Things Went Wrong After Killing My Husband to Prove My Dao

 Chapter 19: You Don't Have The Final Say

　　The last shred of hope shattered.

　　Rong Zhao stared blankly at the ceiling, his arms limply wrapped around Ming Chen's neck, as if he had lost his soul.

　　He felt a profound pain, not in his body, but a hollow ache in his heart, as if a void had been gouged out of it.

　　Rong Zhao didn't know what was wrong with him. The combination of his shattered immortal essence, the lightning injuries, and the constant torment he was enduring left him utterly exhausted.

　　He passed out.

　　Even in his unconsciousness, he couldn't find peace. 

       He didn't know how much time had passed when Rong Zhao vaguely heard someone softly whisper "Venerable One" in his ear.

　　He opened his eyes groggily, and immediately let out a soft, involuntary moan as he was thrust from below, a sound that was hoarse yet tender, laced with an intoxicating, seductive allure.

　　Ming Chen froze at the sound, then sealed Rong Zhao's lips with a kiss, a kiss so fierce and heavy as if he wanted to crush him in his arms.

　　...

　　The sky outside seemed to have darkened.

　　Rong Zhao was so exhausted that he couldn't even lift his arms. He lay in Ming Chen's arms with his eyes half-closed. After a moment, he mustered a little strength and pushed him away.

　　"Get lost."

　　Rong Zhao's voice was cold and hoarse, with a faint, barely perceptible nasal twang that made it sound strangely soft.

　　To Ming Chen, it sounded no different from seduction.

　　He chuckled, playing with Rong Zhao's hair with a rather pleasant mood, his expression thoughtful: "The Venerable One cultivates the Path of Ruthlessness, truly ruthless. Even in a moment like this, you can still utter the words 'get lost'. Your Dao heart is so steadfast, it's probably unbreakable."

　　After saying that, he released the strands of hair, reached out and pressed his hand on Rong Zhao's Adam's apple, gently rubbing it.

　　Rong Zhao frowned.

　　“You…” He barely managed to utter a word when he nearly bit his tongue, his voice cracked and wavered, “…Get out.”

　　“You don’t have the final say now.” Ming Chen didn’t care about his harsh words at all. He supported Rong Zhao’s waist and gently laid him down on the bed. Then he leaned down and pressed his forehead against Rong Zhao’s, his voice so gentle it seemed to drip with affection, “For Venerable One to take a mortal as Said Companion and have never experienced true dual cultivation, you must have suffered quite a grievance.”

　　Such sudden movement made Rong Zhao uncomfortable, he struggled only to be easily subdued.

　　Ming Chen seemed gentle in every way, yet he didn’t allow for any refusal and didn’t care much about him. It was as if this gentleness was just an innate upbringing, merely a cruel facade.

　　Completely different from Meng Zhifan.

　　“Don’t mention him…” Rong Zhao couldn’t resist and could only grip the blankets tightly, gritting his teeth to endure the wave of discomfort as he panted softly, “You… you are not him.”

　Ming Chen didn’t refute this.

　　Mortal or High Immortal, in the heart bound by the path of ruthlessness, there was probably no difference, so why waste words to argue?

　　He simply kissed Rong Zhao's eyes and lips, personally guiding him as he had done back in Cuiyu Residence: "So-called dual cultivation is not just about physical pleasure, it involves the primordial spirit as well... like this."

       ...

　　... ...

　　Rong Zhao's eyes widened suddenly.

　　The barrier of his spiritual consciousness had been breached.

　　His primordial spirit was like a drop of water, teetered on the verge of collapse. After a few futile struggles, it finally fell into the vast and boundless primordial spirit, swallowed up, squeezed, and crushed...

　　Ripples spread outward, trembling and swaying as a monstrous wave suddenly surged within his spiritual platform.

　　Rong Zhao's mind went completely blank.

　　He vaguely heard a sobbing sound in his ears, so helpless, so weak, as if it would stop breathing at any moment.

　　After a long time, Rong Zhao realized that it was himself crying.

　　Ming Chen wiped away the tears from the corners of his eyes, silenced his sobs with a kiss, murmuring against his lips, "I thought the Venerable One was heartless and didn't know what tears were."

　　Rong Zhao couldn't hear anything, trembling like a fallen leaf.

　　He completely unraveled amidst the unprecedented terrifying pleasure.

　　His consciousness was easily crushed into dust while his body became a prison, trapping him in this inescapable affair, from day to night, from sunrise to sunset. 　　—

       …..

　　A 　　gentle breeze drifted in through the half-open window, stirring the sheer gauze curtains. 

　　Rong Zhao slowly opened his eyes. 

　　His wounds seemed to have been simply treated, and a garment had been thoughtfully placed over him, concealing the unsightly marks that covered his frame. 

　　Rong Zhao turned over and slowly got up. The robe draped loosely over his shoulder.  His long, Raven black hair falling down, veiling his face and obscuring his expression. 

　　He looked down at his hands. 

　　…A crippled immortal. 　　

   The rules revealed by the Heavenly Dao mentioned this type of person. Their Dantian was shattered, leaving only a small amount of immortal essence. They possessed a lifespan of only two hundred years and no longer the subject to trials of tribulations.

 　　Unless they coulf re-attain the Dao and regained the Heavenly Dao's approval.

 　　However, such things rarely happen; a crippled immortal who managed to re-attain the Dao appeared perhaps once in a millennium.

　Rong Zhao frowned, not understanding why Ming Chen didn't just kill him directly. 

　　He didn't feel that being forced into dual cultivation was a great humiliation, nor did he feel any shame or pain, and he certainly had no intention of seeking death over it.

 　　For him, becoming a crippled immortal was the most unbearable fate of all.

 　　However, yesterday had indeed been grueling, perhaps it counted as a form of torture in its own right.

　　Rong Zhao carefully assessed his situation. After a moment of reflection, he concluded that things hadn't reached the worst point yet. 

　　Since he was still alive, he still had a chance to re-attain the Dao. And since Ming Chen dared to keep him by his side for amusement and torment, then one day he would find a suitable opportunity— 　　to skin and dismember this High Immortal who had deceived him and feed the remains to the dogs.

 　　After 　　roughly thinking about what to do, Rong Zhao got dressed, carefully trying not to aggravate the injury in that area, then climbed out of bed, only to discover that his Rao Zhi Rou was missing.

 　　There was a spiritual bond between a natal weapon and its master. 

　　Without the weapon, he felt deeply insecure. 

　　After thinking for a while, Rong Zhao decided to go and see if he could steal it back.

 　　An incense stick time later.

         Rong Zhao was caught.

　　His clothes were extremely thin, barely covering his body, held together only by a belt. Anyone with a shred of shame wouldn't run around dressed like that.

　　Unfortunately, Venerable Rong possessed no such modesty.

　　When Ming Chen caught him, he struggled and recklessly kicked the High Immortal, causing his robes to slit and slip down, revealing several dark bruises on his thighs.

　　Ming Chen seized his ankle, pulled him into his arms, and kissed him.

　　Then Rong Zhao grabbed his neck.

　　"You want to kill me?" Ming Chen chuckled, casually flicking his fingers. "Let go."

　　Rong Zhao didn't loosen his grip, instead tightening his hold, coldly asking, "You aren't going kill me?"

　　"No, I won't kill you" Ming Chen replied bluntly. 

-

     Even among immortal lords, things weren't always smooth sailing; occasional clashes were inevitable.

　　But deaths in the immortal capital carried too heavy a karmic burden, and over time, an unspoken rule emerged.

　　When an immortal lord is defeated, their lives is spared; they are merely demoted to crippled immortals. This is considered their death, and past grudges are forgotten.

　　Consequently, while the number of immortals being demoted to crippled immortals due to repeated failures to transcend tribulations are actually rare in the Heavenly Sea Realm; the total number of crippled immortals remains significant.

　　This is precisely why.

　　-

　　Rong Zhao, being new to the capital, was naturally unaware of this rule. Hearing Ming Chen say "no killing," his expression relaxed slightly.

　　For some reason, the thought that Ming Chen might be lying never even crossed his mind. 

　　Deep down, he still harbored an instinctive, deep-seated trust in this white-robed, silver-haired High immortal before him, yet he was oblivious to it, simply accepting Ming Chen's words without question.

　　"What are you looking for by running out like this?" Ming Chen finally pried the other's fingers loose, and after a moment's thought, he guessed, "The Rao Zhi Rou?"

　　"My thing, give it back."

　　Ming Chen took out that cluster of crystalline thin threads from his sleeve.

　　Rong Zhao was stunned.

　　Since the Rao Zhi Rau was right there on Ming Chen, his search here had been nothing short of walking into a trap.

　　...

　　No wonder he was caught.

　　Just as he was about to reach for it, the Rao Zhi Rau suddenly became unruly, trembling on its own, then nimbly wrapped around his body, as if turning against its master, binding him tightly.

　　Rong Zhao: "?"

　　"When did I say I'd return it to you?" Ming Chen picked him up, saying calmly, "This isn't Cuiyu Mountain; your word doesn't count."

　　-

　　Rong Zhao was taken back to the room and thrown onto the bed.

　　With Rong Zhao's meager immortal essence, it was normal for his natal weapon to be forcibly controlled by a High Immortal. But for Venerable Rong, this was a great insult, even more unbearable than being forced into dual cultivation.

　　Rong Zhao struggled fiercely, trying to regain control of the Rao Zhi Rau.

    "Don't move." Ming Chen leaned in close, his fingertips brushing against the glistening threads wrapped around his thigh, " You will chafe your skin ."

      The thin thread bound him tightly, the slender, white flesh of his legs peeked out from the crisscrossing gaps, revealing faint red marks where the binding bit into his skin.

　　Rong Zhao couldn't break free and finding that struggling only caused him sharp pain, he finally quieted down. He fixed a chilling, icy glare towards Ming Chen.

　　"What exactly do you want?"

　　"To collect a debt." As Ming Chen spoke, he loosened his sash while planting light kisses at his earlobe, his warm breath brushing against his ear. "Since you coaxed my avatar into becoming your Dao Companion, then naturally, I will collect all the Dao Companion responsibilities you haven't fulfilled in the past two years. Let's start with... serving me in bed every day."

　　Rong Zhao was pushed down onto the bed.

　　Silver strands of hair brushed against his cheeks, tickling him.

　　He lay on his back, forced to submit, quietly watching Ming Chen for a long while, then suddenly a smile curled at the corners of his lips.

　　Rong Zhao's smile was actually quite beautiful.

　　Ming Chen's movements faltered slightly, and he couldn't help but soften his touch, brushing aside the disheveled hair on Rong Zhao's face: "What are you thinking about?" 

    "I... I was thinking," Rong Zhao murmured, his expression languid to the point of haziness. Swallowing the groan that nearly escaped his lips, he paused, then said softly, "That face of yours... if it were peeled off... bloodied and raw, it would definitely... look very beautiful... ugh!"

　　The light gauze curtains hung low, swaying gently, from which occasionally a broken cry escaped.

　　In the midst of the chaos, Rong Zhao bit the Immortal Ming Chen's hand, fiercely, almost tearing off a piece of flesh.

　　As punishment, the next day, Rong Zhao was chained up with a thin silver chain.

Things Went Wrong After Killing My Husband to Prove My Dao

 Chapter 18: I Am Your Deceased Husband

　　A quarter of an hour ago, Rong Zhao arrived at the Heavenly Gate.

　　The Heavenly Gate shone brilliantly, like a thin veil or light silk, its misty light enveloping everything, almost blinding Venerable Rong.

　　He rubbed his eyes, leaned against the white jade pillar of the Heavenly Gate archway, and sat down, pressing a hand to his chest in discomfort.

　　The heavy weight of karma pressed down on him, making it hard to breathe, his ears ringing, his vision flickering between black and white, fragmented and disjointed.

　　Rong Zhao didn't know what was happening, simply assumed that he was new to the Immortal Capital and not used to it.

　　Before ascension, the Heavenly Dao had only outlined the general rules; the rest of the details had to be figured out on his own. If a senior Immortal Lord was willing to guide him, he could avoid some detours, or a High Immortal could use secret methods could have discerned the cause.

　　Unfortunately, Rong Zhao had absolutely no intention of befriending anyone.

　　Nor did he know how.

　　-

　　When Ming Chen arrived, this was the scene he witnessed.

　　A black-clad, black-haired immortal lord sat beneath a white jade pillar, bound by heavy karma, his body covered in a chaotic, inexplicable aura of malevolence, looking thoughtfully disheveled and grimy.

　　...

　　How could he be in such a wretched state even after ascending?

      Just yesterday, he was perfectly clean; yet in a mere day Ming Chen hadn't been watching over him, and he ended up in this state.

　　Ming Chen had a strange feeling, like he'd picked up a stray dog.

　　But thinking about it, it made sense. Given Rong Zhao's vengeful nature, he'd probably killed many people after gaining power. He didn't know how to dispel the evil energy, nor did he know that an Immortal Lord carrying such a heavy evil energy could easily lead to a life-or-death tribulation, so he let these filthy things cling to him as he made his way to the Immortal Capital.

　　In a daze, Immortal Ming Chen had a strange illusion—that Rong Zhao, knowing nothing of the world, couldn't possibly survive without him.

　　This illusion made his heart inexplicably soften .

　　But the next instant, that softness vanished without a trace.

　　Rong Zhao raised his head, glanced at him, and coldly asked, "Who are you?"

　　The wind blew through the Heavenly Gate along the jade-paved street, ruffling Ming Chen's long, silvery hair.

　　His true form wasn't much different from his avatar, only his hair color was different, his features weren't as soft as Meng Zhifan's, and his temperament was slightly more aloof.

　　Ming Chen thought of this.

　　Perhaps Rong Zhao had forgotten. Or perhaps he simply never cared about the mortal who died by his sword, which was why he couldn't even recognize such a subtle change.

　　-

　　The newcomer remained silent.

　　Rong Zhao couldn't help but squint.

　　The light near the Heavenly Gate was bright, coupled with the white jade floor tiles and the white jade archway, and the person was dressed entirely in white.

　　The tinnitus grew increasingly intense; his vision was fragmented into a chaotic mosaic of black and white, he could only see a blurry mass, barely discernible as a human shape.

　　"Who are you?" Rong Zhao asked again, forcing himself to stand despite the cold sweat beading on his forehead. He condensed a long sword from the Rao Zhi Rou in his hand and raised it slightly to point it directly at Ming Chen, "What do you want?"

　　...That very sword had once pierced his heart, causing excruciating pain.

　　Yet, only a day later, it was pointing at him again.

　　"Who am I?" Ming Chen sighed softly, abandoning all pity and soft-heartedness. He took a step forward, instantly appearing behind him, and said in a low voice, "I am merely a High Immortal from the Heavenly Sea Realm."

　　A vast surge of immortal essence rushed in, unstoppable and overwhelming, almost frantically annihilating the opponent's immortal essences with near maniacal ferocity.

　　Rong Zhao was bewildered, not knowing what was happening.

　　He only felt a sudden lightness throughout his body; the heavy burden that had been pressing down on him since entering the Immortal Capital had vanished, leaving him feeling light and airy, as if floating on clouds.

　　Suddenly, a sweet, metallic taste rose in his throat, and blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

　　Then he vomited several mouthfuls of dark red, viscous blood.

　　Blood continued to gush from his mouth, and the belated excruciating pain almost shattered him instantly, draining the color from his face until he turned deathly pale.

　　Unable to keep his footing, he collapsed to the ground.

　　The relentless, agonizing pain slowly eroded Rong Zhao, leaving him unable to even scream. He curled up on the ground, trembling and struggling, his vision blurred by blood. His fingers dug gruesome bloody scratches into the white jade tiles.

　　All these years had passed, yet he felt as if he were still trapped at the bottom of the 199 steps of Crimson Dragon Mountain.

　　Pathetic, weak, utterly vulnerable.

　　Subjected to humiliation.

　　Suddenly, he felt a lightness in his body; he was lifted up like a blood-soaked rag.

　　Among the various tribulations sent down by Heaven, the four tribulations of wind, thunder, rain, and fire correspond to the four towers of the Heavenly Sea Realm. Immortals who received their tribulations would go to their respective towers to undergo the tribulation.

　　The thunder from the Thunder Tower could refine malevolent energy.

　　Ming Chen carried the half-dead Rong Zhao straight to the Thunder Tower.

　　Each level of the Thunder Tower had forty-nine bolts of heavenly thunder; the higher one went, the stronger the thunder became.

　　Ming Chen brought him to the first level.

　　He sat not far away, watching Rong Zhao futilely try to summon the Rao Zhi Rou, his weapon to block the heavenly thunder. The crystalline threads would wear a cocoon like shield, only to be repeatedly cleaved, leaving his clothes torn and his body covered in countless red welts resembling whip marks, like a butterfly struggling in its death throes.

　　Its wings were riddled with holes and wounds; in the end, it could only curl up into a ball and tremble slightly.

　　...

　　Ming Chen suddenly felt restless.

　　He felt he had gone too far, but upon reflection, compared to what Rong Zhao had done to him, it didn't seem so excessive.

　　Even so, he stood up nonetheless.

　　To Immortal Ming Chen, the lightning strikes on this level were as weak as raindrops, easily brushed away.

　　"I've heard that the Thunder Tower was originally built to punish sinners," he said, lifting his robes and crouching beside Rong Zhao. His voice, deep and soft amidst the deafening thunder, was like a lover's whisper. "This tower contains forty-nine bolts of heavenly thunders. Sinners are imprisoned here, suppressed layer by layer, never to rise again. You are here..."

　　He wanted to ask if he felt even a little regret .

　　A hand reached out, interrupting him. 

　　A trembling, bloodstained hand, with a bright red lightning wound across the back, gripped his robes tightly.

　　There was not a trace of remorse.

　　If it had claws, it might have torn a piece of flesh from his body.

　　"I..." Rong Zhao's voice was weak and barely audible, almost drowned out by the thunder, yet filled with a chilling hatred. "I have no grudge against the Immortal... we just met for the very first time... why... why torment me to this extent—!"

　　"No grudge? Just met?" Ming Chen repeated softly, feeling a void in his heart. He looked down at him, remained silent for a long time, and then said softly, "It seems your memory isn't very good."

　　After a moment, estimating that the malevolent energy had been refined enough, he picked up Rong Zhao and left the Thunder Tower.

　　-

　　"Splash—"

　　A dark figure was thrown into the warm pool, a layer of blood rising to the surface.

　　Rong Zhao was caught off guard and drowned. He thrashed around for a few moments before reaching the edge of the pool, coughing repeatedly.

　　His soaked, tattered clothes clung tightly to his body, outlining his slender waist. 

　　His wet hair clung to his pale face, water droplets sliding down his bloodless lips. His eyes glistened from the water, tinged with a slightly reddish hue.

       Amidst his disheveled state, there was a hint of pitiful vulnerability.

　　He was soaking wet in the water, then quickly scooped out, still dripping wet, and carried to the bed.

　　The embrace was surprisingly gentle.

　　Silver-white hair fell down, tangling with his black hair. Nose to nose, a warm touch brushed against his cool lips.

　　Rong Zhao finally saw Ming Chen's face clearly. 

     The instant he saw it, his pupils constricted, as if his heart had suddenly plunged into an icy abyss. Instinctively, he gripped the sheets beneath him, his hands clenching so tightly the veins on the back of his hands bulged.

　　"You..." Rong Zhao murmured, feeling like he was dreaming, "Who are you?"

　　This was the third time Ming Chen had heard this question.

　　He didn't answer, but simply reached out to strip Rong Zhao of his clothes. The clothes were tattered from being struck by lightning, easily torn off.

　　Beneath lay a fair skinned body covered in dark red welts, crisscrossing like a dense network of whip marks.

　　And that wasn't all.

　　There were also the bruises and bite marks from the previous day in the cave, a mix of old and new, blue and purple.

　　Ming Chen's eyes darkened slightly as he gently traced a mark on Rong Zhao's collarbone with his fingertip, his other hand supporting his waist.

　　The temperature of his fingertips was like a red-hot iron, the touch sending a chill down Rong Zhao's spine.

　　For some reason, Rong Zhao shivered slightly.

　　He stared intently at that face, so familiar, yet not quite right, feeling as though his consciousness detached from his body, drifting aimlessly like duckweed on the water.

　　This wasn't Meng Zhifan, Rong Zhao thought. An Immortal Lord’s avatar could retain memories and 20% of their immortal essence, while Meng Zhifan was just an ordinary mortal.

　　He had clearly asked about his origins and even secretly visited the village where Meng Zhifan used to live; everyone there knew him.

　　Dao Companions did not lie to each other.

　　Meng Zhifan wouldn't lie.

　　...

　　... ...

　　He suddenly trembled and let out a muffled groan.

　　Rong Zhao was badly injured and had no strength to struggle, but he felt real pain, so much so that he broke out in a cold sweat.

　　His disheveled black hair clung to his body, damp and heavy with moisture, as if he were being forced to drown, like a nightmare from which he could not escape.

　　The other man leaned down, kissing and licking his bloodless lips until they were rosy and moist, and his cheeks flushed with a faint peach-like color.

　　"Who am I?" The hot, damp breath brushed against his ear as the object inside him began to move.

　　Although not very rough, it was hardly gentle either, and Rong Zhao winced in pain.

　　He arched his neck and struggled weakly, trying to pull away, but was grabbed by the waist and pressed back down.

　　"Mmm..."

　　Rong Zhao's lips trembled, opening and closing silently, a hoarse, dying sound escaping his throat, his clear black eyes turning red and moist, his fingertips scratching futilely at Ming Chen's back.

　　Ming Chen raised her hand, her fingers threading through his damp hair, and cupped the back of his head, whispering in his ear in a low and gentle voice, "I am your deceased husband."

　　Author's Note:

　　Some readers are wondering why the High Immortal's avatar died, but the tribulation of love was not considered passed.

　　To overcome the tribulation of love, one must either completely let go of the relationship or become a couple. The High Immortal did neither, so he didn't overcome it.