On the bed in intensive care, Carlos Yale spent half an hour confirming one thing: he, Lord Abyssal of the Immortal Realm, had been reborn-and reborn into a useless live-in son-in-law who happened to share his name. After merging with the body's memories, Carlos gave a wry smile. This body's Carlos Yale was born to an ordinary family. In college, he couldn't let go of his crush on the class beauty, Arya Zimmerman. He turned himself into her tireless lapdog, confessed again and again, got rejected again and again, until a year ago he finally "married" Arya Zimmerman. Yes-married in, becoming the Zimmerman family's live-in son-in-law. A year ago, Arya was diagnosed with leukemia. Carlos volunteered his bone marrow. As luck would have it, he was a perfect match. Arya, to stay alive, went and obtained a marriage license with Carlos. The transplant succeeded. After a year of recuperation, Arya recovered-and Carlos's nightmare began. Three days ago, Arya demanded a divorce. Carlos couldn't take the blow and downed a large number of sleeping pills, landing in the hospital. Half an hour ago, Carlos had died. Otherwise, Lord Abyssal would not have taken over his body. "Brother, rest easy. From here on, I'll live your life to new heights and make your name resound across Earth." Carlos's mouth curled. The soul of a Sovereign still persisted. This flesh was weak, but he felt confident he could temper it into a Pathborne Body, then return to the Immortal Realm and sweep clean all those who had made him fail his tribulation. Creak. The ward door opened. A voluptuous, gaudy woman came in, clinging to the arm of a tall man in a suit. "Well, well. I thought you were dead. Didn't expect you to crawl back," Arya Zimmerman said, a little surprised. She had wanted to press Carlos's still-warm hand onto the divorce papers to avoid the stain of "husband-killer." She hadn't expected him to wake up. She pulled a divorce agreement from her Louis Vuitton bag, walked to the bedside, and said, "Press your fingerprint. After that, I don't care how you die. That way your crazy mother won't come to my house to cry and scream. People might think I killed you." "My life saved yours. You're really this ruthless?" Carlos asked. He wanted to see how black her heart ran. Arya snorted. "As if I'd die without you. Truth is, Ricardo found out I had leukemia and spent a fortune in Statos looking for a matching donor. Two months after your transplant, he already found a match for me. So even if you hadn't donated, I wouldn't have died. I'd be just as healthy as I am now." "In two months, your cancer cells would have spread. Even with a transplant, miss the best window and the risk of relapse would remain. Bottom line-I saved your life," Carlos said. Ricardo Lapwood snapped, "Damn it, don't act like you're some savior. I've got money. Even without you, Arya would be fine. And you, a toad lusting after swan meat-trash like you isn't even wanted as a live-in son-in-law by ordinary families. Stop mooching off Arya's family and press your fingerprint, or I'll kill you!" "Exactly. If it weren't for your bone marrow, if I had to marry a deadbeat like you, my parents would have killed me. Do you know how much they despise you? You're dirt-poor, not even fit to carry Ricardo's shoes, and you still want to leech off my family. We tell you to divorce and you go off trying to kill yourself? Press the fingerprint already. You make me sick," Arya said, her face twisted and mean. Carlos narrowed his eyes. "I see you clearly now. It won't be long before you regret what you did today." He pressed his fingerprint on the divorce agreement, then tossed it to Arya. "Phew! Finally, I can wash my hands of this bum. I'm so happy!" Arya hugged the papers, relief and glee all over her face. "Get out," Carlos said, sour. If he hadn't been this weak and without cultivation, he would have left a stinging handprint on her ugly, twisted face. "Why should I get out? Who do you think you are?" Arya sneered. "I'll tell you the truth. I'm marrying Ricardo on the fifteenth of next month. Does that make you sad? Devastated? If so, make sure you don't kill yourself on our wedding day. Don't jinx us." Then, right in front of Carlos, she wrapped herself around Ricardo's arm and cooed, "Ricardo, I was too embarrassed to hold a wedding when I married that loser. On the fifteenth, we're having our big day. You have to give me a wedding I'll never forget." "Relax, babe. I'll book Mansion Prima and throw the grandest, most luxurious, most sensational wedding Jenden has ever seen." "You said it. You better keep your word!" "Of course. Ten million dollars at most. For the Lapwood family, that's pocket change." "Mwah! I'll die of happiness!" "You'll be even happier in the bridal chamber." "You're awful!" "..." They made out for a while in front of Carlos, as if determined to infuriate him, then sauntered off under his dark stare. "Pah. Shameless adulterers." After they left, Carlos spat. "I'll make your wedding the biggest joke in Jenden." There were a little over twenty days until the fifteenth of next month-enough time for Carlos to grow strong, enough time to upgrade his freeloading. From the former Carlos's memories, he knew that among Jenden's Four Great Families, the Quinny family suffered a Feminine Energy Surplus. In his generation, most were girls. There was one boy, but his reputation was garbage and he couldn't carry the family. To keep the line alive, what the Quinny family needed most was a son-in-law to marry in. And the Quinny family's eldest daughter, Emery Quinny, was a nation-toppling beauty coveted by countless heirs in Jenden. If he held a wedding with Emery on the fifteenth, who in Jenden's high society would still go to Ricardo and Arya's ceremony? It would also slap that cheating pair hard across the face. "Emery Quinny it is." Carlos had made up his mind. He was going to lock in that bowl of soft rice. So what if he was a broke nobody? Arya might not want him, but Jenden's number-one beauty, Emery Quinny, did. So what if he was poor? Ricardo had money and would only marry a divorced woman. He, a broke divorcé, would marry a woman of wealth and power in Jenden. That would drive those two adulterers mad. A nurse walked into the ward. Seeing Carlos awake, surprise flashed across her face. "Huh? Carlos, you're awake? That's a miracle." Her name was Alora Lyson, Carlos's classmate from the medical program and his neighbor. When they were little and ran around in split-bottom pants, they had even compared why boys and girls were different. After college, Alora became a nurse at Jenden First Hospital. When she learned Carlos had been admitted, she requested to be assigned to his room. "It's you, Alora." Carlos gave an awkward smile. Attempted suicide wasn't exactly something to brag about. "If not me, did you think it would be Arya?" Alora rolled her eyes at him. While she examined him, she said, "I just saw Arya leave with a man, clutching a divorce agreement. Did you sign it?" "She'd already forged my signature to match my handwriting. I only pressed a fingerprint," Carlos said truthfully. "Arya is inhuman. You saved her life, and once she recovered she couldn't wait to cut you loose, not a shred of gratitude," Alora said, bristling. "You were stupid too. Several girls in our class liked you, but you had to chase Arya to the ends of the earth. Regret it now?" She finished the exam. "People had to go through it to grow, didn't they?" Carlos smiled. He couldn't exactly say he'd been blind. "Excuses. You were blind." Alora shot him a glare, then suddenly remembered something. "Right, hurry and see your dad one last time. He might not make it." "What happened to my dad?" Carlos's brows drew together. "Because of you. He already had heart disease. When he heard what you did, he flew into a rage and coughed up blood on the spot. He's been in a coma for three days, same as you. You woke up. He might never wake again." Carlos jumped off the bed and pulled Alora toward the door. "Kaden, wake up! Wake up!" Carlos reached another ICU to find his mother, Callie Yare, shaking Kaden Yale with tears streaming down her face. Then she turned to the senior experts nearby and cried, "Doctors, please save my husband. I'll kneel to you." Callie dropped to her knees before the white coats. "Ms. Yare, don't be like this. We've done all we can. Your husband's heart has stopped. Once his brain cells die, we can issue the death certificate. Please settle the bill and prepare the funeral," an elderly doctor said. "Bullshit." Carlos helped Callie up and faced the doctors. "You quacks. My dad clearly could be saved, yet you told us to prepare for his funeral. Do you know you're playing with lives?" "With skills like yours, you call yourselves doctors, experts? What a joke. Bring me silver needles. If you can't save my dad, I will." The moment he finished, several doctors flew into a rage.