After Being Certified by the Immortal Lord on the Path of Ruthlessness - Chapter 48

Jiang Mianhao’s final step was almost a desperate lunge forward, and she nearly collapsed onto her knees.

 

She carefully cradled the person lying on the ground, her once-pristine white collar now stained with specks of blood.

 

The eyes before her were tightly shut; the lips and complexion deathly pale like a handful of abandoned snow.

 

Jiang Mianhao held the person in her arms, but her knees, bruised from the earlier impact, throbbed with pain, making it impossible to stand.

 

The taut string of her composure finally snapped with an audible crack.

 

Clutching the person tightly, she struggled forward on her knees, one arduous step at a time.

 

The statue of the Goddess stood with its back to the moon, leaving Lu Jiu completely untouched by its light.

 

“Goddess, please hear my prayer. Save my Lu Jiu,” Jiang Mianhao pleaded, her arms wrapped around the neck of the one she held as she crawled forward.

 

But the moon in the sky was gradually descending, and the endless night began to spread once more.

 

“No… no,” Jiang Mianhao quickened her crawling pace, her voice breaking with tears. “Please don’t set, Goddess! Goddess, you still have a devotee here. Goddess!”

 

The statue of the Goddess loomed before the temple, so massive that even ten people holding hands could not encircle it.

 

By the time Jiang Mianhao had painstakingly crawled forward, the last sliver of moonlight had already vanished behind the clouds.

 

In the darkness, people continued to celebrate the joy of rebirth.

 

No one heard the weeping of the young girl at the feet of the Goddess.

 

Jiang Mianhao felt utterly helpless. She held the person in her arms tightly, as if Lu Jiu might slip away from her at any moment.

 

Large tears fell, dripping onto Lu Jiu’s cheeks and chin before trailing down into the collar of her clothes.

 

Her mournful sobs were drowned out by the sounds of celebration.

 

Jiang Mianhao grasped the hand of the person she held, only to feel as though she were touching a block of ice, a bone-chilling cold that spread through her entire body.

 

“Lu Jiu… I’m sorry, Lu Jiu,” Jiang Mianhao wept helplessly, channeling a steady stream of spiritual energy from her hands into the other’s.

 

But it was all rebuffed, returned to her unchanged.

 

The spiritual energy could not pass through. Her tears, her worry, her care—all were blocked.

 

The long night echoed with the girl’s sorrowful cries.

 

Ye Qingge’s spirit had not yet fully returned to her body when she was hastily apprehended by the Wuji Mystic Master and brought back to Yangqing Hall.

 

The hall was unusually bright, every lamp lit, and numerous immortals knelt within.

 

The Wuji Mystic Master watched as a wisp of ethereal smoke materialized in the center of the hall, gradually taking on a tangible form.

 

Standing before them was a figure clad in pristine white robes. A celestial being of unparalleled elegance and grace, her expression still carrying a faint trace of detachment and coldness.

“We beg for the Goddess’s punishment!” the assembled immortals chorused, bowing their heads to the ground.

 

Ye Qingge’s thoughts were still preoccupied with the weeping she had heard earlier, a faint unease stirring in her heart.

 

Her expression hardened with impatience. “Master, for what reason have you summoned me back?”

 

The Wuji Mystic Master stepped forward and bowed deeply. “I implore the Goddess to take care of your divine health and refrain from dissipating your spiritual energy, lest it harm your cultivation.”

 

At his lead, the kneeling deities began to plead for mercy.

 

“We beg for the Goddess’s punishment! This humble one failed to guard the Crow Python Sea, allowing the avian beast to attack Mount Hua under cover of night!”

 

“We beg for the Goddess’s punishment! This humble one failed to oversee the celestial phenomena, causing the mortal realm to plunge into darkness in less than twelve hours!”

 

“We beg for the Goddess’s.”

 

“Enough.”

 

Ye Qingge’s cold gaze swept over the hall filled with kneeling immortals.

 

She had only been in the mortal realm for a little over a few months, barely ten days in celestial time.

 

Ye Qingge watched impassively as the immortals wept and pleaded. Each of these disheveled, kneeling figures was a deity once worshipped and enshrined by mortals.

 

“In the mortal realm, you are all revered as divine domains.”

 

Her voice was calm yet edged with frost. “This humble one has only been away for a few days, and the celestial realm has already fallen into such chaos.” She let out a cold snort. “What use is begging for mercy after the fact?”

 

The celestial officials, knowing they had failed in their duties, lowered their heads, not daring to even breathe too loudly.

 

Though the Divine Maiden before them had not yet ascended to the throne, the imperial aura radiating from her was enough to inspire both fear and awe.

 

For a moment, the great hall fell into utter silence; no one dared to plead for mercy again.

 

The Wuji Mystic Master pursed her lips before finally speaking, “The throne has remained vacant for too long. I pray that the Divine Maiden will soon overcome her tribulation and return to the court to restore its glory.”

Ye Qingge frowned slightly as she looked at her humble and respectful master.

 

The sorrowful cries of a young girl seemed to echo faintly in her ears once more. Ye Qingge closed her eyes briefly before speaking in a calm, detached tone.

“This humble one has her own plans.”

 

At the far end of the hall, the Matchmaker lifted his head, as if wishing to speak, but after a moment’s hesitation, he lowered it again, maintaining his bowing posture.

 

“When the Divine Maiden returns to the mortal realm, take Shuanghan with you,” said the Wuji Mystic Master, waving her hand. Shuanghan appeared, lying quietly upon her palm.

 

Sensing its master’s presence, the sword began to shimmer faintly, a soft light pulsing with excitement.

 

But Ye Qingge only cast it a single glance. “Master, please keep it for me.”

 

The Wuji Mystic Master’s brows furrowed in surprise. Rejected by its master, Shuanghan quivered, as though sensing the lingering bond of another sword, and let out a low, mournful hum.

 

“This humble one’s love tribulation has not yet been resolved,” Ye Qingge said evenly. “For now, the affairs of the celestial realm shall be managed by the Wuji Mystic Master.”

 

Her cold gaze swept over the assembled immortals. “If there is any further negligence, do not bother begging for mercy.”

 

Her final words rang through the silent hall:

 

“Sever your own immortal roots and fall into the cycle of reincarnation.”

 

The kneeling celestial officials all shuddered and lowered their heads.

“Thank you, Divine Maiden, for your leniency,” they chorused.

 

The great hall fell silent once more, and for a moment, no one dared to lift their heads.

 

But the Divine Maiden was no longer there.

 

Ye Qingge had no time to dwell on her anger; she immediately returned to her physical body.

 

The sound of crying suddenly rang clear in her ears. The person holding her tightly was sobbing uncontrollably.

 

The embrace remained unyielding, as though letting go would cause the one in her arms to vanish into thin air.

 

“Mianhao, stop crying.”

Ling Lan knelt on the other side. When she finally found Jiang Mianhao amid the vast sea of people, she had also witnessed the outcome she least wanted to see.

 

The person in Jiang Mianhao’s arms was deathly pale, appearing utterly lifeless.

 

Ling Lan didn’t dare to check for breath, and the spiritual energy she tried to transfer was immediately repelled.

 

“It’s all my fault for being careless.” Jiang Mianhao’s voice was hoarse from crying. “If I had found Lu Jiu right away, I wouldn’t have missed the moonlight.”

 

From crying so much, Jiang Mianhao began to feel faint. Her stomach churned, and tears continued to fall as if they would never run dry.

 

It was as though her tears were a life-saving remedy, spilling desperately onto the person in her arms.

 

“There are so many sword cultivators here. Surely someone will have a solution.” Ling Lan gently patted Jiang Mianhao’s back and reached out a hand. “Let me hold her for a while. You should get up! Your pants are already stained with blood.”

 

But Jiang Mianhao refused to let go, clutching the person in her arms even tighter.

“You’re right,” she murmured. “Let’s find the person on the other side of the bronze statue. He’ll definitely have a way.”

 

With that, she tried to stand while holding the person in her arms but her strength had been completely exhausted, and she couldn’t even manage to rise.

 

Ye Qingge listened to Jiang Mianhao’s sobs, feeling the turbulent emotions surge within her heart.

 

In her mind’s eye, she saw the young girl gripping a sword, walking alone across a field of corpses, climbing through the vast darkness toward the cliff’s peak.

 

Someone who was once afraid of even a caterpillar had shown no fear before the soaring birds.

 

For no reason she could name, Ye Qingge’s heart ached.

It was a feeling she had never experienced before.

 

With every tear that slipped down her own cheeks, the ache in her heart deepened.

 

Instead of immediately returning to the heavenly realm, Ye Qingge wanted to sit up, wanted to gently wipe away the tear stains on Jiang Mianhao’s face.

 

She didn’t want Jiang Mianhao to cry.

 

But her spiritual power had not yet stabilized, and the energy she had expended was nearly all that remained within her.

Ye Qingge couldn’t open her eyes or sit up. She could only listen to Jiang Mianhao’s sobs, utterly helpless.

 

The first rays of light broke through the distant mountains.

 

Dawn had finally arrived.

 

After settling the frightened women, children, and sword cultivators at the summit of Mount Hua, the sect leader, Feng Mingyi, discovered two girls embracing beneath the statue of the goddess.

 

They were kneeling face to face, their heads resting against each other. Only when Feng Mingyi ordered someone to separate them did she realize they had been shielding a third girl, one who had long since fallen unconscious.

 

The medicine on the stove boiled over, bubbling and gurgling.

 

Bloodied basins of water were replaced again and again before Feng Mingyi could finally see the faces of the three girls clearly.

 

The most severely injured among them, dressed in green, looked no older than fifteen. She seemed to have fought her way up the mountain, sword in hand.

 

Her fair palms were already covered in blisters from gripping the sword hilt too tightly.

Her slender legs were crisscrossed with cuts and scratches, her knees badly scraped, with two deep gashes that refused to close. As Feng Mingyi cleaned her wounds and removed her soiled clothes, her eyes reddened with heartache.

 

The girl in white and the one in yellow had only minor abrasions. Once the grime was washed from their faces, their breathtaking beauty was revealed.

 

Especially the one in white, her ethereal beauty was impossible to ignore, even with her eyes closed.

 

After cleaning all three girls and settling them in a room, Feng Mingyi went out to check on the other sword cultivators.

 

The night’s ambush now felt like a fleeting dream.

 

The disciples who had tragically died by her side only hours ago were now training in the courtyard as if nothing had happened.

 

The appearance of the goddess. A once-in-a-millennium event had been entirely unexpected.

 

Only after Feng Mingyi had made her rounds through all the villages on Mount Hua did she finally breathe a sigh of relief.

 

Aside from the three unconscious girls she had brought back, no one on Mount Hua had been injured or killed.

 

By the time Feng Mingyi returned, the girl in yellow had already awakened.

 

Ling Lan stood barefoot in the corridor, anxiously scanning her surroundings in search of Jiang Mianhao.

 

The previous night, she had intended to find help with Jiang Mianhao, but just as she helped her to her feet, Jiang Mianhao suddenly collapsed to her knees and vomited a mouthful of blood.

 

As the warm blood splattered across her face, Ling Lan felt her heart stop.

 

The next instant, darkness clouded her vision and she lost consciousness.

 

When she opened her eyes again, she found herself in an unfamiliar place.

 

Medicine simmered softly on the stove, and her clothes had been changed.

 

But Jiang Mianhao and Lu Jiu were nowhere to be found.

 

Ling Lan lifted her gaze and met Feng Mingyi’s eyes in the corridor instantly recognizing her as the very figure from the bronze statue.

 

The leader of Mount Hua.

The founder of the Fengming Sword Technique—Feng Mingyi.

“Sect Leader Feng,” Ling Lan addressed her revered idol, though there was no trace of joy in her voice. “Have you seen the two others who were with me?”

 

Feng Mingyi nodded, and upon noticing how pale Ling Lan looked, said gently, “Your friends have been settled. There’s no need to worry.”

 

“But what about them?” Ling Lan pressed, unable to hide the anxiety in her voice.

 

“They’re in the adjacent rooms,” Feng Mingyi reassured her. “I’ve already had physicians tend to their injuries. Go back to your room first and put on your shoes then you may visit them.”

 

Ling Lan nodded quickly and turned to leave.

 

When she pushed open the partition door, she indeed saw Jiang Mianhao lying on the bed.

 

But—

 

“Green Wine?” Ling Lan froze, staring in disbelief at the figure before her, wondering if her eyes were deceiving her. “You…”