After Being Certified by the Immortal Lord on the Path of Ruthlessness - Chapter 9

Meanwhile, the soft-hearted immortal was deep in meditation, utterly silent not speaking, nor even listening.

Ling Lan tilted her head to glance at the person beside her and snorted, “If she can actually cure you, then I’ll admit she’s a good immortal.”

“Is the immortal lord named Lujiu?” Mi Xiu gazed at the figure sitting with closed eyes, lost in a brief daze before murmuring softly, “The immortal lord truly is… a very kind person.”

Her voice was gentle and quiet, yet it rang clearly in the ears of the other two plants.

Jiang Mianhao swayed her leaves and chimed in, “Yes, yes! Lujiu is an amazing immortal, and she didn’t even come to the mortal realm on her own accord.”

“Here we go again,” Ling Lan grumbled, pursing her lips. “All day it’s ‘she’s so great, she’s the best,’ yet I never hear you praise me like that.”

Mianhao’s leaves reached over, playfully nudging Ling Lan’s head as she said, “My Lanlan is also a wonderful person!”

Ling Lan huffed twice, waiting for Mianhao to continue showering her with compliments.

“The immortal lord didn’t descend on her own?” Mi Xiu’s eyes remained fixed on Ye Qingge, her expression almost entranced as she whispered, “She must be incredibly powerful.”

The three chattering plants spent the rest of the time sharing their stories until the sun had fully risen in the sky.

……

……

Back in her room, Ye Qingge observed the changes in the little plant in the pot.

Both its condition and demeanor had visibly improved compared to the night before.

[Lacks love, eager to learn, seldom accompanied.]

She jotted down these fragmented observations, compiling them into notes.

Ye Qingge could feel the surging spiritual energy within her. The power she had previously expended was gradually recovering.

This meant she could help the little plant regain human form sooner than expected.

As soon as she set down her brush, the plant in the pot rustled its leaves and spoke.

“Lujiu, Lujiu, what are you doing?” Bathed in today’s sunlight, Jiang Mianhao had recovered remarkably well, her mood equally bright.

Ye Qingge replied flatly, “Writing.”

“Writing!” Mianhao sighed. “If I wait a thousand years, after I take human form, will you teach me to write too?”

Her voice brimmed with longing, trembling slightly with emotion.

“You won’t have to,” Ye Qingge said without hesitation. “It won’t take a thousand years.”

Mianhao let out a puzzled sound. “But the crescent moon only appears once every thousand years, and only on the fifteenth day of the eighth month in that millennium. Isn’t it the same in the celestial realm?”

The little plant, still unenlightened, had no real concept of time. She only knew that her transformation required the perfect alignment of celestial conditions.

Ye Qingge had no intention of elaborating and simply said, “With my help, you won’t need a millennium.”

“Really?” Mianhao was overjoyed, her leaves quivering with excitement. “Thank you, Lujiu! You’re so kind.”

Hearing her gratitude, Ye Qingge’s expression remained indifferent.

This little plant spirit couldn’t distinguish between kindness and malice. Her responses were limited to “thank you” and “it’s okay.”

A little kindness earned thanks; a little cruelty was met with forgiveness.

Ye Qingge gave a noncommittal hum and said no more.

She lowered her gaze to the notebook in her hands, contemplating how to make this plant develop feelings.

……

……

Night gradually fell, and the candlelight in the room grew hazy.

After chattering away all day, Jiang Mianhao was utterly exhausted. As she let out a yawn, her vision suddenly brightened.

The mist that had shrouded her sight all day gradually dissipated, and everything before her became clear.

Jiang Mianhao blinked, surprised by the familiar yet slightly unfamiliar surroundings.

This was Elder Banyan’s cave! More importantly she could see again!

Overjoyed, Jiang Mianhao wanted to share the news with Ye Qingge, but the next moment, she froze.

Her gaze landed directly ahead, where a fairy with her back turned was slowly removing her clothes.

Jiang Mianhao blinked in disbelief. She could only see the figure’s back, but under the flickering candlelight, she caught sight of a beautiful butterfly-like spine. The girl’s silhouette was slender yet not frail, her exposed skin smooth and fair even whiter than the fresh snow atop Mount Taibai.

Jiang Mianhao was completely stunned. She watched as the fairy shed all her garments, her fingertips brushing against the ebony hairpin atop her head.

A cascade of silver hair tumbled down like a waterfall.

Then, the figure slowly turned around.

Her unpowdered face was even fairer than her skin, her brows like distant mountains, her eyes akin to cold mountain springs. Jiang Mianhao’s mind short-circuited. For a moment, she thought she was gazing upon an immortal.

Having lived on Mount Taibai for a thousand years, Jiang Mianhao had seen many who had successfully taken human form.

All who could assume human form were beauties.

But in all those thousand years, none of the beauties she had seen or heard of could compare to the one before her now.

The fairy’s long lashes lowered slightly.

Her lips, untouched by rouge, bore a natural soft pink hue with a faint gloss. Jiang Mianhao stared, dazed, before hurriedly averting her gaze.

But shifting her eyes from the face only led them to land where they shouldn’t.

The immortal before her was completely unclothed. Her long, slender legs, her delicate waist, and her snow-white…

Jiang Mianhao’s mind went blank with a loud whoosh.

Unaware that Jiang Mianhao had regained her sight, Ye Qingge finished her bath, draped her clothes back on, and returned to the writing desk.

Only when she unrolled the rice paper and prepared to write did she sense something amiss.

The usually chirpy little grass had fallen silent, and even its habitually swaying leaves were now perfectly still.

Ye Qingge set down her brush, lifted the grass pot, and brought it closer to inspect its roots.

The sudden proximity brought a faint, elegant fragrance to Jiang Mianhao’s senses.

Along with her restored vision, her sense of smell had also returned. A triple recovery of senses was a good thing.

But right now, Jiang Mianhao wished she were still blind.

The fairy was barely a foot away from her. If her leaves stretched just a little further, they could brush against the fairy’s cheek.

Jiang Mianhao’s mind was utterly empty. The spiritual energy within her, seemingly sensing her tension, began to surge chaotically.

After thoroughly examining the grass from root to tip, Ye Qingge found nothing unusual.

She began recalling the day’s events—sunbathing, drinking dew, everything had been as usual, except for the brief moment she had returned to the Mirror of Nothingness.

The blood she had just watered the grass with had already been fully absorbed. Logically, there should be no reason for silence. Had she ignored the grass earlier, and now it refused to speak?

After a moment’s thought, Ye Qingge asked in a low voice, “What was that good news you mentioned earlier?”

Jiang Mianhao remained silent, desperately searching her mind for an excuse.

The faint fragrance from Lujiu’s body filled her senses, and her thoughts, which had just settled, began to wander again.

Ye Qingge didn’t move the pot away. Instead, her gaze once again fell on Jiang Mianhao’s roots. “You can see now.”

After reaching this conclusion, Ye Qingge lifted one of the leaves to take a closer look.

Unbeknownst to her, the spot she lifted aligned perfectly with Jiang Mianhao’s line of sight.

Staring into those golden pupils that reflected her true form, Jiang Mianhao saw Ye Qingge’s beauty up close.

Her mind went completely blank, and she stammered incoherently for a long moment.

Then, suddenly, everything went dark. The little grass fainted on the spot.

Meanwhile, Ye Qingge, having found no trace of Jiang Mianhao’s eyes, disappointedly lowered the leaf.

She had never studied plant spirits like this before. She only knew they could speak, see, and smell, but their appearance was still just that of an ordinary plant.

There was no way to discern facial features from their exterior.

Truthfully, Ye Qingge wasn’t entirely certain. It was just a hunch.

And the next second, her intuition was confirmed.

The little grass, which had been standing tall and alert just moments ago, suddenly wilted, its leaves drooping as if it had fallen into a deep sleep.

Watching the grass doze off in an instant, Ye Qingge found it somewhat amusing.

With the usually noisy little grass now silent, Ye Qingge moved the pot aside and began to focus on her writing.

Just then, there was a soft knock at the door.

With a wave of her hand, Ye Qingge opened it.

Standing nervously at the threshold was Lily of the Valley, holding Mimosa in her hands, looking unsure of herself.

Ye Qingge stared at the unexpected visitor and the grass, puzzled.

“Lujiu, can Mimosa and I stay with Mianhao tonight?” Lily of the Valley asked softly. “I’m afraid I won’t wake up in time tomorrow, so…”

Ye Qingge had intended to refuse, but her gaze lingered on Mimosa.

The Mimosa, which should have been a green plant spirit, was instead surrounded by a faint purple glow.

Ye Qingge gave a quiet hum of acknowledgment and let them in.

Once inside, Lily of the Valley behaved obediently, glancing at the already sleeping Jiang Mianhao.

She carefully placed Mimosa down, then reverted to her true form, settling herself on the desk alongside the others.