Chapter 1#

Her Husband Gives Her a Leaf!#

Upper Cultivation Realm, Canglin Sect.

Outer Sect.

This area had been under a continuous drizzle for several days, and with dusk settling in, the sky was as dark and gloomy as night, casting the dining hall into murky shadows as well.

The outer sect disciples were all in the Foundation Establishment stage, not yet having achieved abstinence from food, and it was exactly dinner time. A few dozen people had gathered in the dining hall, buzzing with noise, with some discussing the latest gossip.

“Have you heard?” a black-robed youth who looked a little over thirty said while cracking melon seeds to his companion. “That inner sect disciple Ying Qingye got married. A few days ago, he went to Yunxia Forest to pick up that Qiao family son who was marrying into his household, and you know what happened…”

He trailed off, savoring the suspense. His companions grew anxious. “What happened? Just say it already, Old Hu!”

“Turns out that yesterday, Qiao Weiyang appeared back at his own sect!”

“Huh? But I saw Ying Qingye carrying back a red bridal sedan that day… If the one Ying Qingye brought back wasn’t Qiao Weiyang, then who was it?”

A sudden silence hung in the air. The room was dim, and no one noticed a pair of delicate, small hands reaching for the plate of snacks, quietly snatching one.

The owner of those hands was hiding under a chair. His pitch-black eyes gleamed like the most beautiful obsidian in the world. Biting into a pastry, he chewed like a little hamster, all the while quietly listening to the conversation at the table above:

“Could it be… they carried back an empty sedan?”

“Hiss…”

“Wait, did Qiao Weiyang refuse to come?”

The crowd seemed to think of something, and a collective gasp of cold air rose.

Qiao Weiyang—the sole child of the Qiao family, head of the twelve great clans. Gifted with extraordinary talent, he had reached Foundation Establishment at the tender age of twelve and had been accepted as an inner disciple of the current number-one sect in the world. Calling him a child of destiny was hardly an exaggeration.

However, youthful fame alone wouldn’t leave such a deep impression—unless he had been the runner-up that year.

And as for the champion? That would be the Ying Qingye everyone was talking about. He had entered Qi Refining at seven, Foundation Establishment at eleven, and Golden Core at sixteen—undoubtedly the number-one prodigy on the Heavenly Talent Ranking.

Moreover, there was a deep connection between the number one and number two.

For instance, these two, Ying Qingye and Qiao Weiyang, had been the talk of the Upper Cultivation Realm for the past decade—because they were betrothed to each other from their mothers’ wombs, and they had even crossed the World’s Marriage Stone.

Many families make betrothals, but few dare to cross the Marriage Stone.

Because a contract bound by the Marriage Stone, if violated, would incur heavenly punishment with unimaginable consequences.

“You all don’t know this.” A cold laugh suddenly came from not far away. “It’s all over the inner sect—Ying Qingye, he was played.”

The speaker was a youth in blue robes, with spiritual energy at the fifth level of Foundation Establishment surging around him. He had unremarkable triple spiritual roots, but he made up for it with his good looks—fragile and graceful, like a willow swaying in the wind.

The outer sect disciples all knew he served as a cauldron for an inner sect disciple. Someone warming the bed is always summoned more often, after all, so his sources of information were much wider than theirs.

After all, in this Canglin Sect, outer sect disciples could only enter the inner sect on holidays or during banquets, to catch a glimpse of those favored children of heaven.

“What do you mean, ‘played’?” the cultivator surnamed Hu asked, confused.

The youth smiled lightly, glanced at him, and lowered his voice, sneaky as could be: “Because in the sedan Ying Qingye brought back sat a serving girl who attended Qiao Weiyang! And the lowest-ranked type at that… I heard that when Ying Qingye found out, he vomited a full three sheng of blood on the spot, and his master had to haul him off into seclusion. He hasn’t come out even now.”

The entire dining hall went quiet for a moment, then exploded like a drop of water splashed into boiling oil—a chorus of clamoring surprise rang out:

“Seriously?”

“Damn, that Qiao Weiyang is shameless! The Ying family only just declined not long ago! And he goes back on the vow?! And sends a servant girl to humiliate him!”

“Yeah, a lowly servant girl can’t compare to the Qiao family’s favored child of heaven…”

“That serving girl isn’t any good either, if you ask me. Who knows if she agreed to the substitute marriage because she’s hiding something harmful on her?”

“I think Qiao Weiyang was right to break off the engagement. He’s been at Chizhuo Sect for years now—the number one sect in the world, miles ahead of our Canglin Sect. He’s seen countless brilliant talents there. And Ying Qingye? Hah, he’s been stuck at Golden Core level two for how many years now? Still the same pathetic state he was in at sixteen! If it were me, I’d break it off too! Ptui!”

A glob of thick phlegm landed beside a chair, a mere half a chi away from the owner of those small hands underneath.

Yan Jianxiao couldn’t take it anymore. Carefully crawling out from under the chair, he slipped away while no one was looking, leaving behind a single copper coin to count as payment for his meal.

Taking advantage of the night, he quietly snuck out of the dining hall.

The two pastries he’d stolen earlier were a bit dry, so Yan Jianxiao found a pond. The water’s surface reflected his image.

He was a youth in a blue-gray dress, hair hastily tied up into a small bun at the back of his head. Even in the darkness, one could tell he had a stunningly beautiful face, his pale skin still flushed with a light pink from running.

A beauty.

But the next second, the beauty was crouching by the pond, scooping water with the teacup he carried with him. A flicker of spiritual light at his fingertip, and a small character fell onto the cup: “Clean.”

The water in the cup instantly became pure. Yan Jianxiao couldn’t wait to cup his hands around it and drink. He drank so hastily that a good amount spilled down his chin and into his collar.

But Yan Jianxiao didn’t have the mind to care about that. He just stared blankly at his own reflection in the pond.

Since being brought to Canglin Sect, he had been wandering the outer sect for four days now.

If he still didn’t find Ying Qingye…

What was he going to do?

Yan Jianxiao felt a little scared. Unbidden, the memory of that night four days ago surfaced in his mind—

“Yan Jianxiao, marrying Ying Qingye in my place—that’s your blessing…”

Qiao Weiyang, clad in white robes, squinted his peach-blossom eyes and rapped his fan hard against Yan Jianxiao’s head. “When you get there, make sure to serve him well, got it? Only then will you have done justice to that face of yours… Don’t worry, he won’t stoop to fussing over a female slave.”

As he spoke, his tone paused. He used the fan rib to tilt up Yan Jianxiao’s chin, staring at him absent-mindedly for a moment, before suddenly grinning. “But… do you think Ying Qingye will thank me? I even found him the prettiest one! Hahaha—”

Yan Jianxiao couldn’t help but clench his fingers. He had no strength to resist Qiao Weiyang, so all he could do was hurriedly lower his head, hiding the tears welling up in his eyes.

He was mute, and he had five spiritual roots—even worse than triple roots. In the Upper Cultivation Realm, the most sought-after were single, pure spiritual roots; the purer they were, the further and stronger one could go on the path of cultivation.

And someone like him with five roots naturally couldn’t fight against Qiao Weiyang.

For as long as he could remember, Yan Jianxiao had lived in the Qiao family’s Servant Criminals Pavilion. His mother had dressed him in skirts since he was little, but Yan Jianxiao knew very well that he was a boy.

Many servant girls lived in the Servant Criminals Pavilion. The senior ones would marry and bear children, producing little servant children to be worked like oxen and horses.

His mother had told him he was born that way, so he had to listen to her well—always wear skirts, never reveal his male identity to outsiders, and never go to any sect.

Of course, Yan Jianxiao never planned to go to any sect.

He had a bad impression of sects, and because of Qiao Weiyang, his impression of Ying Qingye wasn’t good either.

That was until he was brought to Yunxia Forest and met Ying Qingye.

Yunxia Forest was a red maple forest. When Yan Jianxiao was brought to the designated meeting spot, the drizzling rain was washing over the crimson maple leaves. He sat in the sedan, awaiting his predetermined death.

Yes—death.

He was sure Ying Qingye would kill him in a fit of rage.

He had already planned: after dying, he would go find Qiao Weiyang and get revenge. The storybooks said someone like him who died that way would become a ghost with even stronger resentment.

At that point, he wouldn’t even need to speak. He’d just stand there and scare Qiao Weiyang to death.

Though he couldn’t speak anyway.

But just as Yan Jianxiao’s mind was wandering, a hand reached in from outside.

The person’s fingertips pinched a single brilliant red maple leaf. The fingers were well-defined and distinct, noticeably sturdier than Yan Jianxiao’s clearly malnourished ones. Clearly someone who ate ten full bowls a day.

Unlike him, who couldn’t even eat his fill.

“Hey, aren’t you going to say something?” Suddenly, the youth, whom Yan Jianxiao suspected ate ten bowls a day, spoke. He seemed to be eagerly anticipating some earth-shattering remark.

“…”

Yan Jianxiao was a little dazed. How was a mute supposed to speak?

The hand waved again, its owner saying lazily, “Take it. Unless you want me to carry you out? Come on, Qiao Weiyang, a man like you shouldn’t be so…”

Yan Jianxiao sensed a hint of irritation in his voice, and hurriedly reached out to place his hand on it. But as he stood up, he accidentally bumped his head on the sedan’s frame. Bang.

Ow! Tears welled up in Yan Jianxiao’s eyes, and he clutched his head.

The voice outside suddenly paused.

Ying Qingye’s expression turned strange. Feeling an unexpected softness from the fingers touching his, he froze for a moment.

Qiao Weiyang was a man—how could his hand be this soft? Wasn’t he a sword cultivator?

Where were his sword calluses?

Ying Qingye abruptly yanked open the sedan curtain—

In that instant, a pair of obsidian-like eyes collided into view. The person inside was wearing an obviously ill-fitting red dress, peering at him timidly. Two small braids were tied at his temples, and silver earrings below them swayed in the breeze.

Jingle.

Ying Qingye was startled back to his senses. Yan Jianxiao felt like a “?” had materialized above his head.

Why was it a girl? Was she even of age?

A silence fell in the sedan.

The two pairs of eyes met for a moment, then Ying Qingye spoke: “Who are you? I remember Qiao Weiyang didn’t look like this.”

Yan Jianxiao nervously raised his hand to gesture, but before he could even sign out two characters, something on his wrist suddenly burned. A beam of red light shot out, and then a red imprint appeared on Ying Qingye’s wrist as well.

Ying Qingye’s expression changed, and he stepped back out of the sedan.

In an instant, a fierce gale swept across the sky. Lightning flickered continuously within the clouds, and a golden thunderbolt came streaking down with lightning speed!

Yan Jianxiao’s vision blurred, his heart racing. It was as if a dense torrent of text was flashing before his eyes, like some kind of voice pack installing itself.

[Beep beep beep—Male lead detected.]

[Loading male lead—]

[Word Spirit check: Level one.]

[Searching for male lead information]

[Ying Qingye, male, sword cultivator, true cultivation level: Golden Core, level seven. Ten Thousand Ages Immortal Venerable, X-point style Long Aotian…]

…What the hell? Long Aotian?

The overwhelming stream of text threw Yan Jianxiao’s mind into chaos, so much so that he forgot his instinct to take cover. It wasn’t until Ying Qingye suddenly reached out and yanked him aside, swiftly drawing some kind of incantation in front of the both of them.

Soon, the youth knitted his brows, his tone slightly broken, as if his hopes had been dashed: “You’re a mortal? What’s going on here? Say something, will you, little sister?!”

Ying Qingye grabbed one of his hands, but no matter how Yan Jianxiao gestured with the other, he couldn’t make himself clear. In desperation, the corners of his eyes reddened, looking like he was about to cry, as he stared aggrievedly at Ying Qingye.

Ying Qingye: “…”

Ying Qingye suddenly shoved him away, and in the blink of an eye, had already bolted a great distance off, the heavenly thunder still chasing after him, striking down.

Yan Jianxiao was stunned. His vision went black. When he came to again, he had been brought to the outer sect of Canglin Sect.

And in these four days, Yan Jianxiao had heard no news of Ying Qingye at all—until just now at the dining hall, where he’d learned that Ying Qingye had vomited three sheng of blood in anger and gone into seclusion.

“…”

Yan Jianxiao snapped back to reality. Looking at his reflection in the pond, he couldn’t help but raise a hand to touch his face.

Was he really that loathsome? People took one look at him and vomited three sheng of blood?

But, wait—vomiting three sheng of blood, could a person still survive that?

Yan Jianxiao then remembered that inexplicable book that had appeared in his mind, which said Ying Qingye was a powerful Long Aotian male lead who had also concealed his cultivation. So vomiting blood probably wasn’t a big deal, right?

The book said that during this period, Ying Qingye was actually in seclusion—but not because he was angry about being jilted. Rather, he couldn’t suppress his cultivation anymore and was about to break through to Golden Core level seven.

Yan Jianxiao felt like the plot in the book was a bit different from reality, because in the book, Qiao Weiyang had not sent him as a substitute bride—there was simply no role for “Yan Jianxiao” in the book at all.

So… would Ying Qingye recover from vomiting blood?

Yan Jianxiao looked at his own fingertip, thinking of the “Clean” character from earlier. Although he had five spiritual roots, he had discovered from a young age that he possessed a bit of healing ability.

He wanted to save Ying Qingye.

But his identity was too sensitive. The people of Canglin Sect all thought he was Qiao Weiyang’s person, and they didn’t like him. What was he supposed to do?

Yan Jianxiao unconsciously bit his lower lip. He didn’t even notice that his clothes were soaked through with rain, clinging to his body and faintly outlining his slender frame.

Suddenly, an extremely faint animal cry caught his attention.

“Awr… awr…”

Yan Jianxiao’s whole body jolted. He followed the sound and was stunned.

These past few days, to avoid being spotted and beaten, he had been living in a dense forest behind the mountain near the dining hall, where he’d built himself a nest out of branches and leaves. But at this moment, a lump of pitch-black something was sprawled out in his nest.

Who was trying to take his nest?! (▼ヘ▼#)

Yan Jianxiao stomped over angrily—and immediately his anger vanished.

The little thing was only a bit bigger than the palm of a hand. Its whole body radiated a bloody aura, its face was pitch black, but its eyes were a foggy blue. It whimpered and whined, as if badly wounded.

Yan Jianxiao: “…”

He thought he was having it pretty tough, being married off and having to play survival out here—but how could this little thing have it even worse than him? Who beat it up like this?!

Sure enough, there was no one good among these clans and sects. They wouldn’t even spare a kitten this small… wuuu