Cultivation starts with picking up attributes-Chapter 47: Ch-: The Destined Date—a predestined bond

"You want to make me into him," Tian Shen said bitterly, standing up.

"Piece by piece. You want me to believe I’m already walking that path."

He walked over, picked up the box, and stared into it one last time.

He saw that whisper of power. Of destiny. Of temptation.

He remembered what Feng Yan had said.

A blessing—or a curse.

He thought of Feng Yin’s warm smile, of her steady hands on his cheeks when he felt lost.

Of the way she called his name with affection, not fear.

He thought of her, who trusted him more than anyone in the world.

He thought of the seed pulsing gently within his soul—warm, like the beginning of spring.

And he thought of that dream.

He tightened his grip on the box.

"No," he said aloud.

"I choose a different legacy."

He didn’t take it to anyone.

Didn’t alert Feng Yan.

He walked to the edge of a cliff not far from the temporary camp, where the winds howled like ghosts and the trees below creaked under their own weight.

The sky was starless.

He placed the crystal box on a flat rock and drew in his spiritual energy.

A pure white flame ignited around his palm, imbued with the power of the soul seed, a sacred object born out of love, incompatible with corruption.

He raised his hand.

The soul fragment inside the box pulsed violently. freeweɓnovel.cøm

Once.

Twice.

And then it let out a piercing mental shriek as the light touched it.

He pressed down anyway.

The seal shattered. The shadow tried to escape.

Tian Shen’s flame engulfed it before it could take form.

The fragment screamed in his mind. It clawed at his spiritual sense.

It tried to remind him of that red sky, of the beasts, of the power he could have.

But Tian Shen remembered warmth.

He remembered laughter.

He remembered love.

And so, the fire burned brighter—pure, resolute, final.

Within seconds, the fragment was gone. Reduced to nothing.

No ashes. No remains.

Only silence.

Tian Shen staggered back, hand trembling. Sweat dripped down his brow, but he was still standing.

"I’m not him," he said softly.

And this time, there was no whisper to challenge him.

No shadow to tempt.

Only the wind.

He turned away from the cliff and made his way back to camp. The burden on his chest was lighter, the air no longer pressing against his spirit.

He would tell Feng Yan in the morning. Explain everything.

But for now...

He let himself smile, just faintly.

He had chosen.

And his path was no longer tied to a demon’s fate.

...

Time flew by, now it was the destined date.

Today was the day decided by Tian Shen and Feng Yin.

A quiet ceremony, away from fanfare, free from politics. Just the two of them, surrounded by a select few.

Feng Yin stood quietly behind him, her gaze fixed out the window.

The soft breeze played with a strand of her black hair, brushing it gently against her cheek. Her robe, the color of crimson dusk, rustled faintly as she shifted.

"So, are you ready to become a married man, my little hubby~?"

She finally broke the silence, her voice carrying its usual playful warmth, but this time tinged with something gentler—more real.

Tian Shen let out a faint chuckle.

"As ready as I’ll ever be. Though I still wonder if I’m marrying you... or being accepted into your clan."

Feng Yin giggled, stepping forward and reaching out to adjust his collar.

"Don’t worry, you’ve already passed the trials. Father accepted you. And me? Well... you had my heart the moment you gave me that burnt rice ball."

He flushed slightly, glancing away.

"That was an accident. I didn’t know the pan retained that much heat."

"It was terrible. I nearly choked."

She grinned.

"But it was made with effort. That’s what mattered."

They left their quarters not long after, strolling hand in hand toward the ceremonial garden.

A path lined with glowing spirit lanterns guided their way, illuminating soft petals that fluttered in the wind like blessings from the heavens.

The garden, nestled between ancient willow trees and quiet ponds, had been transformed.

Crimson silk draped gracefully across stone arches, talismans fluttered gently overhead, each inscribed with blessings, longevity, and harmony.

Incense burned at the four corners, the fragrance subtly soothing the nerves.

A modest number of guests were present—elders from their sect, a handful of trusted disciples, and a few of Tian Shen’s acquaintances who had accompanied him through his trials.

An elder with a long, white beard stepped forward with a flute in hand.

"Haven’t played this in decades," he murmured before puffing gently into it.

The melody that emerged was rusted and uneven, but oddly touching. The guests smiled.

Tian Shen stood at the center, heart beating calmly yet heavily.

Then he saw her.

Feng Yin stepped into the clearing like a phoenix descending from a celestial palace.

Her robe, a vibrant red trimmed with gold, shimmered with phoenix embroidery that trailed down her sleeves.

Her long hair was pinned with a jade ornament, her face adorned with the barest touch of rouge and gloss. She didn’t need more.

She was, in a word, Ethereal.

Tian Shen stared, breath caught.

She saw his look and raised an eyebrow.

"Close your mouth, little hubby. You’ll catch spirit moths."

He shut it immediately, earning a few chuckles from the guests.

The officiating elder stepped forward with a pair of red silk ribbons. Each was infused with spiritual energy, humming softly as they were brought out.

"Today, we gather not for spectacle, but for sincerity. These two souls have walked through fire, hardship, and loss. Let their union be not a bond of convenience, but of conviction."

The ribbons were tied gently around Tian Shen and Feng Yin’s wrists, binding them together.

As the final knot was made, the silk shimmered, releasing a gentle pulse of warmth through their bodies.

Tian Shen blinked, surprised.

"That wasn’t symbolic."

Feng Yin leaned in and whispered,

"Some elder sneakily infused it with a binding blessing."

He glanced at the officiating elder, who was trying very hard not to smile.

"By spirit and will, we bind these hearts. May they walk together through cultivation, calamity, and karma."

Soft applause followed as the couple turned to face the guests.

...

The feast that followed was humble but heartfelt. Long tables were set under the open sky, with floating spirit lanterns drifting above.

Spiritual delicacies graced every dish—fruits that glowed faintly with Qi, dumplings imbued with warmth essence, and wine brewed by an elder who swore it aged better than time itself.

Feng Yin stayed close to Tian Shen’s side throughout, teasing him softly as they shared food and listened to well-wishes.

She leaned closer and nibbled a dumpling from his plate without warning.

"Hey, I had that marked," Tian Shen protested.

"Marriage is about sharing~" she sang back.

"Even dumplings?"

"Especially dumplings."

They laughed, their joy infecting even the more stoic disciples.

Feng Yin, once revered as an untouchable prodigy, had never looked more human, more in love.

Even the elders—once skeptical—found themselves smiling. The warmth between the couple was not forged through arrangement or strategy. It was real. And it was rare.

...

As the moon rose high above, the guests slowly departed, leaving behind empty plates, flickering lanterns, and a garden echoing with distant music.

Tian Shen and Feng Yin sat together on a wooden bench beneath a willow tree, their hands still lightly bound by the ceremonial ribbon.

"This ribbon... do we keep it on forever?"

He asked, playfully tugging.

Feng Yin nestled closer.

"Tradition says until the night ends. But if you want to keep it longer... I won’t mind."

He smiled, staring at her profile. The moonlight kissed her skin, her eyes reflecting the stars. She looked... divine. Yet close. His.

"You know," Tian Shen murmured, "when I first saw you back then, you were like an ice statue. Deadly, distant, cold."

She rolled her eyes.

"Charming."

"I mean it. I never imagined you’d one day steal my last dumpling."

Feng Yin smirked, resting her head on his shoulder.

"And I never imagined I’d fall for a stubborn, reckless lunatic who barged into my cultivation cave like he owned the place."

He laughed.

"You nearly skewered me."

"You deserved it."

Silence stretched between them, but it was comfortable. The kind that didn’t need filling.

Tian Shen tilted his head to look at her.

"Yin’er... this path we’re on—it won’t be easy. The demons, the ancient fued, the battles, the responsibilities. There’ll be storms."

She looked up, her gaze steady.

"Then I’ll be your umbrella. And if you fall, I’ll catch you. You’re not alone anymore, Tian Shen."

His heart thudded.

They leaned in slowly, the moment inevitable. When their lips finally met, it was soft. It was Gentle.

A promise rather than a passion. A sealing of fates rather than a rush of lust.

When they parted, Feng Yin murmured against his lips, "Don’t ever let go."

He cupped her cheek.

"Not in this lifetime. Not in the next."

...

They remained in the garden for a long while, talking about trivial things—their first meeting, their recent days, the food she snuck into his tent, the time he accidentally saw her bathing and ran into a tree.

Each memory stitched them closer.

And beneath the moon, Tian Shen made another vow.

This memory—this union—he would protect with everything he had.

Because for the first time since his transmigration, since the madness of cultivation... he had something truly worth living for.

And someone to live it with.