Chapter 96: Yiling Hall (Bonus Chapter for Shi Bu Ye, the Alliance Leader)

Liu Xiaolou didn’t understand such high-family cultivation rituals; few in Wulong Mountain knew them either. When Wei Hongqing prepared to marry a woman from the Xia family, there was none of this fuss—just red silk draped through the cave, and a few tables of wine and food set at the entrance.

So Liu Xiaolou was utterly bewildered, even though the steward had already explained the full procedure; when the ceremony began, he still couldn’t tell what to do. Fortunately, an expert stood beside him at all times, reminding him step by step, so he simply followed like a puppet on strings.

After the couple bowed to each other, they bowed to heaven and earth, then to elders, shot arrows at geese, leapt over bonfires, and finally led the bride by a red cord into a temporary bridal chamber behind Gualu Hall, all leaving him drenched in sweat.

Fortunately, the son-in-law had no right to circulate and offer drinks; the rest of the proceedings were handled entirely by the Su family, which greatly relieved him. As for the instructions from Lin the steward to memorize everyone’s identity, not a single one proved useful during the ceremony—there were hundreds of guests; how could he possibly tell them apart?

The only thing that surprised him was encountering an old acquaintance—the Tigerhead Jiao —who had been temporarily conscripted by the Zang family during the joint assault by Zhanglong, Dongyang, and Tianmu Sects on Qingyu Sect last year.

He remembered this fellow had been overly familiar, even though he clearly had no real fondness for him, yet he’d insisted on being called a friend and volunteered to join him in scouting Qingyu’s defenses. He hadn’t seen him since, and had even burned incense in his memory—yet here he was today, at Liu Xiaolou’s own cultivation wedding, and he had no idea how the man had slipped in.

The door closed, the old nurse and maids withdrew, leaving only Liu Xiaolou, the bride, and the tall, flickering red candlesticks.

Su Wuniang sat on the edge of the bed, her red veil still covering her face. After waiting a moment without Liu Xiaolou coming to lift it, she asked: “What are you waiting for?”

Liu Xiaolou “ah”ed, hurried to the table to find the jade scepter, then walked to the bedside and said carefully: “Then… I’ll lift it?”

“Lift it.”

“Alright.”

The veil was lifted, and Liu Xiaolou finally saw Su Wuniang’s face—her oval cheeks glowed faintly in the candlelight, her eyes blinking beneath long lashes as she studied him.

After a moment of mutual gazing, Su Wuniang said: “There’s wine and food on the table; eat if you’re hungry.”

Liu Xiaolou replied: “Alright.”

Su Wuniang added: “We’ll leave it like this tonight. You can’t go out. If you’re tired, sleep on the floor.” She tossed him the bedding: “I’m still cultivating. Don’t disturb me.”

Liu Xiaolou carried the bedding to the corner, spread it out, and sat down, watching as Su Wuniang sat cross-legged on the bed, a spirit stone clutched in her palm, already beginning to absorb and transform its energy.

Liu Xiaolou dared not move. This so-called wife was his employer—and a Foundation Establishment expert. He naturally obeyed her every word.

Gazing at the flickering candle flame, at the wine flask and pastries on the table, Liu Xiaolou fell into quiet reverie, his mind swirling with scattered thoughts—or perhaps, he thought nothing at all.

After a while, he too took out a spirit stone, closed his eyes, and resumed his meditation, pushing toward the final acupoint of the Hand Jueyin Meridian: Tianchong.

He sat until dawn.

Tap-tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap…

A knock came at the door. Su Su asked outside: “Madam, Young Master, it’s near the fourth hour. Time to wash and groom.”

Gualu Hall was only a temporary bridal chamber; after washing, they would move to Qingyu Furong Garden. Liu Xiaolou stared curiously at the vast courtyard, the archery targets, and the two beast-heads on either side, and whispered to Su Su: “Is this… my wife’s training ground?”

Su Su replied: “One of them. Madam—no, Lady Su—usually trains here. There are two more spots in the back mountain, much larger.”

“What are the two rows of beast-heads for?”

“They spray water—to extinguish fires.”

“Does Lady Su specialize in fire arts?”

“Yes. Without the water-beasts, she’d burn down the whole garden.”

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“So much fire?”

“Young Master, please enter the room.”

As they spoke, they reached the two-story pavilion. Liu Xiaolou stepped over the threshold and felt the interior was refined and elegant—but he couldn’t say exactly how.

Su Wuniang paused in the central flower hall on the first floor, and instructed Su Su behind her: “Take him to his room.” Then she ascended to the second floor.

Xiao Huan followed upstairs; Su Su led Liu Xiaolou around the side passage, through the hall, and into the rear courtyard.

This courtyard was part of the two-story pavilion—a connected courtyard with a dripping well, surrounded by three rooms. In the center stood a dripping pool with a few swimming fish. Its layout matched the courtyard in Wuchao Town, only slightly larger.

“Young Master stays in the eastern main room. I and Xiao Huan live in the western rooms.” She pointed to the second-floor wall behind them and stuck out her tongue: “That window—Lady Su’s room.”

Liu Xiaolou looked up. The window frame held a corner, slightly ajar, but he couldn’t see inside. His cheap bride was probably changing clothes right behind it.

Entering his quarters, the center was a reception hall with chairs on either side of a table. Two white jade vases, taller than a man, stood in the corners. Above hung a plaque, with left and right inscriptions: “Half a Day’s Rain and Sun as Canopy,” “Three Mu of Furong Land as Robe.” The horizontal plaque read: “Yiling Hall.”

The left wing was the main bedroom, needless to explain. The right wing was the study, its shelves piled with common market books, interspersed with a few incense burners, seal stones, paperweights, and other curios. Liu Xiaolou skimmed the book spines and found no manuals on Su family secret techniques—disappointed. Then he thought: even if there had been any, the Su family would have hidden them. He was a temporary son-in-law with a three-year contract—what right did he have to access them?

For the next three years, Yiling Hall would be his home. Liu Xiaolou stretched, satisfied.

The room had already been prepared. Su Su went in to make minor adjustments, then came out and said: “Young Master, if anything is unsatisfactory, please tell me.”

Liu Xiaolou smiled: “Satisfied. It’s a quiet place, perfect for cultivation—no strangers barging in, no distractions.”

As they spoke, a loud “boom-boom” and “clack-clack” came from outside. Su Su smiled faintly: “Lady Su is practicing her sword art.”

Liu Xiaolou returned curiously to the front courtyard and saw Su Wuniang, now dressed in a fitted outfit, sending waves of blade-light toward the targets, each strike bursting into flames.

Looking at her waist, Liu Xiaolou suddenly felt a rush, his heart pounding twice.

“Young Master? Young Master?”

“What kind of sword is that?”

“Furong Flying Sword.”

“I mean the blade.”

“Bone blade.”

“Bone blade?”

“From the horn-bone of a Fenglin beast.”

“Fenglin beast?”

“A high-grade spiritual beast that feeds on and spits fire.”

After finishing the sword set, Su Wuniang ended her practice, glanced at Liu Xiaolou, and told Su Su: “From now on, don’t bring the Young Master when I train.”

Su Su bowed quickly: “Yes. Young Master, let’s return.”

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