After Being Certified by the Immortal Lord on the Path of Ruthlessness - Chapter 45
Feeling the slight tremble of the person in her arms, Ye Qingge’s mood was inexplicably greatly pleased.
Her lips moved away from the eyes but the person in her arms still had her eyes closed and the lips that had just been kissed were slightly parted.
The pale pink color of her lips had already turned flushed and red from Ye Qingge’s rough kisses.
They looked like ripe fruit making one unable to resist the urge to pluck them.
Thinking this, Ye Qingge leaned down again and captured those red lips.
With the first kiss as a reference, this time Jiang Mianhao didn’t know whether she had learned her lesson or was simply frightened into submission.
She obediently parted her teeth allowing Ye Qingge’s tongue to enter.
Ye Qingge couldn’t help but curl her lips and gently bite Jiang Mianhao’s lips with her teeth.
She whispered, “Really not going to answer her? What if she gets worried and thinks something’s happened to you, and barges in? What then?”
“Should we let her watch?” Ye Qingge released her lip and whispered close to her ear, a teasing lilt in her voice. “Watch how I make you yield?”
Jiang Mianhao’s empty mind began to reboot. Then she heard the frantic knocking on the door.
Just as Lu Jiu had said, Ling Lan who hadn’t received a response for some time had grown anxious and was now knocking urgently.
“Mianhao?” Ling Lan called out, her voice edged with panic. “Are you still in the room? Mianhao!”
Earlier, the shop assistant had specifically warned them not to open the door casually at night.
Strange occurrences were common here, and during the day they had even run into bandits and pirates while climbing the mountain. Jiang Mianhao was alone in her room.
Ling Lan grew more frantic. She took a step back and said, “Then I’m coming in!”
Bang!
The sturdy door shook under the impact. Failing to break it open on the first try, Ling Lan quickly gathered her strength for a second attempt.
“No!” Jiang Mianhao hurriedly replied. “Don’t come in!”
Her voice came out soft and trembling, the strength long gone from her body after the frantic struggle.
Her words, however, were drowned out by the heavy pounding on the door.
“She can’t hear you,” Ye Qingge said, satisfaction flickering in her eyes as she watched the anxious expression on the girl’s face. Her hand at Jiang Mianhao’s waist tightened slightly. “Should we move closer so she can?”
Jiang Mianhao’s panic grew. She was terrified Ling Lan might actually break the door down.
She was trapped in Lu Jiu’s embrace. Her hair disheveled, her clothes in disarray.
“Lu Jiu,” Jiang Mianhao bit her lip and shook her head. “No… don’t.”
Ye Qingge arched a brow, her voice soft with amusement. “So you won’t answer me, but you’ll answer her?”
With that, she guided Jiang Mianhao forward, pressing her gently yet firmly against the trembling door.
“Answer her,” Ye Qingge murmured, leaning down to brush a kiss against the side of the girl’s neck. “Do you want to go with her?”
Light, fleeting kisses fell like rain, and the warmth of her breath traced against skin. Soft as feathers, stirring Jiang Mianhao’s heart beyond control.
A tingling current spread through her body; her knees nearly gave way.
With a sob caught in her throat, she gasped, “Ling Lan!”
Outside, Ling Lan froze mid-kick, eyes widening at the shadow pressed against the door.
“Mianhao? Are you okay?” she asked, voice trembling as she leaned closer.
“I–I’m fine.” Jiang Mianhao struggled to steady her breath, forcing a small laugh between the quiver in her voice. “I was just looking for my clothes, so I didn’t hear you. Please, don’t… don’t break the door.”
Ye Qingge clearly had no intention of letting her go, though her hands stilled.
Unable to bear it, Jiang Mianhao raised her arms and held her tightly as if that was the only way to make her stop.
Ye Qingge felt the tightening arm around her waist and let out a soft laugh then lifted her leg to press between Jiang Mianhao’s thighs.
Reassured by the response, Ling Lan slowly let her anxiety fade and stopped kicking the door.
“Then, did you hear what I just said to you?”
Jiang Mianhao parted her lips to reply.
But before she could speak, a sharp sting flared at her neck as the person above her shifted from gentle kisses to teasing bites.
“I–I heard,” Jiang Mianhao whispered, biting her lip to steady her unsteady breath.
Ling Lan’s heart leapt to her throat. Her palms grew slick with sweat as she clenched and unclenched her fists.
“You’re my best friend,” Jiang Mianhao said at last, drawing in a deep breath, “and my only family. Lanlan, you’ll always be someone I care about.”
Her answer caught both the listener inside and the one outside by surprise.
Ye Qingge stilled, lifting her head from Jiang Mianhao’s neck. Her gaze met the other’s jade-green eyes. Eyes that shimmered with unshed tears, filled with both sorrow and resolve.
“But while I care for you, I also care for Lu Jiu.”
Jiang Mianhao met the gaze of the person before her, pronouncing each word with deliberate clarity.
“You are my best friend, my only family. And Lu Jiu…”—her voice softened— “Lu Jiu is the one I love. I want to stay with both of you, without leaving anyone behind.”
Ling Lan’s voice trembled with disbelief.
“But our plans never included Lu Jiu. Wouldn’t it be better if it were just the two of us? Do we really have to bring her along?”
“Yes,” Jiang Mianhao said firmly. “I want to be with Lu Jiu.”
Her tone left no room for doubt. “So, I can’t. I can’t leave with you alone.”
The words spilled out in a rush and outside the door, silence fell heavy and absolute.
But Jiang Mianhao had no room left to think about Ling Lan. Her heart was still pounding, her body refusing to calm.
Only after she spoke did realization dawn. She had said something she shouldn’t have.
Her gaze lifted uncertainly to the person standing before her. The lips that had just kissed her glistened under the flickering candlelight, damp with mingled traces of their breath.
And those golden eyes usually cold and distant now fixed on her with quiet intensity, a storm of emotion swirling in their depths.
“Lu Jiu…” Jiang Mianhao called out softly, unsure what to say next.
What could she possibly say?
Everything about this night felt unreal. Like a fragile dream teetering between illusion and reality.
That sudden kiss was it a reward within the dream, or a transgression against the waking world?
Ye Qingge lifted an eyebrow, her voice low but firm. “Speak to Ling Lan first.”
Even though they spoke quietly, their words still bled faintly through the door.
Ling Lan couldn’t make out what they said. She stood frozen, Jiang Mianhao’s earlier declaration echoing endlessly in her mind. Lu Jiu is the one I love.
An ache spread through her chest, sharp and suffocating.
She wanted to say, Then let’s stop here. Let’s not go any farther. Let’s return to Mount Taibai.
No matter how long the road, even without Lu Jiu’s protection, the two of them could still live well together on Mount Taibai.
But when she opened her mouth, no sound came out.
If only she possessed Lu Jiu’s formidable spiritual power and cultivation or her masterful swordsmanship.
Then, perhaps, she could confidently say that she would take Jiang Mianhao away.
But the events that had unfolded at the foot of the mountain earlier that day echoed in her ears like a warning bell—low, heavy, and unrelenting.
Ling Lan smiled bitterly, her eyes filled with the dull ache of defeat.
She was nothing but a lowly blade of grass. One who still flinched at the sight of a caterpillar. She had neither Lu Jiu’s cultivation nor Mi Xiu’s cunning strategies.
All she could do was clutch the sword in her hand and keep practicing, tirelessly polishing the crude techniques she had honed through her own effort.
Finally, Ling Lan let out a quiet sigh. She rested her forehead against the door and whispered, almost inaudibly,
“Mianhao, I will always be by your side.”
Inside the room, Jiang Mianhao met the gaze of the person before her.
“I will too,” she replied softly, enunciating each word with trembling sincerity.
“Always by your side.”
The night fell silent from that moment on.
No one inside or outside the door spoke another word.
Ye Qingge no longer pressed or bullied Jiang Mianhao.
Only when the footsteps outside the door faded away. One slow, heavy step after another. Did the silence settle in completely.
This quiet struggle, a war she should never have been part of, had come to an end.
Yet the victor did not rejoice. Ye Qingge did not push away the person in her arms, unable to tell whether what she felt now was triumph or something far more fragile.
Instead, she simply tightened her embrace and murmured,
“Let’s sleep. I’m tired.”
Jiang Mianhao could only hear the frantic rhythm of her own heartbeat, so deeply lost in the warmth of the arms encircling her that she failed to notice.
the person before her had given no response at all to her earlier words.
It wasn’t until much later when a blade pierced through her chest that she finally understood.
This gentle, considerate lover of hers had never even cared enough to offer a performative promise.
Dawn was breaking.
Next door, a door opened and closed softly. Ling Lan, who had remained awake the entire night, stepped out with her sword.
For some reason, her mind had clouded over last night. She had gone to Jiang Mianhao’s room and spoken those words.
Now, with her thoughts clear once more, only regret remained.
Regret for her blunt impulsiveness,
and regret for trying to use Jiang Mianhao’s soft heart to secure a promise that had never been hers to begin with.
Fortunately, Jiang Mianhao had not agreed.
What Ling Lan did not know was that, just as she had been baring her heart behind that door,
the person she loved had been pressed against it.
kissed until she had no strength left to speak.
By the time Ling Lan finished her morning practice, Jiang Mianhao had already stepped out of her room.
The two crossed paths in the corridor—one entering, the other leaving.
Ling Lan’s eyes sharpened at once. “Your neck, what happened to your neck?”
Jiang Mianhao blinked, momentarily at a loss, before instinctively lowering her head.
But from her angle, she couldn’t see it. The faint red mark blooming just below her collarbone, like a mosquito bite.
Fortunately, Ling Lan didn’t dwell on it. She merely said, “This place is surrounded by forest. You should close your windows tightly when you sleep, so no strange insects sneak in and bite you.”
Jiang Mianhao had already guessed the real cause. A faint heat rose to her ears as she lifted a hand to cover the mark.
Clearing her throat, she replied softly, “I will. You should too.”
They stood there for a moment, neither speaking further.
Then, almost at the same time, the corners of their lips curved upward.
and a small, fragile laugh escaped between them, light as morning mist.
Morning light streamed through the window, illuminating the two young women standing across from each other in the corridor.
The words spoken the night before seemed to dissolve in their shared laughter, scattered and carried away by the wind.
By the time Ye Qingge awoke, Jiang Mianhao and Ling Lan had already packed their belongings and were waiting for her.
“Lu Jiu!” Jiang Mianhao called softly, “Are you hungry? Should we go down for breakfast?”
Ye Qingge rubbed her forehead and shook her head.
It was hard to believe, the chaotic spiritual energy that had raged within her the previous night was now calm and docile. Even the steady leak of her cultivation had slowed.
And the nightmares that had tormented her for countless nights had somehow ceased.
Was it because of last night?
Ye Qingge’s gaze lifted to the figure before her. Jiang Mianhao had already prepared a basin of washing water and laid out a clean set of clothes for her.
Knowing she rarely ate breakfast, only a pot of cold tea sat on the table.
Even the faintest trace of food had been carefully removed from Jiang Mianhao’s person.
Such rare thoughtfulness and meticulous care.
“Did you sleep well last night?” Ye Qingge asked softly, her gaze falling on the young woman testing the water’s temperature.
At the mention of the previous night, the tips of Jiang Mianhao’s ears turned red. She quickly withdrew her hand from the basin, the water rippling in her haste.
“You should wash up quickly. I—I’ll go next door and play with Ling Lan for a bit.”
Then, as if escaping, she darted toward the door.
Watching her nearly flee, Ye Qingge curved her lips into a faint smile.
By the time the three of them gathered downstairs, the first rays of sunlight had already spilled across the inn’s wooden floor.
“Let’s go!” Jiang Mianhao said, waving energetically. “Our goal is to climb the mountain!”
Ye Qingge looked at the bright, spirited figure leading the way. Her smile deepened, yet she said nothing, simply following behind in silence.
Ling Lan, left standing in place, could only doubt her own eyes.
Had she just seen a hint of a smile on Lu Jiu’s face?
By the time Ling Lan snapped out of her thoughts, the other two had already walked off, one following the other.
The path up Mount Hua was steep and perilous. Just the day before, the base of the mountain had been crowded with travelers eager to ascend.
Yet today, as they set out, their numbers had already been cut in half.
Though autumn was drawing to a close, the lingering heat of the autumn tiger still clung to the air.
By the time they reached the halfway point, all three were drenched in sweat.
“I—I can’t climb anymore,” Jiang Mianhao gasped, stumbling a step. “I’m about to faint.”
A steadying hand caught her from behind.
Ye Qingge’s voice came quietly: “Shall I use a spiritual energy sphere to carry you up?”
“No!” Jiang Mianhao replied without a second thought. “I’ve heard the paths of Mount Hua are perilous and winding. I don’t want you to expend too much spiritual energy.”
Ye Qingge looked at the person before her. Clearly exhausted, barely holding herself upright.
Yet even while refusing help, Jiang Mianhao puffed out her chest, pretending to be strong.
Seeing her dry lips gradually turn pale, Ye Qingge was inexplicably reminded of the previous night.
Leaning down, she whispered by her ear, “I have a way to greatly enhance my spiritual energy. Do you want to hear it?”
Jiang Mianhao’s eyes lit up, her exhaustion forgotten. “Yes, tell me!”
Innocent and expectant, she perked up her ears, waiting for the answer.
Then suddenly her vision went dark, and a familiar, pleasant fragrance enveloped her.
Her lips met with a soft touch—a brief kiss that ended as swiftly as it began.
Jiang Mianhao’s mind went blank, a buzzing filling her head. Before she could react, a spiritual energy barrier wrapped snugly around her, and in the next instant, she was propelled forward.
Ling Lan, who had been absently poking at the grass with her wooden sword, turned around just in time to see a distant sphere of spiritual light shooting past.
Before she could even process what she was seeing, she too was lifted into the air.
The speed of spiritual energy was a thousand times faster than walking.
The once long and treacherous mountain path blurred beneath them, the world rushing by in the blink of an eye.
Then abruptly the barrier halted.
Curious, Jiang Mianhao peeked out, and a chill pricked her skin.
Amid the dense folds of green forest below, the ground was streaked with winding trails of crimson.
A faint, metallic scent of blood lingered in the air.
On Mount Hua, a place renowned for sword cultivation. Could there really be a slaughterhouse hidden here?
As the spiritual energy sphere descended, the bloody scene below expanded, revealing more grotesque details.
“This is…” Ling Lan murmured, nudging an object at her feet with her wooden sword. Flipping it over, her breath caught. “A dead person?”
Jiang Mianhao froze, staring at the corpse sprawled before her, nausea rising in her stomach.
It wasn’t livestock, nor dried grass. It was a human being, brutally cleaved in two by a massive blade. Blood mingled with brain matter and internal organs, splattering across the ground.
Even Ye Qingge’s heart sank. She had seen many battles, yet this sight stirred a deep, visceral unease.
The slaughter methods were cruel, precise, and unhesitating the unmistakable signature of the Ao Niao clan.
The three of them carefully stepped around the bodies, eyes scanning the path upward.
It wasn’t just this single spot. The entire ascent was littered with corpses, a trail of carnage stretching as far as the eye could see.
Blood flowed in winding streams, trickling down the mountainside.
Ling Lan’s blood boiled with fury. She clenched her fists and shouted, “This is outrageous! These are living human lives!”
Jiang Mianhao, timid even in the presence of caterpillars, froze in terror at the sight of the scattered corpses. Her face drained of color, and her breaths came in shallow, panicked gasps.
The sea of bodies seemed endless, stretching forward as far as the eye could see.
Unable to look any longer at the grotesque scene beneath her feet, Jiang Mianhao instinctively turned to retreat only to collide with a warm, protective embrace.
Ye Qingge’s gaze softened as she looked down at the trembling figure clinging to her. The young woman’s slender back shook uncontrollably, fear radiating off her like a small, frightened animal.
“Don’t be afraid… don’t be afraid,” Ye Qingge murmured, gently patting her back. “We just need to get through this place.”
Jiang Mianhao, who had been silently weeping, finally broke down completely at Ye Qingge’s comforting words.
She buried her face in Ye Qingge’s shoulder, letting out soft, trembling sobs at first, which soon escalated into heart-wrenching wails that shook her entire body.
Ye Qingge sighed, wrapping her arms tightly around the trembling figure.
A damp warmth pressed against her chest as the girl’s sorrowful cries continued.
Hearing the weeping, Ling Lan’s heart ached, but she could do nothing except bend down and examine the corpses with her sword.
The person in Ye Qingge’s arms grew increasingly distraught, her frail back quivering lightly within the embrace, like a butterfly fluttering its wings, ready to take flight.
Seeing no other way, Ye Qingge lightly tapped her fingertips against the girl’s back. Gradually, the crying subsided, and the person in her arms went limp, drained of all strength.
Ye Qingge lifted her horizontally and turned to Ling Lan. “Did you find anything?”
Ling Lan, still examining the corpses, silently apologized in her heart for not being able to console Jiang Mianhao. After several careful comparisons, she looked up and said, “The killers didn’t act randomly.”
Ye Qingge hummed in agreement. “The dead are all sword cultivators.”
“How did you know?” Ling Lan’s eyes widened in surprise. “And their methods were so ruthless. They didn’t even treat these sword cultivators like humans! It was as if they were slaughtering livestock.”
“Or rather, they treated these people as vessels for storing something,” Ye Qingge said calmly. “They were searching for something.”
Having reached that conclusion, Ling Lan stopped rummaging and clapped her hands. “Are you tired? Let me carry her for a while.”
Ye Qingge glanced at the outstretched hand but turned away, walking ahead without a word.
Ling Lan’s hand hung in the air, empty; she could only clench it into a fist and withdraw it.
They emerged from the sea of corpses, and, just as Ye Qingge had said, a burned and dilapidated structure came into view.
“Is this a sword dao temple?” Ling Lan asked, looking at the half-burned wooden door beneath which lay a charred corpse.
She stared intently before she couldn’t help but curse, “These people are worse than beasts!”
The body beneath the wooden door had been half-burned, the head tilted upward, eyes wide open, mouth agape.
It was a child who hadn’t even finished shedding their baby teeth.
With just one glance, Ye Qingge recognized the method. It was the work of Wuli.
The only flame capable of reducing a person to ashes was the Li Fire, practiced by the Soaring Bird clan.
This time, it wasn’t merely the shadow of a clone.
Ye Qingge lifted her gaze toward the distant branches. A black bird sensed her stare and, with a swift flap of its wings, took off.
Wuli… we’re about to meet again.
The black soaring bird flew straight up Mount Hua, landing steadily on the bronze statue usually revered by worshippers.
Hanging from the statue was a corpse, its body entirely hollowed out, intestines and blood dripping onto the bronze below.
A human head was embedded in the statue’s face, perfectly mirroring its features.
The black bird chirped incessantly, and a wisp of black smoke coalesced in the empty space before it.
The dark smoke coalesced into a mass then abruptly transformed into outstretched wings.
Beneath the massive black wings stood a woman, her long black hair and flowing black dress accentuating the pallor of her skin.
“Damn it, can’t you stop showing off?” a snake crawled out from under the stone statue, its scales covered in dust. “You and your damn wings, always flaunting them. Little Qingge will cut them off sooner or later.”
The large, slender snake coiled its tail as the woman crawled on all fours, twisting her body gracefully across the ground.
Wuli rolled her eyes. “A creature that only crawls on the ground. No wonder your perspective is so low.”
The crouching woman suddenly adapted to her limbs and sprang up. Simultaneously, the fiery-red whip at her waist lashed forward.
Crack!
The whip struck Wuli’s face, leaving a bright mark as her fiery-red hair flared in response and she retracted the weapon.
Siji sneered, disdain dripping from her voice. “So high and mighty, so impressive yet you’re still not fully healed from the beating Little Qingge gave you, are you?”
“Disgusting,” Wuli spat, touching the wound on her cheek. “It’s always ‘Little Qingge this, Little Qingge that.’ If she killed you, would you happily offer yourself up?”
“You lowly wretch.”
Siji, enraged by the insult, planted her hands firmly on her hips and shouted, “You! If it weren’t for you claiming there’s an immortal bone in the mortal realm, I wouldn’t have even come with you, you fool! But where is this so-called immortal bone? You said obtaining it would let us kill Little Qingge but we’ve fought our way up Mount Hua and haven’t seen a trace of immortality, let alone an immortal bone!”
Her voice grew louder with each word. “We’ve been sneaking and hiding all this time and accomplished nothing! If it weren’t for you, my people wouldn’t have been nailed to the Goddess statue!” Siji’s eyes blazed as she continued, “I told you back on Mount Taibai that that damned scorpion wouldn’t succeed, but you didn’t listen! Now look! We can’t even find a corpse!”
Wuli cast a cold, sharp glance at her. “Are you done?”
Just as it seemed a fight might erupt, the black soaring bird perched on the bronze statue chirped anxiously.
“Hmph… just you wait. Our score isn’t settled yet!” Siji’s face twisted with fury as she asked, “Are you saying Little Qingge has already reached the mountainside?”
The bird didn’t hesitate and relayed everything it had seen.
“She’s carrying someone in her arms?” Siji’s eyes widened, her anger flaring even higher. “You’re saying Little Qingge is personally holding someone?”
Wuli paused thoughtfully, her gaze sharp. “Could it be Ye Qingge has already found the immortal bone before we even arrived?”
Siji ground his teeth in frustration. “Immortal bone or not, it seems it was Little Qingge herself who carried it up here. I have to confront her.”
With a flick of his fiery-red whip, the figure beside him transformed instantly back into a serpent. The crimson serpent slithered down the mountain with unnerving speed.
Wuli’s eyes darkened as she swept her massive black wings, sending three razor-sharp feathers shooting straight into the ground in front of the serpent.
“Would it be beneath me to go looking personally? Do you really think Xiao Qingge will come to me willingly?” Wuli’s gaze flicked toward the path behind her, the bluestone pavement thoroughly stained with blood.
Siji let out a cold snort, about to retort, when a sharp gust of wind sliced past her ear, severing a lock of her crimson hair.
A familiar scent drifted on the breeze. The red serpent she had dispatched to scout the path was now pinned firmly against a bronze statue.
The technique exactly the same as the one used in the Temple of the Goddess; left Wuli’s lips curling slightly, a hint of a smile on her pale face.
Siji slowly turned, her serpentine tail coiling around the ankle of the figure behind her. A low, hissed whisper escaped her lips: “Faster than that damned bird expected.”
Then, with a hint of mockery in her voice, she added, “Long time no see, my Xiao Qingge.”
YOU MAY ALSO LIKE
