The Swordswoman's Revenge Story after Rebirth

Chapter 325 Wedding Night Pranks

Falshed

The grand wedding ceremony unfolded like a dream. Amidst the chanting of blessings and solemn rituals, Isolde and Oliver felt as if they were drifting through a loud of tradition and festivity. Especially Isolde her vision completely obscured by the red bridal veil, she relied solely on Oliver’s steady grip, following his lead. When the wedding attendant commanded them to kneel, she knelt. When it was time to rise, Oliver’s strong hands supported her.

She desperately wanted to lift her veil and take in the grand occasion, but years of martial training harl honed her senses–she could recognize voices, discern footsteps. Yet today, even with her keen hearing. she couldn’t make out how many people were present. The sheer scale of the event overwhelmed her.

At last, the rituals were complete. A boisterous crowd escorted them to Ningser Pavilion, laughter and chatter filling the air. Through the clamor, Isolde could still hear one thing–Oliver’s heartbeat. Fast. Unsteady.

Hers matched his pace.

Taking deep breaths, she fought the dizziness creeping in. Her legs felt weak. No–her entire body felt weak. If not for Oliver’s firm grip, she might have stumbled on the way.

Then, amid the joyful commotion, she heard his voice.

“Isolde, I’ve finally married you. From this day on, through fortune and hardship, I will never let go of your hand.”

Her breath hitched. Did he actually say that? Or was it her imagination? His grip remained steady–no tremor, no extra pressure to confirm or deny.

Before she could dwell on it, they reached the pavilion

“Wait! Wait!” The wedding attendant suddenly called out, halting them in place.

Isolde and Oliver froze, worried they had missed a crucial tradition.

With a teasing smile, the attendant announced, “The groom must cover the bride’s ears.”

Oliver blinked in confusion before hastily cupping his hands around Isolde’s head, shielding her ears.

Isolde tensed. “What’s happening?”

“Firecrackers,” Oliver murmured.

The next moment–BANG!

Explosions erupted around them, a relentless storm of crackling firecrackers sending plumes of smoke into the air. The sharp scent of gunpowder filled their lungs. Isolde flinched at the deafening noise, but she was wrapped in Oliver’s protective embrace, his warmth anchoring her amidst the chaos.

The barrage seemed to go on forever. Even with her ears covered, the thunderous blasts rattled through

her bones.

Finally, as the last echoes faded, the sound of drums and flutes replaced the commotion, guiding them forward. They stepped onto a fresh straw mat, marking their passage into the bridal chamber.

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Inside, the bed was lavishly adorned with red satin and scattered with dates and lychees a symbol of fertility and prosperity. Isolde sat down, only to realize he had landed on something firm.

The poor creature squirmed under her weight, and she instinctively shifted, but the wedding attendant pressed a hand on her shoulder. “Stay still.”

Uncomfortable and slightly panicked, Isolde obeyed, even as the fruits beneath her dug into her skin. Oliver, mistaking her unease for nerves, whispered reassuringly, “Just a little longer, and I’ll lift the veil.”

The attendant then presented him with a balance scale tied with a lucky knot. “Groom, lift the bride’s veil From this moment on, may your marriage be harmonious and everlasting.”

Oliver took the scale and glanced over his shoulder. Ese and Patricia Christine stood nearby, smiling at him expectantly.

His pulse thundered in his cars.

Why was he nervous? He had seen her countless times before, yet this moment felt… different.

With deliberate care, he lifted the veil.

First, the curve of her chin. Then, the deep red lips. Finally, her eyes–filled with warmth and mirth- locked onto his.

They held their gaze, lost in each other. A silent promise passed between them.

The wedding attendant chuckled. “The veil is lifted! May your days be filled with joy! Groom, lead the bride to drink the wedding toast.”

A grand banquet table was set up, the room glowing with candlelight. Though the dishes had long gone cold, Isolde’s stomach grumbled at the sight of them. She swallowed hard–so hungry. But tradition demanded patience.

First, the wedding toast. Then, the pranks. Then… food.

Golden cups were filled with wine, a considerate choice, knowing the bride had barely eaten that day.

They raised their goblets and exchanged glances.

Isolde smiled shyly. “I’m grateful to have met you.”

Oliver, caught off guard, blushed furiously. Not realizing he was supposed to respond, he hurriedly repeated, “I’m grateful to have met you.”

Laughter rippled through the room.

The couple’s faces burned brighter. This was entirely unfair–why must they drink the wedding toast in front of an audience?

leaned in, their breaths mingling as they took a

clapped her hands. “With this toast, may

as the tension eased,

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to prank the newlyweds!” Anthony’s voice boomed as

the groom suffer! Make the bride laugh!”

atmosphere ignited with mischief. Before they knew it, Isolde and Oliver were pulled apart,

stronger than the wife. But is

soldiers roared in

smirked. “And how exactly do you propose we prove

“Simple. You’ll carry Isolde on your back and

it? Please. I could carry a 200–pound soldier without

grinned wider. “Ah, but

men.

“Ropes? What ropes?”

little extra challenge. We’ll be tying

“How is he supposed to walk like

smugly. “He’ll jump. And if he doesn’t reach

I can’t even balance if

chimed in. “Tonight, there are no generals–just the bride

at the wedding attendant. She merely chuckled. “I’m afraid I can’t

Resistance was futile.

his torso. He could

could barely stand. “How is he supposed

Anthony instructed matter–of–factly.

behind Oliver.

The ropes restricted him so much he could barely lower himself.

hooking her arms around his neck and locking her legs around his

waist

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Wedding Night

that’s

Finished

watching the bound–and–burdened groom prepare for his

gentlemen! Let’s not torture the newlyweds too much. Accept this small token and call

tossed a bag

Anthony sighed dramatically. “F

Wedding Night

Falshed

solemn rituals, Isolde and Oliver felt as if they were drifting through a loud of tradition and festivity. Especially Isolde her vision completely obscured by the red bridal veil, she relied solely on Oliver’s steady grip, following

her veil and take in the grand occasion, but years of martial training harl honed her senses–she could recognize voices, discern footsteps. Yet today,

chatter

his

entire body felt weak.

the joyful commotion, she heard his

on, through fortune and hardship,

breath hitched. Did he actually say that? Or was it her imagination? His grip remained steady–no tremor, no

dwell on it,

attendant suddenly called out,

Oliver froze, worried they had

the attendant announced, “The groom must cover the bride’s ears.”

in confusion before hastily cupping his hands around Isolde’s head, shielding her

tensed. “What’s happening?”

“Firecrackers,” Oliver murmured.

The next moment–BANG!

of smoke into the air. The sharp scent of gunpowder filled their lungs. Isolde flinched at the deafening noise, but she was wrapped in Oliver’s

go on forever. Even with her ears covered, the thunderous blasts

her bones.

sound of drums and flutes replaced the commotion, guiding them forward. They stepped onto a fresh straw mat, marking their

1/4

14.18 Thu, Apr

Wedding Night

Finished

scattered with dates and lychees a symbol of fertility and prosperity. Isolde sat down, only to realize he had landed on something firm.

her weight, and she instinctively shifted, but the wedding

beneath her dug into her skin. Oliver, mistaking her unease for nerves,

him with a balance scale tied with a lucky knot. “Groom, lift the bride’s veil From this moment on, may your marriage be harmonious

over his shoulder. Ese and

in his cars.

He had seen her countless times before, yet this

he lifted the veil.

chin. Then, the deep red lips. Finally, her eyes–filled

other. A silent promise passed

your days be filled with joy! Groom, lead

grand banquet table was set up, the room glowing with candlelight. Though the dishes had long gone cold, Isolde’s stomach grumbled at the sight of them. She swallowed hard–so hungry. But tradition demanded

the wedding toast. Then, the pranks. Then… food.