After Being Certified by the Immortal Lord on the Path of Ruthlessness - Chapter 20

Mi Xiu had already released the fragrance from her neck, yet the person before her showed no trace of arousal.

An aura as cold as frost-laden plum blossoms swirled between their brows and eyes, while their lowered silver-white lashes veiled their pupils, making their thoughts unreadable.

This immortal lord is truly beautiful.

The world is not lacking in beauties, but compared to the one before her, even the most stunning would pale in comparison.

Mi Xiu blinked and gently swayed her wrist as she approached Ye Qingge: “Immortal Lord, you—”

Her tone abruptly changed. The wrist she had extended was now encircled by layers of ice rings, seeping from beneath the skin deep into her bones.

As the cold invaded her body, Mi Xiu’s face turned deathly pale.

She stared in shock at Ye Qingge, horrified as she tried to pull her hand back.

But it was already too late.

Ye Qingge’s gaze fell on Mi Xiu’s wrist, where a silver bracelet adorned her frozen wristbone, dangling with layers of bells beneath its loop.

She did not speak, but her disdainful expression said it all.

Mi Xiu had no idea when she had been exposed. Her wrist, frozen mid-air, refused to budge, leaving her Soul-Snaring Bell fully exposed to Ye Qingge’s gaze.

“When did you find out?” Mi Xiu’s voice trembled with tension; she had thought her disguise flawless.

Ye Qingge replied indifferently, “From the moment you were pinned to the doorframe.”

The being before her was no shy, introverted mimosa. How could a timid plant repeatedly seek her out?

Mi Xiu shuddered in fear, swallowing hard before continuing, “But I truly had nowhere else to turn. With no one to help, I could only seek out Grandma Banyan.”

Her voice trailed off as the immortal lord’s expression shifted.

Ye Qingge let out a cold laugh. “After three thousand years of transformation, even the dullest beast or lowly spirit should have succeeded.”

“Your clumsy lies can only fool those two.” Ye Qingge’s lips curled in an unrelenting smile, her tone icy to the extreme.

The elegant, moonlit immortal lord smirked coldly, her stern and exquisite brow radiating a fearsome imperial aura, her golden eyes looking down upon everything with contempt.

Terrified, Mi Xiu stammered, “You’re not really a wine spirit either, are you? Who are you, really?”

Ye Qingge ignored her, not even sparing her a glance. With a wave of her hand, Mi Xiu was sent flying backward.

The young girl’s waist slammed into the redwood pillar supporting the corridor, and she vomited a mouthful of blood.

“I have no patience for dealings with demons.” Ye Qingge cast a cold glance, looking at the prostrate figure as if she were garbage. “If you value your life, abandon your schemes.”

With that, Ye Qingge coldly flicked her sleeve and turned to enter the inn.

Mi Xiu’s wrist went limp, and she collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath as blood gushed from her mouth with each heave.

The corridor fell silent once more. Paralyzed, Mi Xiu stared fixedly at the spot where Ye Qingge had disappeared.

Meanwhile, Jiang Mianhao, holding a lantern, turned back and gazed at the empty corridor. “Did something just fall to the ground?” she asked.

Ling Lan paused and tilted her head to listen before shaking her head. “I don’t hear anything now.”

With that, she waved her fish lantern and resumed bantering playfully with Jiang Mianhao.

The inn’s guest room was lavishly decorated and brightly lit.

Ye Qingge stood by the window, her gaze fixed on the young girls still laughing and playing in the courtyard.

The Love Lock given by the Matchmaker God earlier was tucked in her sleeve, faintly radiating warmth.

Yet Ye Qingge had no intention of using it, her mind drifting back to the words Mi Xiu had just spoken.

Jiang Mianhao had developed feelings.

From below the window came the occasional laughter of a young girl, a figure in a green silk dress running through the long night.

Her symmetrical buns had loosened from the excessive running, and strands of fallen hair were illuminated by the faint glow from the lanterns.

As if tired from running, the girl holding the fish lantern raised her hands in a playful gesture of surrender.

Her pair of jade-green eyes seemed even brighter than the lantern she held.

Ye Qingge found the noise irritating and raised her hand to lower the window, cutting off the laughter from below.

Having moved from the dim and cramped banyan tree hollow to the noisy, bustling human world, the serpent-bird had now revealed its traces.

And Jiang Mianhao had developed feelings.

Mi Xiu’s words became the final spark that ignited her reason.

The serpent-bird’s appearance meant the great battle had to be brought up again.

Yet Ye Qingge’s cultivation was stuck at the final stage, unable to break through.

The root of it all was the trial of love.

And the trial of love—once feelings arose, they could be killed.

The laughter of the girl downstairs faded, as if the two had grown tired and returned to their room.

Ye Qingge’s eyes darkened, a flicker of killing intent rising within them.

Jiang Mianhao had never seen so many interesting things before.

In just one day, she had experienced more than she had in a thousand years.

The fish lantern that Ling Lan had bought for her remained bright and unextinguished even after she had played with it all night.

The diners in the front hall had dispersed, and the lanterns along the corridor glowed.

Jiang Mianhao stopped running, exhausted, and as she listened to the night wind, she suddenly realized how eerie the empty corridor felt.

Ling Lan, who had caught up, took Jiang Mianhao’s hand, and the two walked side by side.

Jiang Mianhao’s thoughts were a tangled mess, and for some reason, she felt she had something to say.

Her emotions were a jumble, clogging her chest and making it hard to distinguish them.

The fish lantern was taken away, and in her palm, she felt a soft touch. Through the thin handkerchief, she could sense Ling Lan’s body warmth.

Like her own, it was warm.

Ling Lan gently wiped her hand, murmuring, “The lantern leaked wax, and you didn’t say anything. Your hand is red from the heat.”

Feeling her fingers being gently cleaned, Jiang Mianhao couldn’t help but recall the time Lu Jiu had washed her hands.

Both had been gentle, yet the feelings they evoked were entirely different.

“Lanlan,” Jiang Mianhao said softly, withdrawing her hand. “I can do it myself.”

As the handkerchief fell empty, Ling Lan’s heart seemed to hollow out as well.

She looked up at Jiang Mianhao, a sudden ache in her chest, and asked, “Mianhao, I have a question for you.”

Jiang Mianhao met her gaze and hummed in response. “What is it?”

“How do you feel about Lu Jiu,” Ling Lan bit her lip and sighed, “and about me? Are the feelings the same?”

Jiang Mianhao was taken aback by the question, unable to react immediately.

The surroundings fell silent as Ling Lan watched her intently, observing her reaction.

After a moment of thought, Jiang Mianhao shook her head gently. “I feel they’re not quite the same.”

Ling Lan looked at her, urging her to continue.

“Both you and Lu Jiu protect me and treat me very, very well,” Jiang Mianhao bit her lip. “It’s just…”

She couldn’t find the words to describe it. Even she herself couldn’t understand why, when she saw Lu Jiu, her heart felt as if a little deer had come to life inside it.

But with Ling Lan, it felt more like the attachment one has for a friend or family member.

Seeing the confusion on the other’s face, Ling Lan lowered her head.

After a moment of silence, Ling Lan asked, “So now, in your heart, who is more important? Me or Lu Jiu?”

“Of course, it’s you,” Jiang Mianhao replied without hesitation. “You and I have known each other for a thousand years; you are the closest person to me.”

Reassured by the answer, Ling Lan’s heart settled a little, and she fell silent.

She took Jiang Mianhao’s hand, holding up the fish lantern as they walked toward the inn.

The three guest rooms were situated side by side. Mi Xiu’s room had long been dark, and although the lamp in Ye Qingge’s room was lit, the door was tightly shut.

For some reason, Jiang Mianhao’s heart suddenly calmed upon returning to her room.

Only after repeatedly confirming that everything was fine did Ling Lan allow the inn attendant to bring up water for washing up.

The two of them had thoroughly enjoyed themselves that day, and as soon as they finished washing, they fell asleep almost the moment they touched the bed.

The last oil lamp was extinguished, plunging the room into darkness.

In the timeless depths of the long night, an indeterminate amount of time passed.

A wisp of faint smoke seeped in through the crack under the door, enveloping the sleeping Jiang Mianhao in the pitch-black room. In the next moment, the smoke dissipated, leaving only one person where two had been sleeping side by side.

Ye Qingge lifted her gaze indifferently.

She looked at the young girl lying on the bed, her long black hair cascading beside her, accentuating the delicate innocence of her fair face.

All she had to do was kill her, and she could return to the Heavenly Realm.

With a touch of mercy, Ye Qingge raised her hand slightly, and a tendril of smoke drifted over, plunging the slumbering girl into complete unconsciousness.

Granting her a painless death.

Her slender hand closed around the warm neck of the young girl. Ye Qingge felt the faint pulse beneath the delicate skin beneath her fingertips.

Her eyes darkened as the killing intent within them surged.

Ye Qingge had not intended to do this herself, but with Shuang Han not by her side, using spiritual power to execute her would be a waste.

She had already wasted enough of her spiritual power on her.

As her palm tightened, the girl on the bed contorted in agony. Helpless hands rose and fell repeatedly until they finally went limp. The girl went from struggling to gradually calming down.

Ye Qingge felt the person before her breathing grow weaker and weaker, the pulse beneath her fingertips fading to near imperceptibility.

Suddenly, a sharp pain pierced her chest.

A warm sensation splashed onto the back of Ye Qingge’s hand.

In the endless night, scattered glimmers of light emerged from the distance. The first ray of dawn illuminated the crimson bloodstain on the back of her hand.

The hand gripping the neck loosened slightly.