My Husband’s Ascension C27 (Part 1)
Chapter 27.1 Unsheath
Zhao Zhao jolted upright from her bed.
Outside the window, a fine drizzle veiled the dawn; the sky had yet to brighten. Beneath the jacaranda tree, a celestial deer slept soundly amid a bed of fallen petals.
On the large bed, Yao Ling and Rong Yu were still lost in dreams. Yao Ling, as always, had a habit of hogging the blanket, leaving poor Rong Yu clutching only a corner of it. Zhao Zhao rubbed her temple, then gently pulled the blanket over him again.
She seemed to have awoken from a nightmare that felt strangely familiar.
In the dream, the silver-haired, white-robed Dao Lord held a bloodstained sword. Around him lay countless dismembered corpses, and the ground was soaked in blackened blood. Through the howling wind in the mountains came the choked sobs of a helpless young girl.
It sounded like Yao Ling’s cry.
Whom had Dao Lord Tianshu slain?
And for whom had she wept?
Everything was hazy and chaotic—no one could give her an answer.
Even after waking, as Zhao Zhao sat dazed on the bed, she could still recall the look Dao Lord Tianshu had given her across that sea of corpses and blood.
—Beneath the chill and shadow of his gaze lurked a near-maddened frenzy.
In her dream, those who besieged Dao Lord Tianshu all claimed he had fallen into demonic corruption because of his obsession with the Dao of the sword, desperate to ascend, and thus brought disaster upon himself.
Zhao Zhao remembered that when she first dreamt of his descent into demonic corruption, she could never believe that Xie Lanshu would lose himself for the sake of an illusory Dao.
Looking back now, that thought seemed painfully naive.
Zhao Zhao’s gaze fell upon the two children still fast asleep.
Dao Lord Tianshu had succumbed to demonic corruption in pursuit of what he desired—that was his own burden to bear.
But if his actions were to bring harm to them, Zhao Zhao would never permit it.
“…Enough sleeping.” Her gentle demeanor from moments ago vanished as she briskly pulled the two children out from their warm blankets. “It’s about time. Wash your faces and get up for morning practice.”
Yao Ling sat up, bleary-eyed, rubbing at her face. Though puzzled by being woken earlier than usual, she didn’t question it and obediently tumbling out of bed with her bird’s nest of hair to wash up.
Rong Yu, however, was another story. Perhaps a result of being pampered since childhood, he was utterly hopeless when it came to getting out of bed.
The moment Zhao Zhao lifted his blanket, the little boy’s lips quivered as he mumbled and whined, using his cherubic face to plead her into letting him stay a bit longer.
“Then keep sleeping.” Zhao Zhao tossed the blanket back over him, but her voice drifted lightly from outside the covers, “When A'Yu is sleeping, Yao Ling is practicing. When A'Yu is practicing, Yao Ling is still practicing. And one day, when bad people bully Yao Ling, will A'Yu keep on sleeping soundly?”
The blanket stirred. A small head wriggled out from beneath it.
Rong Yu peered up at Zhao Zhao with wide, pitiful eyes. “Master… you’re lying, aren’t you? With you here, no one would ever bully Yao Ling.”
“Not necessarily," Zhao Zhao said, widening her eyes in mock menace. “What if it’s a very, very bad person? One who kills your master’s master first, then your master, and then little Yao Ling—”
“No one is allowed to kill Yao Ling! Nor Master or Master’s Master either!” Rong Yu kicked off the blanket with a sharp motion, his round little face set with solemn determination.
She had only meant to scare him awake, and seeing his serious expression, Zhao Zhao almost laughed until she caught sight of the faint crimson that flickered through his once bright, inky eyes.
Her smile faded.
She’d nearly forgotten; though she still didn’t know how Rong Yu had ended up at Cloudculm Adobe, he truly was the Demon Clan’s successor, his bloodline untainted and pure.
She remembered the flashes from her dreams—Rong Yu, no older than his early teens, his expression perpetually shadowed.
In the dark, oppressive halls of the demon palace, he was surrounded by powerful clansmen. But their presence didn’t feel like protection, rather, like they were guarding a priceless artifact.
Zhao Zhao reached out to gently ruffle his hair.
“There are many things in this world, A'Yu, that don’t change simply because you forbid them,” she said softly. “It’s like when you tell Li Feng not to steal your candied fruit but he still sneaks off and eats plenty whenever you’re not looking.”
Rong Yu froze for a moment, then immediately went scrambling for the small box where he kept his sweets.
Zhao Zhao caught him neatly by the collar and lifted him back.
“So,” she looked him straight in the eyes, those wide, guileless eyes that seemed incapable of deceit, “do you understand what I am getting at?”
“Not really,” Rong Yu blinked, answering with perfect honesty. “But if I get up on time and practice properly from now on, can you help me protect my candied fruits?”
He’d been saving those treats for ages so he could share them with Yao Ling yet that scoundrel Li Feng had eaten half of them already!
Zhao Zhao stared at him for a moment, then burst out laughing.
She pushed open the half-latched window. Beyond it, beneath the layered bloom of jacarandas, a blue-clad man was snoring contentedly, hands folded behind his head, asleep on a tree branch.
“Li Feng,” Zhao Zhao called evenly, “come down.”
The dog yao was yanked off the branch by an unseen force before he could react, tumbling headfirst into a carpet of fallen petals. The nearby celestial deer, startled awake, blinked groggily and turned its head about in confusion.
Li Feng glanced up at the still-dim sky and roared in protest, “Xie Tanzhao, have you lost your mind? Do you even know what time it is?!”
Rong Yu muffled his laughter behind the candy box, shoulders shaking.
“‘Why sleep long in life, when death grants slumber eternal?’” Zhao Zhao intoned with feigned solemnity. “Get up and come along. Let’s go take a look at the arctic fox’s progress in the fields.”
Ever since that arctic fox had arrived at Beaconlight Mountain, Zhao Zhao had kept him toiling in the fields for a full month.
First loosening the soil and turning the earth, then improving its composition, and finally planting the spiritual seedlings—all the while rising each morning to gather dew for irrigation.
A month later, what was once a barren stretch of rocky land had been transformed. Spiritual plants now bloomed and bore fruit, and the immortal herbs thrived lush, radiant, and full of vigor.
In just a few more days, these herbs could be handed over to Daoist Ming Jue to refine into high-grade immortal pills, which would then be sold at the alchemy shop down the mountain for a handsome profit.
Before this, without such rare spiritual herbs, Daoist Ming Jue could only rely on the most ordinary, inexpensive ingredients for pill refining. Yet even those simple pills turned out rather well in Zhao Zhao’s eyes.
Now that they had rarer materials on hand, even a casual batch would likely fetch an excellent price.
After all, those priceless ores she’d brought back from the Blessed Land of Langhuan, especially the finest among them, were to be saved for forging swords for Yao Ling and Rong Yu.
So despite appearances, their finances weren’t exactly abundant. They still needed to find a reliable source of income sooner rather than later…
As Zhao Zhao walked, she mulled it all over. When she looked up again, she had already arrived at the spiritual fields.
The arctic fox was watering the plants.
Li Feng, who had followed her all the way, took one look at the fox and immediately rolled his eyes.
There he goes again.
The Tushan arctic fox stood amid the spirit field, his peach-blossom eyes lowered in focus. He wore a robe of pale azure cloth, its wide sleeves tied neatly at the elbows, revealing fair forearms faintly traced with blue veins.
Those hands, that were slender, elegant, the kind meant for holding a brush rather than a hoe, gripped a wooden ladle as he watered the seedlings with unhurried grace.
As he bent forward, his jet-black hair slipped from his shoulder, gleaming like the finest silk under the morning light. Against that fall of darkness, his skin appeared smooth as jade, soft as a lily in bloom.
It was, admittedly, quite a pleasant sight.
If only he hadn’t gone out of his way to imitate Xie Lanshu’s manner of dress and bearing, it might’ve been even more pleasing to the eye.
Li Feng stretched out a trembling finger, pointing at the fox as though witnessing a great crime.
“...Too pretentious. That fox is way too pretentious! Who goes out at dawn to collect morning dew looking that refined? That hair, he must’ve just washed it! I can smell the osmanthus hair oil from here! And his robes, he even scented them—achoo!”
The fox’s cloying fragrance was so strong that Li Feng couldn’t stop sneezing.
Zhao Zhao turned back to glance at him. “Pretentious? You overexaggerate. Honestly, you could learn a thing or two from him. Next time you finish morning training, at least take a bath before breakfast, for everyone’s sake. What do you think?”
Li Feng’s eyes widened in horror. “You–You dare despise me?!”
Zhao Zhao blinked innocently. “No, really. It’s not just me. Master also says so behind your back.”
“……”
But he always bathed after breakfast! And even after training, he didn’t smell bad in the slightest! Infuriating, utterly infuriating!
While the dog yao glared daggers at him, the arctic fox shook his long hair with deliberate grace and straightened proudly.
True, they were both of the canine race, but there were differences among canines.
A dog yao like that, who cared nothing for his appearance, how could he possibly deserve to serve at Master’s side? Obviously, a refined and well-mannered arctic fox like him was far more presentable.
Li Feng ground his teeth so hard his jaw nearly cracked. He looked one breath away from pouncing over and snapping the fox’s neck.
Zhao Zhao had no choice but to send him off to harvest the matured spiritual herbs before a fight broke out.
Yet as she watched the two bicker in the spirit field, her mind drifted elsewhere—to Yunmeng Pier, and Xie Lanshu.
Back then, young ladies from every clan would find excuses to linger near him, their perfumed scents wafting over the courtyard wall.
Xie Lanshu had always been distant, never responding to their advances yet he never once spoke ill of them either.
At the time, Zhao Zhao had still been young, tender-hearted, and foolishly in love. She, who had never once compared herself to others, found herself asking him—between her and that Young Lady Zhang, who did he think was prettier?
She hadn’t truly wanted to compare herself to anyone; she had only wished for a word of reassurance from the one she loved.
But Xie Lanshu would merely look at her with eyes as soft as spring water and say,
—I have never paid attention to what Young Lady Zhang looks like. But you, Miss Xie, are already beautiful enough; there is no need to compare yourself to anyone.
Back then, they had not yet married. Zhao Zhao, plagued by insecurity, had longed in vain for a single, certain word of assurance.
Now that she thought about it, Young Lady Zhang had indeed been lovely, anyone with eyes could see that. Saying she was ‘already beautiful enough’ had only been his way of coaxing her. To be surrounded by beauties must have been pleasant indeed—she could now empathize. He likely hadn’t the heart to speak ill of any of them, and so claimed he had ‘never paid attention’ to their countenance.
Zhao Zhao reached into her spatial storage pouch and took an item, handing it to the arctic fox. “You’ve worked hard these past days. This is the finest Moondew Frost Cream (月见霜凝脂). Your hands are very beautiful; it would be a pity if calluses formed from all this fieldwork.”
The arctic fox, startled by the unexpected favor, accepted the container with both hands.
Moondew Frost was a rare and precious celestial herb, and a cream refined from it could erase any scar while rendering the skin smoother and fairer still.
Such a treasure, worth nearly a thousand spirit stones, was something even the matriarch of the Tushan Clan might not easily obtain. And yet this female sect leader had given it to him as casually as one might offer a trifle.
The arctic fox held the small container in both hands, his heart swelling with sweetness.
It was only after Zhao Zhao had departed with the freshly harvested celestial herbs that realization struck him—
F*ck.
If you truly felt sorry for me, you’d stop making me farm!
