My Husband’s Ascension C22 (Part 2)
Chapter 22.2 Uncontrollable
Night draped the world in ink. Clouds shrouded the moon as Lord Yaoguang carried a glass lantern through the pitch-black bamboo grove.
The light barely reached his feet, yet his strides did not falter; it was clear he had walked this path countless times before.
A gust of wind whispered through the bamboo, making the lantern flame flicker.
Then Lord Yaoguang’s steps came to an abrupt halt.
He looked down and without warning, his lantern had snapped from its cord, and it shattered against a mossy stone with a soft, brittle crack.
“That was a close one; it was nearly my leg that got sliced off,” Lord Yaoguang remarked flatly. “Tianshu, are you genuinely this enraged simply because Shi Lanyan declined the betrothal?”
Of course, he knew Dao Lord Tianshu wouldn’t lose his temper over such a trivial matter. He was merely being pesky.
But as he deftly weaved past the sword qi scattered through the grove and approached the distant figure—
A gust of evening wind blew the clouds apart.
The moonlight poured down, illuminating the figure seated upright upon the stone dais.
Lord Yaoguang’s smile faded, his gaze freezing in mild astonishment. “You’re…”
Pale golden sword shadows whirled like a rain of falling bamboo leaves, circling the white-clad Dao Lord at a perilously chaotic speed. Several unstable fragments of sword shadow splintered off, piercing through his robe and tracing fine lines of blood across his body.
Lord Yaoguang had never witnessed such a form of the Single Intent Sword.
Single Intent Sword.
Single Intent Sword.
As its name implied, it demanded the unity of thought and blade—perfection in its purest form.
Each time this sword appeared before the world, the wielder needed only a single motion; like a blade severing water, a white rainbow flashing through the void.
No feints, no flourishes, just one strike to decide heaven and earth.
That was the pinnacle of sword intent—
the sword heart forged over a thousand years by the foremost swordsman beneath heaven.
And yet, what was he witnessing now?
Lord Yaoguang’s focus wavered for but an instant—a sharp clang resounded, and a streak of sword intent sheared off several strands of his hair.
Before he could recover, several more arcs of white radiance tore through the night, slashing toward him.
“Tianshu! What’s going on! What are you doing?!”
There was no killing intent in those strikes, which meant they were not born of Dao Lord Tianshu’s will.
But that only made it more terrifying.
Because it meant his sword heart had wavered; his sword intent had slipped out of control. For a sword cultivator, losing command over one’s own sword was disastrous; it could even turn upon its master. No matter how lofty one’s cultivation, such instability was not a mark of strength but a grave danger.
If word of this spread, what would the cultivation world think of a Dao Lord who could no longer command his sword?
Would he still be worthy of the title ‘Dao Lord’?
Just as Lord Yaoguang drew his own blade and met the chaos head-on, the raging storm of the Single Intent Sword finally began to subside.
The furious winds it had stirred quieted, and the golden sword shadows dancing through the dark gradually stilled, as though a cataclysmic tide had receded, leaving behind a landscape torn and scarred beyond recognition.
“Tianshu—!”
The figure atop the stone dais swayed and then collapsed heavily, like a jade mountain crumbling.
Lord Yaoguang strode across the ground strewn with broken bamboo and fallen leaves, hastening forward to catch him.
“Are you all right? What on earth happened?”
Lord Yaoguang was quick-witted; it didn’t take long for him to piece the signs together.
“This started after Xie Tanzhao’s death, didn’t it?”
Dao Lord Tianshu said nothing. He merely pushed him away.
That face, usually as gentle as spring rain, calm and refined, had now turned pale and distant, stripped of warmth, as cold and emotionless as polished jade.
The master of the Single Intent Sword, wounded by his own blade, what greater irony could there be in all the heavens?
“It’s merely the remnants of Xie Lanshu’s memories lingering in this body,” he said coldly. “I’ll deal with it soon enough.”
“Deal with it?” Lord Yaoguang gave a sharp, humorless laugh at his self-assured tone. “Don’t make it sound as though you and Xie Lanshu are two separate beings. He is you, and you are him; two sides of the same coin. How exactly do you intend to ‘deal with’ him?”
Dao Lord Tianshu placed his palm over his own chest.
That heart, once tranquil as still water, now pulsed with something thick and suffocating. The more he tried to bury it beneath endless affairs, the more it swelled, until the tide of emotion devoured, scorched, and overran everything in its path, spreading like wildfire across a dry plain.
…Stubbornly, it lingered.
The pain of a heart being clenched tight; no matter what he did, it would not disappear.
“Hasn’t it already been dealt with?” His tone was indifferent as he rose to his feet, intending to brush the matter aside as if it were nothing. “What matter has brought you here?”
This bamboo grove lay just outside Kunwu’s Sword Repository (藏剑楼). The terrain was high, and disciples stationed at the front kept idlers at bay, making the grove a place of rare quiet.
In fact, this was a secret refuge Lord Yaoguang had found in his younger days, meant for slipping away to loaf in peace.
He had used it as a refuge for skipping lessons, while Dao Lord Tianshu had turned it into a secluded chamber for cultivation.
Even as a child, Lord Yaoguang had known that Dao Lord Tianshu would become the most exceptional cultivator of their generation.
Because Tianshu could endure what others could not, extinguish desires that others found impossible to quell, if even such a man failed to ascend, then there would be no one under heaven who could.
Lord Yaoguang’s playful mien fell away, and for once, he spoke with true solemnity. “You mustn’t enter close-door cultivation tomorrow.”
If it were the Tianshu of old, Lord Yaoguang would have trusted that he could suppress the instability in his sword intent through sheer will alone.
But now…
“My decision is made. There’s no need to discuss it further.”
“There are countless places for close-door cultivation,” Lord Yaoguang retorted coldly. “And yet you choose to go to the Blessed Land of Langhuan? That’s your decision?”
The grove fell into utter stillness. Moonlight spilled over the gashes cleaved by sword intent.
Dao Lord Tianshu’s lashes lowered, his expression unreadable, his silence heavier than words.
Seeing that calm, detached façade, Lord Yaoguang’s temper flared. “Drop the act, Tianshu. You claim to cultivate the path of immortality, but your Dao is still incomplete—you’re still a mortal in flesh and blood. If Xie Tanzhao’s death pains you, just say it! We’ve known each other for a thousand years, do you really think I’d laugh at you for that?”
Those eyes, cold and translucent as glazed glass, fell upon the withered plum tree outside the Sword Repository.
It was no longer the season for plum blossoms.
And that tree would never bear fruit.
He recalled that back in Yunmeng Pier, Xie Tanzhao had always been adored by children. Sometimes, when the two of them went hand in hand to inspect the autumn harvest, they would barely reach the edge of the fields before being surrounded by a gaggle of laughing children.
—Zhao Zhao jiejie, lift me up high!
To all their childish pleas, the young woman never refused. She even carried candied treats to share with them, which made her all the more beloved.
But Xie Lanshu had never cared for those charming, innocent children.
—Lanshu, do you not like children?
She had asked him that once, between the sheets.
He hadn’t answered—only coiled around her like a silent water serpent, holding her fast.
He did not like children.
He did not like anything that could divide her attention from his.
—But I love children very much.
The young woman’s cheeks glowed like crimson plum blossoms, her eyes shimmering with gentle light.
—Xie Lanshu, when the plum tree next bears fruit, let us have a child of our own.
The memory receded like the tide, leaving his gaze as still as a deep pool.
“I just… feel afraid.”
Lord Yaoguang was taken aback. Afraid? It was just a grief lingering in memory—what could be so frightening?
“Shi Lanyan said that Xie Tanzhao was pregnant. These past few nights, in the dead of night, I cannot help but recall this.”
Lord Yaoguang had not expected such an answer. He paused, sensing something off.
It would be natural to feel regret or sorrow over Xie Tanzhao dying while pregnant, but why would he say… afraid?
He asked the question aloud.
“Because I… had a thought—”
The Dao Lord lowered his gaze, wiping the bloodstains from his sword. He paused deliberately, correcting himself, “It was Xie Lanshu… he had a thought.”
His voice was barely more than a whisper, like a sigh carried on the wind. “If only that child had been born… how wonderful it would have been.”
Lord Yaoguang frowned.
What did he mean ‘how wonderful if the child had been born’? Cultivators never valued the continuation of bloodlines. After living as a mortal for a few years, could Tianshu really harbor such a worldly thought?
“It’s not for that reason.” Seemingly sensing Lord Yaoguang’s thought, Dao Lord Tianshu’s lips curved into a faint, hazy smile.
“It’s just…he recalled an ancient forbidden art once read of, a spell known as the ‘Maternal Resurrection Rite (子母召归咒)’.”
“If he and Xie Tanzhao bore a child, he could use that life to call her back from the dead.”
The moonlight poured softly, the entire Immortal Realm of Kunwu bathed in the quiet of night.
Except for Lord Yaoguang, no one else bore witness to the Dao Lord, famed for his impartiality and composure, speaking such unthinkable, inhumane words with such serene calm.
Lord Yaoguang had once believed if Dao Lord Tianshu could carry even a trace of Xie Lanshu’s mortal essence, the weight on his shoulders might feel just a little lighter.
In this moment, he realized—perhaps the other elders of Kunwu’s insistence that he not indulge in attachments was, after all, a form of foresight.
…
“—Master! Master! It’s almost dawn! When are we leaving?!”
Before daybreak had fully arrived, while the entire Small Sword Pass still slumbered under the night, the two children of Cloudculm Abode, seemingly energized by boundless enthusiasm, had already packed up and were ready to go, urging everyone along.
Today was the day Cloudculm Abode would relocate.
Old as he was, Daoist Ming Jue naturally held some nostalgia for the place. The children, however, had no attachment to the sect or its objects; to them, moving the entire sect was like going on a spring outing. From the moment the date was set, they had been counting the days on their fingers.
“There’s no rush, no rush… let Master sleep a little longer…” Zhao Zhao turned over sleepily.
The previous night had brought a nightmare of being entwined by snakes, leaving her restless. She had only managed a short sleep as the first light of dawn crept in.
However, Yao Ling and Rong Yu had been looking forward to this day for so long that their hearts were already soaring; they weren’t about to let her off so easily.
The two of them exchanged a glance.
Zhao Zhao only heard their footsteps leaving the room and assumed they had given up. Yet, not long after, she heard the sounds of their return.
“Master! Master! The sun’s already high in the sky,” Rong Yu said with mock exasperation, “So Master’s prone to lazing in bed as well, how shameful.”
“No worries! Today we’ll take care of getting Master up ourselves!”
They divided the tasks clearly: Rong Yu brought a basin of warm water, while Yao Ling soaked a towel in it, wrung it out, and climbed onto Zhao Zhao’s bed.
Half asleep, Zhao Zhao felt someone washing her face. She cracked one eye open and asked, “…Why are you two being so good today?”
Rong Yu leaned over the bed. “If we’re good, Master, can you get up now?”
Zhao Zhao thought for a moment and answered honestly, “With this warm towel on my face… I feel even less like getting up.”
Yao Ling and Rong Yu were shocked and immediately dropped the towel, each grabbing one of Zhao Zhao’s hands to drag her upright.
After shamelessly enjoying the feeling of being helped with washing and dressing by her two young disciples, Zhao Zhao finally roused some energy and got up to finish packing the belongings left from the previous night.
From today onward, they were to set out for the Jimo Sea (即墨海).
The temporary relocation to Jimo Sea was Li Feng’s suggestion.
It was said that the place was unlike other regions in the Cultivation Realm: there were no sects maintaining strict control, and the area was dominated by established families, with cultivators living among the clans connected to their bloodlines.
As a result, cultivators in the Jimo Sea were less familiar with mainstream sects, making it easier for them to hide their identities.
Another advantage was that the Jimo Sea lay near the border of the Cultivation Realm, close to the Yao Realm Li Feng belonged to, meaning that if anything happened to the Cloudculm Abode or its members, they could seek aid from the Yao Realm rather than being completely isolated.
The only drawback was—
It was still quite close to Mount Ling and not far from Immortal Realm of Kunwu.
Zhao Zhao took this matter in stride.
Small Sword Pass was tens of thousands of miles away from Immortal Realm of Kunwu, yet even a simple planchette reading from Mount Ling could reach them, proving that distance was hardly an obstacle for these cultivators.
With that in mind, Jimo Sea was a perfectly suitable temporary residence, allowing them freedom to come and go.
If push came to shove, they could even kidnap Rong Yu and hide in the Demon Realm, after all, Dao Lord Tianshu only held authority in the cultivation world, and the Demon Realm likely wouldn’t heed his command.
Rong Yu, folding blankets for Zhao Zhao, paused mid-motion, blinking as if sensing something.
Why did his back suddenly feel so cold?
“Too slow! Why not just toss everything into your spatial storage pouch? Packing this long, I’m starving enough to eat a child!”
Standing at the mountain gate, the dog yao held a stalk of foxtail grass between his teeth, eyebrows furrowed, clearly impatient.
Rong Yu shivered at the threat, retreating behind Yao Ling, who lifted her little head with fierce determination, “Not my fault your cooking’s worse than the old man’s!”
“Is my cooking worse than your master’s? Even dogs would shake their heads at her culinary skills!”
Zhao Zhao and Daoist Ming Jue fell back a few steps, sealing and locking the Cloudculm Abode gate behind them before catching up.
“That remark crosses the line.” Zhao Zhao’s gaze turned sharp as she met her yao familiar's eyes. “So what if I can’t cook? No one’s born knowing how to!”
“You’ve been married before, don’t you have at least one dish you're good at?”
Li Feng blurted it out, only to see Daoist Ming Jue motion at him, silently warning him not to stir up unnecessary trouble.
Before he could backpedal, Zhao Zhao brushed past him and remarked,
“When I got married, it was always my husband cooking for me. He married in, so why do I need to cook for him?”
She then took the two little disciples by the hand.
“What do you two want for breakfast?”
“Meat buns!”
“Sugary flatbread!”
The three walked ahead lightly. Li Feng, somewhat surprised, turned to Daoist Ming Jue and commented, “That severed thread of affection was cut cleanly indeed—no nonsense, no partiality.”
Daoist Ming Jue only smiled in silence.
…
By the time the Cloudculm Abode party reached the city of Small Sword Pass, the sky had cleared, and cultivators bustled through the streets.
Ever since Kunwu opened the Blessed Land of Langhuan, more and more cultivators came to Small Sword Pass. Even if they couldn’t enter the Blessed Land of Langhuan, they wanted to try their luck.
Li Feng pressed on with the topic of the severed affection thread. “...Did you sever the affections only of Dao Lord Tianshu, or with everyone else too? If it’s the latter, that would be a real shame.”
“The customs in Jimo Sea are different from the rest of the Cultivation Realm. They don’t follow monogamy; if a capable female cultivator doesn’t have at least seven male paramours attending her, she’d be too embarrassed to socialize…”
Zhao Zhao had no interest in his nonsensical rambling. Spotting a snack stall ahead, she quickened her pace and said, “Boss, ten buns, two sugar flatbreads, and one scallion pancake as well.”
While the stall owner packed the order, Zhao Zhao inadvertently overheard the conversation at the neighboring stall.
“Have you heard? Early yesterday morning, Lord Tianxuan of Kunwu went to Polaris Confucian Sect with gifts to propose marriage!”
Her hand froze for a moment as she took the wax paper package from the stall owner.
“That’s on behalf of Dao Lord Tianshu to propose to Miss Immortal Lanyan, right?”
“Of course, who else could it be besides the two of them?”
“But I heard someone say that Polaris Confucian Sect’s attitude remains uncertain; they seemed to have refused to take the betrothal gifts—”
“Impossible, impossible. Lord Tianxuan went personally, so Dao Lord Tianshu must have approved. Everyone knows Miss Immortal Lanyan has admired the Dao Lord for years, how could Polaris Confucian Sect refuse?”
“True enough. Looks like Kunwu and Polaris Confucian Sect are going to form a strong alliance…”
Zhao Zhao didn’t listen to the rest. She glanced down at the food in her arms, then quickly carried it back to the others.
“What were they chatting about at that noodle stall?” Li Feng asked casually, taking a bite of a bun. “They looked so animated, what gossip could be so interesting?”
Zhao Zhao took a bite of a sweet pancake; the sweetness on her tongue was faint.
She replied, “Nothing much, just some inconsequential matters.”
.
.
.
Author’s note: A new map has been unlocked!
Just a heads-up: Zhao Zhao has only severed her feelings for the male lead, she hasn’t lost the ability to love altogether.
Food:
Sugar flatbread (糖饼) - Basically, it’s a type of pan-fried flaky pastry that has a brown sugar filling.
