The Arrival of Wu Lingfeng

[Fifteen more chapters updated today. This isn't my limit—it's the system's. I just want to outwork every Tomato author, or be outworked by them all.]

Beneath the vast sky, along an ancient road swept by the west wind.

Ye Xuan led Ying'er, not soaring on a sword, but pacing the earth step by step like any ordinary mortal. Ying'er carried a small bundle on her back. Though sweat beaded on her forehead, her face was brimming with excitement—she was like a restless little sparrow. Every now and then, she'd gasp in delight at the exotic flowers and strange grasses by the roadside, or else cling entirely to Ye Xuan's arm.

"Husband, why must we take this path? Wouldn't it be better to fly?"

Ye Xuan halted, his gaze profound as he looked ahead at the winding mountain road that disappeared into the clouds. A meaningful curve lifted the corner of his mouth.

"Because I need to retrace the Sword Emperor's path of Ye Wushuang."

"The Sword Emperor's path?" Ying'er tilted her head, half-understanding.

"Exactly." Ye Xuan lightly patted the divine sword at his waist, his eyes carrying a chill that had seen through the world's affairs. "Some things can only be truly severed when walked with one's own feet."

Ying'er didn't entirely grasp his meaning, but she obediently hummed her agreement and once again took his arm.

Just then, from the jagged rocks ahead in the overgrown thicket, a faint trace of blood smell drifted subtly into their senses.

Ye Xuan paused mid-step.

But his hand had already pressed silently against his sword hilt.

"Oh! Husband, look over there!" Ying'er, sharp-eyed, pointed behind a massive boulder and gasped. "It looks like someone's lying there!"

The two drew near.

Sprawled amid the rubble lay a man. He was tall and slender, and even in unconsciousness, a certain extravagance clung to him. His robes were made of "Flow Cloud Satin"—fabric worth its weight in gold—with hidden patterns faintly visible, unmistakably bearing the emblem of the Great Xia royal house. Though tattered and bloodstained, a nobility buried beneath ruin and dishevelment still seeped through unmistakably.

His face was strikingly beautiful. Even with skin pale as paper, eyes shut tight, and lips drained of all color, his features remained exquisitely chiseled.

Ying'er covered her mouth in fright, her small face turning pale. She instinctively clutched tighter to Ye Xuan's sleeve.

"Hu... husband! That's the insignia of the Great Xia royal family! Has the Female Emperor sent someone after us?"

Ye Xuan looked down at the unconscious man before him, a hint of amusement slowly creeping into his eyes.

Pursuit and killing?

No. This was prey delivering itself to his door.

In a single moment, Ye Xuan saw through the absurdity concealed beneath this outer shell. She had used a violent, even self-destructive secret art, forcibly altering her bone structure and spiritual energy signature. Even her slightly protruding Adam's apple was a perfect forgery.

But he knew this person far too well.

He saw the stubbornness that refused to relax even at death's door, the obsession burned bone-deep. Who else could it be but the self-styled "Greatest Lover of Great Xia," the Ninth Lord, Wu Lingfeng?

Ye Xuan laughed coldly inside his heart.

What a masterpiece.

No sooner had he shaken off one mad, lofty older sister than the younger madwoman, covered in blood and torn flesh, had crawled her way over to perform a bitter drama.

"Husband, should we kill him?"

Though terrified, Ying'er had already quietly readied a killing talisman, turning as fierce as a small beast protecting its master. "If he's a bad guy after my husband, I'll strike first!"

Ye Xuan chuckled softly and gently pressed down on Ying'er's wrist, his tone as flat as if discussing a rotting corpse.

"Why kill him? It'd only dirty your hands for nothing."

"But..."

"Save him," Ye Xuan said calmly, a cruel mockery dancing in his eyes. "Since someone has traveled so far to put on a show for us, how could we not play along? This long, dull road is exactly the place for a clown to lighten the mood."

With a flick of his finger, Ye Xuan sent a low-grade healing pill turning into spiritual liquid, which he hurled roughly into the man's mouth.

Moments later.

"Cough... cough..."

The man on the ground let out a pained grunt. His eyelashes fluttered violently as he slowly opened his eyes.

Their gazes met.

For an instant, the wind around them seemed to freeze.

Wu Lingfeng, at the sight of that long-yearned-for face, instantly went red-rimmed. Tears almost burst forth from instinct.

It was him... it was really him...

Eight hundred years without a glimpse, and he still carried that cold, aloof aura beyond the mortal world—though now with a bit more heart-wrenching weariness between his brows.

"Hu—"

That word circled her tongue with the taste of blood, nearly slipping out.

But the next second, the corner of her eye caught Ying'er, pressed close against Ye Xuan's side, and the way her husband held the girl's hand.

It hit her brain like a hammer blow. She bit hard on her tongue, forcing a strong taste of blood.

No! She couldn't reveal herself!

Now, she was a man.

Her "Dragon Transformation Technique" had not yet reached full mastery. If her identity were exposed, given Ye Xuan's hatred for the Great Xia royal family, he would vanish again without hesitation!

She had to endure. Even if it meant watching him embrace another woman, she had to bear it until the technique fully reversed and reshaped her perfect female form.

Wu Lingfeng dug her nails deep into her palm, nearly breaking the skin, forcibly pushing back the heat of tears threatening to spill.

She put on an expression of confusion, wariness, and gratitude. Ignoring the excruciating pain from her shattered meridians, she struggled to sit up and clasped her hands in salute.

"Many... many thanks for saving my life, honored sir."

Her voice, ravaged by the technique, turned low and rough, holding no trace of the lofty maiden she once was.

Ye Xuan watched her clumsy attempts to hide, watched the barely restrained mad jealousy in the depths of her eyes. The cold smirk at his lips deepened.

Act. Keep acting.

"It's nothing," Ye Xuan replied dismissively, his gaze unabashedly scanning her ruined, python-embroidered robe as he asked with feigned ignorance. "Judging by those robes, you're from the Great Xia royal family?"

Wu Lingfeng's heart nearly jolted out of her chest. She hurriedly lowered her gaze, not daring to look at Ying'er by Ye Xuan's side, and whispered.

"I am... Wu Nianxuan."

"A collateral branch of the Great Xia royal house. I offended a powerful figure and was chased all the way here."

Wu Nianxuan. "Wu" meaning nothing, "Nianxuan" meaning always longing for Ye Xuan.

Hearing this name, the mockery in Ye Xuan's eyes nearly overflowed.

Blatant. And utterly sickening.

"Wu Nianxuan?" Ye Xuan tasted the three syllables, then instantly withdrew all trace of a smile. A bone-deep revulsion took its place.

He pulled Ying'er sharply to him and spat out a single cold word: "Get lost."

"I don't welcome dogs of the Great Xia royal house."

With that, Ye Xuan took Ying'er's hand and turned, walking away without hesitation or lingering.

Wu Lingfeng froze, her heart crushed as if by an invisible giant hand, pain so sharp she could barely breathe.

He hated all who shared that surname. He hated Wu Lingxiao, and hated everyone surnamed Wu in turn.

But she—she had thrown away everything for him!

"Please wait, honored sir!"

Wu Lingfeng panicked completely. Risking demonic possession, she staggered to her feet to chase after him, only to collapse heavily into a muddy pit. Blood and mud stained her once-lordly robes beyond recognition.

"I... I am no ally of the Female Emperor! I barely escaped being hounded to death by her too!"

She lay prostrate on the ground, her voice a rasping scream directed at the indifferent back retreating from her:

"Please, take me in… My cultivation is shattered. If you abandon me here, I will surely die…"

Ye Xuan did not slow his pace, nor did he even glance back. "That is your affair. If you die by the roadside, you'll make a fine meal for the dogs."

Wu Lingfeng coughed up a mouthful of blood in despair, dragging herself forward on her hands and knees. Her voice was hoarse and hopeless:

"In this world, the enemy of my enemy is my friend! I beg you, my benefactor, grant me shelter for a few days. Once my injuries heal, I will repay your kindness—whether as a beast of burden, a servant, or a slave, I will pledge my life to you!"

At last, Ye Xuan halted.

A flicker of ecstasy lit Wu Lingfeng's eyes, believing his heart had softened.

But Ye Xuan only raised a hand to tenderly tidy a strand of Ying'er's hair by her temple, then uttered words that drifted back like frost:

"As you wish."

"But stay far from me. The scent of royalty makes me sick."

Those words were like a rusted, blunt blade, sawing back and forth across the tenderest part of Wu Lingfeng's heart.

Yet to her, they sounded like an undeserved mercy. Her dirt-streaked face twisted into a grim, anguished, yet utterly relieved smile.

She closed her eyes as though a burden had been lifted, letting her tears mingle with the mud, dripping into the earth. Then, dragging her broken body, she trailed far behind the seemingly perfect pair—like a mangy stray that had been cast out but refused to leave its master, clinging stubbornly to their shadow.