Chapter 150: Nalan Jing’s Obsession with Being Kidnapped, Master and Disciple Reunite
Chapter 150 – Nalan Jing’s Obsession with Being Kidnapped, Master and Disciple Reunite
Seeing that Nalan Jing had seen through his crude facade, Wu Li instantly plastered on a sycophantic smile.
“The Holy Lord is indeed the Holy Lord. Truly observant.”
“The Seventy-Two Wolf Smokes and the Purple Mansion Holy Land are essentially one family. This time, the flood simply washed over the Dragon King’s temple.”
“I offer my deepest apologies. How about I personally escort you back on another day?”
“No.”
Nalan Jing rejected Wu Li’s proposal with razor-sharp finality.
Wu Li: “???”
“Wait, why not?”
“Every soul across the Middle Heavens knows you kidnapped me. If I return now without a single coin of ransom paid,”
“the world will assume the Seventy-Two Wolf Smokes weren’t after wealth, but my virtue. What would become of my reputation?”
“Can’t you just order the Purple Mansion Holy Land to pay the ransom?”
“I cannot. I am currently not the one holding the reins of the Purple Mansion Holy Land.”
“Then why don’t you return first, and send the ransom later?”
“No ransom, no return.”
Wu Li: “……”
Why do I get the feeling you are intentionally latching onto me?
Faced with Nalan Jing’s impenetrable obstinacy, Wu Li paced the room in frantic circles.
“What in the world is wrong with your Purple Mansion Holy Land?!”
“Your own Holy Lord is kidnapped, and they aren’t the least bit anxious?”
“You will have to ask Chen Changsheng. He is the sovereign of the Purple Mansion Holy Land now. If he does not nod, who would dare lift a finger?”
Hearing this, Wu Li almost cursed the heavens aloud.
“I yield. Why did the Sir have to send such an insufferable burden over to me?”
“What did you just call Chen Changsheng?”
Nalan Jing’s eyes narrowed into dangerous slits.
Swish!
The exasperation vanished from Wu Li’s face in an instant, replaced by a glacial killing intent that flooded the wooden room.
“You should not have asked that. Now, you truly cannot leave.”
“Since you are so fond of this place, stay put. Do not even think of wandering.”
With those cold words, Wu Li turned and strode out. A heavy, oppressive restriction instantly enveloped the wooden hut.
Watching Wu Li’s retreating figure, the corners of Nalan Jing’s lips curled upward.
Idly tracing the unique embroidery on his pillow, Nalan Jing murmured, “Upright, impervious to beauty, and meticulous despite his rough exterior. Truly a fine specimen of a man.”
“However, it seems I have unearthed a rather perilous secret. Looks like I won’t be returning to the outside world anytime soon!”
With that, Nalan Jing unceremoniously collapsed onto Wu Li’s bed and closed her eyes.
With her spiritual essence sealed and her movements bound, slumber was her only weapon against the encroaching boredom.
……
Time crawled forward. Zi Ning and Gongsun Huaiyu plunged into an endless abyss of slaughter.
“Huben” and “Meiying” carved their names into the memories of the Middle Heavens, bathed in the blood of countless battles.
Concurrently, the Seventy-Two Wolf Smokes barraged the Holy Land with ransom demands.
The first time, the Purple Mansion Holy Land trembled with tension, and Chen Changsheng deigned to write a single reply.
By the second time, he did not even bother to lift his brush.
After the Seventy-Two Wolf Smokes hurled over ten extortion letters, the Great Elder finally ventured into the “Sea of Learning,” conversing with Chen Changsheng for a full hour.
An hour later, the Great Elder emerged from the depths of the archive.
And then… the Purple Mansion Holy Land proceeded exactly as before.
They accepted every letter without fail, but as for the ransom? Not a single copper coin was offered.
Met with such icy indifference, the Seventy-Two Wolf Smokes’ exorbitant demands dwindled time and time again.
By the third month, Nalan Jing was simply dumped back on their doorstep.
Yes, unceremoniously discarded, utterly unharmed.
Nalan Jing’s return sparked immense jubilation throughout the Purple Mansion Holy Land. Even the Third Elder, entrenched in Secluded Cultivation, personally emerged to greet her.
……
“Holy Lord, you have suffered!”
Lin Kaishan proclaimed, his face flushed with emotion. The suffocating weight pressing down on the Purple Mansion disciples finally vanished.
It seemed Chen Changsheng had not orchestrated her demise after all. Had the Seventy-Two Wolf Smokes harmed her, the sect might have been forced to execute their beloved Holy Son.
“Third Elder, there is no need for concern. I am perfectly fine.”
Nalan Jing brushed off their concern with a few absentminded pleasantries, her gaze immediately sweeping through the gathered crowd.
Soon, the predator she sought materialized.
Chen Changsheng, unseen for three months, approached her directly, whispering words meant only for her ears.
Slowly, a razor-sharp glint reignited in Nalan Jing’s eyes.
“This method will track him?”
“Rest assured. No one understands the shadows of the Seventy-Two Wolf Smokes better than I do.”
“Excellent. Then I shall take my leave.”
Without a sliver of hesitation, Nalan Jing soared into the heavens, leaving the entire congregation staring in absolute bewilderment.
Glancing at the sky where their Holy Lord had just vanished, then back at their unnervingly serene Holy Son, the crowd stood paralyzed.
Everyone: “……”
We think we are beginning to understand.
“The Holy Lord has been violently abducted by the Seventy-Two Wolf Smokes. The Purple Mansion Holy Land and the Seventy-Two Wolf Smokes now share an irreconcilable blood feud.”
“From this day forth, absolutely no one in the Purple Mansion Holy Land is permitted to contact the Seventy-Two Wolf Smokes.”
Tossing out those two hollow decrees, Chen Changsheng turned and left.
With that “minor interlude” concluded, the Purple Mansion Holy Land resumed its relentless machinations.
A month later, Nalan Jing was unceremoniously tossed back once more.
However, this time, not a single soul emerged to welcome her. And precisely as everyone predicted, Nalan Jing promptly sought out her own “kidnapping” yet again.
One month, two months, three months…
The intervals between Nalan Jing’s returns stretched longer and longer.
A full year later, Nalan Jing returned yet again.
But this time, a man walked firmly by her side. Though no one formally announced his identity,
every cultivator in the Middle Heavens knew exactly who he was. After all, the Purple Mansion Holy Land’s theatrical “kidnapping crisis” had dragged on for an entire year!
If anyone still failed to deduce the deceitful game the Holy Land was playing, they were better off severing their own heads.
Following Nalan Jing’s return, a few “monumental shifts” rocked the sect, yet strangely, they triggered no internal strife.
Wu Li seamlessly ascended the throne as the new Holy Lord, and the Purple Mansion Holy Land birthed a new shadowy legion named the Seventy-Two Earth Fiends.
The usurpation flowed without a single objection. Not a whisper of dissent surfaced from within the sect or the wider world.
To the uninitiated masses, Wu Li was merely blessed by the heavens; never in history had a Holy Land transferred its supreme mantle with such eerie tranquility.
But the “lucky” Wu Li knew the terrifying truth.
He hadn’t ascended the throne through heavenly providence. He sat there because a predator had meticulously slaughtered every obstacle in his fated path.
……
Sea of Learning.
Stepping into the boundless abyss of ancient tomes, Wu Li finally laid eyes upon that familiar, sovereign figure.
Gazing at his back, Wu Li—a man who could stare into the abyss of death without blinking—felt his eyes burn red.
“You have a wife and an empire now. Shed those childish tendencies.”
“I have woven a Formation here. No divine intent can pierce this space.”
“Master!”
Wu Li choked out the word, his voice trembling as hot tears shattered his stoic facade.
In this isolated sanctuary, the dreaded warlord was reduced to a child who had finally earned his ultimate triumph.
Standing before the shadow that had silently guided his fate, the overwhelming torrent in his Dao heart could only manifest as tears.
A lifetime of gratitude, reverence, and filial devotion spilled forth—emotions too profound for the mundane tongues of men.
Seeing this, Chen Changsheng rose from the sea of texts and reached out, wiping the tears from A-Li’s face.
“Why weep? The throne you sit upon today is the fruit of your own ruthless tempering. I merely gave you a final push.”
“The stage has been forged. How you dance upon it is entirely up to you.”