"Fortune telling! Twenty dollars per reading, money back if inaccurate!"

At the entrance of Sunvale Village, a young woman in her twenties sat behind a small stall. Dressed in gray robes and carrying a large satchel over her shoulder, she called out loudly to passersby.

It was the dead of winter, with snow blanketing the roads. Most villagers were huddled indoors for warmth. A kindhearted woman passing by noticed how thinly dressed the girl was and took pity on her. "Young lady, why are you out here all alone?" she couldn't help asking.

"I'm Matilda, the eighteenth-generation disciple from Sunvale Temple up the mountain," Matilda replied with a cheerful smile. "Would you like your fortune told, ma'am?"

"Not many people pass this way in winter," the woman gently reminded her. "You'd better pack up and go home."

Sunvale Village was notoriously poor among the surrounding townships—so poor it didn't even have paved roads. A trip to the city took three days and nights on foot. The villagers barely scraped by through farming; who had spare money for fortune-telling?

Matilda waved her hand dismissively. "My master has passed away. Before he left, he instructed me to find my family."

Her master had cast one final divination for the Hawkins family before his death—an ominous reading of the worst possible fortune.

If she didn't return soon, the family would face turmoil and financial ruin. Matilda had six elder brothers. Five were already divorced, and the sixth's marital fate hung by a thread—in seven days, he too would part ways with his wife.

Should her sixth brother divorce, the prophecy would come true. The Hawkins family would then be cursed with the destiny of the Lone Star of Calamity—their descendants forever denied marital bliss, doomed to grow old alone.

When Matilda first heard this prophecy, she hadn't felt particularly moved.

After all, they were merely strangers who happened to share her blood—why should she care?

With an impassive expression, she countered her master's words, "What, does my family have a royal throne to inherit?"

Her master hadn't expected such a question. He blinked in surprise before replying, "Why bring up thrones all of a sudden?"

"If not, then I might as well stay single forever."

People had to learn to live with solitude, after all.

Despite her youth, she had long grown indifferent to matters of love.

Her master grasped her hand and revealed the truth—the Hawkins family was filthy rich.

Just how rich?

Rich enough to commission a hundred golden statues of their ancestors with a mere flick of the wrist!

Golden statues were the highest honor bestowed upon immortals in Taoist temples, and Matilda couldn't deny her heart skipped a beat at the thought.

From that moment on, she resolved to descend the mountain and claim her inheritance.

Well, not quite—first, she had to stop her sixth brother from getting divorced. If his celestial misfortune took hold, the entire family would suffer financial ruin, doomed to a life of hardship with no hope of prosperity.

Even if she succeeded in delaying his divorce, she could only buy them three years at most. The only real solution was to help all her brothers reconcile with their ex-wives and bring her sisters-in-law back into the family.

Matilda had no intention of resigning herself to a life of poverty. Grudgingly, she set off down the mountain, deciding to set up a roadside stall first to scrape together enough travel money for the journey home.

Unfortunately, luck wasn't on her side today. From morning till now, not a single soul had come for a fortune-telling.

"So you're that little brat from the mountain who's always spouting doom and gloom?"

The middle-aged woman's face twisted in disgust as she took several hasty steps backward, muttering curses under her breath.

"Pretend I was never here today, and for heaven's sake, don't you dare latch onto me!"

Matilda was the village's "plague god"—someone everyone in Sunvale Village went out of their way to avoid.

She often came down the mountain to beg for alms. At first, the villagers had pitied her, handing over fruits and vegetables out of kindness.

But Matilda had zero tact—not even a simple "thank you" ever crossed her lips. Instead, she'd blurt out ominous nonsense like, "Your family's headed for bloodshed," "You're about to lose money today," or "Your wife's cheating on you."

The worst part? Those cursed predictions had a habit of coming true—fast.

The villagers were terrified of her jinxed tongue. Whenever she opened her mouth, they'd practically scramble to cover their ears.

After the woman stormed off, Matilda remained unfazed, calmly closing her eyes to rest.

But the woman, who had already walked away, soon returned. She had children of her own and knew Matilda had been raised by an old Taoist priest.

With the old man dead, who did the girl have left? She probably struggled to even put food on the table.

The woman tossed a steamed bun onto Matilda's makeshift stall before hurrying off again.

Hearing the rustle, Matilda tucked the bun into her robe, packed up her stall, and leisurely pushed her handcrafted wooden cart along the winding country path.

At the sight of her, villagers ducked into their homes, bolting every lock they could find—triple-sealing their doors as if fortifying against a storm.

They all prayed that the "Plague God" would leave quickly and not stop at their doorsteps.

Fortunately, Matilda didn't pause for a moment. She walked from one end of the village to the other, moving further and further toward the outskirts until she reached the very edge.

Finally, she stopped in front of a three-story Western-style villa with a swimming pool and knocked on the door.

Matilda had cast a divination for herself—her closest relative was supposed to be at the southernmost part of Sunvale Village, right here in this household.

The only thing was, her relative wouldn’t arrive until noon, which was why she had lingered at the village entrance earlier.

Soon, the door swung open.

A tall, strikingly handsome man stood in the doorway. His face was cold, his expression weary, and his tone sharp as he demanded, "Who the hell are you?"

Matilda didn’t answer right away. Instead, she studied his face intently.

The man had a broad, noble forehead and an imposing presence—born into wealth and privilege.

Unfortunately, a shadow of dark energy lingered between his brows, a sign that his future love life would be fraught with hardship, his fortune would dwindle, and he’d end up lonely and miserable.

This fate… wasn’t he just her ill-fated older brother?

Matilda stepped forward without hesitation and asked, "Your surname is Hawkins, isn’t it?"