable. Get me a set of silver needles. If you can’t save him, I’ll do it myself.”

At those words, the doctors’ faces flushed with anger, and several of them exploded into furious shouts.