Chapter Fifteen: The Wedding
Yang Mountain stands directly north of Lanliang City, rising no more than a hundred zhang. Its scenery is nothing remarkable, with ordinary peaks and views, lacking any notable features. It cannot be compared to Little Gan Mountain, and even within the borders of Rong Country, its reputation is quite mediocre.
Originally, Yang Mountain did not belong to the Daoist known as Yang Mountain. A clan of white foxes lived there first, cultivating their incense-burning divine path by drawing upon the earth’s vitality and the fortune of tens of thousands of virtuous citizens in Lanliang City.
But the Daoist, relying on several powerful talismanic artifacts, wounded the leader of the white foxes and burned their temple to the ground. In the aftermath, he seized the foundation of Yang Mountain for himself, even adopting the mountain’s name as his own Daoist title, presenting himself to the world as “Yang Mountain Daoist.”
“Yang Mountain Daoist publicly displays three talismanic artifacts: the Five-Light Pendant, the Six-Yin Heavenly Ghost Banner, and most importantly, the Thunderfire Explosive Primordial Pearl…”
“It’s said that the fox demon who originally cultivated the incense-burning divine path here had spiritual power that surpassed the Daoist’s. The fox had begun to condense a physical form and was nearly able to manifest its sacred presence before mortals. Yet when Yang Mountain Daoist unleashed the Thunderfire Explosive Primordial Pearl, a single strike decimated the fox’s divine body, forcing it to flee in defeat and relinquish its domain.”
Inside the scarlet bridal sedan.
Chen Heng, adorned in phoenix crown and bridal robes, her eyes flashed with keen light. She silently mused:
“That Thunderfire Explosive Primordial Pearl is no ordinary artifact. Its power far exceeds the Five-Light Pendant and the Six-Yin Heavenly Ghost Banner; it likely bears eighteen restrictions and has undergone two refinements—an artifact of middle grade. To deal with that old Daoist, I must first trick him into handing over the Primordial Pearl. Only then will my plans proceed smoothly. Excellent, excellent.”
If the Primordial Pearl truly is a middle-grade artifact, then even the foundation of Yang Mountain pales in comparison.
Little Gan Mountain’s Xuanzhen Sect is a dominating force in the region. Even sects like Yan Refining Mountain, Huahua Sword Sect, and White Crane Temple, each guarded by their own cave-mystic alchemists, must bow their heads and respect Xuanzhen’s authority.
Yet among Xuanzhen Sect’s qi-cultivating disciples, those possessing middle-grade artifacts are exceedingly rare; most rely on low-grade talismans. Even impoverished practitioners like Xu Zhi, despite their exceptional swordsmanship, cannot afford even a single low-grade artifact, forced to wield only a slightly sharper mortal iron sword.
The Earth Abyss is filled with shadowy spirits and demonic ghosts—a realm of utmost darkness and chilling cold, where countless ancestors’ bones lie buried.
The Thunderfire Explosive Primordial Pearl—just its name suggests an artifact of blazing yang and fire. With such a talisman at her side, Chen Heng would have far greater assurance upon entering the depths of the Earth Abyss.
…
As she pondered, clouds surged overhead, and the faint whistle of a flying light pierced the sky.
Suddenly, a gust of wind blew open the curtains, sweeping aside the red veil that concealed her face. An indecent, lustful gaze followed the movement of the wind, brazenly falling upon her features.
“Has he arrived?”
Chen Heng, who had already used a secret folk method to disguise her Adam’s apple, sneered inwardly, remaining motionless, feigning timidness and letting the observer look as he pleased.
After six or seven heartbeats, that greedy gaze finally withdrew with reluctance.
At that moment, the black cloud—condensed with innate breath—descended from the sky and landed at the front of the procession.
“Duanbao! Good lad, you’ve done a splendid job! Splendid indeed! Tonight, I’ll reward you and your bride with consummation!”
Yang Mountain Daoist, hands on hips, beamed with delight and chuckled:
“So, do I dote on you or not?”
“…You do, you do.”
Wang Duanbao’s heart clenched painfully. He lowered his head, voice trembling as he responded.
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“Hmm? What’s with those wounds on you? I haven’t beaten you in half a month! And where’s your cousin gone off to? Does he not know today is my grand day, and yet he dares to cause trouble?!”
“My cousin… He said he wanted to eat Xiaoyu again. I fought him, made him cough blood. His leg is broken, so he can’t walk. I left him at the Chen family, with the mortals to care for him.”
Following Chen Heng’s earlier instructions, Wang Duanbao repeated each word carefully.
“You little beast! Not an ounce of kinship in you—despicable!”
Yang Mountain Daoist’s initial suspicion was replaced by rage upon hearing this, banishing his faint unease to the heavens.
He leapt forward and slapped Wang Duanbao from horseback, sending him tumbling to the ground.
“Don’t you know the Wang family is famed for filial piety? How dare you strike your cousin, forgetting blood ties? All those Confucian classics I made you study—clearly wasted!”
Unable to contain his anger, the Daoist kicked Duanbao viciously, causing his back to arch like a cooked shrimp.
“All this fuss over a woman. If your cousin wants to eat, then—”
He hesitated, but recalling the peerless beauty in the sedan, he licked his lips and hardened his resolve:
“Let your cousin have her!”
“What?!”
Originally clutching his stomach in pain, Wang Duanbao was now too shocked to notice his injuries. “Father! You want to kill Xiaoyu?!”
“When the old goes, the new comes. Xiaoyu is your old wife, the one in the sedan is your new bride. The new is much prettier than the old. Don’t you understand?”
“But Xiaoyu is my wife! Please let my cousin have someone else instead!”
“Since when do I need your guidance? You impudent wretch!” The Daoist’s face darkened.
Wang Duanbao, for reasons unknown, found sudden courage and stood his ground, glaring at his father.
“Rebellious brat!”
With a cold shout, Yang Mountain Daoist’s robe billowed without wind, and the stones beneath his feet began to crack, the sound sharp and continuous.
Just as the atmosphere grew razor tense, a voice like a yellow oriole emerging from the valley—sweet and melodious, with a gentle lingering tone—rang out from the stopped scarlet sedan.
“Are we not moving? Are we to wed or not?”
Yang Mountain Daoist nearly melted at the sound, his rage doused as if by a bucket of cold water.
“So eager for the bridal chamber, beauty? Very well! But mine is a family of scholars and poets. Let me arrange the banquet first, then we shall unite!”
He grinned at Chen Heng, then turned menacing eyes to Wang Duanbao:
“Today’s a day of celebration. I’ll remember this beating, and deal with you later!”
With that, he drew a breath and ascended once more upon the black cloud, rising into the sky.
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At the foot of the mountain, the procession resumed, music blaring and festive cheer abounding.
“Master, I’ve made up my mind!”
Seeing that Chen Heng had not spoken since helping him earlier, Wang Duanbao bit his lip and sidled up to the sedan, whispering:
“If you help me get rid of that old bastard, I’ll give you sixty percent of Yang Mountain’s treasures!”
Inside the soft sedan, silence reigned.
After a long pause, a calm, indifferent voice drifted into his ears:
“We’ll discuss that later.”
…
…
That night.
Yang Mountain was awash with lanterns and decorations, from the foot to the grand hall at the summit, glittering like a cascade of mercury.
At the banquet.
Yang Mountain Daoist, plied with wine by Chen Heng, was somewhat drunk. With a flourish of his wide sleeves, he shakily drew a large red-and-white pearl from his waist pouch.
“Come, come, beauty—this is the pearl you wanted to see, the Thunderfire Explosive Primordial Pearl!”
He gleefully offered it: “Touch it—isn’t it warm? Xiaoyu, you wretched woman, stop blocking my view of the beauty! Go join Duanbao!”
Beside Chen Heng.
A pale, fragile young woman bowed and left the table, her movements wooden, staggering as if she’d only just learned to walk.
“Indeed, a precious pearl.”
Only after the woman departed did Chen Heng leisurely reach out and accept it.
“But…”
“But what?” asked Yang Mountain Daoist, puzzled.
“Such a pity—a bright pearl cast in darkness.” Chen Heng smiled.
With that smile.
Not far away, Xu Zhi, disguised as a servant, suddenly overturned the table, drew his sword, and lunged at Yang Mountain Daoist!