Chapter 132: My Wife

The entire banquet hall fell into a heavy silence. Everyone stared at Shang Wuwei; some looked on with pity, others with shock, and naturally, there were those who gloated over his misfortune.

Shang Wuwei felt as though every gaze was a layer of humiliation heaped upon him, leaving him with nowhere to hide his shame.

"Wuwei, let’s go," Mu Jianhou said, casting me a deep look before patting Shang Wuwei on the shoulder.

Shang Wuwei followed his two martial uncles away in a daze, and shortly after, the elder of the Shang family and his entourage departed with grim expressions.

"Isn’t Young Master Shang a Level 9 Yin-Yang Master? How could he possibly be defeated by Qin Feng?"

"Indeed. This Qin Feng is truly terrifying."

"Haven't you heard Qin Feng’s nickname? The 'Emasculation Demon.' Even our capital’s premier young master was nearly crippled by him. We should avoid provoking him from now on."

"Elder Ling has a sharp eye for talent. This Qin Feng is a dragon in the shallows; once the winds and clouds rise, he will surely stir the heavens and shake the earth."

At that moment, Elder Ling stood up and walked over to me, laughing heartily. "Good, my fine grandson-in-law."

I looked at the old man and smiled. He was decisive and ruthless, showing no favor to the Shang family or the so-called Kunlun Sword Sect. I found myself quite fond of him.

"Elder, I wish you a life as enduring as the sun and moon, and as evergreen as the pine and crane," I said with a smile. I took out a cloth bundle and added, "This is my birthday gift for you."

The onlookers glanced at the shabby parcel and couldn't help but want to laugh; it was likely nothing of any real value. It was understandable, though—Qin Feng had no notable background, and it was already a miracle that he had reached this point on his own.

Ling Xinyue, standing beside me, looked somewhat embarrassed. She tugged at my sleeve and whispered, "I have already prepared a gift for you."

"What you prepared is yours; what I prepared is my own sentiment," I replied.

Elder Ling, however, laughed out loud as he accepted it. "Sentiment is what matters most; the nature of the gift is irrelevant."

"Father, why not open it and see?" suggested Ling Xue, Elder Ling’s youngest daughter. She was about thirty, with features that appeared somewhat sour.

Elder Ling glared at her, and she immediately fell silent. However, since the topic had been raised, the guests began murmuring, asking to see the gift. Given that some present were of the same generation as Elder Ling, it was difficult for him to refuse.

"Elder, since they are so curious, there is no harm in letting them broaden their horizons," I said.

Broaden their horizons? Elder Ling paused, wondering if it could truly be some sort of treasure.

When he opened the cloth bundle, several crystal-clear black stones were revealed. As soon as they were exposed, a dense, almost tangible energy drifted above them, swirling and refusing to dissipate.

"This is... High-Grade Nether Crystals?" someone in the crowd shouted in shock, losing their composure.

"Indeed, they are High-Grade Nether Crystals," confirmed the Taoist Master Cuiling, casting an astonished glance in my direction.

There were eight High-Grade Nether Crystals in total. A single high-grade crystal was equivalent to one hundred medium-grade ones. When Shang Wuwei had gifted eight medium-grade crystals earlier, everyone had marveled at his generosity. Compared to my gift, his was hardly worth mentioning.

"This..." Elder Ling looked at me.

"Elder, it is just a small token of respect from your grandson-in-law. You wouldn't refuse it, would you?" I asked.

Elder Ling laughed heartily. "Since it is the heart of my virtuous grandson-in-law, I must accept it."

Soon after, many people swarmed over to offer their flattery. Elder Ling was in high spirits, his face beaming with pride. Not long after, the banquet officially began, and Ling Xinyue and I slipped away to the backyard.

"Wife," I said, reaching out to wrap my arm around her slender waist.

*Slap.*

Ling Xinyue swatted my hand away. She glared at me coldly and said, "Wipe that smirk off your face, and don't call me 'wife'."

I shrugged, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it. "Your attitude changes quickly. Are you going to discard me after using me? Do you have no conscience?"

"This is destiny..."

"Spare me the nonsense, will you? This isn't destiny; it’s a restriction placed on my soul by your grand-martial aunt. It’s coercion," I retorted, annoyed.

"True. But even if it is coercion, can you resist it?" she countered.

I... damn it...

"Sigh, I thought there might at least be some feeling between us," I sighed, feeling a bit dejected.

Ling Xinyue felt a sudden pang in her heart; she felt that such a state of vulnerability shouldn't be appearing in someone like me.

"What kind of feeling do you want? That day... didn't you take enough advantage of me?" she said, driven by some inexplicable impulse.

I paused, slightly stunned. "Which day are you referring to? How did I take advantage of you?"

Ling Xinyue grew furious and threw a punch at my face. I caught her fist in my hand and stared at her with burning intensity. She tried to pull her hand back, but it wouldn't budge. I pried her fingers open, took her hand, and placed it against my lips, kissing it gently.

Ling Xinyue pulled her hand back as if electrocuted, shouting in angry embarrassment, "What are you doing?"

I didn't speak. I stepped forward twice, grabbed her shoulders, and stared at her moist red lips with a burning gaze, a powerful urge to kiss her surging within me. Ling Xinyue’s heart trembled. Just as I leaned in, she pushed me away with force, her pretty face turning cold once more.

I smacked my lips. So close. The previous forced kiss had been fueled by rage, and to be honest, I hadn't truly tasted anything.

"I am returning to the Taishang Lingyan Temple with my senior sister," she said, looking at the budding lotus flowers in the pond.

"Oh," I replied.

"Since I began my cultivation journey, my heart has held only the Dao. Qin Feng, your strength truly exceeded my expectations, but I will catch up to you and surpass you. You had best put away your messy thoughts, focus on your cultivation, and pray that you aren't trampled beneath my feet too soon." Ling Xinyue took a deep breath, her magic circulating through her body. Her Dao-heart, nearly shaken, stabilized once more. She knew her goal and her pursuit; she would not be distracted by anything.

I could hear the determination in her voice and nodded with a smile. "Alright, I’ll wait for you to catch up."

Ling Xinyue pretended not to hear the double entendre in my words. She gave me one last deep look and turned to leave.

"Oh, if the Taishang Lingyan Temple is so powerful, why don't you go to the Netherworld to slay enemies?" I called out to her retreating back.

Ling Xinyue turned her head. "Who says we don't? The Netherworld is our battlefield." With that, she rose into the air.

"Wife!" I shouted loudly.

Ling Xinyue faltered, nearly falling from mid-air. She steadied herself, landed, and turned to glare at me viciously.

"Tell me, do you have even a little bit of feelings for me?" I asked with a grin.

"I do not!" she shouted, and flew off as if someone were chasing her.

...

Back at the Shang residence, Shang Wuwei lay on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. His confidence and his state of mind had been shattered by the guy named Qin Feng, leaving him on the verge of a breakdown.

"Why? Why..." he muttered. He was a heaven-sent prodigy, a Level 9 Yin-Yang Master, a core disciple of the sacred Kunlun Sword Sect. He had intended to reclaim his woman and secure a powerful ally for the Shang family, thereby becoming world-renowned. Now, he was indeed renowned—as a laughingstock.

A young, pretty maid entered with a bowl of porridge. "Young Master, please have some ginseng porridge."

Shang Wuwei looked over with vacant eyes, suddenly sat up, and knocked the bowl out of her hands. He grabbed her by the throat and roared, "Do you think I'm sick, too?"

The maid’s face turned blue as she struggled to breathe. Watching her struggle, Shang Wuwei felt a perverse sense of pleasure. His gaze dropped, locking onto her chest. He gulped, let out a low growl, threw the maid onto the bed, and began tearing at her clothes.

The maid did not resist; instead, she felt a glimmer of hope. She was merely a servant, and if she were favored by the capital’s premier young master and happened to conceive a child, she would be flying to the top of the social ladder.

Suddenly, Shang Wuwei froze. He looked down, his face pale. The wound at the top of his thigh had scabbed over. The doctor had said his reproductive organs weren't damaged, so it shouldn't be an issue, yet why was there no reaction?

"Get out! Get out!" He yanked the maid's hair and threw her to the floor, roaring in a frenzy.

After the maid fled in tears, Shang Wuwei began smashing everything in the room. "Qin Feng! If I don't kill you, I am no man!" he shrieked.

*Bang.*

The door was kicked open. Mu Jianhou walked in. Shang Wuwei’s roar died instantly, though his face remained twisted. Mu Jianhou said nothing; a flash of sword light swept across the room and struck Shang Wuwei across the face.

*Smack.*

A deep red welt appeared on Shang Wuwei’s face. He froze, looking at Mu Jianhou in a daze.

"You bastard! If you weren't my senior brother's disciple, I would cripple you myself. How could the Kunlun Sword Sect produce a coward like you? A minor setback has caused inner demons to sprout. If this continues, you will never reach the Master realm in your lifetime!" Mu Jianhou snapped.

Shang Wuwei snapped out of it. Mu Jianhou held a high position in the sect; if he gave up on him, he would have no future. He dropped to his knees, full of regret. "Ninth Martial Uncle, you are right. I was blinded. Thank you for waking me with your blade."

"As long as you understand. The majestic Kunlun mountains turn into swords; one must cultivate a noble sword aura and hide it within the heart. If your heart is filled with demons, how can you ever cultivate that aura?" Mu Jianhou turned and left. If he could understand, he would; if not, he had done his best.

Once Mu Jianhou was gone, Shang Wuwei’s expression turned incomparably dark. He picked up his phone and made a call.