After Being Certified by the Immortal Lord on the Path of Ruthlessness - Chapter 41

The sound of bells pierced the night like an invisible shroud, devouring the once-joyful atmosphere.

 

People scrambled and dodged in fear.

 

Amid the chaos, the first agonizing cry of pain erupted from the crowd.

 

“There! There’s a snake!” someone shouted, clutching their leg as they collapsed.

 

But soon, another cry followed: “No, no~ i-it’s a scorpion!”

 

“A scorpion?” Ling Lan gripped her wooden sword, scanning her surroundings. “Where is it?”

 

As she spoke, an ice blade shot down, firmly pinning a scorpion that had been crawling up her pant leg.

 

Ling Lan stepped back, but before she could even scream, she felt something under her foot.

 

A squelching sound echoed as she lifted it. A small scorpion lay crushed beneath her.

With no time to be shocked, Ling Lan raised her sword and stabbed directly at the scorpions on the ground.

 

“Green Wine! Are you okay?” Jiang Mianhao peeked out, unable to contain her worry. “I heard it’s scorpions!”

 

Ye Qingge hummed in acknowledgment. “I know. Stay seated and hold on.”

 

Ice blades shot out in all directions, yet the small scorpions showed no fear, swarming relentlessly toward Ye Qingge.

 

This was the demon’s revenge.

 

Ye Qingge lifted her gaze, scanning the surroundings for the source of the bell sounds.

 

All around was pitch black, save for the ceaseless crawling of scorpions.

 

The ringing seemed to come from somewhere far away, orchestrating it all.

 

The scorpion demon was truly tenacious. Ye Qingge’s gaze turned cold.

 

She no longer held back.

 

People pushed and shoved in panic, crowding together.

 

Ye Qingge’s eyes continued scanning for any trace of the snake-bird.

 

Suddenly, a flash of bright yellow flickered in the long night.

 

Ye Qingge caught the fleeting glimmer.

 

The light came from a high platform directly ahead.

 

Originally, no such viewing stand had existed in this suburban area.

 

The raised platform had been built for the prime minister’s daughter to watch the fireworks but why was a sword spirit flickering there?

 

This sword spirit carried no malevolent aura.

 

Its sharp spiritual awareness indicated profound cultivation.

 

Typically, a sword spirit would only manifest when it had chosen its master.

 

Amid the chaos and noise, why would it appear now?

 

Ye Qingge was about to raise her hand to capture the wandering sword spirit.

 

But it flickered too quickly, vanishing once more.

 

That momentary distraction gave her opponent an opening.

 

A swift, vicious scorpion’s stinger shot straight toward the space between Ye Qingge’s eyebrows.

 

“Green Wine! Snap out of it!”

 

Jiang Mianhao anxiously waved her leaves, spreading a soft green glow like a protective shield.

 

But before her shield could fully form, the flying venomous needle froze mid-air, encased in ice.

 

The tail that had just launched the attack was already impaled by an ice blade.

 

All of this happened in the blink of an eye, with just a glance from Green Wine.

 

Her golden pupils radiated a light soft as moonlight, yet concealing sharp, swift ice blades beneath.

 

Everything happened too fast.

 

Before Jiang Mianhao could even react, her leaf was gently tapped.

 

A stream of spiritual energy flowed into her roots.

 

“Green Wine~” Jiang Mianhao called out softly.

 

“Be good,” Ye Qingge whispered, tucking the little grass back into her pouch. “Protecting yourself is protecting me.”

 

Only the tip of a leaf peeked out from the pouch, observing everything around.

 

In the pitch-black night, the ground was swarming with crawling scorpions.

 

They seemed to follow some unseen command, indiscriminately attacking everyone.

 

For a moment, screams and wails filled the air.

 

Mixed in were the agonized cries of scorpions being pinned down by ice blades.

 

Jiang Mianhao no longer extended her leaves. Lu Jiu was carefully protecting her like this.

All she could do was avoid causing trouble for her—Xian Zhu Fu.

 

Without a proper weapon at hand, she could only continuously unleash ice blades.

 

Ye Qingge grew somewhat impatient. She turned her head and called out, “Ling Lan.”

 

As soon as the words fell, a girl in yellow shot forward from beside her.

 

Understanding the intent, Ling Lan raised her wooden sword and slashed directly at the scorpion before her.

 

“Feint left, strike right. Attack fiercely, withdraw steadily.”

 

Ye Qingge stood with her hands behind her back, coldly observing the scene ahead.

 

Her tone was calm as she instructed Ling Lan through every move.

 

The wooden sword cut through the dark night, unleashing a pale yellow sword intent. Originally aimed to the left, the blade shifted mid-swing as the scorpion’s pincer struck—plunging directly into the right side of its tail.

 

Ling Lan flipped mid-air, her yellow dress resembling a moon in the pitch-black night.

The wooden sword pierced entirely through the scorpion’s tail from the right.

 

The tip of the tail, previously sealed by ice blades, was now completely severed.

 

The peachwood sword, as if carrying the wind itself, drove straight through the appendage.

 

Even after cutting off the tail, Ling Lan did not rush to withdraw the blade; instead, she slowly pushed it forward.

 

The scorpion writhed in agony, its body being split apart bit by bit.

 

This was, after all, Ling Lan’s first time personally killing a living creature, and she couldn’t help but frown.

 

Her hand gripping the sword trembled, unintentionally accelerating the previously deliberate motion.

 

A drop of crimson blood slipped free in the final step.

 

It splattered onto Ye Qingge’s brow, landing like a plum blossom on a vast expanse of snow.

 

The immortal standing in the night wore an icy expression and made no move to wipe away the blood.

e Qingge’s gaze was cold as she said lightly, “You withdrew a bit too hastily.”

 

Ling Lan, still trembling from the last moment, lowered her head, murmuring an apology.

 

“Apologies are useless; you must learn,” Ye Qingge said, her tone icy. Her gaze shifted behind Ling Lan. “That one, demonstrate it again.”

 

Understanding her intent, Ling Lan swung her wooden sword without even turning her head.

 

The sharp blade curved elegantly, striking the left side and tracing a beautiful sword flourish through the air.

 

This time, Ling Lan calmed her mind and followed the steps Lu Jiu had taught her, waiting until the wooden sword was completely withdrawn.

 

The ferociously clawing scorpion had been split in two, yet not a single drop of blood spilled.

 

Ye Qingge’s icy expression softened slightly as she said, “This move is called ‘Seal the Throat with Blood.’”

 

The trace of blood between her brows remained unwiped, a silent testament to the lesson.

 

That vivid crimson contrasted sharply with her snow-like face, creating a singular, almost otherworldly beauty.

 

Ling Lan felt something in her heart shatter—a prejudice she hadn’t realized she held. Slain beneath the wooden sword by this move, “Seal the Throat with Blood.”

 

Her gaze drifted to Lu Jiu’s waist, where the grass in the small pouch extended its leaves, looking up at her with eager, trusting eyes.

 

Though she couldn’t see Jiang Mianhao’s expression, it was likely one of admiration.

 

Ling Lan lifted her eyes, returning her gaze to the person before her.

 

The surroundings were chaotic—movement, blood, scorpion corpses, human remains, and the ashes of burnt fireworks.

 

Filth and carnage mingled together, starkly contrasting with the pristine white robes of the figure before her.

 

Lu Jiu was impossibly clean, impossibly beautiful.

 

Her aura seemed entirely out of place in this muddy, blood-soaked land.

 

It was as if an immortal had mistakenly descended into the mortal world.

Sharing the same thought as the little Lily of the Valley nestled in her arms, Jiang Mianhao gazed at the speck of red between the other’s brows.

 

It resembled a dot of vermilion rouge, adding a delicate touch of color to the otherwise icy face.

 

“Green Wine,” Jiang Mianhao murmured, dazed, as the little plant’s leaves swayed gently.

 

Hearing the call, Ye Qingge lowered her gaze and hummed softly, “Were you frightened?”

 

Listening to the deeply caring tone, Jiang Mianhao felt momentarily lost.

 

The ethereal beauty before her, like a celestial being from a painting. A moon in the sky, now lowered her gaze to carefully examine her injuries.

 

The murderous aura from earlier had completely vanished in her presence.

 

Green Wine always treated her with a gentleness unlike that shown to others.

 

This tenderness stirred Jiang Mianhao’s heart, intoxicating her in ways she had never known.

 

“N-no, I wasn’t frightened,” Jiang Mianhao whispered. “I want to learn martial arts. I want to be like Lanlan, to have the ability to wield a sword and protect others.”

 

Ye Qingge paused, surprised that this little plant harbored such aspirations.

 

She hummed dismissively, tucking the plant’s leaves back into the pouch. “Alright. In time, I’ll teach you slowly.”

 

Jiang Mianhao’s heart felt as if soaked in honey. So sweet it made her head spin, completely oblivious to the dismissive tone.

 

Meanwhile, Lily of the Valley stood with her head bowed, gripping her wooden sword in silence.

 

A faint cry for help reached her ears, and she twitched slightly.

 

Clutching her wooden sword, she turned and plunged into the darkness.

 

Ye Qingge’s gaze unconsciously followed her.

 

She watched the bright yellow figure weave through the panicked crowd, charging toward the high tower where the chancellor’s daughter awaited.

 

The tower was already swarming with scorpions, yet Lily of the Valley’s swordsmanship grew increasingly precise and deadly with each step.

From striking down a single scorpion per swing, Lily of the Valley gradually advanced to ten at a time.

 

Meanwhile, Ye Qingge’s ice blades surged relentlessly, pinning scorpions attacking the panicked crowd to the ground before they could do any harm.

 

“What is Lanlan doing over there?” Jiang Mianhao wondered, eyes wide with curiosity and concern.

 

She soon got her answer.

 

Lily of the Valley fought her way through the countless scorpions, finally clearing the area beneath the viewing platform.

 

Hearing the commotion, the young lady timidly peeked out from the pavilion, her soft sobs shaking her delicate frame.

 

Fright had left her makeup a smudged mess, but her gentle, watery eyes shimmered even more brightly, reflecting the chaos below.

 

Lily of the Valley extended her hand, her voice calm yet reassuring: “Please, lend me your hand, Miss Fu. I’ll take you to safety.”

 

Her voice, in the midst of this terrifying night, was like a soft feather—light, gentle, and unyielding.

 

It soothed every trace of fear in Fu Wanyin’s heart.

 

Fu Wanyin cautiously reached out and placed her hand in Lily of the Valley’s.

 

As their hands met, Lily of the Valley gently applied a little pressure.

 

The trembling young lady stumbled forward, falling into her embrace.

 

“Forgive my boldness, but please hold on tight, Miss Fu,” Lily of the Valley whispered, encircling the other’s slender waist. “I’ll fight our way out.”

 

Fu Wanyin, still weeping, replied in a nasal, soft yet resolute tone, humming in agreement.

 

She lifted her arms, wrapping them around Lily of the Valley’s neck.

 

The peachwood sword danced through the night sky, and even with one hand, Lily of the Valley executed elegant, precise flourishes.

 

Holding her charge securely with her other arm, she remained alert to any ambushes lurking nearby.

 

All the while, she remained completely unaware of the intense gaze fixed upon her from not far away.

Ye Qingge watched the delicate, gentle figure in Lily of the Valley’s arms, eyes glistening with unshed tears.

 

Frightened and vulnerable, she now nestled trustingly against Lily of the Valley.

 

“It’s Lanlan’s good friend!” Jiang Mianhao exclaimed, recognition lighting up her face. “Lanlan told me that last time she got injured, it was Miss Fu who bandaged her up. She’s truly a kind person, I hope she wasn’t hurt this time.”

 

Ye Qingge, however, paid no attention to the little grass in her arms; her gaze was entirely fixed on the person cradled by Ling Lan.

 

The sword spirit that had vanished moments ago now shimmered faintly within Ling Lan’s embrace.

 

By the time Ling Lan had escorted Miss Fu safely back to her residence and returned, Ye Qingge had already cleared the scene.

 

Dead scorpions lay scattered across the ground, a grim reminder of the battle that had passed.

 

A lone figure and a single blade of grass remained in the empty clearing.

 

“These past few days have been so dangerous~” the little grass said, having narrowly escaped disaster. It extended a leaf playfully over the edge of the bag. “Good thing Xiu Xiu didn’t come out with us.”

Hearing that name, Ye Qingge let out a cold laugh, reminded once more of the suspicious chime of the bell.

 

Why had that bell not affected Ling Lan’s thoughts?

 

A flicker of puzzlement crossed her mind, but Ye Qingge suppressed it.

 

The little grass in her arms continued to marvel at how remarkable her Ling Lan was.

 

Ye Qingge reached out and gently flicked a leaf, adding, “Yes, it seems I’ll need to find a suitable weapon specifically to protect you.”

 

Hearing this, Jiang Mianhao felt a little shy, her leaves swaying quietly without a word. The entire plant seemed enveloped in the comforting security of being firmly protected.

 

Ling Lan arrived a moment later, gripping her wooden sword, clearly exhausted from the earlier battle.

 

“Lanlan!” Jiang Mianhao waved her leaves excitedly. “Are you okay? You weren’t hurt, were you? Did you get Miss Fu back safely?”

 

Panting heavily, Ling Lan straightened up and waved a hand. “I got her back! I’m fine! It’s all thanks to Lu Jiu teaching me that new move. I’ve already mastered that lethal strike.”

 

The intense running had left Ling Lan’s breathing unsteady.

 

Ye Qingge glanced sideways at her, eyes sharp and scrutinizing.

 

Not only had Ling Lan resisted the demon’s bewitching bell, but she had also mastered the sword technique Ye Qingge had taught her after a single lesson, an impressive feat beyond Ye Qingge’s initial expectations.

 

“Lanlan, you’re amazing!” Jiang Mianhao waved her leaves excitedly. Her sharp eyes then caught something else. “Lanlan! Your wooden sword at your waist, it’s broken!”

 

Ling Lan let out an “ah,” realizing it belatedly.

 

The wooden sword she had been clutching had already splintered in her embrace. Disappointment flashed across her face.

 

Recalling the sword intent from earlier, Ye Qingge remarked casually, “It’s fine. Your sword will appear soon.”

 

“Really?!” Ling Lan’s eyes sparkled with joy as she held the broken wooden sword. “Is it the kind of sword I’m thinking of?”

 

The little grass nestled in her arms wiggled its leaves excitedly and exclaimed, “The kind that sword cultivators get, a sword that belongs only to them! And does it have a sword spirit too?!”

 

Ye Qingge hummed in agreement, undoing the bow. “Yes.”

 

A sword cultivator has only one sword in their lifetime. It is not something that can be purchased from an ordinary blacksmith.

 

It must be born from a sword spirit and can only be obtained when fate allows. Some cultivators are accompanied by their sword spirit from birth, while others spend their entire lives searching, never finding theirs.

 

Ling Lan had never expected her sword spirit to arrive so soon. Her eyes sparkled with anticipation.

 

“Lu Jiu, do you have a sword spirit?” Jiang Mianhao pressed. “Your swordsmanship is incredible! You must have one, right?”

 

Ling Lan grew curious as well, turning toward Ye Qingge. “Yes, Lu Jiu, you’re the most skilled sword cultivator I’ve ever seen! Can you show me your sword?”

 

Ye Qingge thought of her Frost Chill but shook her head.

 

“I don’t have my own sword spirit,” she replied. Then, holding the little grass in her palm, she added, “But I need to forge a sword.”

 

“A sword specifically made to protect you. From now on, you shall be my sword spirit.”

 

Ye Qingge spoke each word with deliberate seriousness.

 

Her voice drifted into the long, endless night, vanishing without a trace across the empty grassland.