Chapter 70

Chen Zhao rubbed his palms together and extended his spiritual sense toward the Storage Bag.

A jade pill was clearly inside!

He smirked.

But instantly his expression fell.

Beside the pill, dozens of intimate robes and skirts were crammed together, their styles wildly bold. This novel is originally published on TianTianKanXiaoShuo, ultra-convenient, ttkx. tw for instant reading, offering you error-free, non-disordered chapters.

Gauze, silk... all ordinary fabrics; it wasn't hard to guess their purpose...

Chen Zhao's face flushed deep red.

Logically, he wasn't a virgin—he should've been unmoved.

But these robes were different.

Each one was embroidered with a "Qian" character!

"Please tell me that bald monk has a fetish for cross-dressing, and a pet name with 'Qian' in it..."

Chen Zhao slumped onto the muddy ground, staring blankly at the lake.

No wonder the crazy old woman laughed so hard—she'd already swapped the Storage Bag!

Making him play both Cao Cao and Sima Yi—this rumor spreading would ruin his reputation completely.

Forget it.

As long as there's a Foundation Establishment Pill.

Chen Zhao took a deep breath and silently recited: Contentment brings joy.

"That's not true,"

"That bald monk is dull as dirt—his pockets hold nothing but sutras, and after years of cultivation, he still can't shape up."

At the corner of his eye, a woman giggled softly, followed by three crisp laughs.

He turned toward the sound.

She walked barefoot, spotless, two silver rings clinking at her ankles, bouncing with each step, light and nimble.

"Jiang Yanqiu?"

Chen Zhao blinked in surprise.

Her expression and figure were identical—still a peach-pit face—but now with an extra half-ounce of ethereal aura.

She's still alive?

"What? Do you wish to see a beauty fade into dust?"

Jiang Yanqiu suddenly bent forward, tilting her head to look at him.

Her radiant smile was dazzling, as if the night sky had brightened.

But Chen Zhao stared into those autumn-water eyes—deep within, only cold indifference, colder than Li Shijie's ice.

His heart tightened instantly.

Someone who escaped the serpent's tongue must have extraordinary means—his trump card requires blood essence to activate, and Chen Zhao had no wish to shorten his lifespan.

He regulated his breathing, curled a finger inside his sleeve, and summoned the crimson longsword, hiding it within his wide sleeve.

Its name: Li Zhi; alas, its nature clashed with his cultivation method, rendering its special effects unusable.

"You don't really intend to crush a flower, do you? We cooperated once—we each got what we needed."

Jiang Yanqiu pouted, eyes welling with tears, as if burdened with endless grievance.

Chen Zhao rolled his eyes at her.

You attacked me, stole my opportunity, and still expect a kind look?

"Then why did you attack me? Did I block your path?"

"Guess."

She smiled sweetly—the earlier grievance was all an act.

"Perhaps I simply hate sword cultivators. Why not switch to blade cultivation?"

Not a single word out of her mouth was true.

Chen Zhao spat inwardly, eyes brimming with caution.

"Then later you'll say you can't stand blade cultivators and tell me to just kill myself."

As he seethed internally, the sun rose in the east.

On the other end of the long embankment, chanting drowned out the rooster's crow; several paper money offerings floated along the horizon.

Eight men carried an empty coffin toward the waterside pavilion.

Chen Qingmeng clutched his consort's spirit tablet, his face gaunt, eyes bloodshot.

And Yan Xiaoqian walked dully behind him, reciting the Sutra for the Departed.

Carrying one's own coffin was absurd—but except for Jiang Yanqiu, no one present dared laugh.

"It's said this younger sister was originally a devout woman; after drawing a fortune at the temple and receiving a revelation, she joined Tiankui and thus reunited with him."

Jiang Yanqiu smiled charmingly, palms pressed together:

"With her talent, entering Ban Ruo Men would've been effortless—but her mortal heart had already stirred."

"Karma turns, good fortune, good fortune."

Chen Zhao's eyelid twitched.

His own entry into the sect had also involved drawing a fortune.

And inside the Storage Bag? Still there—the widow's intimate garments!

Fate—how wondrous... never mind, better to have less of it...

"These were all her choices, Jiang Daoist. Please retract your words."

Chen Qingmeng placed the coffin in the Water Pavilion and cast it a cold, sidelong glance.

This mad woman's mouth is too insolent, but he can't beat her.

Just thinking of his enemy's disrespect toward his dao companion, and how he was stopped from seeking revenge, Chen Qingmeng gnashed his teeth in fury.

Only Chen Zhao slew the killer and avenged Xiaoqian.

This guy's reliable!

Chen Zhao remained oblivious; he circled the coffin once, his gaze strange.

This younger sister had sincere devotion, yet was killed by Fo Men disciples—and even after death, she was "liberated" by mundane monks.

I was involved throughout—it's truly unbearable.

"If she had joined Ban Ruo Men, would things have been different?"

Chen Zhao watched as the crowd pushed the empty coffin into the lake, sensing something meaningful.

Like the auspicious omen from Dan Tang's holy sign.

Heaven offers, yet you refuse—then you bear the blame.

It seems she had karmic ties to Fo Men from the start; entering Tiankui, she was destined to face calamity, as if fated.

What a lifeless, gloomy world!

Chen Zhao sighed softly, gazing at the slumped figure squatting by the river.

"Now that matters here are settled, we should return to the sect."

"You go ahead. Tell the Elder I wish to stay here as an administrative disciple."

Chen Qingmeng didn't turn around, staring blankly at the water.

The sound of his dao companion chanting sutras to liberate the dead reached his ears; he clutched his head and wept, heart dead with despair.

If karma is already set, what meaning is there in seeking the Dao and immortality?

Chen Zhao turned away in silence, but he was called back, a jade pendant thrust into his hand.

"After this parting, I don't know when we'll meet again."

"If you ever need to forge artifacts, use this to find my elder brother Chen Qingyuan—his craftsmanship surpasses mine."

Fate truly is marvelously strange.

Chen Zhao accepted it without hesitation, relieved that his reputation hadn't turned rotten—he still earned some goodwill.

"Friend Chen Dao, you're truly broad-minded. Your brother Zhao's hiding plenty of treasures; next time he just flicks a finger, Yan Xiaoqian will obediently follow him."

Jiang Yanqiu suddenly spoke, hitting the sorest spot.

Yet Chen Qingmeng's eyes hardened with murderous intent; he spat out a single word: "Go."

Chen Zhao felt a quiet amusement.

Someone's reputation was even worse than his.

Ten days later.

Tingxiang Water Pavilion was rebuilt and completed, serving as Chen Qingmeng's post.

With his dao companion's spirit gone, he neglected his cultivation, spending every day mingling in the mortal world with Yan Xiaoqian.

If not for surveillance, they'd look exactly like an ordinary mortal couple.

Zhen Chang appeared, and both sides realized this place was special.

Yet neither Chen Zhao nor Xiaoer revealed anything to the sect; the higher-ups remained completely in the dark.

Ban Ruo Men decided to investigate personally, while Tiankui gladly used Tingxiang Water Pavilion as bait.

"The weather's turning cold, Qian'er—don't forget to add clothing."

Chen Qingmeng pulled out a sable fur, gently draping it over his dao companion's shoulders.

He stationed himself here, jointly serving as bait with Yan Xiaoqian.

At first, some did take the bait; after three Fo Men Elders were progressively injured, the commotion gradually subsided.

Chen Qingmeng didn't care.

When immortals fight, who has time to kill him?

His dao companion acted purely on instinct: daily chanting, meditation, even cooking.

The two were innocent and close; she still remembered her favorite soup—radish broth.

Steam rose from the pot; Chen Qingmeng couldn't help but step forward.

Suddenly.

A pain stabbed his throat, as if bound by silk threads; he tried to reach for it, but couldn't move.

Luoyan Dock housed a Foundation Establishment Elder—yet not one sensed it!

Chen Qingmeng opened his mouth, emitting only a hollow "huh-huh," and within a breath, lost consciousness.

Long after.

He snapped open his eyes and burst through the door.

At first, his movements were stiff; but after two steps, he moved as usual, showing no flaw.

Until the northwest depression.

He suddenly pulled out the Brocade Cloud Shuttle and struck downward!

The angle, the direction... identical to how Chen Zhao had done it!