Lu Zhaoyan met the Patriarch’s gaze, a glint of defiance in his own. He raised the stitched ledger, the dusty, red threads stark against the aged paper. “Not yet, Patriarch. This is not how proper proceedings are conducted. You speak of binding, but I speak of dissolution. Before any final ritual, there must be an opportunity for resolution, for formal mediation. Or are you admitting to a complete disregard for established legal etiquette?” He spread his free hand, indicating the ruined room, the shattered paper guardians, and the menacing shadows beyond the doorway. “Given the egregious abuses documented in *this* exhibit, I formally request a public, mediated session in the main courtyard. Let the spirits bear witness to your fraudulent dealings.” The Patriarch’s skeletal hand tightened on the blood-red ribbon. A low, guttural growl vibrated through the room, a sound like grinding stones. The shadow beings behind him shifted, their forms coalescing into a more menacing presence, vaguely humanoid but utterly devoid of warmth. Lady Bai Yixue moved closer to Zhaoyan, her spectral aura intensifying, a subtle shield against the rising malice. “A public session?” Patriarch Wither-Bone sneered, a dry, rustling sound. “Such insolence. You believe yourself capable of challenging the ancient rites of Qingya Manor, worm? Very well. I shall grant your request for ‘mediation.’ But know this, little groom: every invocation of my authority carries its own price.” The air grew heavy, thick with a crushing spiritual pressure. Zhaoyan felt a phantom squeeze around his optic nerves, a chilling sensation that promised future pain. He braced himself, knowing the Patriarch would not yield without inflicting damage. [“Invocation of Article 17, Sub-Clause Beta: ‘Insolence Towards the Matrimonial Head.’ Penalty: Repossession of all sensory inputs used in verbal and visual defiance. Eyes and Tongue to be seized.”] The System’s flat, bureaucratic tone echoed, sending a cold tremor through Zhaoyan. A searing pain erupted behind his eyes, a phantom hand reaching into his skull, and his tongue felt suddenly stiff, like stone. He tried to speak, to cite another counter-clause, but no sound emerged. His vision blurred, colors bleeding into a swirling grey. Before the world could fade entirely, a furious, guttural shriek tore through the air, vibrating with an ancient, unrestrained fury that made the very foundations of Qingya Manor tremble. Bai Yixue’s face, usually serene even in anger, was contorted into a mask of pure, unadulterated rage. Her eyes blazed with a cold, pale light, and her long hair whipped around her as if caught in a violent wind. The air in the chamber crackled under the sheer density of her spiritual power. A concussive blast of frost and resentment erupted from her, tearing floorboards loose. The shadow-cloaked entities behind the Patriarch recoiled, their indistinct shapes flickering. The Patriarch himself stumbled back a step, his bone-clad robes rattling, a flicker of surprise—and perhaps fear—crossing his gaunt face. Bai Yixue extended a hand towards Zhaoyan, her gaze unwavering, fiercely protective. A blinding flash of intense red light erupted from her palm, engulfing him. He felt a profound, searing cold intertwine with his very essence, a ghostly energy coiling around his living soul. The pain in his eyes and tongue vanished, replaced by a surge of clarity, a heightened perception that was not his own. [“Lady Bai Yixue: Invocation of ‘Spirit-Bound Proxy.’ Groom Lu Zhaoyan now formally designated as legal proxy. All verbal and legal challenges to the Matrimonial Head are now considered direct expressions of the Bride’s will. Sensory organs are now considered extensions of the Bride’s spectral form. Penalty for ‘Insolence Towards the Matrimonial Head’ voided.”] The System’s voice, for the first time, held a note of something akin to exasperation. Zhaoyan felt a profound connection to Bai Yixue, a shared awareness that transcended mere touch. He could feel the echo of her fury, the depth of her protective instinct. Her power coursed through him, empowering him, but also binding him. He was no longer just a human lawyer; he was her spear, her voice. The Patriarch glared, his face a thundercloud of resentment. “You dare link your essence to a mortal? A pathetic parasite, drawing on *your* strength?” Zhaoyan, now speaking with Bai Yixue’s amplified presence, felt his voice resonate with a new, chilling authority. “This ‘parasite’ is now your daughter’s chosen legal counsel, Patriarch. And under the laws of the Nether-Court, a proxy’s actions are the principal’s. Any attempt to silence me is an attempt to silence Lady Bai Yixue. And you know the consequences of harming your own kin, do you not?” The Patriarch snarled, but held his ground. “Very well. Main courtyard. Now. But know this, *proxy*. The final bow is scheduled for the last chime of the midnight hour. And even with your… *protection*… you have but one hour to change the outcome.” He gestured with the blood-red ribbon, and the shadow beings parted, forming a corridor towards the ruined doorway. “Prove your case, little groom. Or be bound. Forever.” The words hung heavy in the air, a chilling countdown. Zhaoyan glanced at Bai Yixue, her spectral face still etched with fierce resolve. One hour. The final bow. He knew, with absolute certainty, that no amount of smooth talk or legal maneuvering would sway the Patriarch. He had to force the old ghoul’s hand. He had to provoke a documented, undeniable act of profound, supernatural marital abuse that even the Nether-Court System could not ignore. And he had to do it before the twelfth chime sealed their doom. He tightened his grip on the ledger, the true weapon in this twisted settlement. He had to make the Patriarch crack, expose his true nature, before time ran out. The mediation was not to win a verbal sparring match; it was to bait a monster into revealing its true form to the court. And then, he would dismantle it, piece by piece.

Hostile Mediation