“Hngh!”
Jiang Tian gritted his teeth, fists clenched and brow furrowed—but he showed no panic. This was merely his body struggling to contain the sudden surge of spiritual energy. Methodically, he cycled the Soul-Forging Art through his meridians.
The Soul-Forging Art was the pinnacle spiritual cultivation technique of the Refinement Sect, a dominant force in the extraterrestrial realms. Created by his sworn brother, the Benevolent Celestial of Jiuxiao Continent, it was hailed as the ultimate scripture for mental cultivation.
To put it simply: If an average cultivator’s spiritual energy was akin to a crude stone, the divine consciousness tempered by this art became a diamond—capable of shattering ordinary mental defenses with ease.
Time blurred. A day passed in the blink of an eye.
“Condense!”
With an internal command, a bolt of lightning-like divine consciousness erupted from Jiang Tian’s forehead, reducing a boulder five meters away to dust.
Divine lightning—reality itself bent to his will.
If this power could obliterate solid rock, imagine what it would do to a human mind. Instant death.
“Divine consciousness—perfected.” Jiang Tian smirked in satisfaction, extending his senses outward.
His awareness surged like a tidal wave, engulfing the entire White Ape Valley in an instant. Every blade of grass, every fluttering insect, even the bloodflow of Li Zhenwei meditating nearby—all flooded into his mind with crystalline clarity.
With his divine consciousness active, his physical senses sharpened exponentially. Omniscience. Nothing escaped his perception.
“The Soul-Forging Art lives up to its reputation as the supreme mental cultivation method. That rascal Benevolent Celestial really outdid himself…” Jiang Tian mused.
…
Elsewhere in the valley, Li Zhenwei demonstrated his martial prowess. His disciples and Ghost-Kick stood guard along the ridges.
“Hah!” Li Zhenwei punched, and a surge of internal energy shattered a tree trunk to splinters.
“Internal energy projection—long-range strikes!” The disciples gasped in awe.
“Congratulations, Brother Zhenwei! You’ve reached the pinnacle of internal energy mastery!” Ghost-Kick clasped his hands, envy flashing across his face.
“Master Jiang’s techniques… they’re nothing short of miraculous.” Li Zhenwei sighed, his voice thick with reverence.
Before seclusion, Jiang Tian had imparted an energy-condensing method to them. After years stuck at the Great Completion stage, Li Zhenwei had broken through to Peak Mastery in just half a month under Jiang Tian’s guidance.
“Brother Zhenwei, Master Jiang’s been in seclusion for a week—no food, no water, no sound. Could something be wrong?” Ghost-Kick fretted, leaping closer.
“Master Jiang possesses divine elixirs and peerless techniques. His martial insights are profound. He’ll be fine—we mustn’t disturb him!” Li Zhenwei said firmly.
Just then, shouts erupted from the ridge. A disheveled middle-aged man stumbled forward.
“Where’s Master Jiang? I need to see him—now!”
“Silence! Do not disrupt Master Jiang’s meditation!” A disciple blocked his path.
“Please! This is urgent!” Tang Wannian panted, legs wobbling.
“Master Zhenwei, let him through! This is Linzhou’s Third Master Tang—it’s critical!” Long Wu arrived, equally frantic.
Li Zhenwei scowled. “Long Wu, you know the rules. If Master Jiang is disturbed, no amount of atonement will save you!”
“How much longer? I can’t wait!” Tang Wannian paced like an ant on a hot wok.
As Li Zhenwei opened his mouth to question him—
“ROAR—!”
A dragon-like bellow erupted from the cave, shaking the valley. The sonic wave sent rocks tumbling and trees quaking hundreds of meters away. Tang Wannian’s group clutched their ears, nauseated by the pressure.
“Master Jiang emerges!” Li Zhenwei dropped to his knees in worship.
“Hail Master Jiang’s triumphant return!” The disciples kowtowed in unison.
Then—a voice resonated directly in their minds:
“Tang Wannian. State your purpose. Long Wu—how is Xueqing?”
The three men gaped at each other.
“T-This… mental transmission?! Could Master Jiang have reached… the Divine Realm?!” Li Zhenwei trembled. Legends spoke of the Buddha’s “Divine Mouth” technique—communicating across vast distances. This was akin to that!
“A living bodhisattva…” Tang Wannian felt infinitesimal before such power.
…
Inside the cave, Jiang Tian sat cross-legged on a jade boulder. His skin glowed; his white robes were spotless. A transcendent aura surrounded him—an immortal descended to earth.
“Is this even human?” Tang Wannian marveled. Each step closer made him want to prostrate.
Before Tang Wannian could speak, Jiang Tian’s voice echoed in his skull: “Long Wu. Xueqing’s condition?”
“Master Jiang, your wife is well! She eagerly awaits your return,” Long Wu bowed deeply.
Only then did Jiang Tian’s demeanor soften—a flicker of humanity that eased their terror.
“Master Jiang, you were right—the Wolong Villa is haunted! Over a dozen deaths! Please, help us!” Tang Wannian begged. “I’ll pay 100 million!”
“Hmph.” Jiang Tian’s gaze turned glacial.
That single sound hit Tang Wannian like a thunderclap. His soul shuddered under crushing pressure, forcing him back several steps.
“100 million? If I sought wealth, trillions would be mine. Those who bribe will betray. Get out.” Jiang Tian closed his eyes, disinterested.
“Master Jiang, when I visited your wife, she’d fainted from heatstroke! Third Master Tang saved her!” Long Wu interjected hastily.
“What?! Is she alright?” Jiang Tian’s eyes flew open—the aloof immortal now a frantic husband.
“She’s fine! She was searching for the lost beads from your bracelet under the sun. We even sifted through garbage to recover them!” Tang Wannian added.
Jiang Tian’s mind conjured the image: his delicate wife digging through trash, her dress soiled, sweat-drenched under the scorching sun…
“So she finally understands my intentions… Will she take me back?”
His eyes reddened. A bittersweet ache filled his chest.
The three men exchanged confused glances as Jiang Tian sat motionless, lost in emotion.
Then—
“To Linzhou. Now.” Jiang Tian shot to his feet and strode out.
Nothing mattered anymore—not cultivation, not breakthroughs. Only Zhao Xueqing. He needed to hold her, cherish her, protect her for lifetimes.
“Master Jiang… is a wife-con ?!” The trio stared, dumbfounded.
Two evenings later, a travel-worn Jiang Tian stood before his front door, luggage in hand.
Home. The word warmed his heart.
Click. The lock turned.
The living room was empty—Xueqing wasn’t back yet. Takeout boxes and liquor bottles littered the table.
“Tsk. Drinking now? Bad habit.” He shook his head, rolling up his sleeves to clean.
Thirty minutes later, the apartment sparkled. Jiang Tian headed out for groceries, then returned to the clatter of pots and pans.
