Even if you don't marry, the betrothal gifts will absolutely not be returned

"Go to Martial Soul City."

The three words drifted out from the depths of the Seclusion Chamber, unhurried and steady.

Ye Lingling, still bowed, felt her body stiffen slightly at these words.

Martial Soul City.

That was the lair of Martial Soul Hall, one of the most dangerous places on the entire continent.

With over twenty thousand resident soul masters, Titled Douluo guarding the gates, and Pope Bibi Dong herself holding the reins of power.

For her one month ago—a level thirty-two Soul Elder—going to Martial Soul City would have been no different from courting death.

But things were different now.

Level ninety, Titled Douluo.

That White Jade Pendant had turned her life completely upside down.

"Find a woman named Hu Liena."

Shen Yichen's voice emanated from the Stone Chamber, passing through the stone door where the Dao patterns had already faded, and landed in Ye Lingling's ears.

"Tell her—"

Shen Yichen's words paused.

The pause was brief, lasting only half a breath.

Yet, Ye Lingling inexplicably felt that in those few moments, the unfathomable Celestial Master had been carefully weighing his words.

"These eighteen betrothal gifts were condensed by heaven and earth; they are things she deserves."

Ye Lingling pricked up her ears, not daring to miss a single syllable.

"Even if she is unwilling to marry me in the future—"

Ye Lingling's breath hitched.

"I, Shen Yichen, will never take back even a fraction of these gifts."

Mountain winds poured in through the cracks in the Daoist temple's main gate, blowing the stray hairs on Ye Lingling's forehead.

She remained rooted to the spot.

Not taking them back.

Eighteen betrothal gifts, every single one a supreme treasure capable of making the entire continent fight until they bled.

The Primordial Spirit Bead governed bloodlines, the Fate-Suppressing Cauldron governed destiny, the Severing Thought Sword governed the soul—and there were fifteen more, each more terrifying than the last.

Giving them all away.

Regardless of whether she marries him or not, he would not take them back.

Ye Lingling's mind buzzed.

She had been guarding this mountain since she was thirteen.

For five years, she had polished the Dao patterns, changed the spirit spring water, and cleaned the stone halls, day after day.

The Celestial Master had been in seclusion for a century, and she had only seen the faint, blurry flow of his Dao aura a few times.

In her heart, the Celestial Master was a being of the heavens.

Untouched by the smoke and fire of the mortal world, unburdened by worldly desires, his very bones permeated with the purity of the Dao.

Could such a person really hand over eighteen peerless treasures for a woman without asking for anything in return?

An indescribable sensation welled up in her throat.

It was sour, but not the sourness of grievance.

It was the shock of suddenly discovering that "the Celestial Master is also a man of flesh and blood."

Ye Lingling bit her lower lip, hesitating for two breaths.

"Celestial Master..."

Her voice was very low, barely escaping her throat.

"Is that Miss Hu Liena... your fiancée?"

The moment the question left her lips, her face turned bright red.

This was far too presumptuous.

What right did she, a mere attendant, have to pry into her master's private affairs?

But the words were already out; they could not be taken back.

The Stone Chamber was silent for a breath.

Then—

A soft chuckle.

It was faint and brief, carried on an exhale. But Ye Lingling heard it clearly.

There was a hint of... tenderness in that laugh.

It was not a tenderness meant for her, but a softness that seeped out from the marrow of his bones whenever that name was mentioned.

"I suppose so."

Three words.

Casual and languid, exactly the same tone he used for everything else.

But the ears of Ye Lingling were sharp to the extreme—the tail end of those three words, "I suppose so," dragged just a fraction.

Hidden within that tiny fraction was far too much.

Ye Lingling lowered her head.

A spot in her chest felt blocked.

It wasn't heavy, just a slight obstruction, like choking on a mouthful of food.

Yet she couldn't even fathom what that feeling meant—was she happy for Celestial Master? Or...

She nipped that thought in the bud.

She had no right to think it.

How many years had Celestial Master lived?

His experience, his vision, his realm—they were all levels she could never hope to reach in this lifetime.

Whoever he took a fancy to, he had his own reasons.

And what was she, Ye Lingling?

A little maid who had spent five years wiping Dao patterns on the mountain.

That she could stand here and speak today was only because of a debt owed by her great-grandmother.

Celestial Master had casually tossed a jade pendant at her, and it had smashed her straight into a Titled Douluo.

He hadn't even left her a chance to repay the favor; it had simply overflowed.

What more could she be dissatisfied with?

Ye Lingling swallowed that tiny bit of bitterness, swallowing it until it was completely gone.

"Lingling will remember this."

She bowed her waist even lower.

"Rest assured, Celestial Master, Lingling will convey your exact words to Miss Hu Liena without a single syllable changed."

She paused for a beat.

She couldn't help herself.

"Celestial Master... that Miss Hu Liena, she... what kind of person is she?"

This time, there was no laughter in the Stone Chamber.

Shen Yichen's reply was delayed by two breaths.

"You will know once you go."

Those few words blocked the conversation off completely.

But it wasn't cold.

In those five words, Ye Lingling caught a meaning—Celestial Master himself had never met her.

Never met her?

Eighteen layers of betrothal gifts had been smashed down, the heavens and earth had manifested anomalies three times over, and the arm of Clear Sky Douluo had been severed... and Celestial Master had never even met this Miss Hu Liena?

Ye Lingling's mind spun three times, and the more it spun, the more confused she became.

What kind of woman could make a man who had never met her go to such lengths?

No—what kind of man could go to such lengths for a woman he had never met?

The two questions circled back and forth in her mind, churning into a mess of mush.

Forget it. She would know once she went.

Ye Lingling straightened her waist.

She offered a deep bow, her forehead lowered toward the direction of the Seclusion Chamber.

"Lingling shall depart now."

Shen Yichen did not speak again.

The Stone Chamber returned to that heavy silence, the same as it had been for a hundred years.

Ye Lingling exited the Daoist temple.

Her feet stepped onto the bluestone slab where she had left a shallow mark from her kneeling just moments ago, and her knees still ached.

Looking down, her skirt was half-drenched, her soles were covered in gravel, and the red mark on her forehead burned with a stinging heat.

Her entire appearance was a far cry from the four characters "Title Douluo."

But she did not care.

The gates of Taixu Temple stood behind her.

Ye Lingling glanced back.

Three stone halls, a bell tower, and a path of bluestone.

The hall walls were mottled, and the moss in the crevices of the tiles was glistening, soaked by the morning mist.

A place guarded for three generations.

And one that must continue to be guarded in the future.

But for now, she had a more important matter to attend to.

Ye Lingling turned around, facing the foot of the mountain.

Clouds surged across Tiandang Mountain; looking down from the main peak, the thousand-foot precipice was swallowed by gray-white mist.

In the direction of the mountain's base lay hundreds of miles of rolling hills and plains.

Martial Soul City lay to the south.

Traveling from Tiandang Mountain to Martial Soul City by land would take at least half a month.

But she was now a level ninety Title Douluo—the spiritual veins of her Nine-Heart Begonia had surged countless times under the stimulation of her new spirit ring, and the healing spirit power within her was currently surging beyond reason.

Three days, at most three days.

Ye Lingling stepped onto the edge of the mountain rock, took a deep breath of the cold air scented with pine needles, and then tapped her toes.

Her figure swept down the precipice.

The wind caught her hem, flipping it upward, and the edge of her skirt carved an arc through the clouds and mist.

Tucked against her chest inside her robes, the warmth left behind by the shattered White Jade Pendant had not yet fully dissipated.

Ye Lingling skimmed over the canopy of a pine forest in mid-air, speeding away toward the south.