Chapter 233 – Shrouded in Mystery, Successfully Forging a Spirit Artifact, and the First Pot of Gold - Part 2

Dawn had yet to break.

Cui Huayin lay quietly in Li Yuan’s arms, a light quilt pulled to her shoulders, revealing skin as pale and smooth as white jade. Li Yuan was behind her, his chin resting gently on her shoulder, still half-asleep.

She, however, had already opened her eyes—though even that effort left her drained, as if every muscle in her body had melted away. Simply moving a finger brought on waves of fatigue.

On the sheets lay a brilliant red stain, glaringly bright. Seeing it, Cui Huayin closed her eyes again. Hearing Li Yuan’s breathing shift behind her, she spoke in a cold, clipped tone, “Don’t think that just because of last night...just because we’ve performed our vows that I’ll become meek and adoring.”

Li Yuan paused. It seemed his new wife had a rather unusual temperament. He only gave a noncommittal, “Oh,” and pulled her closer, drifting back to sleep.

Truth be told, Cui Huayin was more striking than any other woman Li Yuan had met—lovelier than Xue Ning, and even more stunning than Yan Yu had been before turning into a ghost. Of course, as a ghost, Yan Yu possessed a unique supernatural allure that defied any normal comparison.

Still, for someone as breathtaking as Cui Huayin, it was no wonder she’d once been presented to the emperor and titled the Yin Consort. Praising her beauty as the fairest in an entire prefecture, maybe even a whole province, a singular blossom among hundreds was hardly an exaggeration.

It felt strangely elevating to have such a woman as his wife, almost as if the story of his life had pivoted from a humble

village romance

to a grand

courtly drama

.

He slipped his arm around her waist and gently reached forward. She didn’t resist, only said, “Don’t get lost in bliss.”

A moment later, she sensed his hand moving and frowned slightly, letting out an impatient “Hurry up.”

Li Yuan murmured, “Your family wants you to give me children.”

“That’s their idea,” she replied. “I have no intention of bearing any. You’re sixth rank, and I’m seventh. Even with the help of the Holy Tree Temple’s special elixirs to raise the odds, if I’m not willing, you won’t succeed.”

Li Yuan could only sigh before continuing in the intimate way of newlyweds.

She bit her lip but stayed silent, as if enduring in stoic calm. Only after a long while did she breathe evenly again, the sheen of sweat beading on her forehead.

Li Yuan wiped it away. “So...about what we didn’t finish discussing last night; you said you’re stuck at seventh rank. Are you having trouble grasping the next portion of your life chronicle?”

Cui Huayin hesitated, feeling the warmth of his skin pressed against hers and recalling that, for better or worse, they were now husband and wife. At length she said, “I practice the Cycle of Withering And Growth, one of Holy Tree Temple’s three main cultivation techniques. I’ve looked at the visualization aids, but I can’t make any progress with them...”

Li Yuan answered, “You know each visualization aid depends on comprehending the right

mental state

. Only by entering the correct mindset can you sense the correct pathway to circulate your shadow blood and refine your cultivation.”

She stayed silent.

He asked, “Is it the mindset itself that’s eluding you, or do you not understand the visualization aid?”

“I think it’s the mindset...but I don’t really know where I went wrong,” she admitted.

After pondering a moment, Li Yuan leaned in and whispered—

“Grasses rise and wither across the plains,

Each year anew, each year to fade.

Wildfires blaze, yet can’t destroy them,

When spring winds blow, they live once more.”

Afterwards, he said, “I’m not sure if that’ll help, but give it a try.”

Cui Huayin’s slim body trembled, lips parting slightly as she turned the lines over in her mind. Her eyes glimmered with surprise. After a long silence, she managed a quiet, “Thank you.”

Li Yuan smiled. “We’re husband and wife, no need for thanks. In a few days, I’ll bring you back to my home.”

“I’ll follow you,” she said. “A wife follows her husband whether he’s a rooster or a dog. I’ll leave the Cui Clan as soon as you say.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re saying I’m a rooster or a dog?”

“All I know is you’re not the emperor,” she replied coolly.

˙·٠✧🐗➶➴🏹✧٠·˙

A few days later...

“Father! Father, something terrible’s happened!”

A richly-dressed figure burst into an inner chamber in a panic. “Another weaponsmith has shown up in the Cui Clan, apparently that old codger Zhu Ban’s son-in-law! What do we do?”

Jing Yunhe staggered into the room on unsteady feet, looking for all the world like he’d wasted away on wine and women. He was none other than the scoundrel who once humiliated Zhu Ban’s wife, Cui Rou, driving her to take poison and end her life.

Inside, a man with short whiskers and a pale face was seated by the window, staring off into the distance as if in deep thought. At the sight of his son stumbling in so frantically, his eyes filled with disdain.

“What’s all this fuss?” he asked.

“Zhu Ban’s son-in-law has become a weaponsmith too!” Jing Yunhe exclaimed in a panic. “Both of them, Zhu Ban and his son-in-law, have it out for our Jing Clan!”

The man was Jing Banfeng, the current family head of the Jing Clan. His demeanor remained calm. “And which eye of yours saw Li Yuan forge a

true

spirit artifact?” he asked, sounding unconcerned.

Jing Yunhe’s agitation froze, then slowly gave way to a sly grin. He moved closer and spoke in a low voice, “Father, how about I find an opportunity to slip some drug to that Huayin? It’d shatter Li Yuan’s mental state...”

He paused, shook his head, then chuckled darkly. “No, no, Huayin’s not so easy to handle. But from what I hear, Li Yuan has other family. He opened some Ginger Tavern two years ago.

And

he apparently has a goddaughter, even a young girl of his own... Heh heh heh.”

A lecherous smile spread across his face, a dangerous glint in his eye. “I’ll make him watch his loved ones suffer, let him stew in agony while he’s trying to forge his spirit artifacts. That’ll break him.”

Jing Yunhe looked quite pleased with himself, but Jing Banfeng only regarded him with thinly veiled irritation. Waving him away, he said, “Leave me for now. Wait until I summon you again.”

“Yes, Father,” Jing Yunhe agreed happily and left.

No sooner had he gone than Jing Banfeng stood and, bowing his head, spoke respectfully to the folding screen at the far end of the room. From behind it emerged a figure in snowy-white robes. It was Jing Baikou, the clan patriarch and a deputy temple master of Holy Tree Temple.

“Patriarch,” Jing Banfeng said, dipping his head. “What should we do?”

Jing Baikou’s face was clouded with confusion. “I consulted quietly with the temple master about this.”

“And what did the temple master say?” Jing Banfeng asked. “Is it the same as last time?”

Jing Baikou’s expression was complicated. “He gave me a tongue-lashing. Accused me of cliquish scheming and trying to destroy those who have bravely fought for the temple. Yet last time, he was the one who implied he wanted Zhu Ban eliminated and let us serve as his blade. Now he’s apparently forgotten all of it, completely. No recollection whatsoever.”

Jing Banfeng’s brow furrowed. “But...he’s fourth rank, isn’t he? And entered the fourth rank over a century ago?”

“175 years ago, to be exact,” Jing Baikou replied, enunciating each word.

Jing Banfeng opened his mouth, tempted to mention senility, but that was hardly plausible. Those of sixth rank lived an extra century, fifth rank gained three centuries, and fourth rank extended life by five centuries. For someone like the temple master, 175 years was less than a third of his total lifespan.

Jing Baikou continued, “When he learned that Li Yuan inherited Zhu Ban’s smithing skills, he was overjoyed. But once he heard how our Jing Clan framed Zhu Ban in the past, he flew into a rage. He denies ever telling us to do anything, claims we acted on our own...and now demands we make amends to the Cui Clan, and especially to Li Yuan as Zhu Ban’s pupil. In his eyes, every weaponsmith is a priceless asset that can elevate a great power.”

Jing Banfeng felt as if in a dream, momentarily at a loss for words.

Just then, the respectful voice of a clan disciple called from outside, “There’s urgent news! I request an audience, Clan Head!”

Jing Baikou retreated behind the screen, while Jing Banfeng admitted the messenger. “What is it?”

“Zhu Ban...that is, Zhu Ban has defected! He’s colluding with the Red Lotus Rebels. He even sent word back, threatening to wipe out the Jing Clan...down to the last living soul!”

“Hah. Absurd. Just empty threats,” Jing Banfeng said dismissively. “Off you go. Keep a close watch on things.”

“Yes, Clan Head!” The disciple withdrew.

Jing Banfeng glanced to the side, and Jing Baikou emerged again, smiling. “This may be good news,” he observed. “I’ll see the temple master once more, find out whether he wants to eradicate that traitor’s son-in-law along with him. If Li Yuan dies, that’ll cripple the Cui Clan’s alliances—and that, in turn, weakens Gu Xuejian. Then the Holy Tree Temple will have no one left who can challenge our Jing Clan.”

“Then I’ll be awaiting your good news, Honored Ancestor,” Jing Banfeng said. “As for Yunhe...he’s not much good at anything else, but he’s gotten disturbingly adept at acquiring all manner of colorless, tasteless poisons. No problem taking down anyone below seventh rank. I’ll have him prepare, just in case.”