Lin Xiaosu struck with his sword, furiously slashing at Jian Qingtian, the self-proclaimed foremost man on Huzhou's cultivation path. He confronted him head-on, using the very Sword Dao for which Jian Qingtian was famed across the land.
That sword strike petrified all six sect masters.
That sword strike sent Ning City's people into raptures.
That sword strike even left Fufu with her little mouth slightly open, frozen like a statue.
She was Lin Xiaosu's wife. Whether things had been made official or not, that was how she firmly saw it in her heart. Her reasoning was entirely justified: that day, he had played a soul-stirring tune and personally gone to Qingqiu to propose to her.
That was an invitation.
The moment she nodded, that invitation became a contract.
And she had already nodded.
So he had to acknowledge it.
That was called the rules of the jianghu.
What was more, ever since coming to Jiangnan, he had practically played around with her every day—kissing her, touching her treasures, even having a grand old time with the thing down below that absolutely could not be touched. Tell her, could anyone but a husband play with that?
If she had not been concerned that her nine tails had yet to fully form, she would have given herself to him long ago.
So, this was her husband.
Heaven could bear witness, Third Sister could bear witness—she had fallen for him purely because of that face.
But as she played and played, the owner of that face kept refreshing her understanding of what he could do. He became an official and soared straight up the blue clouds. He came to Jiangnan, uprooted sect after sect, commanded great armies as easily as moving an arm, and replaced prefectural governors as casually as changing clothes.
Today,