Chapter -26.Got Caught?

After a long and exhausting struggle, Divya finally managed to change.

She let out a sigh of relief—only for her eyes to catch the robe she was now wearing.

And that's when she froze.

Her hands slowly ran over the fabric, feeling the way it was perfectly wrapped around her body. The belt? Tied so flawlessly it looked like a professional had done it. Not a single crease, not a single loose fold.

She stared.

Then she stared some more.

Then she slapped her forehead.

"What the actual hell—?!"

Because how the hell did she do that?

She could swear on her last piece of chocolate that she had never worn a robe before. Sure, she had seen them—in historical dramas, in anime, in comics. She knew they existed. She knew they looked elegant.

But had she ever actually wrapped one around herself? Hell no.

Yet here she was.

Standing in some dimly lit stable.

In a perfectly tied robe.

Like she had done this a million times before.

Her eye twitched.

She had heard of muscle memory. People always said that even if your mind forgot, your body wouldn't. But—

"How the hell does my body remember something I never even learned?!"

This wasn't just muscle memory. This was some reincarnation-level nonsense.

And then it hit her.

Pang Pang.

The original owner of this body.

"Ohhh… so that's how it is."

The way her hands moved, the way the robe wrapped around her so effortlessly—it wasn't her doing. It was Pang Pang's. The woman must've worn robes her entire life, and now Divya was just riding the wave of her leftover instincts.

A chill ran down her spine.

"So this is what getting possessed feels like…"

Shaking off the weird feeling, she turned her head—only to see the same two nosy horses still staring at her.

They didn't blink.

They didn't move.

They just stood there, heads slightly tilted, watching her like she was some new species of human.

One of them looked curious. The other?

Disappointed.

Like it had expected her to mess up and trip over the robe, only to be gravely let down.

Her eyebrow twitched.

Slowly, she raised her hand, pointed two fingers at her own eyes, then turned them towards the horses in the universal "I'm watching you" gesture.

"Look one more time, and I swear, I'll turn you into horse meat soup."

A tense silence fell over the stable.

For two full minutes, the most intense staring battle in history took place.

Then—finally—the horses snorted and turned their heads away.

Divya's forehead twitched so hard, she was convinced it might cramp.

What the hell?!

Was she in some kind of glitching simulation? A repeat broadcast? Because these damn horses had just snorted at her the exact same way a few minutes ago. It was like they had a script to follow, and they were dedicated to their roles.

Who the hell do these bastards think they are?!

Royalty? Cultivator-level warhorses? She narrowed her eyes, considering her options. Kicking them was out of the question—she valued her life. But a well-placed glare? Oh, that was still on the table.

She squared her shoulders, preparing for Round Two of the Great Horse vs. Human Stare Battle, when—

Footsteps.

Her heart jumped.

She snapped her head toward the stable door.

Someone's coming.

Panic mode: engaged.

Her eyes darted around. Think, think, THINK!

With the speed of a seasoned thief, she grabbed her beggar-like clothes, crushed them into a ball, and shoved them into her pouch before stuffing the whole thing inside her robes.

Now, where to hide—

BANG!

The stable door swung wide open.

Two cultivators strode in, their sharp eyes scanning the dimly lit stable. They looked like disciples—fresh, eager, and still too disciplined to question things out loud.

Divya had exactly one second to react.

So, naturally, she did what any completely sane, rational person would do.

She launched herself at the nearest horse, wrapped her arms around its thick, muscular neck, and—

Burst into dramatic, gut-wrenching sobs.

"Don't worry, Soyabean! Don't worry…!" she wailed, voice trembling like a heroine in a tragic opera. "I won't let anything happen to you! I know what Father wants, but… but I will protect you! I swear it!"

Silence.

Absolute.

Deafening.

Silence.

The two cultivators froze, their expressions a masterpiece of shock, confusion, and sheer disbelief.

One of them blinked. The other subtly checked if he had accidentally walked into the wrong scene of reality.

But the true victim in all this?

The horse.

Poor, unfortunate Soyabean turned its head very slowly, side-eyeing her with an expression so visibly disgusted, it should've been illegal.

If judgment had a face, it was this horse's.

It let out a deep, tired, existential snort.

The kind of snort that said:

"I have tolerated many things in my life… but this? This is where I draw the line."

And yet, Divya clung on. Because at this point, committing to the act was her only choice.

The two men exchanged puzzled glances before one of them finally stepped forward. His movements were stiff, uncertain—as if approaching a wild, unpredictable animal.

Divya, sensing his hesitation, slightly turned her head, revealing her face—tear-streaked, snot-dripping, a true mess of tragedy.

The man froze.

For a brief moment, pure, unfiltered disgust flashed across his face.

Internally, Divya screamed.

Do you think I WANT to look like this?! Do you think I CHOSE this fate?!

But she had committed to the act, so she sniffled pitifully, then dramatically wiped her tears with the sleeve of her robe—just like the noble ladies did in Chinese dramas. She even made sure to cover half her face with the fabric for that extra tragic effect.

And then, in a voice trembling with emotion, she wailed,

"Wuwuwu~! My protectors! You have finally arrived!"

The two men looked at each other again, now even more confused than before.

The one who had stepped forward hesitated, then cleared his throat and asked, "Is there a problem, young miss? And… what exactly are you doing in this stable at this hour?"