My Husband’s Ascension C58
Chapter 58 Slap
Yao Ling waited outside Beaconlight Mountain for an entire night.
They had agreed that he would emerge by dawn at the latest. Yet now the sun was already high in the sky, and there was still no sign of him. Yao Ling guessed that they must have been discovered by the sect, and she began to grow restless.
She didn’t know whether Zhongli Shun had returned yet. If he had, he’d better be sharp about it: act the part and leave it at that. Don’t lock horns with Xie Lanshu to the death.
Before Yao Ling’s patience was completely spent, a familiar figure finally came rushing in from the horizon.
She stepped forward and asked, “All done?”
“Yes. Let’s go back.”
Yao Ling said warily, “My sect’s people are all right, yes? If anyone was hurt, when my Master comes back to life, she’ll peel your skin off!”
“She was never dead to begin with.” Xie Lanshu’s tone rose slightly. After a brief pause, he continued, “Only Zhongli Shun suffered a minor injury. His cultivation has already reached the tenth stage of the Grand Primordium Dao. He’s only one major realm below me. If he hadn’t been hurt, no one would believe he truly gave it his all.”
Regardless, was it really necessary to send him flying a hundred meters with a single strike? He’d smashed through several trees on the way!
Even though Zhao Zhao understood that there had been some playacting on both sides, the blow Zhongli Shun took was entirely real. Heaven knew how many bones he had fractured when he was sent flying.
Zhao Zhao couldn’t bear to blame Zhongli Shun, who had acted wholly for her sake, and could only lay all the fault at the feet of the Dao Lord Tianshu before her.
And Yao Ling, true to being a disciple she herself had taught, had the very same first reaction: “If you’d moved a little faster, you wouldn’t have been discovered. And even if you were, you’re a thousand-year-old monster, couldn’t you have just run? You had to fight, didn’t you? It’s hard not to think you were settling a personal score.”
Xie Lanshu shot her a sideways glance, perhaps debating whether to retort to that “thousand-year-old monster” remark.
“Your junior brother very nearly sliced my throat open with one strike.”
Yao Ling cast a couple of indifferent looks, not caring in the slightest, and spoke in a voice still tinged with youth, brutally declaring, “So what? Give it a few days, the wound will heal on its own.”
Xie Lanshu turned his head away, his expression blank, and said nothing more for the rest of the journey.
Fortunately, this little girl was not his daughter. If he had a daughter like that, he would definitely beat her three times a day, morning, noon, and night.
As for Zhao Zhao, she was quite happy the whole way.
Although Zhao Zhao felt a trace of worry seeing Yao Ling with Dao Lord Tianshu, Yao Ling had always been a clever girl; she knew how to protect herself.
Moreover, Yao Ling seemed to have grown considerably.
Not the twenty-something visage seen in prophetic dreams, but a youth of twelve or thirteen, the remnants of childhood innocence faded, her delicate features carrying a kind of androgynous grace, like a freshly unsheathed spiritual sword, its blade radiating pure, clear light.
Zhao Zhao had long known Yao Ling would grow up, and had even glimpsed her future form, yet seeing her now was like watching a seed she had planted herself finally sprout. A warm satisfaction and pride bloomed within her.
After entering the Demon Realm, Zhao Zhao had also seen Rong Yu, who now looked around fifteen.
The solemnity she had foreseen in dreams was absent from his face. When he smiled, it was the same soft, tender expression of his childhood, so pliant that anyone could pinch his cheeks without offense.
Yet the cumbersome, elaborate robes of a Demon Lord weighed upon him, adding an invisible gravity that made him not so easily approached.
“So this is Master?” Rong Yu had never seen Zhao Zhao after she had grown into a full tree. Peering through the semi-transparent spirit-storing pouch, he saw only a palm-sized sapling inside and smiled, the corners of his eyes curling. “So cute… When I was this small, did Master look at me the same way?”
Zhao Zhao studied the suddenly looming, enormous face before her and recalled carefully.
She should not have been this intimidating… right?
“She only looks small inside the spirit-storing pouch. Once taken out, it’s much larger,” Xie Lanshu explained.
The three of them sat around the table, and Yao Ling asked Rong Yu, “How is it? After we attacked the three cities in the Ghost Realm, has there been any movement on their side?”
The city they now occupied, Loftspire City, had once been part of the Ghost Realm. Half a month ago, it had fallen to the Demon Realm, and was now renamed Wraith City.
The three cities were not particularly large, but their strategic position was crucial. Beyond the Wusu Ghost River lay the Underrealm Pass (九幽关). Once they captured the pass, the Ghost Realm capital, Spectrahold (酆都), would be theirs for the taking.
At such a critical point, Yao Ling assumed the Ghost Realm army would have made some move during their absence. Yet Rong Yu shook his head.
“The Ghost Realm forces haven’t moved. But Spectrahold has just sent a letter. I didn’t have time to read it before you returned.”
Rong Yu handed the letter to Yao Ling. She tore it open in a few swift motions and read its contents.
“No way…” Yao Ling looked up in astonishment, blinking rapidly. “It’s… an invitation to the wedding of the (veiled) Wu-Shaman of Mount Ling and the Ghost King of Spectrahold.”
Zhao Zhao was equally taken aback.
The veiled Wu-Shaman of Mount Ling… and the Ghost King of Spectrahold? Married?
She understood every word individually, yet strung together, it was almost incomprehensible.
“Mount Ling is notorious in the Cultivation Realm. Though it narrowly escaped the Seven Great Sects’ purge and fled to the Ghost Realm, the Ghost Realm is far less bound by rules. Without paying a price, Mount Ling would suffer even more there than in the Cultivation Realm.”
This was also why Xie Lanshu had not rushed to pursue when he learned that Mount Ling had fled by moving the entire mountain.
In the Cultivation Realm, Mount Ling could maintain its standing through divination techniques that conveyed divine edicts. But the Ghost Realm did not respond to such methods. There, people trust only what they can grasp immediately, such as consuming the souls of pure-hearted devotees, which would be far more nourishing than ordinary mortals.
Still, Wu-Shaman Xian seemed to possess considerable skill.
Before relocating the mountain, nearly all the disciples guarding it had been slaughtered by her. Yet Mount Ling had managed to endure fifty years in the Ghost Realm before finally reaching a dead end, forced to resort to such a desperate measure as marrying a wu-shaman maiden to the Ghost King.
After drumming his fingers lightly on the stone table, Xie Lanshu turned to Rong Yu and asked, “What do you make of this?”
Rong Yu was caught off guard by the question. “Me?”
“You are the Successor of the demon race. When you come of age, you will be the Demon Lord. This letter was sent to you, so naturally, your opinion matters most.”
Rong Yu glanced at him. The silver-haired youth wore a calm, modest expression. At first glance, he could pass for a loyal minister or skilled general; there was nothing in his demeanor to suggest the madness he displayed when slaughtering his own kind.
Yao Ling piped up, “What’s there to think? Spectrahold is obviously afraid of us. If you ask me, we should just cross the river in one push, take Underrealm Pass, and deal with that Ghost King and Wu-Shaman nonsense later. By then, you’d be the master of both realms. Kill everyone who stands in our way, seize Mount Ling, place our Master in the spot with the best feng shui and the richest spiritual energy—how perfect would that be?”
The others, including Zhao Zhao in the spirit-storing pouch, fell silent.
It wasn’t that Yao Ling’s plan was impossible. Rather, hearing a thirteen-year-old girl speak with such an innocent expression about ‘killing everyone’ was… startling.
Zhao Zhao began to wonder if perhaps her own methods of raising disciples had been somewhat flawed.
Rong Yu looked a little bewildered too; he wasn’t quite sure who truly bore the demon blood here, himself or Yao Ling.
“It’s not impossible,” he said after some thought, “but… the Cultivation Realm has always viewed us with hostility. They wouldn’t attack us outright, but if we strike the Ghost Realm and barely win, the Cultivation Realm could take the opportunity to ambush us. We would have no means to resist.”
Right, she had almost forgotten there was a former Dao Lord here who had defected from the Cultivation Realm.
The Cultivation Realm’s feelings toward this ex-Dao Lord were complicated.
In short, if given the chance, everyone wanted to capture him, to prevent a day when he might turn his sword against the Cultivation Realm and become a dangerous adversary.
“Not we,” Yao Ling leaned in and whispered into Rong Yu’s ear. “Don’t forget, both of us were dragged here by him. We’re acting under duress. If a real fight breaks out, the only one who’ll die is him.”
“……” Across from them, the silver‑haired youth lowered his gaze, took a quiet sip of tea, and said gently, “I can hear you.”
Yao Ling acted as though she hadn’t heard a thing and calmly returned to her seat.
Rong Yu suppressed a laugh before continuing, “And there’s another issue. If we have to take Mount Ling by force just to obtain the materials for the longevity pill, it will take far too long. Grandmaster no longer has any cultivation; his body will only worsen by the day. We can afford to wait, but he cannot. So in truth, we also need a chance to negotiate with Mount Ling.”
Only when the old man was mentioned did the scales in Yao Ling’s heart tip slightly.
Ever since Master’s accident, Daoist Ming Jue had gone from a spirited, lively little elder to one who could hardly keep his eyes open all day.
The thought left Yao Ling’s chest feeling tight and heavy.
She didn’t want Master to return, only to find that the Cloudculm Abode had already become unrecognizable.
Thus, the matter of attending the banquet in Spectrahold was settled. But there remained one final problem—
“Master must be left in our care. No filthy men are allowed to touch my Master!!”
No one could have imagined that two generations of prodigious sword cultivators of the Cultivation Realm would come to blows for the first time over something as small as a spirit-storing pouch.
Xie Lanshu: “I stitched this pouch with my own hands. Even the boundless water (无垠水) inside was fetched by me personally. Who do you think is better suited to care for your Master?”
Yao Ling scoffed. “No matter how much you’ve prepared, Master will still like me best! I’m Master’s baby! She doesn’t want to be carried around on you all day!”
A single branch poked out from the spirit-storing pouch and wobbled in agreement.
Xie Lanshu ignored it entirely and said with a smile, “If I hand her over to you, can you truly guarantee her safety?”
“Of course!”
“Which matters more: your pride, or your Master’s safety? Think carefully before you answer.”
“……”
Caught between two immortals on the brink of a brawl, Rong Yu tried to intervene, “Please, stop fighting. If this keeps up, the cavern’s going to collapse…”
“Shut up.” “Shut up!”
“……” Rong Yu closed his mouth with a trace of grievance.
…
In the end, Zhao Zhao’s custody fell into Xie Lanshu’s hands.
Yao Ling, fuming with frustration, returned to her room, closed her eyes, and began meditative training, imagining stabbing a hundred and eight holes into Xie Lanshu in her mind.
The only thing he’s got over her is his age, what was there to be proud of?!
Given enough time, she was certain she could make him kneel and beg for mercy.
Xie Lanshu, carrying the spirit-storing pouch at his waist, walked along the corridor with a calm, gentle smile.
Though he usually wore a faint smile, even the attendants noticed that today, the mood of their demon officer was unmistakably good.
A subordinate bringing medicinal soup dared to ask, “Master, is there some happy event today?”
“Not exactly a happy event.”
He retrieved the branch that Zhongli Shun had cut from his sleeve.
Spiritual trees do not feel pain. Unlike its roots, a broken branch was of no real consequence. Yet he carefully placed the severed branch into a jade-green vial, preserving it with great care.
“Still… it is indeed one of the rare moments of true joy I’ve had in these past decades.” He turned to the medicinal soup in his subordinate’s hands, lifted the bowl, inhaled its aroma carefully, and then drank it in one swift motion. “Dismissed.”
The subordinate glanced at the now-empty bowl, about to speak, but seeing the sheer contentment on his superior’s face, even the most foolish could understand that it was not the time to question him.
The room fell silent. Xie Lanshu sat in meditation upon the bed, seemingly digesting the potent concoction he had just consumed.
Zhao Zhao caught the scent of the herbs and sniffed carefully.
Why do all the ingredients….smell like deadly poison?
Her curiosity barely had time to peak before she saw him produce a small bowl and a dagger. She had a faint inkling of what he intended, yet could do nothing to stop him. Her eyes widened as he cut open his wrist, and blood instantly spiraled downward.
Even as a practitioner of the Divine Farmer Dao, she could not help but recognize the purpose of his actions.
—He was using his own body as a crucible to refine the soup brewed from the most poisonous of herbs.
The rarer the herb, the more double-edged its nature: potent medicinal effects intertwined with deadly toxicity. He was separating the poison, absorbing only the beneficial essence into his own bloodstream.
By cutting open his flesh and letting his blood flow, the blood itself became a supreme elixir.
Once a full bowl of blood had been collected, Xie Lanshu indifferently sealed the wound and guided all the blood into the spirit-storing pouch.
As recorded in ancient texts, the spiritual tree, nourished with fresh blood, grew visibly stronger, far more effectively than with ordinary boundless water.
Zhao Zhao felt the change even more intensely.
The coppery scent of blood, suffused with surging spiritual energy, washed over her like a lavish feast presented to one starved for days. Before she could even react, her body had instinctively absorbed the blood, and every branch stretched out, sated and vibrant.
Xie Lanshu lifted a tender green branch with his forefinger, his pale features breaking into a deep, satisfied smile.
“As expected…”
Before his words could finish, the blood-fed branch whipped toward his face with a sudden gust of wind—
Slap!
A bright red streak bloomed across his pale cheek where the branch had struck.
Zhao Zhao fumed.
Who asked him to take his blood? She could cultivate perfectly well on her own! There was no need for his forced charity!
Xie Lanshu paused for a moment, stunned at the unexpected strike.
Yet he did not grow angry.
The smile in his eyes deepened, and his gaze lingered with gentle warmth.
“You haven’t touched me of your own accord for a long time, Zhao Zhao. It brings me joy.”
Author’s Note: How hateful, he actually saw it as a reward!
