After Being Certified by the Immortal Lord on the Path of Ruthlessness - Chapter 32.2

Ye Qingge pressed her lips together, remaining silent.

 

Seeing that verbal coaxing wasn’t working, Jiang Mianhao’s eyes darted around as she thought of another idea.

 

Ye Qingge noticed the subtle shift in expression and sensed trouble.

 

Sure enough, the next moment, Jiang Mianhao plopped down directly onto Ye Qingge’s feet, wrapping her arms tightly around her legs. “Please, take me!”

 

It was the busiest time of day. Downstairs, waiters rushed frantically, shouting, “Two upper rooms! Escort the guests!”

 

Footsteps echoed from the staircase, growing closer.

 

Ye Qingge scolded softly, “Someone’s coming. Get up.”

 

“I’ll get up if you take me to the storytelling house!” Jiang Mianhao stubbornly refused to budge.

 

Ye Qingge tugged at the hem of her robe, but it wouldn’t budge.

 

Ever since descending to the mortal realm, Jiang Mianhao had been captivated by human delicacies, indulging without restraint.

 

Her once-frail frame had gained a touch of plumpness, and the lingering baby fat on her cheeks made her look like a soft, doughy bun.

 

Unable to free her robe or move her leg, Ye Qingge felt her thoughts thrown into disarray.

 

With a resigned sigh, she finally relented. “Fine.”

 

Though it was just one word, Jiang Mianhao sprang up joyfully.

 

She danced around, cheering, “Yay! Lu Jiu, you’re the best!”

 

Ye Qingge merely flicked her sleeve and turned to enter the room.

 

“Wait for me, Lu Jiu!” Jiang Mianhao hurried after her, not noticing the door behind them that remained unopened.

 

Nor did she see Ling Lan standing in the doorway, letting out a long sigh.

 

“Lanlan, are you okay?” Mi Xiu asked, noticing Ling Lan’s stiff posture. “Do you need to rest?”

 

Just then, the sound of a door closing came from next door.

 

Ling Lan collected her thoughts and replied, “No need. I’m going to practice swordplay.”

 

She didn’t turn around and missed the cold smirk on the face of the person lying on the bed.

 

Back in their room, one was lively while the other remained quiet.

 

Jiang Mianhao skipped around happily, wrapping up the pastries from the table and stuffing them into her pocket.

 

But as soon as she tucked them away, a surge of spiritual energy yanked them right back out.

 

Watching the pastries fly from her embrace, Jiang Mianhao protested in confusion. “Hey! What are you doing? Those are my pastries!”

 

“You’re not taking them,” Ye Qingge said coldly.

 

“Why not?” Jiang Mianhao argued. “I need them for the road! And I don’t know if the storytelling house will have snacks. What if I get hungry? Will you buy me steamed buns if I do? Can I have two?”

 

The barrage of questions gave Ye Qingge a headache.

The usually impassive Ye Qingge could only sigh in exasperation.

 

She truly couldn’t understand why this silly little plant had so many questions every single day.

 

“No to all of it.”

 

Receiving such a firm refusal, Jiang Mianhao grumbled unhappily. “But I’ll really get hungry! If I starve, I could die! We low-level plant spirits are very fragile!”

 

As she spoke, she reached for the pastries again but in the next moment, her fingers vanished, transforming into emerald-green leaves.

 

The lively girl from moments ago had turned into a small green plant in the blink of an eye.

 

Ye Qingge stated calmly, “In your true form, you won’t feel hungry.”

 

“Aww!” Jiang Mianhao dragged out her complaint dejectedly, her leaves drooping.

 

Ye Qingge gazed at the little plant on the table, lost in thought.

 

How should she carry it out?

 

Holding it directly would dirty her hands, but using a sphere of spiritual energy to float it might draw too much attention.

 

Last time, the cloth she used hadn’t been sturdy enough, and a gust of wind had blown it away.

 

Just as she hesitated, Jiang Mianhao waved her leaves again and urged, “Then let’s set off now!”

 

Unable to resolve her inner conflict, Ye Qingge sighed and finally carried the plant out the door.

 

The sun shone brightly, and the streets were bustling with people.

 

“Lu Jiu~” Jiang Mianhao poked her head out of the plant pot. The street was crowded, and Ye Qingge carrying Jiang Mianhao stood out conspicuously among the passersby.

 

Ye Qingge was extremely reluctant to take a plant outside.

 

But if she didn’t bring it along, she probably wouldn’t have a moment of peace all day.

 

Amid the churning emotions in her heart, Ye Qingge realized she liked it best when Jiang Mianhao was happy.

 

When their hearts were connected, sharing the same joy, the same smile graced their lips.

 

“Lu Jiu~ Lu Jiu~ Lu Jiu~”

 

Jiang Mianhao called Ye Qingge’s name repeatedly, her leaves swaying gently outside the bag.

 

“What is it?” Ye Qingge’s tone remained indifferent.

 

Jiang Mianhao shook her leaves excitedly. “Nothing! I just wanted to call your name!”

 

Ye Qingge didn’t respond, closing her eyes to sense the changes in her heart. After confirming there were none, she didn’t press further.

 

Meanwhile, the little plant in the bag happily swayed its leaves.

 

“Lu Jiu, look!” Jiang Mianhao waved her leaves. “There are so many trinkets over there!”

 

Ye Qingge didn’t turn her head, only uttering an “Mm.”

 

It was market day, and the streets were packed with people.

 

Ye Qingge held the plant, suppressing her irritation.

 

She suddenly regretted bringing the little grass outside and even more, regretted being gentle with it.

 

This pot of grass was truly too good at pushing its luck.

 

“Lu Jiu! Are your hands tired?” Jiang Mianhao shook her leaves. “Do you want to rest for a bit?”

 

Ye Qingge ignored her, though her ears picked up the calls of a nearby vendor. She walked straight over.

 

“Miss, what are you looking for?” The shopkeeper, spotting a potential customer, immediately stood up and called out. “All the bags here are 100% handmade, guaranteed to satisfy!”

 

Ye Qingge’s eyes scanned the shelves quickly before finally settling on a bag the same color as the plant pot.

 

“That one,” she said, pointing.

 

The shopkeeper promptly took it down. “You have excellent taste! This is the finest bag in my shop!”

 

Ye Qingge gave an “Mm,” reaching out to take it.

“This is made of the finest Suzhou fabric, handcrafted by hundreds of workers. It’s small, exquisite, and perfect for a fairy-like lady like you to carry handkerchiefs. Hey! Miss, you can’t put it in like that, the bag is too small!”

 

The shopkeeper’s words cut off abruptly.

 

After taking the bag, Ye Qingge had already slipped it directly over the plant pot.

 

The bag matched the color of the plant pot and had a drawstring closure at the top. Using a bit of spiritual power, Ye Qingge adjusted the bag to fit the pot perfectly in both size and height.

 

The shopkeeper stared in disbelief, momentarily confused. He began to wonder if he had misremembered making the bag. Was it really supposed to be this big?

 

Meanwhile, Ye Qingge simply secured the plant pot and looked down to inspect it.

 

“Miss, is this… your…” The vendor hesitated, struggling to find the right words before finally blurting out, “Is this your pet?!”

 

‘You’re the pet!’

 

A retort echoed in Ye Qingge’s heart.

 

She looked down at Jiang Mianhao’s leaves.

The crossbody bag hung over Ye Qingge’s shoulder, Jiang Mianhao now securely fastened at her waist.

 

Hearing the word “pet,” Jiang Mianhao immediately bristled, but since they were in public, she could only protest inwardly.

 

“I can speak and eat! How could I possibly be a pet?!”

 

“I’m clearly human! I’m a spirit who has passed through the transformation gate!”

 

Listening to her internal protests, Ye Qingge couldn’t help but curl her lips into a faint smile.

 

Though she hadn’t planned to respond, she spoke indifferently, “Yes, she’s a pet.”

 

The bag vendor let out an “Ah!” His expression shifted briefly before he quickly added, “Yes, yes! Look at this grass—so plump and lush, such a vibrant green. Clearly, you take excellent care of it.”

 

“Who are you calling plump?! How can you describe a blade of grass as plump?!”

 

“Lu Jiu, what nonsense are you spouting? Tell her I’m human! Ah, ah, ah!”

 

“No! I have to refute this!”

“Huh? Why can’t I speak? Lu Jiu, what did you do to me?”

 

Jiang Mianhao had no idea that her inner thoughts were being heard, nor did she realize that Ye Qingge had sealed her mouth with spiritual power.

 

Ye Qingge casually tossed a gold ingot to the vendor.

 

The vendor froze in shock. His stall could never provide enough change for such a sum—but it was a gold ingot, enough to support his entire family for a year without worry. Swallowing hard, he accepted it with utmost reverence, only to see the little grass frantically swaying its leaves.

 

Unable to resist, he praised, “Miss, your little plump grass is quite lively, isn’t it?”

 

Ye Qingge hummed in agreement, quietly amused as she listened to the grass’s internal protests.

 

With a flick of her sleeve, she turned and walked away.

 

“Miss! You didn’t take your change!” the vendor called out, leaning forward, but it did not stop her.

 

Clutching the gold ingot, he remained in a daze. Using a gold ingot to buy a bag worth only five strings of coins, and keeping a pot of grass as a pet. He bit down on the ingot, only to have his teeth ache from the hardness. “Wealthy people are truly something else,” he muttered.

 

Ye Qingge, now far away, did not hear the vendor’s sigh.

 

The storytelling house was located on the busiest street, and at this hour, it teemed with people.

 

With a wave of her hand, Ye Qingge released the seal on the grass.

 

“Lu Jiu!” Jiang Mianhao could not hold back her complaint. “Why did you seal my mouth?”

 

Ye Qingge replied calmly, “Pets don’t speak.”

 

“I’m not a pet!” Jiang Mianhao protested. “I’m a plant spirit! I’ve undergone transformation!”

 

Ye Qingge hummed again. “Yes, you are a little plump grass.”

 

“Ah!” The once-swaying leaves drooped instantly, wilting in dejection.

 

With no one chattering anymore, Ye Qingge walked briskly and soon stopped in front of the storytelling house.

 

Just as she was about to step forward, someone bumped into her from behind.

 

Then the bag hanging at her waist was yanked away.

 

Alert, Ye Qingge glanced down; a golden glint flashed in her eyes. An ice-cold blade shot out, piercing straight through the wrist of the person holding the bag.

 

A man with triangular eyes, buckteeth, and a scarred face let out a pained howl, clutching his hand as he rolled on the ground in agony.

 

Passersby frowned in disdain at the man writhing on the ground, unsettled by the commotion.

 

This rogue, known as San Bao, was a notorious local troublemaker.

 

He frequently engaged in sneaky, underhanded deeds, and whenever his lustful urges struck, he harassed pretty young ladies and maids.

 

The authorities were powerless to control San Bao, who commanded a gang of rogue brothers at his beck and call. With just a shout, he could summon an overwhelming presence.

 

As a result, young women in the area often avoided going outside, terrified of encountering him.

 

Earlier that day, San Bao had idled near the inn and spotted Ye Qingge beneath it.

 

The stunning beauty in white stood out in the crowd, unattended by any maid, merely holding a pot of grass in her hands.

 

So San Bao trailed her all the way.

 

By chance, he saw her take out gold to buy a bag. His eyes widened, and he swallowed hard, following her step by step.

 

When she paused beneath the storytelling house, San Bao reached out, intending to grab her by the waist and drag her into an alley.

 

But the grass in the bag pricked his hand.

 

Before he could wrap his arms around her waist, an ice spike shot through his palm.

 

Blood splattered as he waved his injured hand wildly.

 

“Murder! Help! Come and see! In broad daylight, this woman is assaulting a helpless man! Authorities! Is there no one to intervene?”

 

In the bustling market, his shouts quickly drew a crowd of onlookers.

 

Ye Qingge stood nearby, cold and unmoved, silently observing his performance.

The grass in her arms quivered with fury. “What a shameless lecher! He actually dared to touch your waist! I bit his hand without hesitation!”

 

Jiang Mianhao huffed angrily. “Green Wine, ignore him! This guy is clearly no good!”

 

Listening to the protests coming from the grass pot at her waist, Ye Qingge found it somewhat novel.

 

This little grass seemed foolish and clumsy, always gentle with everyone. It would endure bullying itself but could not bear to see others mistreated.

 

Last time, it had defended Ling Lan from insults. This time, it was standing up for her.

 

Ye Qingge couldn’t help but find it amusing. Someone who couldn’t even protect themselves was summoning all their courage to defend others.

 

San Bao’s cries of pain failed to attract any righteous intervention and didn’t even earn Ye Qingge a glance.

 

Frustrated and in pain, San Bao gritted his teeth, fantasizing about the breathtakingly beautiful face before him.

 

Ye Qingge had no intention of dealing with such a pervert. Noticing the crowd thickening around them, she prepared to leave with a simple flick of her sleeve.

 

But before she could leave, a voice rang out from behind, and a dirty hand reached toward her.

 

“Ah!”

 

Before San Bao’s hand could get close, a powerful force hurled him several meters away.

 

His previous fake cries for attention turned into genuine wails as he felt every rib threaten to dislocate, creaking painfully.

 

Someone in the crowd shouted, “Well done!”

 

A round of enthusiastic applause erupted. The onlookers, long fed up with San Bao, cheered at his humiliating state, savoring the justice. The timid ones hid behind corners, afraid to get involved.

 

“Green Wine, you’re so cool!” Jiang Mianhao cheered, her leaves swaying excitedly.

 

Ye Qingge, in response, merely flicked off her shoe, brushing away the residue of the filthy hand. That wretch had nearly touched her foot.

 

“Who dares cause trouble on my turf!”

 

A furious roar erupted from behind the crowd, and those who couldn’t disperse in time were shoved to the ground.

 

“Green Wine! Run!” Jiang Mianhao shouted, reacting instantly.

 

But Ye Qingge didn’t budge.

 

The crowd was pushed aside as a large group barged in aggressively. Each of them wore rags, their hair disheveled, faces grimy, bodies bare-chested and scarred.

 

The man at the front spat on the ground and growled, “Who’s causing trouble on my turf?”

 

San Bao, writhing on the ground, groaned and pointed at Ye Qingge. “Big brother, it’s her!” His companions helped him to his feet, and leaning on one of them, he added, “She’s the one who beat me up!”

 

The leader—his face marked by a horizontal scar, one eye blind, and long scars running down his arm, sized up Ye Qingge with his remaining eye. “This little wench?”

 

Before the words fully left his mouth, an ice blade shot out with unerring precision, striking his good eye.

 

“Ah!” The man’s agonized cry cut through the chaos as he clutched his bleeding eye, plunging into total darkness.

Before he could even utter another threat, his underlings exchanged bewildered glances, unsure of what to do.

 

“What are you waiting for?” the one-eyed man growled through gritted teeth. “Tear her apart alive!”

 

At his command, the underlings brandished their knives and charged forward, shouting.

 

Jiang Mianhao swallowed nervously, her eyes wide. She hadn’t even seen where that ice blade had come from.

 

“Green Wine, is your weapon ice?!” she exclaimed in awe. “That was so fast!”

 

The attackers surged forward, knives gleaming, while the onlookers at the edges hurriedly retreated.

 

Ye Qingge disdained to engage them directly. Ice blades shot forth, too fast to follow with the eye, slicing through the air with lethal precision.

 

One by one, the attackers fell in succession.

 

San Bao, watching his comrades drop around him, began scrambling on all fours, desperate to escape.

 

Crawling between people’s legs, San Bao’s hands grew restless, groping indiscriminately. Amid the chaos, he even reached for the nearby bystanders, hoping to drag them away by force.

 

The women he touched screamed in alarm, shrinking back in fear. But San Bao derived a twisted pleasure from the pandemonium.

 

His hands grew bolder, sliding downward toward the waist. Just as his recklessness reached its peak, a firm grip seized his hand from behind.

 

“Who the hell is blind?!” San Bao cursed, lifting his head to glare.

 

His eyes fell upon a young maiden in the prime of her youth, her face unadorned yet carved with the exquisite precision of jade. Her presence left him momentarily dazed, and the captured hand squirmed futilely.

 

With a sharp crack, his hand was twisted and broken.

 

Before he could even cry out in pain, a peachwood sword pressed against his chest.

 

Ling Lan gritted her teeth, restraining herself from striking him down immediately.

 

With a swift, precise kick, she sent him soaring through the air, crashing several meters away.

Earlier, Ling Lan had planned to practice swordplay in the bamboo grove but had noticed San Bao tailing Green Wine. Unable to rest easy, she had followed them all the way here.

 

Amid the encircled crowd, screams continued to ring out.

 

Ling Lan had just pierced San Bao’s clothes with her wooden sword and had not yet withdrawn it when the jingling sound of a carriage approached.

 

“It’s the Prime Minister’s carriage!” someone in the crowd shouted.

 

The onlookers, who had been pressed together moments before, quickly cleared a path.

 

A lavish, imperial-bestowed palanquin, gifted to the Prime Minister’s residence in the northern city, was carried forward through the crowd.

 

At the sight of the imperial gift, everyone dropped to their knees in reverence.

 

The spectators knelt while the troublemakers remained pinned to the ground by ice blades.

 

Amid the crowd, two figures stood out conspicuously.

 

Jiang Mianhao spotted the familiar yellow dress and waved her leaf, shouting loudly, “Lan Lan!”

Hearing the call, Ling Lan halted her sword and straightened.

 

The troublemakers scattered, fleeing in disarray.

 

The crowd parted around her, yet Ling Lan remained motionless, sword held firmly in one hand.

 

The sedan chair came to a halt, and the attendant at its side immediately stepped forward to lift the curtain.

 

Ling Lan lifted her gaze and locked eyes with the person inside.

 

The occupant of the sedan was just as she had first seen them: eyebrows like distant mountain peaks, eyes like rippling autumn waters.