My Husband’s Ascension C19
Chapter 19 Dead
His five senses gradually returned as the miasma dissipated, yet heaven and earth seemed to fall into stillness at this very moment.
In that deathly silence, it was as though a cicada lay hidden by his ear, and all of a sudden it let out a cry so piercing it seemed intent on rending his skull apart.
…Shi Lanyan.
The one he had brought back was Shi Lanyan.
He repeated those words in his heart twice over before he seemed to truly grasp their meaning.
Behind him, Shi Lanyan, who had just vomited a mouthful of foul blood, finally regained her breath.
The first words she spoke were:
“Where is Xie Tanzhao?”
No one answered.
The disciples of Immortal Realm of Kunwu, who had gradually rushed to the scene, were busy sealing away the remaining Pure Gold Fire within the Water-Spirit Glazed Pagoda. Catching sight of the ever-proud Shi Lanyan showing a look of dread and panic, they all exchanged glances, their hearts filled with bewilderment.
Shi Lanyan looked toward the bottomless depths of the Soul-Shattering Abyss, then turned her gaze upon the Soul Summoning Forest, now razed to the ground.
All had transpired within but a few breaths. Shi Lanyan sat dazed where she was, forcing her tangled memories into order, until at last she seized upon several flashing fragments.
It was she.
She had been afflicted by gu and, clutching Xie Tanzhao, had leapt from the cliff’s edge.
As they plunged into the abyss, she had caught sight of Dao Lord Tianshu’s silhouette, yet could utter no sound. It was Xie Tanzhao who, forcing her eyes open, used the power of her wood element to mend her voice, thus allowing her at last to cry out for salvation.
But now—
Where was Xie Tanzhao?
Where had she gone?
“The Donghua Pearl—!”
That figure, still as if carved from stone or molded from clay, at last stirred.
“This pearl, why is it in your possession?”
Shi Lanyan’s bewildered gaze drifted downward, falling upon the luminous sphere in his hand, white as flawless jade.
She could not fathom why Dao Lord Tianshu would ask such a question at this moment, and murmured in reply, “This… this was given to me by Xie Tanzhao…”
“Do you truly not know what this is?”
The snow-white-clad Dao Lord, until then turned away, suddenly faced her. Only then did Shi Lanyan behold him clearly—his countenance pale as death, and from those eyes, as chill and translucent as crystal, fresh blood welled forth, trailing like twin tears of scarlet.
“I know… and she knew as well. I told her, this is the ancestral heirloom of Zhongli, passed down by the matron of the clan. Yet she said—”
Seeing how his visage grew ever paler, Shi Lanyan’s voice unconsciously softened. “She said, ‘Even if the ties of the heart can’t be severed for a while, these worldly possessions can still be relinquished.”
The air itself seemed to still in that instant.
Shi Lanyan suddenly stepped forward, seizing the hem of Dao Lord Tianshu’s robes. “Where is Xie Tanzhao? Why have I not seen her? Was she too gravely wounded, and so you sent her away for healing? She—”
“She’s dead.”
That visage of snow and ice bore an almost inhuman, chill indifference.
“You were beguiled by gu, she was half-conscious. I arrived a step too late. My strength was hindered by the miasma of the abyss; it was not enough to reach you both. I could only save the one closest at hand.”
Dao Lord Tianshu pronounced her death with a voice calm to the point of mercilessness. “She has already fallen into the chasm for the span of a stick of incense. Her life is already beyond anyone’s grasp.”
The color drained from Shi Lanyan’s face. Her lips parted, yet no sound emerged.
Dao Lord Tianshu rose abruptly to his feet. “Mu Ling, pass down my command: the Blessed Land of Langhuan shall be sealed ahead of time. All are to withdraw at once. Half a day hence, I will seal the blessed land entirely. Notify the Divine Farmer Sect to dispatch men to Small Sword Pass, that the wounded cultivators may be tended to.”
“That’s it?” Shi Lanyan stared at him in disbelief, watching as he issued one cool, rational command after another, as though the one who had perished were but a soul of no consequence.
She staggered to her feet. When her hand closed upon her own wrist, she could still feel it—the faint warmth of that girl’s fingertips that had so gently pressed there when healing her wounds.
“She fell into the Soul-Shattering Abyss. It was to save others that she bore such grievous wounds! These people were spared because of her, and yet… you would leave her alone in that darkness, and simply walk away?”
Shi Lanyan cast a glance at the yawning black chasm behind them, her voice near to pleading. “Tianshu… could you please save her? If even you cannot, then who in this world could?”
“Do you require me to explain to you what the Soul-Shattering Abyss is, what the Blessed Land of Langhuan means?” He turned then. His countenance, pure and still as a bodhisattva carved in snow, bore neither grief nor joy—only the remoteness of the drifting clouds nine heavens above.
“Merely the first veil of miasma is enough to sever a cultivator’s flow of spiritual power. Tell me, given her meager cultivation, what chance has she to survive?”
Shi Lanyan was shaken by his words, her gaze upon him as though beholding a stranger for the first time. “That still does not mean—”
“The workings of this world are not such that will alone can overturn them.” The snow-robed Dao Lord’s voice was like jade shattering, like ice splitting, bereft of warmth. Each word fell with a chilling clarity, devoid of all emotion, like a pool of stagnant water where no ripple could ever arise.
Suddenly, Shi Lanyan recalled a conversation she once had with Xie Tanzhao upon the road.
She had seen him, sword in hand, sweeping aside the so-called prodigies of the cultivation world.
She had seen him lead cultivators in battle against the evil yao tribes, forcing them back two thousand kilometers.
She had also witnessed him, at but three hundred years of age, break through the twelfth stage of the Grand Primordium Dao and ascend as master of Immortal Realm of Kunwu, with a hundred sects submitting and calling him Dao Lord.
Yet never had she imagined there would come a day when she would see him stand by, watching with clear eyes as the woman who had once been his wife perished before him.
And he would merely say—
The matters of this world are not as one wills them to be.
So calmly. So detached. As though it cost him nothing to relinquish that foolish girl, the one who used to smile and say she liked him best in his fallen, unguarded moments.
From behind came the sound of muffled weeping.
The snow-robed Dao Lord’s steps faltered for an instant. Then, without the slightest hesitation, he moved forward.
His gaze lifted toward Zong Fei, who was even now descending by sword. Those eyes, cold and still as a winter lake, shifted ever so slightly.
Zong Fei alighted, only to behold Shi Lanyan in disarray, collapsed upon the ground, and beside her Mu Ling, her expression troubled and uncertain.
Perplexed and wholly at a loss, Zong Fei began, “Master, what happe—”
“Did you handle the matter I asked of you?” the Dao Lord’s voice cut in, severing his words.
Zong Fei withdrew his gaze, intending to report the casualties and the deployment of the Polaris Confucian Sect disciples, when he suddenly noticed something amiss about his master.
His expression remained as ever—eyebrows like carved jade, eyes lowered in contemplative calm, a divine compassion that seemed ever slightly detached from the mortal world.
Yet—
Upon that serene, godlike visage, a vivid sheen of blood was splashed, as if some sacred statue had been struck, lending his holy composure an eerie, foreboding aura.
He looked at Zong Fei and, in a voice gentle yet precise, asked, “I do not inquire about such matters. Answer me, where are the disciples of Mount Ling at this moment?”
…
In the Hall of Virtuous Deeds(善法堂), Immortal Realm of Kunwu.
Riding a winged bird across countless kilometers, the veiled Wu-Shaman, accompanied by the rest of the Mount Ling wu-shamans, had left the Blessed Land of Langhuan before dawn of the second day and arrived at Kunwu.
Within the Hall of Virtuous Deeds, the six elders of Kunwu had gathered, listening as the veiled Wu-Shaman recounted the events that had unfolded in the Blessed Land of Langhuan.
“…According to Miss Wu-Shaman, the reason your Mount Ling shamans set fire to the Soul-Summoning Forest is that, among the two fated to slay Dao Lord Tianshu, one is that disciple of Cloudculm Abode?”
The six elders sat in solemn arrangement along either side of the hall, the seat of honor at the front left vacant.
After Lord Tianxuan had finished summarizing her account, a heavy silence settled over the hall.
After a while, Lord Yaoguang’s casual voice cut through, “Isn’t this explanation rather far-fetched? If you could truly divine with precision who would slay Tianshu, why unseal the Blessed Land of Langhuan and make such a commotion?”
He shook the folded fan in his hand with an air of nonchalance, yet his words were sharp, “Suddenly presenting some nameless disciple as the fated one—how do we know you didn’t simply kill for your own desire, using Kunwu as a scapegoat?”
The veiled Wu-Shaman inwardly cursed Lord Yaoguang but maintained a radiant smile outwardly. “Nameless disciple? That immortal maiden’s background is far from ordinary.”
Lord Yaoguang narrowed his eyes.
“During the years Dao Lord Tianshu was missing, he spent time in the Mortal Realm and had… a certain marital entanglement, correct?”
At the mention of this, the elders who had been half-skeptical suddenly straightened in their seats.
Lord Yaoguang’s smile faded slightly, and his heart sank.
The veiled Wu-Shaman continued, still smiling, “It so happened that my men, listening in the shadows, heard the daughter of the Polaris Confucian Sect’s sect master address her as Xie Tanzhao.”
She had first caught wind of that name through the elders’ remarks after she took up residence in Kunwu. At the time, it had been mere curiosity. She never imagined that one day this name could prove so useful.
Who was Xie Tanzhao?
She was Dao Lord Tianshu’s wife.
She was precisely the one the elders of Kunwu most feared.
If she could assign Xie Tanzhao the identity of someone destined to kill Dao Lord Tianshu, even if the elders said nothing aloud, they would side with her.
Even if Dao Lord Tianshu returned to Kunwu and presented evidence to confront her, these overly suspicious elders would still doubt whether his defense of her came from lingering affection.
As for the truth itself—what importance did it hold?
More crucial than the truth was one’s personal interests.
The mutual benefit between Mount Ling and Kunwu was her only lifeline now.
The veiled Wu-Shaman repeatedly reminded herself of this, soothing the unease gnawing at her mind.
…Yet a lingering sense of foreboding refused to dissipate.
The elders whispered among themselves, but Lord Yaoguang did not join in. Only when footsteps echoed from outside did he lift his head and call out,
“Tianshu—!”
All eyes turned toward the door.
The veil of night had yet to part, leaving Kunwu steeped in shadowed haze.
Beyond the clouds, purple lightning flickered, muted thunder rolled, and the air hung heavy with damp heat, as if a storm were imminent.
From the end of the steps of the Hall of Virtuous Deeds, a figure in snow-white robes appeared, moving slowly.
In his left hand, the Single Intent Sword gleamed, already drawn.
Lord Tianxuan rose at once, stepping in front of the veiled Wu-Shaman:
“Dao Lord! The ties between Mount Ling and Kunwu run deep. Even if Miss Wu-Shaman has acted rashly, Dao Lord must not let a moment’s anger override Kunwu’s interests!”
Lord Tianji also spoke to reason, “The Kunwu disciples are unharmed, Polaris Confucian Sect’s Shi Lanyan is safe, and those scattered cultivators have only minor injuries. A simple cure will suffice; there is no need to draw your sword!”
“Why approach with sword in hand, Dao Lord? Is it because of Mount Ling Wu-Shaman’s reckless use of the Pure Gold Fire, or for her role in Xie Tanzhao’s death? Does Dao Lord still harbor lingering thoughts for that mortal woman?”
Dao Lord Tianshu stood there, listening as the elders jabbered over one another, and it was clear that this Wu-Shaman had already secured them in her camp before he had even arrived.
He had no desire to argue, and a faint curve touched the corner of his lips.
“Since all of you have spoken so, the sword is sheathed.”
The Single Intent Sword, radiating an aura of biting cold, slid back into its scabbard.
The tension in the hall eased.
The veiled Wu-Shaman exhaled a long, relieved breath. A single glance at him just moments ago had made her truly fear she would not survive the night…
Lord Yaoguang, however, observed the Dao Lord he had grown up alongside. Sniffing the air, he remarked, “What is that scent?”
Boom—!!!
The pitch-black night was split by a streak of lightning. Everyone flinched, unsure whether it was the thunderclap or the increasingly pungent stench of blood in the air that made their spines shiver.
Their gaze fell again upon the snow-clad figure.
Only as he slowly advanced did they realize—the metallic scent of blood did not come from elsewhere. It emanated from him, from his robes dyed deep red.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
One after another, he seemed to produce several objects from a tiny spatial storage pouch and tossed them casually at the veiled Wu-Shaman’s feet.
She fixed her eyes on the objects, and her entire body trembled. Only by pressing her hands to her mouth did she suppress the scream threatening to escape.
They were…!
They were…!
They were—the severed heads of the fifteen Mount Ling shamans who had accompanied her to the Immortal Realm of Langhuan!!
“The ties between Mount Ling and Kunwu run deep.”
Thunder cracked outside the hall, and sheets of rain pelted down, the storm roaring as though Heaven itself had unleashed divine retribution.
Yet the Dao Lord, having tossed the fifteen heads aside, spoke with a voice so pure, clear, and gentle, like the mild warmth of early spring.
His pallid face still streaked with fresh blood and with a faint smile tugging at his lips, he said, “Take this gift from Kunwu to Mount Ling, and when you return, convey my regards to your Wu-Shaman Xian.”
“Tell her that one day, I shall personally visit Mount Ling and pay my respects.”
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Author’s Note: This is just a small appetizer from the crematorium~ the truly brutal part comes later.
From the next chapter onward, the story gradually returns to the growth arc!
