Marrying the Disabled Sentinel: Restoring His SSS Glory

When Chen Lillian woke up, she found herself lying inside a transparent capsule. Her eyes slowly rolled around, and her body felt half-paralyzed. “Am I… still alive?” That seemed impossible—she had self-detonated her crystal core in the apocalypse. There was no way she could’ve survived. Yet the stark reality before her eyes was inexplicable. She looked around: a spotless, sterile room filled with devices she didn’t recognize. It resembled a hospital ward but was far more technologically advanced than any hospital she had known in her old world. Just then, she heard footsteps approaching. “What a pity—someone from the First Military Academy, a top talent, reduced to this.” “If we’d implanted the leg bones as soon as he was admitted, it might have been possible for him to regrow them.” “But artificial legs never match the function of the original. Regaining his old abilities would be tough.” “That’s true. And it costs a fortune. Even for the Yuan family, replacing both legs is financially draining.” “Money can be earned back. In another family, they’d go bankrupt if needed. But the Yuan family won’t do it, probably because the current mistress isn’t his biological mother.” “Yeah… that’s how it is. A shame for such a brilliant young man.” “But compared to him, the girl in this ward is worse off—she lost an arm, and not a single family member has visited.” The footsteps drew closer. Chen Lillian finally saw several women in white uniforms—likely nurses or doctors. “You’re awake? How do you feel?” one asked. Chen Lillian tried to speak but found her throat parched. Noticing this, the nurse tapped some controls, causing the transparent capsule to retract. She helped Chen Lillian sit up and handed her a cup of warm water. “You’ve been asleep for three days. Drink some water before trying to talk.” Chen Lillian instinctively reached out with her right hand—only to find that her entire right arm was gone. The nurse’s eyes showed sympathy. “When you’re fully recovered, you might consider getting a metal prosthetic. It can be as agile as a real arm, even more so, with features ordinary human arms lack.” Chen Lillian nodded. Calmly, she reached out with her left hand, took the cup, and drained it in one gulp. “Could I have another?” She was transferred from the treatment capsule to a standard ward, sharing the room with an elderly woman whose hair was snow-white. The nurse mentioned that the lady was already 150 years old, which nearly made Chen Lillian’s jaw drop. “What kind of world have I landed in?” she wondered. After several days, she finally pieced together her current circumstances. She had died in the apocalypse but somehow transmigrated into an interstellar era, waking up in the body of an 18-year-old girl—also named Chen Lillian. This new world’s population was split into three categories: ordinary people, Sentinels, and Guides. Ordinary people here were stronger than those of her previous world. Sentinels had extraordinary physical prowess and powerful mental energy, excelling in various fields. Guides weren’t as physically strong as Sentinels nor did they have the highest mental energy, but theirs was gentler and could soothe a Sentinel’s mental turbulence. Sentinels needed Guides; without a Guide, a Sentinel risked descending into madness. A Guide also fared poorly without a Sentinel, unable to cope with monthly adult “heat cycles” and potentially facing severe mental strain. Chen Lillian was relieved to discover that the body she now inhabited was neither a Sentinel nor a Guide, but an ordinary person. Her current identity was that of an illegitimate daughter in the Chen family. Her mother, a mistress, had abandoned her in childhood. Chen Lillian had been taken in by Chen Richard at age one, living cautiously under the main family’s roof for 17 years. She had just enrolled in the prestigious First Military Academy, but during a midterm test, her arm was bitten off by an insectoid creature. During treatment, the original consciousness disappeared, and the new Chen Lillian took over. The medical bills were covered by the school, and the Chen family never bothered to visit. Even her nominal father, Chen Richard, didn’t show up. “Patient 76, you can be discharged tomorrow,” a nurse informed her. Chen Lillian responded with a simple nod. She mulled over her post-discharge plans: Returning to school seemed impossible for now, given her need for recovery. The First Military Academy, known for its rigor, likely had no place for someone missing an arm. Going back to the Chen household was unappealing. She felt no connection to them. But renting her own place on Alpha, one of the Alliance’s main planets, would be expensive. She didn’t have much money left. Reluctantly, she concluded that she might have to return to the Chen family, at least temporarily. The next day, as she completed the discharge formalities, her father, Chen Richard, suddenly contacted her via her lightband (a device more advanced than phones or computers). His tone was curt and commanding, instructing her to come home. Chen Lillian figured she had little choice. Upon arriving at the Chen family villa—an extravagant estate that signified the family’s wealth—Chen Lillian walked into the living room. All eyes fell on her missing right arm. She caught expressions of coldness, ridicule, and schadenfreude, but not a hint of concern or sympathy. “Grandfather, Father,” she greeted the two most senior men in the room. The older man, with cloudy eyes, spoke first, “We’ve called you back to discuss your marriage.” Chen Lillian was taken aback. “I’m only eighteen. And I have older siblings who aren’t married yet. Isn’t this out of order?” Chen Richard replied, voice stern, “You’re the only one who fits the criteria.” “Because the groom is also disabled,” added Chen Evelyn, her eldest half-sister. Chen Luna, the second sister, smirked. “He’s missing both legs, you’re missing an arm. A perfect match.” Chen Harvey, the third brother, chimed in, “He’s Yuan Vincent, the Yuan family’s eldest son—a former S-rank genius Sentinel. If not for losing his legs, he wouldn’t even glance your way.” “Is he… okay with this?” Chen Lillian asked. She felt a pang of sympathy for the stranger who’d lost his legs. Grandfather waved dismissively. “This marriage is set between the two families. Neither of you has a say.” Sensing it was futile to protest, Chen Lillian fell silent. She didn’t particularly care about romance or marriage. In her previous life, she’d danced along the edge of death too many times to hold such ideals. She simply listened as they explained that the Yuan family would give their son, Yuan Vincent, a resource-rich mining planet after the wedding. That meant Chen Lillian and Yuan Vincent could move there and “live happily ever after”—or so the Chen family described it. Her heart stirred at the thought of a mining planet. “Alright, I accept,” she said without hesitation.