Chapter 210: Return to the Capital

Sssshhh~

Rain pattered against the eaves; doors and windows tightly shut, the room lay silent.

A woman warrior in a black dress knelt before the bed, her icy face flushed with the hue of a maple leaf, her gaze averted, silent.

Xie Jinhuan sat at the bed’s edge, gently stroking the ink-black hair and icy cheek; he had been enjoying it—until the ghost perched on the pillow suddenly lifted her eyes toward the door:

“Oh my~ You’re letting Sister Hua squat there?”

?

Xie Jinhuan actually followed the ghost’s train of thought for a moment, thinking Sister Hua could sit on the left, leaving the right side free to hold Wanyi.

But he immediately snapped back to reality, his expression changing as he hastily pulled the ice-block up:

“Quickly—”

Nan Gong Ye, fearing her disciples might discover that the Sect Master of Zihui Mountain was secretly bullying a child, had been watching the door; at the sound, she rose in a flash, fastening her robe, then shoved Xie Jinhuan back onto the pillow.

Creak~

The next moment, the door was pushed open.

Bu Yuehua appeared silently at the threshold, her veil damp with raindrops; she glanced suspiciously at the bed, saw Sister Nan Gong tucking in the covers, and Xie Jinhuan wrapped like a caterpillar, then asked:

“Sister, what are you doing?”

Nan Gong Ye’s heart leapt to her throat, yet her icy, frozen demeanor remained flawless:

“I just fed him something. What’s wrong?”

Fed him something…

What did you feed him?

Milk…

Bu Yuehua didn’t believe two people shut in a room were merely feeding a meal; her gaze shifted again to Xie Jinhuan.

Xie Jinhuan, being treated like a child by the ice-block, felt a flicker of embarrassment, but his expression stayed calm:

“Sister Hua, you’re back. I can’t move easily, don’t mind.”

“No problem…”

Bu Yuehua saw nothing amiss and dismissed her suspicions, closing the door as she glided forward:

“Liang Yue of the Black Yin Gang and Xu Guan of the Jiangzhou Gang left together—there’s definitely contact between the two. I’ve been investigating; the Black Yin Gang has also sensed the changes in Fire Phoenix Valley. Xu Guan will likely join the fray.”

Nan Gong Ye straightened, frowning: “The underground yang fire is too intense. No matter how high one’s cultivation, perception is restricted. Xu Guan going down is no different from us going down—as long as we don’t cross paths.”

Bu Yuehua shook her head: “True, but we can’t withstand the yang fire, so we must wait until the twenty-ninth day. Xu Guan’s cultivation is far higher than ours—he could descend as early as Winter Solstice, even sooner. If he gets a nine-day head start and stumbles upon it by luck, what then?”

“True…”

…

Xie Jinhuan lay on the pillow, originally planning to join the discussion.

But two women, each with their own unique aura, both breathtakingly beautiful, were chatting at the bed’s head; the ice-block sat with her back to him, her rounded, firm curves directly in his line of sight; Sister Hua went even further—her hands folded at her waist, her blue skirt swaying as she moved, exuding the mature grace of a woman in her prime…

That alone was bad enough—but Xie Jinhuan turned his gaze away, only for the ever-present ghost, seeing the ice-block too busy to entertain him, to lie down beside him and slip her hand beneath the covers to stoke his fire.

What the hell?!

Xie Jinhuan sensed something amiss and quickly turned to the understanding ghost, his eyes pleading silently—Sister, don’t mess with me, I can’t take it—this would ruin me if found out…

Bu Yuehua may have sensed Xie Jinhuan’s fluctuating aura and turned her head:

“Xie Jinhuan, what do you think?”

Xie Jinhuan snapped his head back, his expression like a cold CEO being teased under the table by a wicked sister yet forced to maintain composure at a meeting:

“I think it’s great.”

“Huh?”

Bu Yuehua blinked, her peach-colored eyes filled with confusion:

“If Xu Guan gets the opportunity, how is that good for us?”

Nan Gong Ye also turned back, bewildered:

“Did you mishear?”

“Uh…”

Xie Jinhuan had been hit by the ghost bride’s “Succubus Claw” and hadn’t heard a word they’d just said!

Only after the ghost reminded him did Xie Jinhuan feign calmness and hastily improvise:

“I mean Sister Hua’s idea is excellent. For something like this, we must account for every possible failure to ensure absolute safety.”

Nan Gong Ye narrowed her eyes: “You mean my plan isn’t thorough enough.”

Bu Yuehua smiled sweetly: “Need you ask? Why else would he praise me?”

Oh my god…

Xie Jinhuan was cornered by three, forcing himself to stay calm and explain:

“That’s not what I meant. Uh… if Xu Guan can enter early, maybe we can find a way too. Do you have any ideas?”

If Nan Gong Ye and Bu Yuehua had a way, they would’ve taken the opportunity in summer—why wait till now?

The Phoenix Tomb’s opportunity was an extreme concentration of the Five Elements’ fire, cracking open the earth’s crust and filling the fissure with pure yang energy. The deeper one went, the heavier it became—until the mortal body could no longer endure it. Only in winter could one enter; the only difference was that higher-cultivation cultivators could withstand it longer and enter earlier.

The two women exchanged glances—neither had a solution.

But fortunately, Xie Jinhuan hadn’t asked them—he asked the ghost bride beside him, who paused, then replied:

“Yes. Borrow the Yin-Yang Ruler. It can directly suppress yang energy. I’ll guide you. If you run fast enough, you might even make it back in time for the coronation.” The Yin-Yang Ruler was a celestial artifact of the Dan Ding Sect, its power simply and powerfully blocking all demonic forces from drawing upon heaven and earth’s energy.

Though theoretically capable of suppressing yang fire, even a celestial artifact’s strength depended on the user. Xie Jinhuan held the Zheng Lun Sword but wielded little power—using the Yin-Yang Ruler would likely be much the same.

Xie Jinhuan pondered briefly, deciding it was a viable plan, and replied:

“The Yin-Yang Ruler might suppress the Five Elements’ fire. Let’s hurry back to the capital—I’ll try to borrow it. If it works, we depart immediately.”

Nan Gong Ye blinked, thinking the plan plausible.

But the Yin-Yang Ruler was the Dan Ding Sect’s ancestral celestial artifact; before the Zheng Lun Sword appeared, it was their only treasured relic. Whoever became Sect Master kept it. Lu Wu had dared not even “privately use public property” when seeking his own opportunity.

After all, the Five Elders’ divine gifts were gone—another chance might come in the next sixty years. But if this artifact vanished, it was gone forever. Lu Wu would become the Dan Ding Sect’s eternal traitor.

“The Yin-Yang Ruler is a sacred relic meant to quell great calamities. The Sect Master sleeps with it on his person. It’s unlikely we can borrow it.”

“I’ll ask first. Maybe it’s possible.”

Nan Gong Ye thought the only way to take it would be to appeal to the former Sect Master, Zhenxia True Person—but said nothing further.

Bu Yuehua, seeing her future son-in-law had a plan, naturally didn’t linger—after all, Nan Gong Ye could stay behind to keep her son-in-law company, but she couldn’t stay to share the bed. She rose and said:

“I’ll go gather more underworld news. You rest and recover. Sister, take good care of him—don’t be harsh on the poor child.”

“?”

Nan Gong Ye felt her face flush, but dared not show it. After escorting the demoness out, she lingered beneath the eaves, scanning the surroundings until certain the woman was gone, then returned to the bed, staring at the hungry brat before her, speechless.

Xie Jinhuan had been continuously warmed by the ghost bride—hard to endure—and now he threw back the covers, sat up, and grabbed her hand:

“Keep going. I’m watching. No one will see.”

“Sigh…”

Nan Gong Ye felt that if this continued, she’d be caught red-handed by the demoness!

But she’d already gone halfway—she couldn’t just abandon it. Half-resisting, half-surrendering, she was pulled into his lap, lips meeting, robes slipping away…

And soon after, she was lifted and carried around…

“Xie Jinhuan! You’re still injured—how dare you get up?!”

“Rehabilitation exercise. Keep it quiet…”

“Put me down!”

“Hehehe~ That’s not up to you, Lady Mu…”

…

—

As October neared, the weather grew noticeably colder.

At dawn, Nai Duo hurried through the corridor, clutching a sheet of paper, its fluttering edges trembling with her pace, arriving outside the Princess’s chambers:

“Your Highness~ A new verse has appeared on Changle Street—written for Xie Lang: ‘Flower shadows sway in wind and moon, willow threads brush water, mist-laced. Jinhuan, like a dream, endless longing…’”

Inside the main chamber, all wine vessels and entertainment items had been removed. In the center hung a bold, swirling character: “Wu.” Below it stood a lifelike white jade tiger—clearly the room of a warrior daughter of a martial clan.

On the Han bed, Princess Changning had abandoned her usual opulent imperial consort attire, yet didn’t wear mourning robes—instead, she sat cross-legged in black brocade martial garb, her aura swirling, radiating the demeanor of a martial patriarch.

Nearby, Linghu Qingmo, her white robe like snow, sat in the Zi-Wu posture, meditating with full focus.

Hearing Nai Duo’s outcry, Princess Changning opened her eyes with mild annoyance:

“A lament of a woman who can’t have what she wants—nothing worth listening to.”

Nai Duo rushed in, bewildered by the Princess’s solemn demeanor:

“Your Highness, why are you suddenly so diligent? Didn’t you always say balance is key—play when you play, train when you train…”

Princess Changning had indeed always seized chances to party, training only a few hours daily—the bare minimum. Her sudden change came from a dream two days prior.

In the dream, she met a white-haired immortal maiden who declared her bone structure extraordinary and her mind unshakable—a martial prodigy—and granted her a share of opportunity, but warned: if she failed to repay it, the gift would be taken back.

She thought it mere fantasy—until she woke to find two white tigers on her body…

One made Xie Jinhuan yearn desperately. The other made Xie Jinhuan yearn desperately too…

Princess Changning had heard of the Jianbing Divine Gift—but never seen one. Only three appeared per sixty years, fiercely contested by all beasts and birds across nations. Even those with ancestral inheritance dared not display them. In the Great Qian Empire, only Wei Wuyi, who sold hooks to the Western Rong, was known to have obtained one…

And now, this immense treasure had fallen onto her while she slept. If she didn’t seize this divine favor, how could she repay heaven’s grace?

Linghu Qingmo had the same experience—her ancestral ancestor appeared in her sleep, granting her a great opportunity her own master never had, with no repayment required. For two days, she hadn’t slept a wink, desperate to become a time-management master like Xie Jinhuan, splitting each day into eight pieces.

So the two sisters had both changed overnight, training obsessively, neglecting meals and sleep—leaving Nai Duo, who prepared food and music, utterly baffled, secretly thinking: Your Highness, if you don’t need me, I’m going to follow Xie Lang…

Seeing the Princess and Lady Linghu turn into statues of the Immovable Buddha, Duoduo found it dull, but she couldn’t go off to indulge herself; she could only sit beside them, waiting impatiently for Xie Lang to return.

Then, whether or not the Joyful Buddha had answered her prayers, she had waited only a moment when a maid ran in with news:

“Your Highness, the Prince has arrived in the capital, and Master Xie is with him.”

“Oh! Double joy!”

Duoduo perked up, leapt to her feet and dashed out—then realized the maids were taking advantage of her, and hurried back:

“Princess, let’s go welcome the Prince.”

Linghu Qingmo had been perfectly calm, but hearing her boyfriend had returned, she lost all interest in cultivation, rose at once, and began preparing with her best friend…

(End of Chapter)