Chapter 7#

Husband Is Taking Care of Him, Wuu!#

“Qingye!”

At the Firmament Peak, just as Ying Qingye returned to the lakeside, he saw Feng Shili running toward him, winking and pulling faces.

Ying Qingye asked, puzzled, “If your face is twitching, go get it treated. What are you parading it in front of me for?”

Feng Shili choked on his words. Before he could speak, a sword light suddenly shot over from not far away——

Ying Qingye dodged aside, but a hand landed on his shoulder. Tan Cang’s stern voice carried boundless fury: “Ying Qingye! What did you do at the Immortal Fruit Pavilion?”

The smile on Ying Qingye’s face vanished, replaced by utter coldness.

Feng Shili finally managed to mouth a silent message to him——thanks to a certain pretty little mute, Ying Qingye could now understand simple lip-reading.

“Wang Moqing went to the Sect Master to tattle on you.”

Ying Qingye’s eyes flickered. He turned to look at Tan Cang, bent slightly, and clasped his hands together in a salute. “Disciple greets Master.”

Tan Cang, clad in a white-gold dharma robe, his handlebar mustache flying upward with rage, actually struck Ying Qingye’s back with his own sword. “You still have the nerve to call me Master? Do you not know what you did at the Immortal Fruit Pavilion? Angering the Sect Master over a little servant girl—do you have any sense of proportion at all? Do you know your current situation?!”

Ying Qingye remained silent, taking the blow. The black robe on his back soaked through with dampness, giving off a bloody smell.

Tan Cang showed not the slightest mercy. He looked at Ying Qingye with the disappointment of a man whose hopes had been dashed, deeply let down.

Ying Qingye had entered the Golden Core stage at sixteen—one could say he was exceptionally gifted. Tan Cang had taken him on precisely to make a name for himself through his disciple, to bask in reflected glory and outshine those old fossils of his generation.

But it seemed all of Ying Qingye’s luck had been used up by the time he was sixteen. After that, he had stalled at Golden Core, and now he couldn’t even compare to Wang Moqing!

“I know,” Ying Qingye said flatly. “But I have my own principles. You needn’t trouble yourself over this, Master.”

“What do you know?!” Tan Cang roared. “I forbid you from associating with that little servant girl any further. I’ll write a letter to the Qiao family right away and have them exchange the person for resources as compensation!”

Ying Qingye’s brows knitted. “No need. I’ll get it back myself.”

Those who knew him well could tell that a hint of irritation had crept into his tone. But Tan Cang did not know him well, and he kept pressing relentlessly.

Years ago, when the Ying family had been powerful, they’d given the Canglin Sect considerable assistance—that was one of the main reasons Tan Cang had accepted Ying Qingye as his disciple.

Ying Qingye was well aware of this himself, which was why he dared not let Tan Cang know about the ‘heart seal’ on his arm, lest someone use it as an excuse to kill him.

Tan Cang glared at him, trembling all over. “Ying Qingye, are you truly going to disobey your master’s words?”

Ying Qingye showed no fear, meeting his gaze head-on. There was not a trace of retreat in those sharp brows and eyes.

Tan Cang: “…Then get yourself to the back mountain and reflect on your actions!”

…

Danshu Peak.

There were many female cultivators coming and going here. Afraid they might recognize something strange about him, Yan Jianxiao was cautious in everything he did, only able to secretly observe Ruoxi and the others.

Ruoxi’s personality wasn’t quite as described in the original book—she really was gentle, just as Ying Qingye had said.

Colorful clouds fell from the edge of the sky. From time to time, female cultivators would come over to the training ground to chatter and laugh with Ruoxi, then exchange knowing smiles before stuffing storybooks into her hands.

“Senior Sister, this is an unedited collector’s edition, the newest release from the Fu family! Hehe!”

Ruoxi silently accepted them.

Yan Jianxiao was a little curious about what they were, his pretty eyes fixed intently on her.

Sensing his gaze, Ruoxi coughed. “I’ll lend it to you after I finish reading it later.”

Yan Jianxiao obediently nodded, as if to say, “Okay.”

“Good girl~” Ruoxi couldn’t help but pinch his cheek again. With dual wood-metal spiritual roots and having chosen the path of a sword cultivator, she had always disliked fragile things.

But for some reason, she found Yan Jianxiao adorable. This girl had an aura about her that drew her in.

Ruoxi quickly led the person to an open-air training ground with glazed floor tiles that glittered in the light. At the center stood a half-person-tall pillar, atop which rested a colorful ball. Female cultivators were scattered around, and some of them also didn’t have much spiritual power.

Yan Jianxiao let out a soft ’eh?’ in his heart, suddenly remembering this part of the plot.

Originally, these few days happened to be when the Peak Master of Danshu Peak was taking on disciples. Ying Qingye was supposed to find a little girl with a pure gold spiritual root at the foot of the mountain and bring her up the peak for the Danshu Peak Master to adopt.

The girl had extraordinary talent, and her arrival was bound to shake Ruoxi’s position.

Naturally, this move greatly displeased Ruoxi. The two had a huge fight, and Ying Qingye stormed down the mountain in anger, seeking an opportunity to break through, wanting to destroy the Qiao family in the future and slap Qiao Weiyang’s face.

After that, Ruoxi embarked on the path of the husband-chasing crematorium.

Recalling the plot, Yan Jianxiao: “…”

It seemed that although Ruoxi and Ying Qingye weren’t childhood sweethearts this time, this part of the plot still happened.

Sure enough, Ruoxi beside him spoke up in confusion: “Why are there so many people around the spirit crystal ball? Hiss… Why did Master come out of seclusion early? Come on, let’s go take a look.”

Yan Jianxiao closed his eyes. His feet seemed rooted to the ground. He clearly didn’t want to go over, and his small face was pale.

Those three words—five spiritual roots—had been branded on him for over a decade. He knew what he’d face if he went over: mockery, veiled and unveiled ridicule. And all he could do was mumble and whimper, unable to even curse back.

“Eh?” Ruoxi noticed she wasn’t following and turned back. “What’s wrong?”

Yan Jianxiao’s heart raced. He suddenly remembered that when he was on the steps, Ying Qingye had also asked him what was wrong.

That person would have carried him, lifting him straight over. But Ying Qingye wouldn’t always have the chance to hold him.

“…”

Yan Jianxiao gritted his teeth, looked up at Ruoxi, and forced a smile, shaking his head as he mouthed silently, “It’s nothing. Let’s go over.”

Ruoxi was a bit thick-skulled, and since he seemed willing to move again, she didn’t press further.

But years of introversion weren’t so easily changed. When Yan Jianxiao walked into the crowd, he couldn’t help but dig his nails into his palm. His expression appeared calm, but his soul had already checked out a while ago.

“Ah! Senior Sister Ruoxi! You’re here too!”

“Senior Sister, Senior Sister, come quick! I brought someone back from the mountain! Even Master was startled!”

“Huh? Ruoxi, what’s that you’ve brought behind you? Five spiritual roots?”

Ruoxi walked over, and there sat a white-haired female cultivator in a wheelchair, looking listless. That was Ruoxi’s master—Cang Xiao.

The Canglin Sect had three leaders: Sect Master Canglin, Deputy Sect Master Cang Xiao, and then Ying Qingye’s master, Tan Cang. Legend had it that the three had once been sworn friends who founded the Canglin Sect together.

Ruoxi stepped forward first, leaving Yan Jianxiao behind her immediately exposed to the crowd, drawing many gazes.

Cang Xiao’s eyelids twitched. When she raised them, they were full of authority—a pair of white eyes, with no black pupils, only whites.

In the upper cultivation world, the realms were divided into Qi Refining, Foundation Establishment, Golden Core, Nascent Soul, Spirit Transformation, Body Integration, Mahayana, and Ascension.

This Cang Xiao was a Spirit Transformation cultivator nearly eight hundred years old, and her presence carried an awe-inspiring dignity.

“Ahhh!”

The female cultivators who had never seen her before were all frightened, their faces turning pale. Some newly initiated disciples even fell to their knees in terror.

Yan Jianxiao was the same. He was so startled that his knees went weak, and he thudded to the ground.

Cang Xiao’s voice carried an echo as she spoke: “Ruoxi, who is this?”

Ruoxi gave a salute and replied, “This is my friend, Yan Jianxiao. Master, she suffers from a mute affliction. I’d like to ask you to examine her and see if she can be cured.”

Cang Xiao’s eyelids twitched slightly. She raised a hand and said, “Come here.”

Yan Jianxiao was stunned for a moment, his body trembling with fear. He gripped his palm tightly, giving himself mental encouragement over and over——

Don’t be afraid, don’t be afraid, Yanyan, don’t be afraid…

The world seemed to fall silent for an instant. Under the intense self-suggestion, Yan Jianxiao finally managed to calm himself, mustered his courage, and shuffled forward on his knees to Cang Xiao’s side.

Another thing he was afraid of… was Cang Xiao seeing through the fact that he was male.

Cang Xiao’s eyes seemed unable to see. She merely said, “Yan Jianxiao? Raise your wrist.”

Yan Jianxiao was nervous to the point of death as he lifted his wrist.

Cang Xiao’s hand, like dried bark, touched his pulse, and her white brows furrowed.

“You are heaven-muted, born with this deficiency, but it is not beyond recovery. As long as there is absolute sincerity, absolute… Hm?”

Cang Xiao’s voice suddenly halted, and she gripped his wrist tightly.

Yan Jianxiao’s heart instantly leapt to his throat. The plum blossom mark on his neck became scorching hot at that moment—so hot that Yan Jianxiao couldn’t ignore it!

What was wrong with his birthmark?!

“How dare you!” Cang Xiao suddenly roared, lifting her hand and flinging——

Yan Jianxiao’s vision went black. His entire body was hurled far away by Cang Xiao’s might, landing with a heavy thud beside the pillar holding the spirit crystal ball. The blood he’d drawn from digging his nails into his palm accidentally stained the spirit crystal pillar.

But at that very moment, the sky suddenly churned with wind and clouds. Deep green spiritual power rapidly surged across the pillar bearing the spirit crystal ball, crackling with electric currents that sizzled and sparked, as if about to explode.

“What’s happening?!” someone cried out in alarm.

“Heavens, this is the first time I’ve seen the ball fly up!”

“How terrifying—why is it covered in green spiritual power?!”

“This is wrong, why has the spirit crystal ball suddenly gone berserk?”

Yan Jianxiao’s palm was scraped raw from the fall, the pain making his vision blur and his eyes turn red. He sat up dizzily, his hands covered in blood——

Ruoxi hadn’t expected her master to suddenly lose her mind. She was startled and hurried over to help Yan Jianxiao up, but when she was half a meter away from him, she found she couldn’t get any closer.

Ruoxi froze.

An invisible barrier had enclosed Yan Jianxiao, and he was completely unaware of it. In his daze, he raised a hand to wipe the tears from the corners of his eyes, looking at the spirit crystal ball.

What’s wrong with it?

Crack.

The spirit crystal ball suddenly detached from the pillar that held it, hurtling straight toward Yan Jianxiao’s head——

“Bang!”

Yan Jianxiao’s vision went black, and he passed out.

…

Night fell over the Canglin Sect.

In the vast galaxy, stars were densely scattered, a full moon hung high in the sky, and pale moonlight spilled softly over the earth, slowly streaming into the room.

The probability of being hit by a spirit crystal ball was very small, but it was definitely never zero.

Yan Jianxiao woke up with a splitting headache, feeling something furry nuzzling against his hand—it seemed to be Doubao.

Sensing that he had awakened, a voice tested tentatively, “Yanyan?”

Before Yan Jianxiao was even fully conscious, his mind had already identified whose voice it was.

Ying Qingye?

Wuu wuu wuu, Ying Qingye…