My Husband’s Ascension Ch 10
Chapter 10 Why Not Remarry?
Zhao Zhao froze for a moment before realizing—
—he hadn’t recognized her voice.
She instinctively let out a breath of relief, but at once something else struck her, and a mocking bitterness welled up within.
So it had been her own wishful thinking.
She had believed that even if he regained his memory, after three years of acquaintance—two of them spent as a married couple—even with her voice and face altered, he would still recognize her with ease.
Yet here she stood before him, and he failed to discern it was her.
She was someone who could be so easily erased from his memory…
With a pleading gaze, Zhao Zhao looked toward Daoist Ming Jue, giving the slightest shake of her head.
The elder, who had lived thousands of years and seen through the ways of the world, readily discerned the truth from her reaction.
He spoke to defuse the moment, “This is but my disciple, who has grown up in Cloudculm Abode since childhood. How could she have crossed paths with Dao Lord? Might Dao Lord move to the inner hall? Though the miasma has left no grave harm, it still must be tended swiftly, lest it delay Dao Lord’s proper affairs…”
Those unfocused eyes lingered distantly in the girl’s direction.
That gaze, faint as moonlight, lingered upon Zhao Zhao for but the span of a single breath—yet each fraction of a moment seared her like blazing fire, an agony beyond endurance.
At last, the silence was broken by a voice behind her—Li Feng’s, sharp and scolding, “What are you running for! With that meager cultivation of yours, did you rush here only to throw away your life?”
Having cut down a few straggling evil yaos along the way, Li Feng arrived belatedly, fearing Zhao Zhao might have met with misfortune.
Her death would matter little to him, yet with the yao contract binding them, should she perish, his cultivation too would be diminished—a grievous loss indeed.
“I’m fine…”
The night wind carried her faint murmur, and Dao Lord Tianshu’s ears twitched at the sound.
He spoke no further, only withdrew his gaze and followed in Daoist Ming Jue’s footsteps.
Li Feng, however, upon finding Zhao Zhao safe and sound, cast his eyes over the field of slain yaos and clicked his tongue in admiration. “Such a tidy slaughter.”
Still shaken, Zhao Zhao lifted her head and regarded him as though he were deranged.
“Have I spoken falsely? Behold these severed heads and necks—were it not for the blood pooled upon the ground, once joined together, one could scarce discern the wound. It speaks to a swordplay of peerless refinement, subtle as drifting clouds veiling the moon, graceful as snow swirling upon the returning wind—”
Zhao Zhao could no longer endure; with a choked sound, she bent over and retched, emptying her supper in its entirety.
…
After vomiting, the very first thing Zhao Zhao did was bring Yao Ling and Rong Yu back to her chamber.
The gift bestowed earlier by Shi Lanyan once again proved its worth at a critical moment—the Great Miluo Gang Protective Array required no profound cultivation to activate. Though it might not withstand Dao Lord Tianshu should he personally strike, if he were to assail her under the cover of night, at the very least it could delay him for a time.
“...So that immortal we saw tonight was the legendary Dao Lord Tianshu?” Nestled beneath the quilt, Yao Ling’s tone rose with a trace of wonder and delight. “His eyes could not see, and yet he managed to kill so many evil spirits… How incredible.”
Zhao Zhao’s hands, tucking the covers around the two children, faltered ever so slightly.
“...One day, you will surpass him.”
Yao Ling gazed into her earnest eyes, then nuzzled her arm with a soft smile. “Jiejie, you are so kind.”
Others had spoken such words before, yet only this jiejie called Zhao Zhao would answer with eyes so solemn and earnest…
It was as though… no matter what she wished to do, so long as she desired it, she could make it a reality.
The upheaval of the night left not the faintest shadow upon the children’s hearts. Beside her, Rong Yu had fallen fast asleep the instant his head touched the pillow.
Once the two children were both asleep, Zhao Zhao took out the vial face-altering pills gifted by Shi Lanyan.
Upon consuming it, the bones of the face would soften like kneaded dough for the span of one incense stick, to be molded into any desired countenance; even the voice would shift under its effect.
The only trouble was that the night was too dark. Though she meant to disguise herself, vanity was common to all; Zhao Zhao would hardly wish to pinch herself a strange and unsightly face.
“…So the one you were dual cultivating with was actually Dao Lord Tianshu of Kunwu…”
That eerie voice drifted through the night, startling Zhao Zhao so badly she nearly leapt up.
“Li—Li Feng! What are you doing here?”
The dog yao leaned lazily against the doorframe, arms crossed, his dark robe melting into the night like a wraith. Paired with that particular and mocking smile of his, he looked even less like a decent man.
“Cut two more years off the contract, and I’ll treat it as hush money.”
Though her secret had been exposed and she’d felt a twinge of unease, hearing him threaten her with the contract made Zhao Zhao calm instead of panicked.
“…Go ahead and tell then. At worst, we’ll both die together.”
Li Feng frowned in doubt. “He wants to kill you? He’s a dignified Dao Lord of the cultivation world—why would he bother killing you?”
His eyes darted about, then a look of sudden realization spread across his face.
“I see now… So you’re the mere mortal woman who married a Dao Lord in the human realm. No wonder your Foundation Establishment was so smooth! With the Primordial Yang from a Dao Lord in you—hah, that’s even more effective than the finest of furnaces—ow ow ow!”
Zhao Zhao groped within her mind, pinching at the yao contract in her sea of consciousness, and sure enough, Li Feng howled in pain and hopped about clutching at himself.
From the main hall came a clamor of movement. Zhao Zhao cast her gaze over.
The lamplight inside was heavy, shadows of figures cast against the paper doors in messy overlap—clearly more than just two people.
“More people came to the sect?”
Li Feng let out a breath and nodded. “Just now. That veiled Wu-Shaman from Mount Ling arrived with two Kunwu disciples. The moment she entered, she went straight to tend Dao Lord Tianshu—oh, the concern she showed for him…”
Suddenly, Li Feng finally came to his senses and hurriedly patted his own chest.
…It hurt a little.
But since he had brought it upon himself, he bore it in silence.
…
Inside the hall.
Candle flames flickered, casting the faint outline of a face across from Daoist Ming Jue—the visage of a beauty blurred as though flowers glimpsed through mist.
“…Truly lamentable. Jue Ming'zi, once an outer elder of the Divine Farmer Sect, was but a step away from ascension. And yet, here you sit, reduced to the hollow title of sect master in some forsaken ruin. The cultivation world has lost a being of true greatness.”
Daoist Ming Jue, whose identity had just been revealed by Mount Ling’s Wu-Shaman, showed no hint of surprise.
In those aged eyes, a spark of candlelight flickered, as though recalling memories long buried.
“Ascension? Heheheh…”
The old man chuckled softly, as if he had heard the most absurd joke.
“Mount Ling, oh Mount Ling—were these brittle bones truly just a single step away from ascension back then?”
A glimmer stirred in the veiled Wu-Shaman’s gaze.
Daoist Ming Jue lifted his teacup and took a sip.
“I am already an old man with one foot in the coffin—what talk is there of former glory? Having failed to ascend, with my years nearly spent, I merely seek a quiet place to rest my bones. I hope Mount Ling can take a step back as well, and refrain from disturbing me.”
The candle crackled; the flame sputtered, then died in a brief flare of light.
The veiled Wu-Shaman gave a soft laugh. “Since the venerable senior holds such a view, it is naturally for the best. However, before we each take a step back, this junior has but one request.”
From her sleeve, she drew forth a slip of paper inscribed with the numbers of a Four Pillars of Destiny*. Two fingers, pale and flawless as carved jade, pressed lightly upon the page as she nudged it forward.
(TLN: 生辰八字, also known as "bāzì", is a Chinese astrological concept that a person's destiny or fate can be divined by the two sexagenary cycle characters assigned to their birth year, month, heavenly stem (day), and earthly branch (hour). Basically, we’re using one's birth data to read a person's destiny.)
“I ask that the venerable senior aid Mount Ling and Kunwu in seeking two whose fates align with this Four Pillars of Destiny.”
No matter how far Cloudculm Abode had declined, it yet remained the sole sect within Small Sword Pass.
The towns clustered around cultivation sects were, more often than not, filled with those whose spiritual roots slightly surpassed the mundane, yet whose talents fell far short of true cultivation. For matters such as weddings or funerals—occasions where auspicious fortune was sought—they, like ordinary folk, would come to the immortal sects and ask the higher cultivators to divine their Four Pillars of Destiny and choose propitious days.
Among all cultivators of Small Sword Pass, it was only the sect master of Cloudculm Abode who kept record of such numbers.
Daoist Ming Jue cast a glance at the paper.
The Four Pillars of Destiny was in truth incomplete, listing only the month, day, and hour of birth, but lacking the year.
Yet the instant he beheld it, his heart skipped a beat.
The eyes of the veiled Wu-Shaman gleamed with perception, the smile upon her lips deepening.
“It has been some time since I arrived, and yet I have not had the honor of meeting the venerable senior’s disciple. A disciple personally nurtured by Elder Jue Ming'zi of Divine Farmer Sect must surely possess uncommon gifts…”
“Master!”
Accompanied by a crisp and ringing cry, Zhao Zhao burst through the door, abruptly cutting off the exchange between the veiled Wu-Shaman and Daoist Ming Jue.
Confronted with Zhao Zhao’s freshly molded face, Daoist Ming Jue was momentarily taken aback. His gaze then dropped, only to rest upon the large rooster she was clutching in her arms. The bewilderment etched upon his features was no less than that of the Wu-Shaman beside him.
The rooster was no small creature; gripped by the wings, it struggled with all its might, its incessant clucking echoing through the chamber.
Zhao Zhao’s eyes fell upon the veiled beauty before her, lips painted a vivid crimson. She broke into a radiant smile.
“So this is the esteemed Wu-Shaman of Mount Ling, is it not? Such an honored guest gracing us—our humble abode truly shines in your presence! I must insist that Wu-Shaman and Dao Lord remain for a meal. I shall slaughter this bird at once and prepare a fine feast for our immortal guests!”
“Cluck! Cluck! Cluck!”
The volley of squawking left the Wu-Shaman utterly stupefied on the spot.
She, raised from infancy as a Wu-Shaman of Mount Ling—the most enigmatic and distinguished lineage within the cultivation world—had always lived as though among immortals. Never had she once beheld a scene so absurd as a foul, stinking rooster set before her.
Originally seated in dignified composure, she now hastily rose and stepped back several paces.
"State your identity!"
Zhao Zhao blinked innocently. “I am the disciple of Daoist Ming Jue. Miss Immortal may call me… Hong Hong*.”
(TLN: lololol 红红 means ‘Red Red’ or ‘Reddy’)
…What an unbearably unsophisticated name!
“Is this truly senior’s disciple?” the veiled Wu-Shaman asked, half in doubt. “No matter how I look, she resembles a rustic village woman. Could it be that the venerable senior seeks to conceal something, and deliberately staged this play for me to see?”
Daoist Ming Jue swiftly took up the thread of Zhao Zhao’s act, stroking his beard with a solemn mien. “How could my disciple be false? Though she cannot be compared to the disciples of Kunwu, this one of mine can, on high, subdue yaos, and on the lowly side, till the fields and feed the fowl. My sect cannot do without her—how then could she be false?”
The veiled Wu-Shaman remained unconvinced, and was about to press further when Zhao Zhao slackened her grip—
“Cluck-cluck! Cluck-cluck!”
The great rooster flapped its wings and soared up, reeking of filth, hurtling straight at the veiled Wu-Shaman.
Mount Ling lineage was famed for its mastery of divination and augury, but never for prowess in combat. Today she had visited with two Kunwu disciples, who at this moment were both at Dao Lord Tianshu’s side. For a breath, none stepped forth to shield her, and the rooster struck her squarely!
Four Pillars of Destiny, auguries, all lofty Mount Ling prognostications—scattered clean away beneath the onslaught of a single chicken.
Only after some time did the veiled Wu-Shaman regain her wits, fury surging as she summoned her spiritual power, intent on crushing the bird outright—
“To take life is impermissible.”
The sword light was sharp as cold steel, cleaving the air with a ringing clang that severed the veiled Wu-Shaman’s incantation.
“Dao Lord!” Wu-Shaman cried, face twisted with unwillingness.
Could he not see this was Cloudculm Abode’s deliberate show of force against her?
The blade, angled deep into the earth, was withdrawn into the young man’s hand.
Zhao Zhao lifted her gaze. Out from the inner chamber strode a young man. He had just applied medicine to his eyes; a long, thick strip of plain white cloth bound his eyes, veiling those overly cold and austere pupils.
At his side, two disciples fixed their gazes on Zhao Zhao by the doorway, scrutinizing her features with care.
Senior disciple Zong Fei leaned to Dao Lord Tianshu’s ear and whispered a few words.
“Is that so…” Dao Lord Tianshu murmured indistinctly, his tone unreadable.
Zhao Zhao was convinced he had caught wind of a sign, only his certainty was lacking.
Sure enough, he lifted his foot and slowly approached.
Though his eyes were shrouded, it seemed not to hinder him in the least, each step landed with unerring precision, until he stood directly before Zhao Zhao.
“Miss Immortal, is your name Hong Hong?”
Zhao Zhao swallowed hard, lowering her head in acknowledgment.
On her sleeve lingered a smudge from when she had held the rooster—truth be told, her whole body still reeked faintly of chicken. The stench was surely unpleasant.
Glancing at the man’s pristine white hem, Zhao Zhao was struck with a sudden, inexplicable embarrassment.
“When did Miss Immortal join Cloudculm Abode?”
“…Ten days ago.”
On this point Zhao Zhao dared not deceive, for the lie would be all too transparent. Small Sword Pass was not large; when she came to Cloudculm Abode could be learned with but a word of inquiry.
“And for what reason did Miss Immortal join Cloudculm Abode?”
Zhao Zhao lifted her gaze, stealing a glance at him.
The young man, with half his face covered and his unfamiliar eyes concealed, looked far more like the Xie Lanshu she remembered.
She recalled that day when she had brought the battered Xie Lanshu back to the Xie household. He, too, had been covered in wounds when he asked:
—Miss, for what reason did you save me?
Back then, Zhao Zhao’s cheeks had been flushed crimson as she propped her chin with a smile and replied:
—Because you are handsome. I have never seen anyone so fair of countenance as you.
Zhao Zhao lowered her gaze, subduing the turmoil in her eyes.
“…Because my husband has passed away. Thus I sought refuge in the immortal sect, wishing to find a place to stay.”
Even though Zong Fei had already told him this woman bore no resemblance whatsoever to Xie Tanzhao…
After medicating his ears, the external source of noise had faded, and he could clearly discern that this was not Xie Tanzhao’s voice.
But—
“If your husband has passed, Miss Immortal, why not remarry? Why instead seek refuge in an immortal sect?”
The young man’s voice was gentle, yet each word pressed forward with quiet insistence.
The veiled Wu-Shaman, standing nearby, felt a sudden jolt of astonishment within.
Though Dao Lord Tianshu bore a gentle air, he was by nature far from loquacious.
Why, then, did he show such keen interest in the origins of this coarse woman?
After a moment’s silence, Zhao Zhao lifted her head. As though she had heard something amusing, a soft laugh slipped from her lips.
“Why should I remarry?”
“The witless act of taking a husband, I will not commit a second time.”
