After sitting on the ground and regaining a bit of strength, Edward Thompson started to worry again.

There was no way he could go back to that house. Not only was it just four walls, a table, and a bed with nothing to eat, but for all he knew, if he went back, the whole village would be waiting for him at the entrance with torches—then he could heroically sacrifice himself all over again.

The only difference was where he’d be burned to death.

But if he didn’t go back—where would he sleep tonight?

Having just arrived in this world, the first problem Edward Thompson had to solve was survival.

Rumble rumble...

Just then, Edward Thompson suddenly felt the ground beneath his feet start to shake.

“What’s going on, is this an earthquake?”

Edward Thompson felt miserable. He’d barely escaped being burned to death, and now there was an earthquake. What kind of bad karma did he rack up in his previous life?

But soon, Edward Thompson realized this wasn’t an earthquake.

At the far edge of his vision, a torrent of smoke and dust was rolling toward him. In Edward Thompson’s shocked gaze, it stopped just a few steps in front of him.

“Cough! Cough!”

Caught off guard, Edward Thompson inhaled a big mouthful of PM2.5, choking so hard that tears streamed down his face.

It took him a while to recover, and just as he was about to curse whoever was so uncivilized, he looked up and froze.

Atop a tall horse sat a stunning woman dressed in white, looking down at him.

Her brows, like distant mountains, were slightly furrowed as if she was pondering something. Staring at that exquisitely beautiful face, Edward Thompson felt his throat go dry. Before he could say anything, the woman nodded slightly, a satisfied expression on her face. She glanced at him coolly and waved her delicate hand: “Tie him up!”

In Edward Thompson’s dazed stare, the fierce bandits behind the woman dismounted and swarmed toward him...

...

...

“Heh heh, looks like a scholar...”

“Pretty good-looking too, worthy of our chief!”

“I say, Second Miss really has good taste...”

“Shut up, all of you!”

...

...

Edward Thompson’s hands were tied behind his back as he lay face-down across a horse. He used to get carsick just riding the bus in his previous life, so he definitely wasn’t used to this era’s transportation. The bumpy ride made him dizzy, his consciousness growing fuzzy. Rough male laughter rang in his ears, their hoarse voices grating. Later, he vaguely heard a sharp female rebuke, and the noise stopped. Edward Thompson then completely lost consciousness.

When he woke up again, the first thing he saw upon opening his eyes was a pink canopy. Edward Thompson scrambled up from the bed, warily surveying his surroundings.

Carved bed rails, a quilt with a faint fragrance, and outside the girlish pink canopy, some simple wooden furniture—a table, chairs, a cabinet...

Bandits!

Fragments of memory flashed through his mind, making Edward Thompson’s face change. He looked around and, seeing that he was alone in the room, finally relaxed a little.

Could it have all been a dream just now?

A hopeful thought suddenly popped into Edward Thompson’s mind.

The next moment, Edward Thompson realized that thinking that was the real dream...

Because—it hurt!

Edward Thompson’s face twisted as he clutched his lower abdomen. The burning pain under his clothes made him gasp for breath. He cursed inwardly—those rough guys! He didn’t even have to think to know this was from being bounced around on the horse.

Whoever invented these clothes, anyway? Layer after layer! It took Edward Thompson ages to get them off. Looking down, he saw a big red patch on his lower abdomen.

At this point, Edward Thompson didn’t even have the energy to curse the bandits. He had to face his current situation.

It looked like he’d been captured by those bandits and brought somewhere. While lying on the horse, he vaguely heard them mention “chief” and “marriage”...

After letting his imagination run wild, Edward Thompson’s expression suddenly turned terrified.

Marriage!

Looking down again, Edward Thompson realized he wasn’t wearing the same clothes as that morning. At some point, he’d been changed into a bright red robe, with a huge red flower pinned to his chest—he looked as festive as could be...

And with the hat on his head—was that... a pheasant feather? A peacock feather? Whatever it was, it was definitely the classic ancient drama groom’s outfit!

In his hazy memories, it seemed like someone had helped him somewhere, made him kneel and kowtow...

As those fragmented images flashed through his mind, Edward Thompson’s face turned deathly pale.

He’d actually been snatched to be the bandit bride?

No, the bandit groom!

Chapter 3: The Bandit Groom!

Before he transmigrated, the world Edward Thompson lived in was one where the “transmigration” trope was wildly popular.

Whether in novels or TV shows, everyone was rushing to incorporate this element. It was so widespread that even eight-year-old kids and eighty-year-old grannies probably knew what “transmigration” meant.