On the night of the Taxian Juns wedding to Song Qiutong, Chu Wanning lay motionless on the cold mattress of his secluded chamber, ankles bound by chains fastened cruelly to the iron bedframe. The metal cuffs bit into his skin with every minor shift, a silent reminder of how far he had fallen—from being the Beidou immortal to becoming his disciples prisoner. The room around him was dim, lit only by the distant flicker of lanterns outside the barred window.

He knew there was no point in struggling. Any attempt at escape had long proven useless. The enchantments laced into the chains were intricate, cruel—Mo Ran's work, perhaps. Or Taxian-jun’s, as he was now called. Either way, the person who had once been his disciple had made it clear: this was where Chu Wanning belonged. Still, he tried to find peace in the solitude. At least tonight would be quiet. Surely the tyrant would be with his bride, basking in the spoils of victory and obsession. There would be no visits, no interruptions, no cruel games played at his expense. Just silence, and maybe, for a few fleeting hours, the illusion of peace…or at least, that was what he thought.