Master, Your Salted Fish Has Arrived - Chapter 19
Sima Jiao looked down at the dying woman in his arms. Blood stained the corner of Liao Tingyan’s lips, her body trembling uncontrollably, her once-rosy cheeks now pale as new snow.
He placed his palm against her abdomen, probing with focused intent. His brows knit tighter with every heartbeat. He had saved her from this affliction before—resolved it completely, or so he believed. How could it have returned? By all reason, his blood should have suppressed it. Even if that had failed, the Moon Shadow Lotus she consumed afterward should have neutralized any lingering poison. Unless… unless what lurked within her was not the demonic poison he had assumed.
The methods of the Demon Realm were proving far less simple than he once thought. But then—wasn’t she a spy sent from there? How could a so-called spy be undone by the same curse, once, then twice?
Without hesitation, he lifted her and stepped out of the steaming pool. On the ground, her body curled in agony, but his hand forced her straight again. Her lashes fluttered, her breath shallow, her pain so raw it seemed death itself would claim her.
Crash—
A crystal lamp shattered beneath his grip, fragments scattering in a spray of light. Pale-yellow phosphorescence burst free, scattering as fireflies across the dark hall. He did not spare them a glance. Pressing his bleeding palm against her mouth, he let the blood flow.
If one drop could not suppress it, he would drown the poison in more.
The blood of the Feng Mountain clan was the world’s most potent elixir. And his blood—tempered by the Spirit Fire burning within him day and night—was purer than any medicine under heaven. In truth, it was no longer blood, but living flame and divine remedy. Once, countless sought to claim it; once, he would rather let it soak the ground than give a drop to his enemies. Yet now, he gave it freely to her—more than a drop, more than he had ever given to anyone.
If Shi Qianlü, who had coveted it for so long, saw this, he would weep with envy.
But Liao Tingyan clenched her teeth, too far gone in pain to drink. His blood spilled down her chin and throat. His patience snapped. With a hard grip, he forced her jaw open—yet he restrained his strength, aware that one careless tug could shatter her. Strange. In his lifetime he had only killed, but the few times he had stayed his hand, it was always because of her.
Finally, frustration overcoming reason, Sima Jiao bit into his own wrist, filled his mouth with blood, and sealed her lips with his. He poured the medicine directly into her, again and again. Perhaps too much—for soon, the deathly pallor of her skin flushed too quickly, reddening as though she were being boiled alive.
Sima Jiao froze, staring. “…Saving someone is far more troublesome than killing them.”
Ruthlessly practical, he tore open her sachet, pulled out the Feng Mountain Blood Coagulation Flower, crushed several petals, and shoved them past her lips, forcing her to swallow. His solution was as crude as it was absolute: if her body could not withstand his blood, then he would simply raise her cultivation until it could.
By the time he stopped, the bone-corroding poison had been eradicated—and her cultivation had skyrocketed, tearing through realms as if the heavens themselves had bent before him. From the lowest stages, she bypassed Foundation Establishment, Golden Core, Nascent Soul… until at last she stood at Divine Transformation. A level higher than her own master, beyond what most cultivators would achieve in thousands of years. She had reached it in three hours, courtesy of one man’s reckless will.
When Liao Tingyan awoke, she sat in a daze. In her consciousness bloomed a crimson flower, vast power radiating from it. Her senses unfurled like wings—she could see through walls, hear the flutter of distant cranes, feel the wind off waterfalls below White Deer Cliff. Power filled her, intoxicating, terrifying.
Her gaze dropped to the man beside her.
Sima Jiao lay pale, lips drained of their usual red, his hand still resting over her abdomen. The wound on it had not healed.
“In this world, few can harm me,” his voice came low, as if he had been awake all along. “But my body does not heal as easily as others. A price of what I am.”
Liao Tingyan stared at him. “…Why are you telling me your weakness?”
The weight of his words pressed on her. Was she already too deep in his world?
Then, abruptly: “Do you know how much of my blood you drank?”
Her hand flew to her mouth. The realization sickened her. Human blood. She had actually—
“If you dare to vomit, I’ll kill you.”
“Gulp.”
She swallowed hard, face twisted, her mind screaming about science and medicine and how none of this should make sense. But he gave no room for such thoughts. He leaned close, pinching her chin, his eyes gleaming with that unsettling calm.
“Now that you stand at Divine Transformation, tell me—do you want to kill me?”
“No.”
“Do you crave more power?”
“…No.”
“Do you want to leave me?”
“…No.”
Three denials, but the last shocked her most. Did she really mean it?
Sima Jiao’s gaze lingered, strange and unreadable. “Are you here to seduce me with your beauty?”
Her response was instant, sharp: “No!”
“Good.”
Without further ceremony, he pulled her into his arms, using her as a pillow, closing his eyes as though she were nothing more than something soft and warm to rest upon.
Her mind reeled. What kind of twisted logic was that?
And yet, as she lay stiffly against him, her newfound senses roamed, her thoughts wandering across White Deer Cliff like a child with a new toy. She could see everything, from the orchids in the waterfall mist to the lazy snake outside the hall that kept sliding down its pillar. For a moment, she almost forgot the man holding her was the most dangerous being alive.
Until a cool hand pressed against her face, dragging her back.
“Don’t wander outside,” Sima Jiao murmured, eyes still closed. “Here, none dare trespass. Out there, countless divine senses wait. Stray too far, and one brush against them will shatter your mind.”
Her blood chilled.
She whispered obediently, “Oh.”
Since she couldn’t play with divine sense anymore, Liao Tingyan decided to play with something else.
Her gaze fell on a crystal lamp floating nearby. With a blink, it drifted obediently into her hand. She caught it with a grin, her mind racing. Perfect. In the future, if I want to eat or grab something while lying in bed, I won’t even need to move. Just a thought, and it comes to me!
She sneaked a glance at Sima Jiao—no reaction, his eyes still closed. Good. Slowly, she pulled out her sachet, filled with snacks the puppet servants had prepared. She wasn’t hungry, but this was too good an opportunity to test her brand-new lazy secret technique.
Tiny grapes, no bigger than her fingernails, floated into the air. She willed them to detach one by one, hovering toward her mouth like obedient servants. She leaned back, lips parted, waiting like a baby bird to be fed.
But just as the first grape was about to drop into her mouth—it swerved.
Plop. Straight into Sima Jiao’s mouth.
Liao Tingyan froze. Wait. Didn’t this ancestor not eat?
Sima Jiao bit down on the grape, opened one eye lazily, and let his voice cut like a blade:
“You’re a fake Divine Transformation cultivator, aren’t you? With just a flick, I can snatch it away.”