In the next instant, Zhu Siyao found herself at her residence.
It was a small courtyard, nothing like the grand and icy halls of the Blazing Sun Sect.
In the courtyard stood an old locust tree, beneath which rested a small stone table and two stone stools.
In the corner, there was even a small, long-faded swing.
This was where she grew up.
It was where she first learned to speak, where she took her first steps.
It was the very first and softest “home” in her memory.
And her mother, that awe-inspiring Sect Master of the Blazing Sun Sect, had not set foot here for a very, very long time.
Zhuxin stood in the courtyard, gazing at the swing. The sharp and cold lines of her profile, under the dappled light that filtered through the locust tree’s leaves, seemed much gentler.
She gently brushed the dust from the stone stool and sat down.
“Sit.” She pointed to the stone stool opposite her, her voice low and deep.
Zhu Siyao’s heart churned like a stormy sea, but she sat down as instructed. Staring at her mother, a thousand words were caught in her throat, but not a single word could come out.
Zhuxin was silent for a long, long time—so long that Zhu Siyao thought she might never speak again, so long that she began to suspect this was just an all-too-real dream.
She only watched her daughter, watched that face that looked almost exactly like her own younger self, watched the lingering grievance and panic in those clear eyes.
“Yao’er…….”
Zhuxin finally spoke, her voice carrying an exhaustion and hoarseness never heard before.
“Mother wants to come home and live.”
Zhu Siyao’s mind went blank as she looked at her mother in disbelief.
At the very moment Zhuxin spoke those words, the barrier within her that she had forcefully suppressed for so many years, melted like the hard ice of spring meeting the warm sun, letting out a soft “crack.”
It was not the thunderous breakthrough to the Supreme Saint Realm, but a gentle, natural dissolution.
A powerful Qi that no longer forced itself toward perfect completion slowly rose from Zhuxin.
She had broken through, as a matter of course, to the Immortal Ascension Stage.
She had abandoned the pursuit of that highest Supreme Saint Realm, abandoned the demonic path of Bone-Blood Refinement to patch her flaws, and chosen instead a relatively ordinary path—one that no longer carried the weight of guilt.
Feeling the boundless power surging through her body, no longer restrained by shackles, Zhuxin’s face was suffused with the serenity of liberation, mixed with a faint regret, all of which finally settled into calm.
Looking at her astonished daughter, she reached out her hand. For the first time, like a real mother—somewhat clumsy and hesitant—she gently stroked Zhu Siyao’s cheek.
The warmth at her fingertips was no longer scorching and overwhelming, but carried a belated gentleness.
The Xianzhou broke through the heavy clouds and sailed steadily above a boundless, clear sky.
Qin Qingyue stood at the bow, black robes billowing. Su Yingman stood respectfully behind her.
On both sides of the Xianzhou, two neat rows of voluptuous maids stood in attendance, each showing faint features of the Dragon Race.
Some had delicate little dragon horns but no tails, some swayed elegant dragon tails behind them while their horns were hidden.
These were all demon women whom Qin Qingyue had obtained at great cost, each bearing a faint trace of Red Dragon Bloodline.
Without exception, once they took human form, they all exuded a mature charm—proof of the Five Great Dragon Clans’ domineering imprint on the path of transformation.
“You’re saying the Central Continent’s Blazing Sun Sect has a Sect Master with a Pure Yang Body, named Zhuxin?” Qin Qingyue turned her head slightly to ask Su Yingman.
Su Yingman possessed the Xuanyin Body.
Qin Qingyue’s plan was for Jiang Huai, at the Foundation Establishment stage, to harmonize Yin and Yang through the Dual Body Foundation Establishment, achieving that legendary method—far surpassing the Purple Mansion Foundation.
If Jiang Huai could reach such extremes in every realm from now on, his potential after ascension would be unimaginable.
For her husband to reach such heights, what did one or two women matter?
Even eight or ninety of them were merely vessels to fulfill the Dao.
“Yes, Madam, Zhuxin possesses a Pure Yang Body, likely at the Integration stage.” Su Yingman replied.
“Yingman, tell me, if you and Zhuxin both aided Jiang Huai in dual cultivation for Foundation Establishment, what sort of Dao Foundation would be formed?” Qin Qingyue asked with keen interest.
Su Yingman replied softly, “With the Dual Body Foundation Establishment of Yin and Yang, combined with Husband’s Innate Primordial Qi, it should be possible to forge the legendary ‘Chaos Dao Platform.'”
“Not a mere Spirit Platform, but using Yin and Yang Qi with Innate Primordial Qi as a guide, to open and stabilize a miniature chaos seed as the Dao Foundation in the sea of Qi.”
“With such a foundation, the upper limit for future Core Formation and Nascent Soul will be endlessly raised.”
Qin Qingyue smiled. “Then won’t my husband become absolutely formidable? He won’t need my protection at all and could sweep through the Five Provinces on his own!”
Su Yingman paused, then looked up at Qin Qingyue, her smile cautious:
“Madam, forgive me for perhaps dampening your spirits, but I must say something you may not like to hear.”
“Hmm?” Qin Qingyue arched a delicate brow, her dragon tail swaying.
What could she dislike? Are the ancient records false? Is the news unreliable? Has the Pure Yang Body vanished?
“In the future, Husband’s achievements may surpass even yours by far,” Su Yingman said with a beaming smile.
Qin Qingyue was taken aback, then slapped Su Yingman’s shoulder with a burst of laughter:
“Hahahahaha, look at you.”
Someone praising her own husband, of course she was delighted.
As her laughter faded, Qin Qingyue looked at Su Yingman’s radiant smile, then at the dragon maids standing in attendance on both sides. For a moment, she felt a bit dazed.
Unknowingly, she had gathered a group of people around her, creating a liveliness she’d never known before.
All of this, it was Jiang Huai who brought to her.
No matter what, he was her husband—the one she was set on for this lifetime.
She had to bring him back.
“There’s no time to lose. Let’s head to the Blazing Sun Sect and ‘invite’ Zhuxin over, shall we?” A determined light flashed in Qin Qingyue’s eyes as she sought Su Yingman’s opinion.
How to “invite” her? Naturally, just as they had once “invited” Su Yingman.
Su Yingman’s lips twitched with a hint of hidden amusement:
“I’ll follow Madam’s decision.”
“If Wu Zhaohua is willing to pour in resources, Husband should soon reach Foundation Establishment.”
She harbored a trace of worry. Had Jiang Huai told Wu Zhaohua about the Dual Body Foundation Establishment?
If he settled only for the Purple Mansion Foundation, it would be an enormous loss for Husband.
“Hmph!” At this, Qin Qingyue folded her arms in disdain, her dragon tail flicking irritably.
“That Wu Zhaohua, so stingy—what decent resources could she possibly bring out?”
“She could only fool a Foundation Establishment cultivator like Jiang Huai.”
Even among immortals, wealth made a difference!
With that paltry accumulation of hers, how could it compare to what I can take by force?
It wasn’t that she looked down on Wu Zhaohua, but with such shallow resources, forget it.
Just thinking of letting some impoverished woman steal her husband away made Qin Qingyue fume.
If you don’t have the resources to keep a golden chamber, don’t try to hide beauties! Now I can’t even find an excuse to lavish resources on him!
Wenxuan Sect, small courtyard.
Within the run-down courtyard, four people gathered around a simple, square wooden table for tea. The atmosphere seemed leisurely, but undercurrents ran strong.
Wu Zhaohua sat in the main seat, clad in plain white robes. Her expression was calm, but an aura of quiet majesty radiated from her.
Qi Yuyong stood beside her, the usual gentle smile gracing her lips.
Bai Lei sat opposite, posture as straight as a sword, a trace of hard-to-detect sharpness lurking between her heroic brows.
Jiang Huai sat on Wu Zhaohua’s other side, enduring glances of various meanings, his heart a tumult of mixed emotions.
He knew, for now, there was no returning to Qin Qingyue’s side.
That domineering Black Dragon, her Dragon Palace—in a sense, it felt more like a home where he could truly relax.
Here at the Wenxuan Sect, he felt more like a sudden, awkward guest.