Chapter 13: Wailing and Pleading to Acknowledge the Master’s Wife, Senior Uncle Nearly Sent Away

At the moment when Shuai Ge landed in front of Qian Jin, his mind was buzzing, completely dazed. He wasn't the only one—soldiers nearby were staggering, spectators around were wailing, and the young man in white was clutching his foot and sobbing in pain.

"How can there be a mountain falling from the sky!"

Those unaware of the situation assumed some heartless person had dropped a mountain from above. But when the crowd got a clear look at Shuai Ge, tears streamed down their faces. "So ugly, it made me cry!"

"Who dares to cause trouble in my Ascending Cloud Pavilion!"

With a stern shout, more than a dozen figures in white emerged from the courtyard, led by an elderly man in white, exuding the aura of a transcendent sage.

"A cultivator at the Foundation Establishment stage!"

Sensing the pressure from the old man, Qian Jin was instantly excited. He rushed forward, threw his arms around the old man, and began to wail, "Master's wife! I finally found you, waaaah—"

The old man’s previously genial expression instantly darkened to the color of pig’s liver. The white-robed men and women at his side were utterly dumbstruck, and the surrounding soldiers and onlookers turned to stone.

"Brother Qian, your master's wife is indeed a beauty beyond compare, so lovely as to put flowers to shame, make fish sink and birds fall, a peerless enchantress who could topple kingdoms and captivate all living things!" Shuai Ge had already memorized all the phrases Qian Jin used to describe his master's wife, just waiting for the chance to show off in front of her and ask her to introduce him to a wife!

"Pfft—" The old man in white spat out a mouthful of blood and began to topple backward, only to be caught by a few quick disciples.

"You, you—I've lived a hundred and eighty years and never suffered such humiliation. Pfft—" The old man pointed at Qian Jin, so agitated he could barely speak.

"Where did this fool come from, running here to insult my uncle-master! Drag these two idiots out and beat them to death!"

A white-robed young man ground his teeth and ordered the soldiers to beat the two buffoons before him.

"Wait! Wait! I have my master's wife's keepsake!" Qian Jin hurriedly fished out a delicate wooden hairpin from his robes.

"It really is exactly the same!"

Everyone turned to look. They saw that the wooden hairpin in Qian Jin’s hand was identical to the one tucked into the old man’s hair, and their expressions turned strange.

"You—pfft—" The old man in white spat out another mouthful of blood and fainted on the spot.

"Insolence! That hairpin is the standard token of our Ascending Cloud Pavilion elders, and you dare use it to insult my uncle-master! What are your intentions!"

The young man in white angrily snatched the hairpin from Qian Jin, about to smash it, but suddenly caught sight of two large characters carved into it:

"Wanrong"

"That’s Uncle-Master Wanrong’s hairpin!"

The young man in white cried out in alarm, hurriedly inspecting the hairpin himself, confirming it was genuine.

"Whew—so it’s Uncle-Master Wanrong’s. Scared me half to death. I thought..." A white-robed young woman patted her chest; the scene just now had nearly shattered her entire worldview.

But halfway through her sentence, she stopped and glanced at the surrounding disciples. Everyone nodded in unison, clearly as shaken as she was.

"Yes, yes! My master’s wife is indeed Wanrong!" Qian Jin nodded quickly. In his panic, he’d almost forgotten her name.

"Insolent! My Uncle-Master Wanrong has never married, and yet you stand here slandering her reputation with such lies. It is a crime beyond forgiveness!" The young man in white was the first to recover, his anger even greater than before. Who didn’t know that Uncle-Master Wanrong was not only a peerless beauty, but also a master alchemist? She was the dream of countless male cultivators—himself included.

"My master's wife gave this to my master with her own hand! If you don’t believe me, call her out. She’ll definitely recognize me." Qian Jin was indignant.

"Ahem, let me have a look." The old man in white slowly regained consciousness and took the hairpin, examining it repeatedly.

"This is indeed Wanrong Junior Sister's possession, there is no doubt. But why did you insult me the moment we met?" The old man’s body trembled with rage as he glared at Qian Jin.

"Heh, I just got excited because you were dressed like my master’s wife, and I misspoke," Qian Jin scratched his head and grinned sheepishly.

"What! A case of mistaken identity? Then all my praise was for nothing!" Shuai Ge, who had been eagerly awaiting his chance to impress, was instantly deflated.

"Silence!" The old man in white felt himself about to faint again from the antics of this pair of fools.

"Take them back to the sect along with the new disciples. Once we return, we’ll ask Junior Sister Wanrong to verify their identities." Though furious, the old man forced himself to hold back—not because of his own good temper, but because he couldn’t afford to offend Wanrong.

If these really are the disciples of Junior Sister Wanrong’s Dao companion, so be it. But if not, you’re in for it! The old man snorted coldly, already plotting his revenge in his heart.

...

"Little rascal, little handsome lad, carrying a piglet to find Master’s wife—"

"Not afraid of the blazing sun, nor the wild wind and rain—"

"Only afraid Master’s wife will scold me for being lazy, with no spirit stones—"

"Unable to cultivate—"

On the mountain road, atop the carriage, Qian Jin’s cheerful “heavenly song” never ceased. Children in the neighboring carriages soon learned the tune and sang along gleefully.

Outside the carriages, a dozen white-robed men and women rode their tall horses, forced to endure the obnoxious racket, wishing they could drag him out and give him a good beating.

"Brother Wang! What kind of blind master would take a fool like that as a disciple? Do you really think Uncle-Master Wanrong would favor someone like him?"

"There’s no way—it must be fake!"

"Let’s just beat him up and throw him out. I can’t take this anymore!"

"No, no. Elder Zhou said, better safe than sorry. Let’s drag him back and check first. If it turns out he’s lying, then we can avenge our ‘insulted ears’!"

"I’m telling you, it’s definitely fake. Uncle-Master Wanrong is not yet forty and already a peak Foundation Establishment cultivator. Her alchemy skills are unmatched. She’s got tens of thousands of suitors—how could his master be the lucky one?"

"Ah! We’re almost at the sect gate. Let’s just endure a little longer!"

A chorus of voices rose among the white-robed disciples, their opinions unrestrained as Shuai Ge listened nervously.

"Brother Qian, you’d better not have mistaken your family, or we’ll both get skinned alive!" Shuai Ge was starting to panic, but Qian Jin remained calm.

"Relax! My master’s wife is wonderful to me. When she sees me, she’ll be so pleased she might even find you a wife!"

Qian Jin didn’t have a care in the world—after all, he was no fraud.

"Really? Then I’d better make a good impression. I’ll keep practicing my lines. Ah, Master’s wife! You are truly a beauty beyond compare, a peerless enchantress, a goddess among mortals who could topple kingdoms and captivate all living things!"

The moment Shuai Ge heard there was a chance at marriage, his enthusiasm soared and he launched into his performance.

"Ugh—"

"I really can’t take these two blockheads anymore. I’m leaving."

"Hyah—"

"I’m leaving too! Junior Sister Wang, please keep an eye on them!"

"Hey, if you all leave, what am I supposed to do?"

Unable to bear it any longer, several of the white-robed disciples outside the carriages scrambled to escape.

"Brother Qian, look! I’ve moved them so deeply they can’t wait to run back and report to Master’s wife!"