Chapter Sixty-Seven: As Expected, I Must Call Her Master Cang

Hu Yihu’s sudden appearance cast an uncanny atmosphere over the entire room. Hu Mo glanced at Cang Ling, aware that she must have already sensed what was happening.

When Hu Yihu kicked open the door, his presence was truly overwhelming. Upon seeing Zhu Xinyue, a deep shock and anger welled up from his heart—he never imagined his own grandson could be involved in such an affair. Yet, when his gaze fell upon Cang Ling, his expression changed dramatically. A sense of unfathomable power pressed upon him, as if he had become a mere ant standing at the foot of an immense mountain—an oppressive force unlike any he had ever known.

Hu Mo composed himself, stepped forward from the trio with a gentle smile, and stood before Hu Yihu. “Grandfather, please don’t be angry. The rights and wrongs of this matter are far too complicated for me to explain all at once. But I can assure you, Princess Xinyue and I barely escaped with our lives—this much I will explain to you in detail.”

“Are you finished talking? If not, keep going. I’ll take Xinyue back.” Cang Ling called out loudly, paying not the slightest heed to the predatory glare Hu Yihu shot her.

Hu Yihu frowned, ready to bark out his frustration, when suddenly his face froze.

He saw with his own eyes as Cang Ling took hold of Zhu Xinyue, and at once, both their bodies glowed softly white. In a blink, their figures vanished—no doubt, they had already arrived at the imperial palace.

“Spatial transference? Good heavens, Mo’er, who exactly is that young lady? Could it be… she is your… master?” Hu Yihu’s voice trembled with astonishment.

Hu Mo had half expected his grandfather to assign Cang Ling some plausible identity, but not for him to immediately declare her his master. Though it felt a little awkward, when he thought about it, she truly had done all a master would and more.

If not for her, how would he have learned the Lingbo Technique or obtained the Five Element Transformation from the Three Treasures? Without her, he would still be a contemptible weakling, idling his days away in the Marshal’s household. Without her, he would have been obliterated by Dongfang Jun and his ilk, and even Zhu Xinyue would not have survived. Reflecting on all this, Hu Mo was filled with gratitude—gratitude that went beyond the debt to a master, amounting to a debt of rebirth.

“You’re right, Grandfather—she is indeed my master,” Hu Mo replied with conviction, his face set with resolve.

Hu Yihu pressed his hand to his forehead, struggling to accept this reality. To wield spatial transference—such power was already beyond his reach. He had thought Hu Mo’s master might be a War Emperor a rank or two above himself, but now it was clear—this was no ordinary master. Such strength was at least of the Holy Warrior level, and only in the latter stages of that realm could one begin to comprehend the power of space. Even the usually unflappable Hu Yihu broke into a cold sweat at the thought.

“Mo’er, your master is extraordinary indeed! I must give orders at once to prepare a banquet in her honor. As for everything that’s happened these past three days, we’ll discuss it when there’s time. For now, as soon as your master returns, notify me immediately!” Hu Yihu left the room beaming, so pleased he forgot all other concerns.

“So, it seems she orchestrated all of this, deliberately letting Grandfather see and hear—while I was wracking my brains over how to introduce her, the problem solved itself! Ha! Master, I wonder if we’re destined to become the next ‘Condor Heroes’ couple?” Hu Mo’s imagination ran wild, picturing himself and Cang Ling as a new Yang Guo and Xiaolongnü, the model pair of master and disciple, grinning so much he nearly drooled.

“What’s making you so happy? Missing your sister Cang already?” A soft voice sounded by his ear, so gentle that it failed to startle him from his reverie.

“Yes, yes, I was just—wait, how did you…? You’re back?!” Hu Mo nearly jumped out of his skin in surprise—Cang Ling had a habit of appearing out of nowhere, using her mesmerizing tone to coax out his innermost thoughts. She was a true enchantress, unrivaled in her art.

“I sent Xinyue back, of course I returned. And look what I find—a certain someone drooling and murmuring about how much he misses me. Sigh, for a disciple to harbor such wicked intentions toward his master, even in a country as liberal as the Empire of Heavenly Fire, I doubt such things are permitted.” Cang Ling teasingly hooked his chin with a slender finger, her eyes full of playful provocation.

Hu Mo could only laugh and cry at once—before this enchantress, he was utterly helpless. As her delicate fingers trailed across his skin, a wave of shivers ran through him, and the dryness in his mouth returned with a vengeance.

“What’s this? Want to pin me down? Then hurry—if your grandfather asks, I’ll just say I’m teaching his grandson how to be a man. How about that?”

…

Before she had finished speaking, Hu Mo bolted upright as if electrified. In an instant, he dashed out of the room with a wild shout, vanishing from Cang Ling’s sight.

Cang Ling pressed her hand to her lips, laughing so hard she nearly wept. Watching Hu Mo’s retreating figure, she murmured, “Perhaps this is the best it could be. What a fool I am—why torment myself over the past?”

At midday, the entire Hu residence bustled as if it were the New Year. Servants and maids hurried to and fro, and the great hall was filled with sumptuous dishes that set every mouth watering, yet no one dared touch their chopsticks.

Hu Mo tried to appear composed, though a hint of anxiety flickered across his face. After a long wait, Hu Yihu could no longer restrain himself. “Mo’er, where is your master? Didn’t you say she’d be here soon?”

Hu Mo could only smile bitterly to himself—how could he predict Cang Ling’s moods or guess at her caprice?

“Grandfather, my master must be attending to something important; I’m sure she will—”

“Haha! My dear disciple, already pining for your master after such a short time apart? Will you never grow up?” Cang Ling’s laughter rang out as she strode through the doorway, her words nearly causing Hu Mo to cough up blood. The girl was incorrigible.

Hu Yihu was momentarily at a loss—Hu Mo’s master was indeed forthright, so forthright it left him uneasy.

Outwardly, Cang Ling looked even younger than Hu Mo, her stunning beauty rendering the household’s menials speechless. Those poor house servants, long tormented by the maids, now beheld a vision of such surpassing loveliness it was as if the starving had been served a feast after days of deprivation; how could they endure it? Soon, all those bleeding from the nose had vanished to tend their wounds.

The maids, meanwhile, had fled in utter embarrassment, leaving the room with only four occupants: Hu Yihu, Old Fu, Hu Mo, and Cang Ling.

Hu Yihu and Old Fu, both men of seventy or eighty, felt no improper desires, only awe and a peculiar discomfort. They were at a loss as to how to address Cang Ling. Judging by her strength, she far surpassed them, or how else could she have concealed herself in their presence all these years? By rights, they should call her “Senior.”

Yet, Cang Ling was a generation above Hu Mo, and they were two generations above Hu Mo, which would mean they outranked her—a contradiction that made the honorific “Senior” stick in their throats. Most vexing of all, Cang Ling looked more like a member of their grandson’s generation—youthful in appearance, though her figure was mature. This made it even harder to address her appropriately.

Hu Mo felt his head splitting, scratching it awkwardly as he forced himself to speak: “Master, please have a seat…”

“Good, good, such an obedient disciple. Very well. Lord Hu, though this is our first meeting, I have long heard of your reputation. Truly, the tales of your might are not exaggerated!” Cang Ling smiled, ignoring the place of honor and sitting instead at Hu Mo’s side, as if playing the role of a daughter-in-law meeting her father-in-law.

Hu Mo was mortified; he could feel Hu Yihu and Old Fu staring at him with burning, questioning eyes, making the back of his neck prickle. No doubt, the two old men were now deeply suspicious about the nature of his relationship with Cang Ling.

“Ah, Senior flatters me. We are but rough soldiers, skilled only in battle—compared to you, we are left far behind. Might I ask, Senior, your esteemed name and the school or sect to which you belong?” Hu Yihu finally decided to address her as “Senior,” for in this world, strength commanded respect. Regardless of her apparent age, even if she truly was so young, the title was her due.

“My school or sect? Ha, on the shifting tides of the Xuan Zhan Continent, what sect can endure forever? So many years have passed, I scarcely recall which school I first belonged to. As for my name, it is quite simple—Cang Ling: ‘Cang’ as in the heavens, ‘Ling’ as in all living things. A name of no renown—I doubt you have ever heard it, Lord Hu.” Cang Ling took a sip of wine, her manner utterly casual.

Yet these offhand words left Hu Yihu and Old Fu stunned. From her tone, it was clear—Cang Ling was a figure from before the Xuan Zhan Continent had even split. Such a thought was nothing short of terrifying!