Chapter 49:

Here’s the translation of the provided Chinese text into English:

—

Later, the returning cultivators described it like this: “Let me tell you, the dragon clan’s wedding was absolutely spectacular. First, the bride and groom swapped roles—both were still underage. Isn’t that hilarious? Hilarious, but what came next was even wilder. Midway through the ceremony, the Phoenix King stormed in to object to the marriage, claiming they were already betrothed and demanding the dragon clan return ‘his bird.'”

“And then?”

“Of course, the dragons refused. The argument escalated into a full-blown brawl. A swordsman tried to mediate and ended up getting himself killed.”

“Moral of the story: don’t meddle in other people’s fights.”

As Cen Wuwang fell, Xue Ying was already charging up her ultimate move. She tossed aside Cen Wuwang’s limp form, kicked away Ao Fugui, who was trying to make a comeback, and grabbed Feng Yuemian by the throat, growling, “Where’s my Bailu?”

Feng Yuemian had no idea. This was his first time using the artifact—originally intended as a spiritual amplifier—when it suddenly absorbed Bailu. Faced with Xue Ying’s eerily calm expression, he blurted out in desperation, “Qiuqiu knows.”

Of course Qiuqiu knew. It was her father’s lifebound treasure, capable of absorbing anything—the ultimate game-breaking artifact. Her father had given it to her precisely to prevent other strange artifacts from capturing her.

As for how to retrieve what it absorbed, Qiuqiu thought for a moment before declaring with absolute certainty, “No idea.”

Anyone reckless enough to point a gun at the Golden Crow’s head rarely lived to see another round.

As Xue Ying’s sword aura surged uncontrollably, Feng Yuemian panicked. “If Qiuqiu doesn’t know, then Cangwu definitely does!”

As one of the ancient survivors, Cangwu—who had once pulled out a 98K to shoot down the Golden Crow—would surely know the uses of the Five-Colored Divine Feather. It sounded plausible. Xue Ying released Feng Yuemian, snatched the feather from his hand, scooped up Qiuqiu, and prepared to head to Taisu Valley to reclaim her wife. Meanwhile, the half-crippled Ao Fugui struggled to his feet. “Don’t even think about taking the Golden Crow! Guards—”

She paused mid-step. Behind her, a sea of aquatic clansmen had gathered, led by the ever-polite Yan Zhi. “Revered Daoist, please leave the Golden Crow.”

Xue Ying ignored Yan Zhi and instead asked Qiuqiu in her arms, “Do you want to stay with the dragon clan?”

Qiuqiu, having stuffed herself with wedding banquet delicacies, was already drowsy. She yawned, snuggled into Xue Ying’s embrace, and mumbled, “Sleepy.”

Seeing the conflict between Xue Ying and the dragons, Feng Yuemian piped up, “She prefers sleeping on phoenix trees!”

Xue Ying was heading to Taisu Valley. Handing Qiuqiu to Cangwu was practically handing her to the phoenix clan. Feng Yuemian immediately switched sides, cheering Xue Ying on.

“Children need the best environment. The Crystal Palace is damp—Qiuqiu could get sick. Taisu Valley’s phoenix trees are pure, natural, and aid development.”

Feng Yuemian rambled on, practically begging Xue Ying to just look at him already.

The parenting logic swayed Xue Ying. She shoved Qiuqiu into Wen An’s arms, scooped up Cen Wuwang’s true form (now a snow weasel), and reclaimed Guyu before instructing her tool-like senior brother, “Stand behind me.”

Once, a bald chicken had asked Feng Yuemian, “Your Majesty, why don’t we fight our way out of the Dragon Palace?” Back then, Feng Yuemian had scolded, “Stop reading those trashy web novels! You think you’re the protagonist, carving through armies and striking poses?” But now…

Feng Yuemian watched as Xue Ying unleashed a world-shaking sword array, centered on herself. The sea clansmen lay defeated at her feet. Clad in white, she stood alone against thousands, her sword intent piercing the heavens.

Feng Yuemian: “Holy sh*t!”

Though they escaped the East Sea, none left triumphant. Feng Yuemian, guilt-ridden, quietly retreated to tend to Qiuqiu, while Wen An—ever the chatterbox—tried to console Xue Ying.

“Life is unpredictable. Though your master’s time was brief, it burned brilliantly. At least in the end, he passed in your arms. From now on, you can carry his legacy—travel the realms, visit the places he once walked.”

Wen An nearly teared up. How tragically romantic! The bereaved inheriting the departed’s will. He felt inspiration flood him—enough to write 100,000 words of angst, plus 8,000 words of… other genres.

He replayed the Dragon Palace events in his mind, lingering on the image of Cen Wuwang collapsing into Xue Ying’s arms.

So moving.

“Qingjing Terrace is in Taichu Sect.”

Wen An snapped back to reality. Qingjing Terrace? What about it?

Xue Ying returned Guyu to Wen An. The fierce battle, combined with Bailu’s absence, had taken its toll on her sword sheath. Tracing its cracks, she felt a dull ache. Cen Wuwang’s departure had been too sudden—taking her Bailu with him.

“Master said his private stash is at Qingjing Terrace. He never visited Taichu Sect. Why would his savings be there?”

Wen An didn’t know either, but the fact that his uncle had shared such personal intel with Xue Ying spoke volumes. “The location isn’t the point. The point is, he gave it to you.”

Private savings weren’t for outsiders. By entrusting them to Xue Ying, Cen Wuwang had essentially declared her family.

Xue Ying didn’t grasp Wen An’s excitement. Inheritance was inheritance—with Cen Wuwang dead, she was the rightful heir. It wasn’t like he’d leave it to some nonexistent “master’s wife.”

Wen An’s imagination ran wild. Tentatively, he probed, “Once we return, if you have any… requests, the sect will fulfill them.”

Even a posthumous marriage wasn’t off the table.

To Xue Ying, this translated to: “Cen Wuwang’s dead! No one’s left to contest your title as Sword Immortal. Taixuan Sect is your doting wife, Taichu Sect your concubine, and if you’re feeling adventurous, Taisu Valley can be your mistress. Live your best life!”

But her Sword Immortal inauguration ceremony wouldn’t have Bailu…

The flicker of joy faded. Her expression cooled. “We’ll see.”

Her desolate figure moved Wen An. “Such devotion,” he sighed.

Changing topics, Wen An asked the idle Demon Marquess, “Why aren’t you running?”

She blinked. “Why would I?”

She wasn’t some villainous demoness. Since Cen Wuwang had a solution for the demon realm’s miasma, she saw no need for violence. Words over weapons—wasn’t that obvious?

—

On their third visit to Taisu Valley, Xue Ying planned to use Tang Ke’ai’s name to enter the inner valley. Instead, the attending disciple spotted Feng Yuemian and immediately groveled. “Your Majesty! Had we known of your arrival, we’d have prepared a grand welcome! Do you wish to see our valley master or Head Disciple Baizhu?”

The blatant favoritism drew scowls. Before Xue Ying could speak, someone shouted, “We’re all patients! Why do we wait in line while he gets to pick the best healers?”

Others joined in, accusing the disciple of snobbery. Unfazed, the disciple retorted, “You think you’re in his league? This is the Phoenix King—billions flow through his hands daily. Bring us a billion, and we’ll fetch you stars from the sky!”

“How mercenary,” Wen An muttered. “Too real.”

If not for poverty, Taixuan Sect wouldn’t have been toyed with by Taichu for so long.

Taisu Valley’s mystical arrays defied seasons. Last visit, it had been midsummer; now, autumn reigned. Withered grass stretched beneath their feet, chrysanthemums bloomed in clusters, and crimson maples painted the horizon. A distant flute melody wove through the wind.

Wen An, a first-timer, marveled at everything. Even a lone chrysanthemum earned praise. “Taisu Valley truly is paradise.”

Eating, drinking, admiring flora—what a blissful life.

Too bad that life belonged to Cangwu, while Xue Ying’s group slogged through battles. When Baizhu led them to a side hall, they found Cangwu lounging, cracking melon seeds, legs crossed. Below, minor spirits swayed to music, flirting with musicians between giggles of “How mean!”

It was pandemonium.

Baizhu coughed. “Some junior disciples transformed early. Their minds remain immature. The valley master guides them.”

Wen An thought, “This is practically a den of seduction.” Cangwu’s disheveled robes didn’t help.

Feng Yuemian, unfazed, cut to the chase. “The dragons are targeting the demon realm.”

Cangwu shelled peanuts, utterly unperturbed. He nodded absently, urging the dancers on. His indifference infuriated Feng Yuemian. “I’m saying the dragons—who once bathed the demon realm in blood—are back. As Taisu’s master, ruling half the demon realm, will you just sit there?”

Cangwu countered, “What do you want? A fainting performance?”

“*Cangwu!*”

He set down his pipe, approached Feng Yuemian, and studied Qiuqiu. The girl slept soundly, unbothered by Cangwu’s usual face-poking. As Feng Yuemian opened his mouth, Cangwu withdrew. “The Phoenix King’s internal injuries are severe.”

“Back when dragons were expelled from the demon realm, Cangwu played his part. Now they return, and I’m wounded. Naturally, Cangwu should act while my phoenix clan recuperates. Once Taisu is weakened, we’ll reclaim the demon realm and exterminate the dragons.”

With each word, Feng Yuemian’s face darkened. Finally, he snapped, “Shut up!”

Cangwu obliged, returning to his snacks and doodling on the wall with his pipe. Feng Yuemian fumed. Normally, Cangwu should’ve kept arguing—where was his spine?

“What do you *want*?”

Cangwu sighed like an exasperated elder. “You told me to shut up, so I did. Now you want me to talk again. Youngsters are so hard to please.”

If not for his injuries, Feng Yuemian would’ve burned Cangwu’s bark to cinders!

Finishing his doodle, Cangwu dismissed the disciples. His gaze landed on the snow weasel in Wen An’s arms. “Cen Wuwang’s dead?”

As Wen An prepared to explain, the Demon Marquess interjected, “I collected his soul.”

Having sent Cen Wuwang’s soul once before, retrieving it again was simple. She was happy to curry favor with Taixuan.

The glowing orb settled in Cangwu’s palm. Xue Ying’s eyes followed—Cangwu was the four realms’ finest healer. “Senior, can you save him?”

Cangwu examined it, then shook his head. “He’s done for.”

The Sword Immortal-brand tool had finally broken.

Unconcerned about Feng Yuemian overhearing Taixuan’s affairs, Cangwu stated bluntly, “Repeated soul separations damaged his spirit. Even if returned to his body, his cultivation would regress. He can’t remain Sword Immortal. Jade Star’s disciple, your time has come.”

Out with the old, in with the new. Cangwu grinned at Xue Ying—fresh tools were always welcome.

Xue Ying missed the subtext, her heart sinking. “Winning by default lacks honor.”

She wanted to defeat Cen Wuwang fairly, not inherit the title by default.

Cangwu ignored her sentiments, instructing Baizhu to fetch an artifact. With key players assembled, he dropped pretenses. “Since you’re all here, I’ll be frank. The Golden Crow will cleanse the demon realm’s miasma. Feng Yuemian, go home quietly if you know what’s good for you.”

Feng Yuemian bristled. “She’s half-phoenix!”

Cangwu scoffed. “Don’t flatter yourself. Your clan couldn’t nurture a Golden Crow that transcends realms. The Golden Crow exists to save worlds, not prop up phoenix egos. Try playing the tyrant, and see if the Demon Marquess agrees.”

The Demon Marquess nodded eagerly. “If the Golden Crow truly purifies the miasma, obstructing her makes the phoenix clan my enemy.”

She and Shen Jin had stirred trouble in the Dao realm solely to improve their people’s plight. If the miasma could be cleansed, staying in their homeland wasn’t so bad.

Feng Yuemian dismissed the demon realm’s threat. In the Dragon Palace, his powers had been restricted—losing to the Demon Marquess was understandable. But here in the demon realm, backed by his clan, a mere marquess wouldn’t steal the Golden Crow.

As if stoking the flames, Cangwu added cheerfully, “Oh, Taixuan and Taichu side with the demon realm too.”

Meeting Wen An’s questioning look, Cangwu mused, “Speaking of which, it’s been years since you’ve seen your sect master. Fancy a reunion?”

Wen An caught on. “You mean this is our sect master’s decree? But she’s been missing for years—no word from her.”

Cangwu tapped his pipe, then produced a jade pendant. “She’s in the demon realm. No way to send messages.”

The Taichu Sect Master was near-mythical. Rumors claimed she’d quelled world-shaking crises, her power unfathomable. Others spoke of her peerless beauty and countless admirers. The legends grew so outlandish that few had actually seen her.

Though curious, Feng Yuemian refused to let this beauty meddle in phoenix affairs. “Mysticism aside, even Taichu has no right to interfere in the demon realm.”

Cangwu didn’t explain. Clearing the table, he arranged an array with ink and brushes. The jade shattered, its cracks weaving a hazy net that coalesced into a figure—a moon-palace immortal, mirror in hand, her snow-mauve robes pooling like liquid moonlight.

Sensing the disturbance, she turned, her smile radiant. “What joyous news do you bring?”

Cangwu stepped aside. “Meet your disciples.”

Xue Ying’s memories of the sect master were vague. Raised in Taixuan, she’d occasionally mingled with Du Yizhou’s crowd but seldom saw the sect master. By the time she wished to, both the sect master and Cen Wuwang had vanished.

Now, facing this “senior,” Xue Ying’s first thought was: *What a pretty little sister!* Then reality hit—this “sister” was her sect master. No hand-holding adventures.

After introductions, the sect master’s gaze settled on Xue Ying. “So you’re Jade Star’s disciple.”

Before Xue Ying could nod, the sect master beamed. “I heard you neutered him.”

Xue Ying stammered, “That was an accident! Sect Master, about the Golden Crow—”

She tried to pivot, but the sect master gushed, “Marvelous! You’ve no idea how much I loathe Jade Star. Learning of his… condition kept me awake for nights—laughing in my sleep!”

The girl’s porcelain features and innocent demeanor clashed with her words as she cooed at Cangwu, “Brother Cang, promise you won’t reattach it?”

Xue Ying and Wen An exchanged horrified glances.

Wen An whispered, “Did you really…?”

Xue Ying hissed, “I didn’t know he was a *weasel* then!”

As they bickered, Cangwu soothed, “Of course not.”

“I love you most, Brother Cang!”

“But he’s returning to his original body.”

“Hmph. I don’t like you anymore.”

A masterclass in feminine capriciousness. Xue Ying and Wen An reeled while Cangwu remained unflappable. “How’s the Fusang Tree?”

The sect master yawned delicately. “Still needs time. The demon realm lacks spiritual energy—growth is slow.”

Xue Ying noticed her sect master seemed ethereal. Through her translucent form, the demon realm’s blood-red sky loomed. Behind her, an enormous tree’s canopy stretched endlessly, its roots entwined around glowing orbs—less “hiding” them than cradling.

Cangwu and the sect master continued chatting until she turned to Feng Yuemian. “The phoenix clan won’t yield?”

Feng Yuemian sneered. “Will Taichu truly interfere?”

The sect master smiled. “What if we do? Can’t Taichu handle one phoenix clan? If the dragons dare interfere, I’ll happily pair your clans as doomed lovers.”

After investing so much effort, with the Fusang Tree nearing completion and the demon realm’s salvation at hand, she wouldn’t hesitate to annex the demon realm if necessary.

Wen An, ever the diplomat, sought to avoid conflict—or at least a justifiable casus belli. “Sect Master, our sects traditionally avoid demon realm affairs. Antagonizing the phoenix clan may draw internal dissent.”

The sect master saw through him. “You want a reason? Public or private?”

Wen An hesitated, but she answered both. “Publicly, our founder foresaw this day and decreed we aid the Golden Crow to prevent four-realm catastrophe. Privately?” She tilted her head, feigning innocence. “I just think the demon realm’s pitiful. Can’t I help?”

Their founder had warned: *Don’t push the demon realm to desperation. Last time, we all died. No need for seppuku—just jump off a tower.*

Speechless, Wen An watched Feng Yuemian explode. “How noble of Taichu! Willingly sacrificing disciples to play hero. Those who die won’t understand their sect master’s ‘mercy’ got them killed.”

He barely stopped short of calling her a hypocrite.

The sect master chuckled. “Don’t fret, Phoenix King. I’ll have my disciples escort the Demon Marquess back to explain everything to the Demon Sovereign. I’m sure he’ll gladly lead the charge to… pacify your clan.”

Feng Yuemian: “You—!”

“What? Can’t handle the game?”

As they sparred, Baizhu returned with a palm-sized jade tablet. Cangwu merged it with Cen Wuwang’s soul, meticulously inscribing an array. Upon completion, Cen Wuwang’s form materialized—dazed at first, his gaze locking onto Xue Ying. After a silent moment, clarity returned, and he faced the sect master.

Master and disciple reunited after years, yet no words came. Finally, Cen Wuwang spoke calmly. “Xiao Fang.”

The sect master’s shriek shattered the hall. “How many times must I say it—call me *Sect Master*! Cen Wuwang, are you itching for a beating?!”