After Being Certified by the Immortal Lord on the Path of Ruthlessness - Chapter 59

The string of uneasiness snapped with a sharp crack.

 

Ye Qingge lifted her eyes to the messenger, her tone edged with impatience. “When did this happen?”

 

“J-just now… We only found out when our sect leader returned. He found the lady unconscious on the ground. We searched the entire manor but couldn’t find Miss Jiang. Immortal… Miss Jiang, she—”

 

Before the junior sister could finish, she saw the immortal turn and stride away without a backward glance.

 

Ye Qingge headed downhill, the pieces finally falling into place. Why she had felt restless ever since descending the mountain that morning.

 

The small snake she had encountered was only the prelude, the warning bell.

 

Striding firmly down the mountain, Ye Qingge attuned herself to the emotions flowing through the Heart-Link Locket:

 

Fear. Unease. Anxiety.

 

That little plant was currently engulfed in overwhelming panic. Was it because someone was nearby?

Analyzing the shifts in the emotional current, Ye Qingge closed her eyes in irritation.

 

Damn it.

 

She drew a deep breath, and for the first time in all these years tangled with the Snake‑Birds, a white‑hot hatred flared within her. She cursed herself for not wiping them out during the last full moon.

 

Cunning though weak in combat, the Snake‑Birds were insidious. If they discovered the plant was her love tribulation and hid it away, her tribulation would only be prolonged. The Snake‑Birds reproduced every three months—relentless, clinging.

 

Until the tribulation was resolved, her cultivation would continue to corrode, to be sapped from within until it vanished entirely.

 

A cold silence fell. Ye Qingge’s eyes snapped open, blazing with hatred. “Don’t let me get my hands on you,” she hissed.

 

Without pausing her steps, she continued downhill.

 

Only then did Ye Qingge detect a different emotion through the heart-link.

 

Boredom… monotony?

 

As if doubting her own senses, Ye Qingge halted and carefully analyzed the feeling.

 

Why would fear and panic suddenly give way to boredom and listlessness?

 

Were the Snake‑Birds truly not nearby? Was no one guarding her?

 

Growing increasingly agitated, Ye Qingge finally opened her Heart‑Sea.

 

“Goddess.” The Old Man of the Moon, summoned, stumbled to his knees. “How may I serve you, Goddess?”

 

“Can this Heart‑Link Locket locate someone?”

 

Swallowing hard, the Old Man of the Moon replied, “Y‑yes, it can. Press the locket to your temple, calm your mind, and call her name. You will sense her presence.”

 

“Focus solely on her name, and you will see the scene around her.”

 

Before he could offer further cautions, the Heart‑Sea snapped shut.

 

His legs trembling, he remained kneeling, letting out a long sigh. “So close I survived another day.”

Standing in the vast, snowy expanse, Ye Qingge paused and removed the Heart‑Link Locket from her wrist.

 

Recalling the Old Man of the Moon’s instructions, she pressed the locket to her forehead and stilled her mind.

 

The moment her eyes closed, a voice echoed in her ears.

 

Someone, gripped by extreme terror, clutched a Heart‑Link Locket pressed to their temple, calling her name over and over.

 

Ye Qingge froze. Before her appeared a young girl, sitting alone on a straw mat, melted snow flowing around her feet.

 

It wasn’t dark. The surroundings were deep brown mud, suggesting she was still on Mount Hua.

 

Seeing no Snake‑Birds nearby, Ye Qingge’s tension eased slightly.

 

She removed the locket from her forehead and lifted her gaze, scanning the area once more.

 

She stood amidst the peaks of Mount Hua, where three or four minor sects were scattered nearby.

 

The treacherous terrain of Mount Hua was hardly suitable for habitation, yet it teemed with fierce beasts and wild game.

 

Sword cultivators occasionally hunted them to supplement their provisions, but more often they dug traps, set bait, and lured the beasts into pits.

 

Ye Qingge straightened and surveyed her surroundings. Her gaze was soon drawn to something in the distance.

 

Amid the vast expanse of snow, a massive animal trap came into view. The bait around it remained untouched, but the pit itself had caved in.

 

As she drew closer, the Heart‑Link Pendant vibrated with increasing intensity.

 

It must be nearby. Ye Qingge fixed her eyes on the large pit.

 

Then, in a blur of white, something darted toward it faster than she could move.

 

Jiang Mianhao curled into a ball, helplessly tilting her head to look up at the sky.

 

The pit was wide and deep, and the straw mat meant to conceal it was now soaked with melted snow.

 

She had followed Jiang Yuanjuan’s instructions, taking money to go down the mountain and buy vinegar.

Just as she stepped out of the village gate, Jiang Mianhao recalled Lu Jiu’s warning.

 

Torn between Jiang Yuanjuan and Lu Jiu, she couldn’t bear to disregard either.

 

In the end, she settled on a compromise. She wouldn’t take the main road. Instead, she shifted into her original form and detoured through the areas where the sword cultivators trained.

 

This way, she could buy the vinegar while still heeding Lu Jiu’s advice to protect herself.

 

But Jiang Mianhao had overestimated her sense of direction. Staring at the endless white landscape, she couldn’t even recall how she had climbed the mountain that night.

 

In the darkness, she had reached the summit, driven solely by her concern for Lu Jiu.

 

An invisible courage had carried her forward, step by step.

 

Now, she hesitated, her small grass form inching tentatively into the snow‑covered expanse.

 

The heavy snow had fallen for days, and the melted water had nowhere to go, freezing into solid ice deep beneath the ground.

Her grass roots couldn’t penetrate the frozen soil, and she slipped and slid across the icy surface.

 

After stumbling a few steps, she finally lost all footing and tumbled head over heels downward.

 

At first, Jiang Mianhao had thought that rolling down the mountain might not be such a bad idea.

 

But the narrow path and her lack of attention to direction turned her “fun ride” into disaster. She stumbled straight into an animal trap.

 

Even in her original form, the fall had been rough. Leaves tore off and scattered in all directions.

 

Shifting back to human form, Jiang Mianhao sat on the ground, clutching her right arm.

 

She pressed gently on the bone, hearing a faint cracking sound as pain radiated through her.

 

“My arm is broken,” she sighed, diagnosing herself. “How unlucky can I be?”

 

After venting her frustration, she lifted her head and gazed up at the sky.

 

The large pit restricted her view, leaving only a small patch of sky visible through the opening.

 

Hugging her injured arm, Jiang Mianhao shifted her legs slightly.

 

The fear and panic from the fall had subsided once she landed.

 

She reached up with her left hand, took the Heart‑Link Pendant from her neck, and pressed it to her lips, whispering softly, “I’m sorry, Lu Jiu. I should have just listened to you.”

 

The smooth jade, warmed by her body heat, offered a strange comfort, as if she were close to Lu Jiu.

 

In her heart, she silently called out to her, guided by an intuition that whispered:

 

Lu Jiu would definitely come to rescue her.

 

Jiang Mianhao waited, and waited, until boredom began to creep in.

 

Finally, faint rustling sounds reached her ears from above.

 

“Green Wine!” she shouted, springing to her feet. “Green Wine, is that you?”

 

Hearing her calls, the sounds from above grew louder.

 

Rustling noises scattered bits of grass and debris down into the pit.

 

“Green Wine!” Jiang Mianhao clutched her right hand, summoning all her strength. “Green Wine, can you hear me?”

 

Finally, after her repeated cries, the rustling intensified.

 

Overjoyed, she shouted, “I’m here! I’m here! I’m—”

 

Her words caught in her throat as she froze in shock.

 

The long‑awaited flash of white had appeared but it wasn’t the ethereal immortal in white robes she had hoped for.

 

Instead, a fluffy white tiger peered down at her from above.

 

Having finished the bait nearby, the tiger lifted its head and let out a resonant, “Awoo—”

 

“No, no, no!” Jiang Mianhao scrambled backward, shaking her head. “I‑I‑I’m vegetarian! I’m not tasty!”

 

The white tiger didn’t understand human language. Seeing her shaking head, it envisioned a grand feast.

 

Its sharp fangs gleamed starkly against a crimson tongue.

 

As the tiger slowly approached, attempting to climb down, Jiang Mianhao panicked.

 

“Great Tiger King! Eating me won’t give you the sensation of meat instead, it’ll put you to sleep!” she pleaded desperately, pressing herself against the wall. “Listen to me, I’m actually just a blade of grass! Aaaaaah! Eating everything will only harm you! Aaaaaah—”

 

Her voice trembled with fear as the tiger inched closer.

 

Just as it drew near, Jiang Mianhao squeezed her eyes shut in agony, bracing for death.

 

Thud—

 

The anticipated doom never came. Instead, warm blood splattered across her face.

 

She smelled the metallic tang of it and slowly opened her eyes.

 

The tiger that had been about to descend now lay impaled and lifeless at the edge of the pit.

 

Jiang Mianhao looked up, relief flooding her voice. “Green Wine!”

 

A familiar sphere of spiritual energy drifted down, lifting her from the bottom of the pit.

 

Ye Qingge retracted her sword, and the tiger’s body thudded to the ground.

 

The iron sword was streaked with blood. Frowning, Ye Qingge waved her hand, using water to cleanse it.

 

Still, Frostchill remained unmatched. The blood of mere beasts could never sully it.

 

“Green Wine, you really came!” Jiang Mianhao exclaimed, her excitement uncontainable. “I was just thinking you’d come, and you really did!”

 

Ye Qingge responded with a faint, “Mm,” then waved her hand, sending the spiritual energy sphere floating upward.

 

At that moment, Phoenix Cry Manor was in chaos.

 

Jiang Yuanjuan had been knocked unconscious in the kitchen, and Jiang Mianhao had mysteriously disappeared.

Feng Mingyi, who had rushed back in a panic, was shedding tears incessantly. All the physicians from Mount Hua had been summoned to attend to Jiang Yunjuan at her bedside.

 

When Ye Qingge brought Jiang Mianhao back, Feng Mingyi finally let out a long sigh of relief.

 

Seeing Jiang Mianhao’s injured hand, she suppressed the questions pressing in her mind and immediately sent physicians to tend to her.

 

After her wound was dressed and she had taken painkillers, Jiang Mianhao drifted into sleep.

 

Ye Qingge listened carefully to the physician’s instructions, then waved her hand to dismiss them.

 

With the room now closed and quiet, only the two of them remained. Ye Qingge used a spiritual energy barrier to block out the noise from outside and, under the pretense that Jiang Mianhao needed rest, sent Lily away.

 

She looked at the heavily bandaged girl and turned her attention to the scrolls in her hand.

 

When she had brought Jiang Mianhao back, she had checked thoroughly. Aside from the fright and her injured hand, there were no other serious issues.

 

Along the way, Jiang Mianhao had recounted, in vivid detail, how she had fallen into the pit and how eagerly she had awaited Ye Qingge’s arrival.

The candle burned low until midnight, and the sleeping girl slowly stirred awake.

 

Jiang Mianhao first circled around Lu Jiu, but when the other paid her no attention, she mustered the courage to poke her arm.

 

Ye Qingge, who had been absorbed in a report, looked up with a puzzled glance.

 

“Don’t go out the day after tomorrow; let’s spend the Longzhi Festival together,” Jiang Mianhao said, her eyes sparkling as she looked expectantly at the person beside her. “I’ve learned many ways to make dumplings from Sister Jiang, but my hands are too weak to lift them.”

 

Hearing this, Ye Qingge raised her hand to transfer spiritual energy to her.

 

But just as she did, Jiang Mianhao stopped her, pouting. “I don’t want spiritual energy!”

 

“Then what do you want?” Ye Qingge set down her report, looking at her helplessly.

 

The girl before her pouted in a huff, her smiling eyes now filled with gentle grievance.

 

Jiang Mianhao whispered softly, “I want you to spend time with me!”

 

With that, it was as if a floodgate of words had opened.

 

“The physician said I was frightened! When people are frightened, they need comfort. Even though I’m a plant, I still need to be comforted, you know!”

 

“Sister Jiang taught me that if two people want to love each other deeply and forever, they shouldn’t hide anything from each other. Never make the other person guess what you’re thinking.”

 

“If you want something, you have to say it out loud. So—”

 

“Right now, I want you to spend tomorrow with me!”

 

The more she spoke, the more animated she became, her little mouth chattering nonstop.

 

Ye Qingge’s attention was completely captured by those pink lips; she didn’t hear a single word Jiang Mianhao said.

 

Seeing her daze, Jiang Mianhao grew slightly displeased and huffed, “Did you hear me or not?”

 

“Mhm, I’ll spend time with you,” Ye Qingge said, suddenly leaning in. With a wave of her hand, the desk in front of them vanished.

 

With no barrier between them, Ye Qingge placed her hands on either side of Jiang Mianhao, gently encircling her in an embrace.

Gazing at those pink lips, Ye Qingge curved her lips into a smile and said, “But rather than spending time with you tomorrow, I’d rather kiss you right now.”

 

A scorching kiss descended, and before Jiang Mianhao could evade, she was pressed down.

 

“Don’t hide,” Ye Qingge said, wrapping an arm around the squirming waist in her embrace and slowly drawing her closer.

 

The distance between them narrowed, and the air was shared in the space between their lips and breath.

 

Her immortal bone was that of a lily of the valley, yet those people had clearly mistaken Jiang Mianhao for the immortal bone.

 

Ye Qingge reached out and removed the hairpin from the person in her arms.

 

A cascade of long hair tumbled down like a waterfall.

 

To protect the immortal bone without raising suspicion, it seemed she needed to leave some marks on the person before her.

 

Thinking this, Ye Qingge’s lips slowly trailed downward.

 

Her kisses meandered along the neck; the freshly bathed person carried a faint scent of herbs.

The room was warm and bright, and Jiang Mianhao wore only a thin inner robe, which was now easily loosened.

 

Ye Qingge lifted her gaze to look at the person in her arms.

 

The earlier kiss had already made Jiang Mianhao surrender; now, her body had gone soft as she lay panting in her embrace.

 

Those jade-green eyes seemed washed by water, clear and bright.

 

Under the hazy candlelight, the young girl appeared radiant and delicate, her pink lips flushed crimson from the earlier kiss.

 

On her neck were the marks left by Ye Qingge’s kisses.

 

Ye Qingge finally realized where Jiang Mianhao had meant when she said she had grown up that day.

 

“That day, did your Sister Jiang teach you anything?” Ye Qingge asked, one hand clasping the waist of the person in her arms while the other cupped her face.

 

Jiang Mianhao was already dazed from the kisses, her pale pink tongue not yet fully retracted, faintly revealing a small shadow.

 

“What?” Jiang Mianhao lifted her eyes and noticed Lu Jiu gazing at her intently.

Those usually emotionless golden eyes were now tinged with a hint of passion, shining even brighter than the candlelight.

 

For some reason, Jiang Mianhao found the courage to raise her hands, cup the face before her, and reverently kiss Lu Jiu’s forehead.

 

Unbeknownst to her, during that kiss, her inner garment had loosened.

 

The freshly bathed girl wore only a thin inner robe, and now that it had come undone, their embrace grew even tighter.

 

Ye Qingge could tangibly feel the other’s growth, her cheek resting against softness, the girl’s delicate fragrance lingering at the tip of her nose.

 

“It seems she didn’t teach you,” Ye Qingge murmured, tightening her grip on the waist of the one in her arms and pulling her down slightly before capturing her lips in a kiss. “It’s alright, I’ll teach you.”

 

This kiss was gentler than the last, their tongues dancing within their mouths, long hair cascading over pale, smooth backs, the ends stirring the candlelight with a flicker.

 

Shadows flickered and danced upon the window paper, half-lit and half-dark.

 

The figure on the soft couch had already reclined, while outside the window, snow continued to fall heavily.

 

Yet the temperature inside the room steadily rose.

 

The little grass, accustomed to the frigid cold, was experiencing intense heat for the first time yet this heat was not scorching.

 

Everything happening before her eyes had completely surpassed Jiang Mianhao’s understanding.

 

Her favorite pastime had always been secretly watching Lu Jiu write, admiring the distinct knuckles of her fingers as they held the wolf-hair brush, faintly revealing the veins beneath the skin.

 

Those hands remained pale and slender, the joints she had only ever traced with her eyes were now tracing her.

 

Jiang Mianhao bit her lip to suppress the soft moan rising in her throat.

 

Her breathing grew heavier, and her vision began to blur.

 

She felt like a kite soaring among the clouds, tethered by a tightly held string.

 

Dazedly, Jiang Mianhao opened her eyes; the hazy candlelight stung her eyelids, and two clear tears slid down from the corners of her eyes.

 

She saw the string at the end of the kite and, as if to confirm, softly called out, “Lu Jiu.”

“Hmm?” Ye Qingge lifted her head, her gaze meeting tear-filled eyes.

 

Those eyes, washed by tears, resembled a lake after rainfall, ripples stirring within.

 

“Lu Jiu.”

 

“I’m here.”

 

Ye Qingge leaned down to kiss the rain-kissed eyes, her movements growing even more tender.

 

Unbeknownst to her, this gentleness became a different kind of torment.

 

The wind that had been blowing ceased, leaving the kite suspended in the clouds, tethered yet unable to rise or fall, stranded in mid-air.

 

Jiang Mianhao’s eyes welled up with tears once more as she lifted her face, gazing pitifully at the person above her. “Lu Jiu…”

 

“Hmm?” Ye Qingge’s voice was already slightly hoarse, the response escaping as a hum from her throat.

 

“Lu Jiu.” Jiang Mianhao’s consciousness was fading; she shifted slightly, letting out a dissatisfied whimper. “Lu Jiu…”

Repeating the name over and over, she felt utterly overwhelmed.

 

She stirred uneasily, and the arm wrapped around her waist tightened abruptly, pulling her downward.

 

The kite staggered, bobbing up and down, swaying along the slender string.

 

Jiang Mianhao closed her eyes in discomfort, tears once again tracing paths down her cheeks. Ye Qingge leaned in and kissed away the trails of tears.

 

For some reason, Jiang Mianhao’s tears always managed to please her just right.

 

After a moment of stillness, the kite finally caught the wind again, though this time it was no gentle breeze.

 

A fierce gale descended, and the fragile grass kite could only endure helplessly.

 

As her long hair flew wildly, it finally extinguished the flickering candle flame.

 

The extinguished candle transformed into a wisp of thin smoke, rising into the air.

 

The storm raged on, and the long-awaited rain began to fall.