My Husband’s Ascension C42
Chapter 42 Children
The shamans of Mount Ling arrived at last, just before the joint assembly was set to begin.
After many years apart, Zhao Zhao finally encountered the veiled Wu-Shaman once more, her hair still swept into a high bun, a diaphanous veil hiding her features. She entered the hall with three attendant shamans in tow. The faint, courteous smile she wore faded completely the moment her gaze landed on Zhao Zhao seated at the highest place.
“The Seven Sects’ Conclave is about to begin,” a female cultivator said. “Members of Mount Ling are requested to take their seats without delay.”
Following the direction indicated, the veiled Wu-Shaman’s expression darkened.
On an occasion like this, seating was no trivial matter. The other seven sects were arranged according to long-standing conventions of strength and status yet Mount Ling had been placed at the very end.
Her cool, resonant voice rang out, “May I ask where the Sect Master has arranged Mount Ling’s seats? Surely it is not here.”
At once, the atmosphere in the hall grew subtle and tense.
Many had assumed that the friction between Mount Ling and Cloudculm Abode stemmed from the recently discovered grotto-heaven.
Yet from the incident at the Blessed Land of Langhuan, to the gu poisoning of Yao Ling and Rong Yu, and onward to the present seven years later, Mount Ling’s probing and testing of Cloudculm Abode had never ceased. They had always been waiting for an opening.
After years of covert confrontation, Zhao Zhao’s resentment toward Mount Ling had long since accumulated to a breaking point.
She slowly curved her lips into a smile. “If you, Miss Wu-Shaman, find this seat unsatisfactory, then perhaps we might add a few places beside Dao Lord Tianshu instead? Your two sects are close in their dealings; sitting nearer would surely make conversation more convenient.”
The veiled Wu-Shaman’s gaze instinctively shifted toward the Dao Lord seated at the upper right.
The instant her eyes met his gentle and composed eyes, a chill crept up her spine.
She recalled, unbidden, the scene from years past: several severed heads, casually tossed by his hand, rolling to a stop at her feet.
“Here will do. There’s no need to change seats.” She withdrew her gaze in haste, her steps toward the allotted place quickening despite herself.
After sitting down, perhaps sensing that her reaction had cost her face, she pressed her lips together and forced a stiff smile. “Today is an assembly of the seven great sects, convened to discuss the suppression of the demonic unrest, not private matters between Mount Ling and Kunwu. Where one sits makes little difference.”
The subtle tension in the hall gradually eased.
Seated above, Zhao Zhao blinked once and let out a light laugh. “That’s good to hear. Mount Ling holds an exalted position, we of Cloudculm Abode have long looked up to it. I feared we might show discourtesy to the esteemed Wu-Shaman.”
Behind the thin gauze, the veiled Wu-Shaman’s gaze, edged with restrained anger, fixed sharply on her.
Zhao Zhao paid it no mind. Mount Ling and Cloudculm Abode were already irreconcilable; as long as she did not go too far, venting a little displeasure harmed no one.
With the pleasantries concluded, Dao Lord Tianshu raised his hand. Spiritual light gathered in midair, forming a map of the Cultivation Realm and the Demon Realm.
The multicolored points flickering across the map represented the various factions within the demon race.
This was Zhao Zhao’s first time taking part in a war between the two realms. She scarcely spoke throughout, listening intently to the others instead.
It was said that if the demon race were to unite and wage an all-out war, matters might actually be less troublesome.
As things stood, however, they were scattered and fragmented. Fully aware of their own weakness, they dared not confront the Cultivation Realm head-on, instead appearing and vanishing unpredictably, nothing more than slippery loaches.
No matter how powerful Kunwu or Dao Lord Tianshu might be, to suppress those demons roaming everywhere, they had no choice but to divide their forces. In battle, it was often one cultivator against ten.
For the disciples, this was still manageable, as they at least had companions at their side. Dao Lord Tianshu, in the interest of efficiency, often acted alone, frequently facing thousands by himself. Over the past seven years of campaigns across all directions, there was scarcely a single day he had gone without injury.
“…So that’s how it is. No wonder the Dao Lord was so grievously wounded when I saw him that day.” After hearing all this, Mo Lingyun felt deep admiration for Dao Lord Tianshu. With genuine sincerity, he once more apologized on behalf of the disciple of the Moyan Sect from earlier. “My apologies. Dao Lord, having risked life and limb for the Cultivation Realm, yet my junior brother dared to speak ill of you in your absence. I am truly ashamed.”
There was still little color in Dao Lord Tianshu’s face.
He inclined his head slightly toward Mo Lingyun and, after a brief silence, asked, “Your name?”
Mo Lingyun was a little puzzled, but still gave his name.
He had thought the Dao Lord might say something more, yet the other merely regarded him for a moment before turning away and resuming the previous topic.
“Given that this demonic incursion differs from those of the past, relying solely on Kunwu disciples to suppress it will no longer resolve the matter with sufficient speed. This time, even the entirety of Jimo Sea City has been affected. Therefore, I propose that all present sects lend their assistance. We will divide responsibilities according to each sect’s territorial domain, and have each dispatch disciples to engage and pacify the situation…”
By now, everyone had risen from their seats and gathered before the map to confer.
Zhao Zhao listened in silence for a while when she suddenly felt someone tug at the hem of her skirt.
“Master, Master—”
Squeezed among a crowd of adults, Rong Yu looked small and pitiful. Zhao Zhao stepped back a few paces, drawing him out of the throng, and heard him ask with grave seriousness,
“Did that Dao Lord just say that if those demon clans in the Demon Realm gather together to fight, they’d actually be easier to wipe out?”
Zhao Zhao nodded.
“What is it?” she asked.
Rong Yu blinked, his eyes dark and round as polished grapes. “Then… if the Demon Realm’s Successor were found, wouldn’t the demonic factions gather together? And if that happened, wouldn’t it be easier to deal with them?”
Zhao Zhao immediately covered his mouth. “Don’t spout foolishness.”
Rong Yu blinked again.
Although he had never revealed his true identity to his Master, anyone with eyes could tell that his and Yao Ling’s physical conditions over the years were unlike those of ordinary cultivators.
Zhao Zhao had never once questioned their origins. She had only warned them not to show themselves lightly, all for their protection.
After all, even Yao Ling herself could not explain where she came from.
But Rong Yu knew everything clearly, and yet he dared not speak.
He feared that once the truth was laid bare, it would bring trouble upon his Master. He feared even more that, given the long-standing enmity between the Cultivation Realm and the Demon Realm, Master might no longer want him.
But now—
“I’m not spouting foolishness.” Using his spiritual power, Rong Yu whispered into her consciousness, his tone delicate and tender, “Master, I like the Cultivation Realm. I also like the ordinary demonfolk of the Demon Realm. I don’t want so many innocent lives to be hurt because of the ambitions of a few evildoers.”
These words were all but a direct confession to Zhao Zhao of his identity as the Demon Realm’s Successor.
Zhao Zhao drew her fingers in, gripping tightly around Rong Yu’s small hand.
“…But you are innocent as well.”
Rong Yu squeezed her hand in return, his voice sweet as he spoke directly into her sea of consciousness, “I’m also a demon. I’m not innocent.”
Though acknowledged by the most ruthless Demon Lord’s artifact as the demon race’s Successor, he had eyes as clear and pure as a fawn’s.
Zhao Zhao did not dare look into them again.
Because she knew that she did not possess a heart as naïve or as untainted as Rong Yu’s.
Even though she understood, deep down, that what he proposed might truly be a viable solution, she could never bring herself to hand Rong Yu over.
…
The conclave of the seven sects drew to a close in the afternoon.
Several finer points had yet to be settled. After each sect rested and made preparations for the night, another round of deliberations would be held the following day.
Once the meeting ended, Shi Lanyan caught up with Zhao Zhao. For someone usually so forthright and flamboyant, there was an uncharacteristic hesitation on her face. “Zhao Zhao, there’s something I need to tell you…”
“What is it?”
Shi Lanyan looked at Zhao Zhao’s entirely unsuspecting expression. The words reached her lips, then veered away again.
…How do I even go about saying this?!
Simply tell her: “Back then, I’d thought you were dead, and seeing Dao Lord Tianshu remain utterly unmoved, I blurted out in a fit of pique that you were pregnant!”?
If it were only that, it would be awkward, yes, but not impossible to explain.
The real problem was—
Shi Lanyan had the distinct impression that Dao Lord Tianshu had not only believed her words without question, but even the way he looked at the two little disciples by Zhao Zhao’s side was…peculiarly odd.
If Tianshu truly thought those two children were his…
Shi Lanyan’s scalp went numb. She had no idea how she was supposed to clean up this mess.
“What’s the matter?” Zhao Zhao asked, noticing Shi Lanyan’s strange expression. She regarded her for several moments. “Weren’t you about to tell me something? Why have you gone silent? Is it something important?”
Shi Lanyan opened her mouth with effort, about to explain, when the veiled Wu-Shaman’s melodious voice suddenly echoed through the hall.
“Cloudculm Abode is truly imposing in manner—” The veiled Wu-Shaman entered with her retinue of shamans, her gaze fixed sharply on Zhao Zhao’s back. “In just seven short years, a once obscure and declining sect has transformed into the foremost power of Jimo Sea. And now, to claim the principal seat at the Seven Sects’ Conclave… not surprising for the wife of the Dao Lord, with such a mountain of strength behind her. Life certainly seems smoother that way, doesn’t it?”
After the tragedy at the Blessed Land of Langhuan, more than a dozen shamans had been slain.
Now, knowing of Zhao Zhao’s identity, the resentment the veiled Wu-Shaman had held for so many years boiled just beneath the surface.
Even Shi Lanyan felt her indignation rising on Zhao Zhao’s behalf.
“That sourness of yours hits from kilometers away. Backed by the Dao Lord? Setting aside how, even in the Mortal Realm, when husband and wife part ways, the one in the wrong is expected to make amends. During the previous fiasco you, Mount Ling, had caused at the Blessed Land of Langhuan, if she had truly relied on the Dao Lord, Xie Tanzhao would long have perished.”
Recalling the time the veiled Wu-Shaman had spent in temporary residence at Kunwu, Shi Lanyan’s tone turned sarcastic still. “And speaking of relying on others, your Mount Ling is the master of that art. Unable to produce a single formidable cultivator of your own, you leech off others’ strength to rise. And now, you have the audacity to swagger before Cloudculm Abode? Xie Tanzhao alone revived the waning Zhongli Clan by her own hand. If it were you in her position, all you could dream up would be a shabby marriage alliance—”
“Shi Lanyan!” The veiled Wu-Shaman’s composure finally cracked at the sharp retort.
“Calling me?” Shi Lanyan’s grip on Zhao Zhao’s arm tightened, her tone sharp as a blade. “The Seven Sects’ Conclave is held at my jiěmèi’s domain, keep your antics elsewhere, Mount Ling!”
(TLN: Jiěmèi (姐妹) can be translated to ‘sister’, but can be used to incite closeness to another female, like the English term ‘sis/galfriend’. Usually the speaker is a lady speaking to another lady.)
Beside them, Yao Ling’s eyes behind her mask widened in awe.
Miss Immortal Lanyan’s words hit quicker than any blade when she’s insulting someone!
Zhao Zhao felt both moved and amused, especially seeing the usually poised and dignified veiled Wu-Shaman flushed with anger; it brought her a small touch of vindication.
She tempered the too-obvious smile on her face and said, “Apologies, Miss Immortal Lanyan is always so frank… please, Miss Wu-Shaman, do not take offense. We have other matters to attend to, so we shall take our leave for now—”
“Halt!” The veiled Wu-Shaman raised her voice, calling after them.
She stepped closer to Zhao Zhao, her gaze sweeping over the two children at her side. A glint of scornful amusement flickered across her otherwise icy countenance.
“Mount Ling indeed excels at turning others’ strength to its own advantage. Miss Immortal, you would do well to guard what you hold dear. That which rightfully belongs to Mount Ling, should we wish to reclaim it, would be no effort at all.”
Zhao Zhao’s hand tightened around Yao Ling’s.
Her expression remained calm, a faint, serene smile playing on her lips.
“Noted,” she replied, “but I also have a word of caution for you, Miss Wu-Shaman—”
“That grotto-heaven under Mount Ling, neither too near nor too far from the summit, is freely traversed by the disciples of Cloudculm Abode. Should Mount Ling harbor any unsavory secrets, it would be wise to keep them well-hidden. Best not let anyone discover them.”
The veiled Wu-Shaman’s pupils constricted.
How could she—
Confronted with Zhao Zhao’s gentle yet unwavering gaze, doubt began to stir in her heart. No, she could not possibly know…how would she know the secrets of Mount Ling?
It must be because her mention of Yao Ling prompted this woman to speak cryptically, though it was likely all empty menace.
The veiled Wu-Shaman mulled this over and concluded it was the only explanation.
Yet the mind of a thief is never at ease. Even seeing Zhao Zhao appear so unaware, a cold sweat broke out across her back, and she turned hastily to depart.
Shi Lanyan frowned, unable to make sense of their private exchange.
“What riddle are you two playing at?” she asked, brow furrowed.
“Just having a little fun scaring her,” Zhao Zhao replied with a light smile, brushing it off. She added, “Weren’t you going to try the meal my disciple prepared? I’ve already given him instructions; it’s all ready.”
After the long discussion, Shi Lanyan admitted her stomach was growling. She followed Zhao Zhao toward the inner mountain kitchen.
Before they reached the kitchen, a wooden kite from the Moyan Sect soared overhead, instantly capturing Yao Ling and Rong Yu’s attention.
“A wooden kite! It’s enormous!”
The kite circled above them. Zhao Zhao recognized at once that this must be the one Mo Lingyun had borrowed for the children, knowing how fascinated they had been by wooden kite the last time, temporarily taking it at the Moyan Sect disciples’ arrival.
From a short distance away, Mo Lingyun waved to them.
“Want to try our Moyan Sect’s wooden kite? It’s even more fun than flying on a sword!”
Before Zhao Zhao could voice her thoughts, Yao Ling and Rong Yu had already tugged her onto the kite.
The massive wooden craft beat its wings, cutting through the wind with remarkable steadiness.
Cultivators, whether commanding swords or other artifacts, always expend spiritual energy, and thus cannot sustain prolonged flight. Yet this wooden kite had been crafted with the Moyan Sect’s intricate mechanisms. The spirit-imbued wood itself contained latent power, perfectly suited for long-distance journeys.
For Yao Ling and Rong Yu, however, the delight of soaring on the kite far outweighed any practical considerations.
“Master.” Having performed multiple aerial spins on the wooden kite, Yao Ling looked back with a solemn expression and addressed Zhao Zhao, “I'm changing my vote to Senior Brother Mo Lingyun. Master, you should consider him too.”
Rong Yu wanted to vote as well, but after being spun dizzy by Yao Ling’s aerial flips, his vision swam and his face paled. All he could do was silently offer his support in his heart.
The young man perched atop the pear blossom tree swung his legs, his features alight with the carefree joy of a youth trying to delight someone dear.
Back in the kitchen, Dao Lord Tianshu withdrew his gaze.
“It’s about ready,” he remarked.
Zhongli Shun, also distracted by the wooden kite outside, quickly put out the fire and lifted the lid of the pot. The rich aroma immediately filled the kitchen.
Over the years, besides sword cultivation and assisting Zhao Zhao in sect matters, Zhongli Shun had spent much of his time cooking, and his skill had grown steadily.
Though, he had never expected that his first encounter with the legendary Dao Lord Tianshu would not be a sword duel, but a culinary lesson. Yet even so, Zhongli Shun felt as if he were still dreaming.
“A disciple of Kunwu once told me that cooking could calm the heart,” Zhongli Shun remarked, “I never imagined that you, Dao Lord, would also excel in this art. It seems that disciple spoke truthfully after all…”
Warm steam curled through the air, carrying the fragrance of dishes carefully prepared. Each one her favorite.
Every movement in the kitchen, honed through years of practice, had become second nature.
Yet—
Tianshu lifted his gaze toward the tree, where the young man’s face shone with unrestrained joy, free to show his heart to the one he cherished.
Nothing could be further from the truth.
His own heart had never known calm.
Author’s Note: Cherish these rare, quiet moments; suffering and torture is right around the corner.
