The video call rang for over a minute, but Ye Shaohua didn’t answer.
Qinghai Guzhou couldn’t take it anymore.
He hung up and sent a short message instead:
Qinghai Guzhou: Why didn’t you pick up?
Ye Shaohua narrowed her eyes. This wasn’t how things went in the original storyline—Qinghai Guzhou wasn’t supposed to question her.
She figured it must be because of her solo takedown of the world boss earlier. He probably didn’t want the guild to lose a top-tier player.
After a long pause, she finally replied:
Ye Shang Chuyang: It’s just a game.
On the other end of the screen, Song Chen frowned. His handsome face twisted in confusion.
Normally, she would reply instantly. But this time, she took nearly ten minutes. His patience was wearing thin.
Qinghai Guzhou: Fine. Log in. Let’s break off our in-game marriage.
He waited, expecting Ye Shang Chuyang to refuse. If she did, he’d just force the divorce—it’d only cost a little extra in-game currency.
But out of all the reactions he imagined, he never expected her response to be this simple:
Ye Shang Chuyang: Okay.
Then, another message followed:
Ye Shang Chuyang: I’m already online. Meet me at the Matchmaker’s Temple.
Ye Shaohua switched back to the game, stashed her unenhanced legendary gear in her inventory, and automatically rejected a friend request that popped up. Without a second thought, she teleported to the Matchmaker’s Temple.
In her past life, whether in reality or online, she had always been a top-tier expert. Hundreds of people added her on QQ, WeChat, and work accounts daily. Rejecting requests had become second nature.
So she had no idea that, in another part of the city, two people were staring at their screens in disbelief—one experiencing rejection for the first time, and the other witnessing it happen to someone who never got rejected.
Qinghai Guzhou, not wanting any delays, immediately logged into his account after getting Ye Shaohua’s agreement. He also informed Xianhua Nongying before heading straight to the Matchmaker’s Temple to dissolve their in-game marriage.
When the red thread binding them finally snapped, he let out a sigh of relief.
Since both Qinghai Guzhou and Ye Shang Chuyang were high-profile players in Sword Romance, the system broadcasted their divorce to the entire server.
Changfa Jiyao saw the announcement and immediately private-messaged Qinghai Guzhou:
[PM] Changfa Jiyao: Guild Leader, why did you break up with Xiao Ye? Was it because of Xianhua Nongying?
Song Chen’s face twisted in disgust.
[PM] Qinghai Guzhou: This has nothing to do with Nongying. It’s between me and Chuyang.
After sending that, he closed the chat window.
Changfa Jiyao stuck by Ye Shaohua for a while, helping her grind quests and cursing out Qinghai Guzhou.
Ye Shaohua only smiled faintly, unbothered.
She recalled the original plot—what truly broke the original host wasn’t just the online bullying, but Song Chen’s words during the Sword Romance player meetup.
Back then, the original host had mustered the courage to attend, hoping to meet her guildmates in person. But facing the cruel whispers and seeing the flawless Song Chen and An Xun in real life shattered her self-esteem.
She had always admired beautiful people, but their perfection only made her feel worse.
At first, Song Chen and the others didn’t say anything to her face.
But when she went to the restroom, she overheard him talking to An Xun:
“Just thinking about being married in-game to that ugly, spineless freak makes me sick. I’d rather have a pig as my in-game wife. At least a pig would be better than… that.”
The sheer disgust in his voice pierced through what little confidence she had left.
After she left, the guildmates who had pretended to be friendly started mocking her openly—calling her a liar, saying she catfished people by pretending to be a goddess online.
Song Chen was the son of an internet tycoon, a classic rich second-generation heir. An Xun came from an even more prestigious, centuries-old aristocratic family.
The original host realized they lived in completely different worlds.
With this in mind, Ye Shaohua kept the game running in the background while searching for business opportunities. Relying solely on her father’s real estate empire wouldn’t be enough to stand against the An Family.
The An Family was a true old-money dynasty. No wonder the original host’s death hadn’t stirred even a hint of sympathy from them.
A suddenly wealthy real estate tycoon could never compare to a family with over a century of influence.
What the An Family lacked wasn’t money—it was political power.
If the Ye Family could rise to a position even the An Family couldn’t touch, then all problems would disappear.
Since the original host was studying computer science, Ye Shaohua naturally leaned into that field.
In her past life, she had been a national-level cybersecurity expert—the first line of defense for her country. The national security firewall was her creation, and she had been a Level-9 Special Agent, one of the highest-ranking covert operatives.
Her identity was so classified that only a handful of top officials knew of her existence.
When she later entered the entertainment industry, anyone who crossed her mysteriously vanished—because the government had assigned a covert team to protect her.
So the best way to deal with this world’s problems was simple: power.
The kind of power that would make the An Family kneel.
The An Family was just a relic of the Republican era.
But she—she would become a woman they could never hope to reach.
As she plotted, she hacked into a high-security network and slipped her profile into a newly recruited batch of elite operatives.
She didn’t realize that when her file landed in the hands of the National Special Operations Division, the top brass were shocked.
Ye Shaohua’s hacking skills had reached their peak in a futuristic interstellar world.
The 16-dimensional space theory she encountered there had given her profound insights. Given enough time, she could’ve replicated it in her original world.
That civilization was centuries ahead of modern society, and the hacking techniques she’d mastered there were light-years beyond what current hackers could comprehend.
To them, she was like a max-level pro suddenly applying to lead a group of noobs in a raid.
How could they not be excited?
After submitting her file, she closed the lines of code and switched back to the game.
The Nianzhou Guild was starting a guild dungeon.
A crisp female voice came through:
“I mentioned running the dungeon, and Guzhou gathered everyone. Thanks for coming! Let’s use guild voice chat—it’ll be easier.”
That was Xianhua Nongying—An Xun—speaking. Her voice was sweet and elegant, exactly what you’d expect from a beauty.
Then came Song Chen’s smooth, gentle tone.
“Sis, your voice is amazing! You must be gorgeous!”
That was Chengzi, one of An Xun’s bootlickers.
As she spoke, she noticed “Ye Shang Chuyang” had joined the party.
Chengzi suddenly piped up:
“Oh! Chuyang’s here too! Hey, Chuyang, can you turn on your mic? We’ve been in the same guild for months, but none of us have heard your voice yet. Come on, let us hear what our guild goddess sounds like!”
