My Husband’s Ascension Chapter 3
TL Note: Usually I would split these long chapters into two, but since I’m only updating once a week, and the fact the previous translator’s work helps relieve a bit of my burden, I decided against the idea. Though there will be some chapters that will be split since they are two times longer than than usual 💀💀 (cough c17, 18, 21-29, 32, 41, 44, 48, 55, and 60) 💀💀
Thankfully that won’t happen any time soon. And perhaps, by then, the update schedule will be 2x a week. 🤞🏻
Anyways, thanks for reading my spiel, appreciate all your comments and support! ( ˶˘ ³˘)♡
Proofread and tlced by 旭亭
Chapter 3 You Shall Not Cultivate
Zhao Zhao’s tears, miraculously, had stopped.
It was as if she had finally come to realize that the husband who would help wipe her tears and vowed to remember her for a lifetime was gone. Even if she cried until she went blind, there would no longer be anyone who cared.
She wiped her face. Though her thoughts were still in disarray, she managed a calm nod.
He had already made things clear; if she were to continue crying and begging him now, how humiliating that would be. She did not want Xie Lanshu’s final memory of her to be one of desperate entanglement.
After composing herself, she asked, “Then, does this longevity pill count as your compensation for our separation?”
Dao Lord Tianshu replied, “You can think of it that way.”
“In that case, can I swap it for something else?” Zhao Zhao deliberately made her tone sound lighter, more carefree. Even if it was a brittle performance anyone could see through, she refused to show lingering affection now. “Hmm… How about gold? Or rare jewelry? Instead of living longer, I think I’d rather know what it feels like to be disgustingly rich.”
He looked at her quietly, as though trying—and failing—to grasp what was going through her mind.
“Yes, I can.”
“No, wait, no.” Zhao Zhao paused, reconsidering. “Can I become an official instead? They say you’re the Dao Lord of the cultivation realm, able to command the mortal world with a word. So making me a female official in the mortal realm… that should be easy for you, right?”
It was a rather presumptuous request, yet Dao Lord Tianshu still answered with patient calm, “Yes, I can.”
Zhao Zhao was somewhat doubtful. “Is that really possible?”
Dao Lord Tianshu’s smile was as gentle as a spring breeze beneath a bright moon. “In the end, it’s I who have wronged you; this small matter I can still arrange.”
His flawless acquiescence eerily echoed the very expression Xie Lanshu once wore.
Zhao Zhao found herself stirred by a faint bitterness; if he was truly ruthless, why did he choose to wear such an illusion of tenderness that left her so confused?
Anger bubbled up, and she suddenly wanted to make things difficult for him.
“What if I said I want to be the Empress Regnant?”
The smile at the corner of his lips deepened. Dao Lord Tianshu picked up a Go stone and replied casually, “An Empress Regnant must attend to state affairs day in and day out, without rest. You, who love to sleep in so much—how could you manage?”
Just as her emotions had finally begun to settle, his words stirred them up again.
“…Don’t speak to me as if you are Xie Lanshu,” she said coldly, her eyes rimmed red. “You’re not him. Don’t speak to me like that in the future.”
Dao Lord Tianshu only looked at her in silence. Those calm, gentle eyes seemed to say—
What ‘future’ is there between them?
Tears glistened in her eyes, and Zhao Zhao thought, ‘he was still more merciless than her.’ She almost couldn’t hold back her tears again.
It took a while, but her turbulent feelings gradually returned to calm.
She began in a sullen voice, "Those earlier demands were merely in jest. I have no desire for gold, silver, or to become an Empress Regnant. Just provide me with some fundamental pills and spiritual artifacts. I don’t want the immortality pill; I wish to cultivate by myself."
The longevity pill was a secret treasure reserved for mortals without spiritual roots, granting them beauty and a prolonged life without the burden of arduous cultivation.
In truth, its worth surpassed that of most cultivation pills.
Yet after hearing Zhao Zhao’s request, Dao Lord Tianshu refused her with a faint smile. “No.”
The answer caught Zhao Zhao completely off guard. Her eyes widened.
His words, though spoken gently, were frigid—so cold they seemed to sever the warmth of his previous tone entirely.
With that single sentence, he had pronounced a death sentence on her path to immortality. “Miss Xie, you cannot become an immortal.”
It took Zhao Zhao a long moment before she could speak again.
“Wh–Why not?”
His beautiful eyes, cold as frost, reflected the young woman’s panic. They seemed to pierce through her, to comprehend all that the world contained.
“You say you wish to cultivate immortality—then tell me: what path (Dào) is it that you seek?”
Zhao Zhao stood frozen, unable to utter a single word.
Dao Lord Tianshu’s voice remained soft, yet his words pressed in, step by step. “Though the cultivation world is vast, it is inevitable that we will cross paths. Miss Xie, ask yourself—can you truly sever all love and hatred, and greet me as nothing more than a stranger?”
“I—”
“My marriage in the mortal world is no secret to the cultivation realm. If you continue to stay, someone will inevitably uncover your identity. When that happens, do you think you can stay unaffected by the rumors that follow?”
Each word landed like a blade, carving deep into her chest.
Though she couldn’t refute it, Zhao Zhao was far from reconciled. “…I won’t stay in Kunwu. I know the cultivation realm is vast, with countless sects. I’ll go to one far away, to some obscure little sect, somewhere you’ll never see me again. Isn’t that enough?”
In a soft voice, he answered, “No.”
“Am I… that repulsive to you?”
Sunlight fell over the young man’s figure like frost that had lain untouched for millennia. He glanced at Zhao Zhao teetering on the edge of tears, then rose and stepped forward.
Just a single step.
Heaven and earth shifted hues.
Mountains and rivers, clouds and mist, morning glow and evening light—even the Thirty-Third Palace of Separation’s Regret Heaven—all stood still in that instant.
As a mortal, Zhao Zhao had never witnessed such power before. To her, it was nothing short of a miracle.
In the next breath, the immortal flicked his sleeves, and time surged forward, visibly rippling before the naked eye.
Through the shifting tides of time, Zhao Zhao saw red strings suddenly stretch between individuals, winding, breaking, and reconnecting, bathing the mortal realm in a sea of red.
(TLN: Think ‘red strings of fate’.)
Only then did she understand why the mortal realm was called the “secular world*.”
(TLN: The Chinese term for ‘secular world/mortal realm’ is 红尘, which literally translates to ‘red earth’.)
"The red thread represents the 'fate' between people," the statuesque Dao Lord quietly explained. "Family, friendship, and love alike are all forms of fate."
As if to confirm those words, Zhao Zhao lowered her head and saw a red thread sprouting from her chest, like a fine line of blood—tightly tethered to Dao Lord Tianshu's heart.
"Had you known nothing of me, you wouldn’t have traveled to Kunwu, much less desired to pursue cultivation." Two gloved fingers, black as night, gently lifted the red thread. Dao Lord Tianshu lowered his gaze, and his voice was as gentle as snow brushing the earth. “It’s not avoidance—it’s that only by going back to the mortal realm can you bring order out of chaos and sever this Hetu-Phala*.”
(TLN: If you’ve read my translation of Ten Day Ultimatum, this term may sound familiar—Hetu-Phala (因果) are important concepts in Buddhism. Hetu (cause) refers to the conditions or actions that lead to a certain result. Phala (fruit) refers to the outcome or effect that arises from those causes.)
"Likewise, for thousands of years to come, no matter what opportunities arise in the mortal realm, I will never set foot there, so as not to disturb Miss Xie's peace."
Zhao Zhao looked down in silence. She slowly extended her fingers toward the red thread, as though trying to grasp something...
She asked softly, “What if I… insist on cultivating?”
In the next instant, the red thread snapped like a taut string—and the world around her shattered into countless fragments. Only then did Zhao Zhao realize that everything she had just seen was merely an illusion conjured by Dao Lord Tianshu.
The moment the illusion shattered, she heard the Dao Lord’s warm yet condescending voice, “If you persist in this path, regardless of how many years of toil or what realm you have reached—”
“I will personally lay waste to your cultivation."
…
Just beyond the gates of the Thirty-Third Palace in Kunwu’s Immortal Realm.
“—Master has given strict orders: no one is permitted to enter or leave Separation’s Regret Heaven. Miss Immortal, please turn back.”
Two of Dao Lord Tianshu’s disciples stood at the gates, swords drawn, barring Shi Lanyan’s path.
Shi Lanyan had anticipated this and responded with a feigned smile, “Dao Lord has remained secluded for some time. I’ve come on behalf of the Polaris Confucian Sect to inquire when he plans to attend the banquet. Everyone is still gathered at the Ascension Terrace, awaiting the chance to offer their congratulations.”
Eldest Senior Sister Mu Ling replied solemnly, “The Master declared the feast at Ascension Terrace will be held for three full days; all guests may attend at their convenience.”
Eldest Senior Brother Zong Fei added, “I will deliver the Polaris Confucian Sect’s congratulations to Master. Miss Immortal, please return.”
Faced with their unyielding stance, Shi Lanyan’s expression darkened. "Spare me the formalities. Zong Fei, tell me—did your Master wed a mortal woman when he lost his memory in the secular realm? Has that woman shown up?"
Admirers of Dao Lord Tianshu abounded in the cultivation realm. But among them, Shi Lanyan—the daughter of the Polaris Confucian Sect’s head—was undoubtedly the most distinguished.
She had known Lord Tianshu since childhood, their bond akin to childhood sweethearts. From early on, she understood he had the greatest cultivation talent, the one most likely to shatter the void*. He was someone who could not afford the entanglements of love.
(TLN: The term ‘shatter the void’ means to succeed in one’s cultivation; to reach the pinnacle of strength; to reach a brand new world and horizon. This term originated from the title of a novel (‘Shattering the Void’ 破碎虛空) by Wong Cho-keung (pen name Wong Yee).)
And yet, the heavenly immortal she had quietly yearned for over millennia, the man she regarded as unattainable, had lost his memory for two short years—and in that time, had been swept away by an unknown mortal woman into becoming her husband.
Had she lost to another cultivator, she might have stomached it. But to lose to a mere mortal woman who had stumbled into marriage with Dao Lord Tianshu by sheer, ridiculous luck? That was something she could not endure.
“This matter concerns the internal affairs of the Immortal Realm of Kunwu. I must ask that Miss Immortal refrain from inquiring further.”
“And if I insist? What means do you have to hinder me?” Shi Lanyan, no longer in the mood for posturing, lifted her skirt and made to stride past them—
But just then, the gates of Separation’s Regret Heaven swung open.
Out walked Zhao Zhao, disheveled and vacant-eyed, like a drifting soul torn from her body.
“You’re that—” Shi Lanyan opened her mouth to ask whether she was the mortal wife of Tianshu, but the moment the word “wife” floated to the edge of her mind, a stabbing bitterness pierced through her chest, twisting her entire heart. She couldn’t say it.
In truth, she didn’t need to.
There’s a subtle intuition between romantic rivals. Zhao Zhao merely lifted her eyes, and from that one glance, she saw the same look she’d seen countless times in those girls from Yunmeng Pier who had quietly harbored feelings for Xie Lanshu.
“Indeed,” she replied dully. “What do you want?”
Given all she’d been through, Zhao Zhao’s effort to engage normally was admirable; expecting her to be pleasant to Shi Lanyan was out of the question.
But to Shi Lanyan, that weary, indifferent expression—those downcast eyes—they were nothing short of provocation.
When had someone as proud as Shi Lanyan ever been treated with such disregard?
Her lips curled slightly in a sneer as she looked Zhao Zhao up and down with thinly veiled contempt. “Nothing, really. I just heard that during his time in the mortal realm, Dao Lord got entangled in some inexorable tribulation. I have known the Dao Lord since childhood, our bond lasting a millennium and deeply sincere. His matters are mine too. But you… as a woman, I suppose you’ve suffered the greatest loss in all this. So I came to offer an apology on his behalf.”
I have known the Dao Lord since childhood, our bond lasting a millennium and deeply sincere.
Zhao Zhao’s eyes dimmed.
Yes, Dao Lord Tianshu had lived for thousands of years—she’d never been a part of those long centuries. It was perfectly normal for him to have a childhood sweetheart. She should even feel fortunate that it wasn’t an old flame.
The two years they had spent as husband and wife were just a fleeting ripple in the vast ocean of his life.
“…There’s no need to apologize.”
Shi Lanyan, still smug from her performance, froze.
The girl across from her suddenly lifted her head. Her bare face was untouched by powder, yet its beauty was quietly arresting.
Those emotionless eyes met hers, steady and calm.
Zhao Zhao spoke slowly, “It was his first time—and mine too. So it was fair. I have no complaints during the time we were married. I was very satisfied. So saying I’ve suffered a loss… isn’t quite right.”
It was only after she finished speaking that Zhao Zhao realized her words sounded ambiguous.
She had only meant they had both entered marriage for the first time. That ‘satisfied’ referred solely to how gentle and thoughtful he had been as a husband.
But the three other people present, judging from their stunned expressions, had clearly interpreted it quite differently.
The two disciples of Dao Lord Tianshu managed to maintain their composure, but Shi Lanyan was so dumbstruck by Zhao Zhao’s audacious words that she nearly fainted on the spot.
…Out in the open! Beneath the clear sky and blazing sun! What vile accusations is she making to tarnish the Dao Lord’s honor!
Shi Lanyan’s first impulse was to call her shameless—yet as she thought more about it, she realized something even more infuriating. Zhao Zhao had done those intimate things with Dao Lord Tianshu. She had sullied his purity.
I’m furious, furious, absolutely furious—!
Shi Lanyan was seething with anger, and in a fit of rage, she summoned her spiritual artifact, Dianshan-Tui.
A jade brush soared through the air, as if dipped in starlight from the Milky Way, its strokes flowing with ink. It was the unique technique of the Polaris Confucian Sect—slaying with the written word, subduing foes through verse.
She chanted, “Carve wood as wardens, prison walls drawn on earth—confine!”
(TLN: ‘Carve wood as wardens(刻木为吏)’ and ‘prison walls drawn on earth(画地为狱)’ are both idioms originating from the ‘Book of Han’. The former idiom’s meaning metaphorically extends to artificially imposed limits on one’s range of activity. While the latter refers to the ancient people's fear of cruel prison officials, to the extent that they dared not confront even wooden effigies of these wardens. Together, they reflect the oppressive nature of the ancient judicial system on human nature.)
Up until the moment the cage fell from the sky, Zhao Zhao hadn’t fully grasped what was happening.
The ink-colored cage kept shrinking, tighter and tighter, until Zhao Zhao could no longer stand upright. Her spine was forced to bend lower and lower, curling her into an unbearably contorted position.
Mu Ling’s brows drew together. "Why must you go so far as to torment a mortal?"
One of the maids behind Shi Lanyan replied, "That mortal woman deliberately provoked our Mistress first. This is merely returning the favor. How can it be considered ‘torment’?"
The other maid sang along, "Exactly. The Polaris Confucian Sect is not to be trifled with."
Shi Lanyan stared at the girl trapped inside the ink prison. As her anger simmered, she suddenly heard Zong Fei speak softly:
"Miss Immortal, you’re bullying Master’s wife right outside Separation’s Regret Heaven. Are you that desperate to have him see how brazen you are?"
Like a hand grasping her Achilles’ heel, Shi Lanyan’s arrogance immediately vanished. "...Tianshu and I are childhood sweethearts. He won’t be angry over some woman he only knew for two years."
Though she said this, guilt gnawed at her. The Dao Lord Tianxu did hold a measure of regard for her, but it stemmed more from respect for the Polaris Confucian Sect than from personal affection, and it had clear boundaries never to be overstepped.
No one knew if this mortal woman he married had been allowed into those boundaries.
Mu Ling suddenly looked toward the palace.
"Master is coming out!"
All four turned to look.
A pure white figure, spotless as snow and frost, rode the breeze in the distance. The silver embroidery on his flowing sleeves shimmered like waves in sunlight—akin to a crane from the Ninth Heaven rising with grace, heading toward the Ascension Platform where all corners of the realm gathered in celebration.
Shi Lanyan’s nerves frayed. She envisioned countless scenes where Dao Lord Tianshu would rise to defend the mortal woman, humiliating her in front of everyone.
But—
It didn’t happen.
From beginning to end, that ethereal figure spared only a faint glance, eyes devoid of any excess emotion, his pace unhurried and unwavering.
Mu Ling and Zong Fei exchanged glances.
"Master... has summoned us to the Ascension Terrace."
Should they truly ignore the woman who had nearly become their Master’s wife?
They hesitated briefly, but Dao Lord Tianshu’s orders were absolute. They dared not disobey and, with complicated expressions, warned Shi Lanyan briefly before departing.
Zhao Zhao raised her eyes to watch the man’s retreating figure bathed in light, her eyes stinging from the scorching sun.
“…Hah, apparently the Dao Lord holds only a passing regard for you." Even Shi Lanyan found it unexpected, yet the most gratifying thing was that Dao Lord Tianshu did not come to the girl’s aid.
She waved her hand, and the ink prison dissolved.
Zhao Zhao collapsed to the ground, aching all over.
In the distance, the sound of bells and drums rang out, accompanied by flutes and pipes. The music seemed to drift down from the clouds, echoing through the sky.
It must be the feast at the Ascension Terrace, where cultivators from across the realm gathered to congratulate Dao Lord Tianshu on his return to Kunwu and the return of the firm pillar who would safeguard the cultivation world.
(TL Note: The raws used the Sea-Calming Divine Needle as a metaphor. I took it out because it’s same meaning. But for those curious, the 定海神针 (Dinghai Shenzhen or ‘Sea-Calming Divine Needle’) is a huge iron pillar best known as the mythological magical staff used by Sun Wukong. Before it was taken as the Monkey King’s weapon, it was used to stabilize the seas.)
Seeing the girl’s pitiful state, Shi Lanyan felt a flicker of pity stir within her. “I advise you to let go of everything. This cultivation world is no place for mortals like you.”
That name echoed again in Zhao Zhao’s mind.
Xie Lanshu.
Xie Lanshu.
He was the husband she had picked up from the snow when she was fifteen.
He had no place of origin, no memory—even his surname and given name had been given to him by her.
Like a fleeting illusion, it scattered beyond the misty confines of the Thirty-Third Palace.
In her mind, she told herself to stop—the name, no matter how often spoken, would receive no reply.
Lifting her head, Zhao Zhao parted her pale lips and asked quietly, “Do you like Lord Tianshu?”
Shi Lanyan’s face flushed and paled repeatedly before she finally snapped, “So what if that’s true? Want to accuse me? Stop dreaming. I’ve been with the Dao Lord for over a millennium, and you’re the one who’s intrud—”
"I only wish to share something with you, Miss Immortal,” Zhao Zhao interrupted.
The girl’s tired, pale face suddenly brightened with a hint of spirit. She smiled softly, her cheeks revealing two delicate dimples, exuding an enchanting, graceful demeanor.
“I’m pregnant.”
Those two words struck Shi Lanyan like thunder, rooting her in place.
But all Zhao Zhao did was smile lightly. “This is something the Dao Lord does not yet know, and I seek no entanglement. If Miss Immortal grants some compensation—perhaps pills or artifacts used for cultivation—I will promptly terminate the pregnancy and depart. I promise I will never break my word.”
Just let go of everything?
A woman must never give in by deciding to let go of everything.
Immortality?
She was determined to cultivate it at all costs.
.
.
.
Author’s Note:
Zhao Zhao: Yes, we have two children (referring to the ones who’ll be stabbing him a few times in the future)
P.S. Zhao Zhao is not pregnant! She’s bluffing!
TL Note: So the only one thing was changed in the previous chapters, and that’s how Xie Lanshu addresses his wife. In earlier versions, both the previous translator and I used “wife” for the term 夫人. However, after giving it some thought, I decided to update it to “Madam.” The reason for this is that 夫人 isn’t actually a particularly intimate term in Chinese. It’s a formal title often used by servants or others in a respectful context to refer to a married woman. It doesn’t carry the same emotional closeness or affection implied by the word “wife” in English. So to better reflect that nuance and avoid giving the wrong impression about the relationship dynamics, I’ve switched it to “Madam.”
That’s the only change, thanks so much for your understanding and continued support~
