My Husband’s Ascension C52
Chapter 52 Match Made In Heaven
When Zhao Zhao opened her eyes, she understood at once that she had not died.
The realization surfaced with remarkable clarity. Awareness alone did not mean a return to life, yet she could feel herself tightly enveloped, a faint pulse of vitality stirring and taking root within the darkness.
Taking root.
She turned the words over in her mind, and it truly felt as though she had become a seed buried deep in the soil.
The pitch-black vista was not frightening. On the contrary, it carried a warmth and steadiness reminiscent of a mother’s womb. Her consciousness drifted, gently expanding and contracting, like the rhythm of breath itself.
Zhao Zhao suddenly thought that being a seed was not such a bad thing.
She simply did not know what she would one day grow into, nor how long she would have to remain in this darkness before that time came.
The passage of time became impossible to measure, yet it was not difficult to endure. It felt as though she had traveled a road long and distant, so far that she could no longer glimpse where she had come from, and now, at last, she was allowed to rest.
At times, her thoughts would drift to Cloudculm Abode, to her two disciples and her Master.
And to the husband who would never return, as well as the Dao Lord who had remained cold even unto death.
But she was simply too weary. These thoughts were like bubbles rising in boiling water—surfacing briefly, churning for a moment, then subsiding before she could truly linger on them.
Amid a serenity and stillness she had never known before, she did not know how much time passed. At length, within the endless darkness, Zhao Zhao finally glimpsed a trace of light.
“So you’ve awakened.”
A gentle, familiar female voice sounded by her ear.
Zhao Zhao’s consciousness had slumbered for far too long. She had nearly lost the ability to converse with others, even to think clearly. Wrapped in a lustrous white glow, she followed the other party in a daze, guided along through a world of pure white.
“Who…who are you?” she asked.
“Have I faded from your memory?” The voice gave a soft laugh. “We’ve met before, in the Blessed Land of Langhuan, among those Soul-Binding Willows. Do you still remember the array I imparted to you?”
Memories sealed away for many years slowly creaked open, images surging forth like a tide.
“I remember now,” Zhao Zhao murmured. “So it was you.”
Within the Soul-Binding Willows, and within Dao Lord Tianshu’s illusion, she had once heard the wails of madmen crying out in confusion. Among them, the only one who had been able to speak with her coherently had been this very voice.
“Who are you, exactly?”
Her steps did not slow as she continued forward, yet this time was different from before. Zhao Zhao could see her clearly now: long hair like silvered snow gathered into a dignified and elegant coiffure, a qing pao upon her body embroidered with drifting cloud patterns.
(TLN: A qing pao is a simple pleated robe worn by minor officials, attendants, or humble females. It usually features a stand-up collar, wide sleeves, and minimal decoration. The first two images are closer in cut, but I like the last image cause the pattern fits my imagination more xD)
Her gaze lingered on those flowing motifs.
Cloudculm Abode had close ties with the Zhongli Clan. She recognized the design at once; this was a pattern commonly borne by objects of the Zhongli lineage.
“Are you from the Zhongli Clan?”
The woman turned her head, a smile curving her familiar profile. In that instant, Zhao Zhao was suddenly reminded of someone.
“Thank you. With the Zhongli Clan entrusted to you, I am very much at ease.”
Zhao Zhao suddenly recalled a matter she had heard when she had first accepted the Zhongli Clan.
—Master, do you know who the previous clan head of the Zhongli Clan was?
—That clan head who succumbed to demonic corruption and slaughtered countless cultivators, the former master of the Donghua Pearl, was none other than Dao Lord Tianshu’s mother.
When Zhongli Shun had told her this, Zhao Zhao had not taken it to heart, merely sighing inwardly at the time.
A woman capable of rising to the position of clan head should have had a brilliant future ahead of her, yet she had suddenly fallen into demonic corruption. It was, indeed, a great pity.
Zhao Zhao ventured to ask, “Could it be that you are the former clan head of the Zhongli Clan, Dao Lord Tianshu’s mother?”
Under Zhao Zhao’s unwavering gaze, the woman nodded gently. “My name is Zhongli Lanruo. I am also the mother of the Dao Lord Tianshu you speak of.”
She paused before continuing, “After each master of the Donghua Pearl passes, should their ascension fail, a strand of their soul is drawn into the Donghua Pearl to guard its next bearer.”
Zhao Zhao blinked. “Then am I… dead now?”
“You are not dead. The Undying Wood you consumed possesses the miraculous effect of transforming a cultivator’s body into that of a wood spirit. Such a divine treasure has traded you a new life. You need only slumber for a time, and you will awaken anew with a wood-spirit immortal embryo. Your cultivation will advance by leaps and bounds as well.”
Zhao Zhao had no mind to dwell on the matter of improved cultivation. She seized only upon the words spoken earlier. “Is the Undying Wood not a divine treasure said to cause a cultivator’s cultivation to surge dramatically?”
Zhongli Lanruo smiled faintly. “Heaven and Earth abide by the law of balance. Cultivation does not surge without cause. Even the rarest immortal herbs and spiritual plants cannot grant a sudden leap in cultivation the instant they are consumed, can they?”
Zhao Zhao froze in astonishment.
If the Undying Wood was merely a divine treasure meant to preserve one’s life, then where, precisely, had the prowess she possessed at the moment of death come from?
Before she could sort through the thought, Zhongli Lanruo ahead of her suddenly came to a halt.
Zhao Zhao nearly collided with her, only to realize a heartbeat later that what she had almost struck was not the beautiful woman at all, but a faceless, drifting revenant suspended in midair.
“Did that frighten you? It’s all right. They are already very weak. No matter how much they wail and cry, they can no longer harm anyone.” Zhongli Lanruo rested a hand on Zhao Zhao’s shoulder and explained softly, “These past years, they have howled like this within my son’s sea of consciousness as well. It is a pity…though they exhausted their last strength to force their way into his mind, the long passage of time has only left them weaker still. Their reason has eroded, and they can no longer communicate with him clearly, nor speak of Mount Ling’s conspiracy.”
Zhao Zhao steadied herself before asking, “These… are the senior experts who were trapped by Mount Ling?”
“Correct.”
The cries echoing by her ears were as shrill as ghostly shrieks, making it impossible to reconcile them with the mighty figures recorded in the annals of the cultivation world, those revered and admired by later generations.
“Mount Ling, under the pretense of assisting them, used a Divine Artifact called the Soul-Binding Lock (缠魂锁) upon them at the moment when they entered close-door cultivation and their defenses were at their weakest. Just as they were on the verge of ascension, the Soul-Binding Lock ensnared them, sealing them beneath Mount Ling.”
Bitterness flickered across Zhongli Lanruo’s expression. “Do not mock these great figures for their folly. On the surface, everything Mount Ling did truly appeared to aid their ascension. Moreover, they themselves could not cultivate and possessed little power, making them difficult to guard against. Even I was deceived in the beginning.”
Thinking of the rumors surrounding the Zhongli Clan Head’s fall into demonic corruption, realization dawned on Zhao Zhao. “Then… Mount Ling’s original target was you, wasn’t it?”
Zhongli Lanruo inclined her head in confirmation.
Her gaze rested on those maddened, mindless souls, and memories surfaced of her past as clan head—her husband by her side, her child newly born. Days that should have marked the height of her glory as one favored by heaven, shattered overnight.
Under Mount Ling’s manipulation, she fell into demonic corruption and committed innumerable slaughters. Yet at the final moment, she clawed back a shred of clarity, striking down the previous Wu-Shaman Xian of Mount Ling in retaliation. Even so, she ultimately became a demon condemned and eradicated by the orthodox path.
And Mount Ling had not spared the Zhongli Clan. Years later, they had turned their sights upon her son as well.
Zhao Zhao fell silent for a long while.
She thought of the prophetic dream she had once had.
She did not know what the world beyond had become, but she could no longer remain silent as she once had.
So many lives had been lost. How could that possibly be less grievous than her own paltry heartbreak?
If Dao Lord Tianshu’s survival could change all of this…
If her dream could be of even the slightest help, even the smallest bit…
“Senior, there is something I must tell you. I once had a dream, and in that dream, Dao Lord Tianshu, he—”
“He died, didn’t he?”
Zhongli Lanruo spoke with a smile, completing her words and leaving Zhao Zhao utterly shaken.
How could she know?!
Why did she look as though none of this surprised her in the least?!
Zhao Zhao parted her lips, and only after a long moment did she murmur, “Could it be that…”
“Have you never wondered how, with a mortal body, you were able to glimpse the future? Such power, so close to the divine, is something even my child should still be incapable of.” Zhongli Lanruo looked steadily at Zhao Zhao and continued in an even, measured voice, “Because no matter how many times we have divinated it, only you—Xie Tanzhao, only you—hold the hope of changing all of this.”
That day, Zhongli Lanruo, who slumbered within the Donghua Pearl, was awakened by several voices.
These fragmented souls were at times deranged, at times lucid—now shrieking like demons and specters, now calmly deducing the workings of fate and foreseeing what was yet to come.
Dao Lord Tianshu’s cultivation was too profound, his divine sense far too formidable. Even when they exhausted all their strength, they could only create a faint disturbance, one he could easily endure, on the final night of each month.
With no other choice, they shifted their target, placing their hope upon a young girl bound to Dao Lord Tianshu by countless unseen threads.
Even though she was merely a mortal.
Ignorant of the Heavenly Dao, unversed in cultivation arts, her thoughts filled with nothing but her husband.
And yet she carried the final hope of the cultivation world’s four greatest figures across the ages.
Zhao Zhao seemed to hear the clear cry of a sword, yet there was no spirit sword in Zhongli Lanruo’s hand. She maintained the posture of gripping a blade, and within the transparent air, a hazy, intangible sword silhouette gradually emerged.
The instant the sword tip touched the ground, ripples spread outward beneath their feet. The snow-white expanse began to fracture and collapse.
And beyond it, a scene profoundly familiar to Zhao Zhao was revealed.
Zhongli Lanruo’s figure faded from sight.
In its place, Zhao Zhao beheld the scene of Yunmeng Pier.
The Xie Residence was exactly as it had been when she left seven years ago. Moonlight spilled beyond her window. Upon the bed, she lay fast asleep, while beside her, her black haired, snow-white robed husband wore an expression of cold detachment as he slowly withdrew his hand from hers.
He wrote the letter of separation, changed his clothes, did not spare her a second glance, and fled Yunmeng Pier as though in flight.
Zhao Zhao had never imagined that one day she would witness this scene with her own eyes.
She watched as Dao Lord Tianshu returned to Immortal Realm of Kunwu. The tautness in his expression finally eased when he beheld a place familiar to him.
He was surrounded by countless people, welcomed back to Kunwu amid cheers and jubilation. Lord Tianxuan and the others were beside themselves with joy, hosting a grand reception to celebrate the Dao Lord’s return, his transcendence of the inexorable tribulation, and the imminent rise of Kunwu’s first great ascended figure.
Everyone was smiling.
Everyone, except Dao Lord Tianshu.
His gaze passed over the crowd, crossed mountains and rivers, and settled upon a place he should never return to in this lifetime.
On the first day back in Separation’s Regret Heaven, he shut himself away, forbidding anyone to enter or leave.
Even Lord Yaoguang was only permitted into the front hall, barred from the rear hall where Dao Lord Tianshu remained.
Yet Zhao Zhao, borrowing the power of this illusory realm, could see him within the inner hall with perfect clarity.
He looked as though he were in great pain.
At times, he would lose all composure and collapse to the floor, struggling as if to crawl out of the frigid palace. At other times, he would return to his seat as though nothing had happened, as if the earlier madness had never occurred.
Something within his body was tearing him apart, and Zhao Zhao knew all too clearly what it was.
It was his memories as Xie Lanshu—his pure, unburdened love, unshackled by any duty or obligation.
Zhao Zhao lifted a hand to the place over her heart.
After severing her threads of attachment, all that remained within was a faint, hollow ache. Yet she thought this was enough; this was good.
To know that she had not been abandoned cleanly or without hesitation; to know that the man who had once been Xie Lanshu had truly struggled for her with the purest of feelings—
He simply could no longer love her as Xie Lanshu.
If this had been the final ending, she would have had no regrets.
But this was not the final ending.
Zhao Zhao watched as he, now fully Dao Lord Tianshu once more, stepped out of Separation’s Regret Heaven. He ordered Lord Yaoguang to prepare gifts as restitution. Lord Yaoguang departed for Yunmeng Pier bearing dozens of chests filled with gold, silver, and jewels, along with a longevity pill personally refined by Dao Lord Tianshu.
When he returned, Lord Yaoguang asked whether he wished to know how his young wife had reacted.
Dao Lord Tianshu fell silent for a long time, and in the end, he did not ask a single question.
Without her prophetic dream, Lord Yaoguang would not divulge anything of his own accord. Within this illusory realm, she never sought out Immortal Realm of Kunwu.
Dao Lord Tianshu continued on as the unfettered Dao Lord, devoting himself wholly to cultivation. Everyone believed his heart was free of all distractions, that ascension lay only one step away.
But only he himself, and Zhao Zhao watching from within the illusion, knew the truth.
All these years, he had not advanced a single realm. His cultivation had even regressed, drifting farther and farther from the goal he sought.
At last, one day, he left Immortal Realm of Kunwu.
He used no immortal arts at all. The Dao Lord who had been able to ride his sword since the age of five walked on foot instead, step by step, dazed and unsteady, following the very path Zhao Zhao had once taken, until he reached Yunmeng Pier.
It was spring in the Mortal Realm. Mountain flowers bloomed in riotous splendor, the skies were clear and bright; a season most auspicious for marriage.
The Xie Residence thought so as well.
The day Dao Lord Tianshu returned to the Xie Residence happened to coincide with the very day the Xie elders finalized a marriage contract for the Xie Residence’s eldest daughter, arranging for her to wed the son of an official’s household from Yunmeng Pier.
Throughout Yunmeng Pier, people all said the same thing: the groom was talented, the bride was fair, a match made in heaven.
