Master, Your Salted Fish Has Arrived - Chapter 43
When the Mistress of the Moon Palace learned of her daughter Yue Chuhui’s death, she nearly went mad. In her lifetime, she had borne only this one daughter, raised like a pearl in her palm—yet now that precious child had perished without warning. Her soul was scattered, impossible to retrieve, leaving not even a chance for reincarnation.
The Moon Palace Mistress’s eyes turned blood-red as she led a vast retinue of Moon Palace disciples toward Purple Mane Mountain.
The once-grand palace was now drenched in the stench of death. Everyone who arrived beheld a mountain of corpses and rivers of blood. The Moon Palace Mistress ignored all else, rushing straight into the inner hall. Yue Chuhui’s body had been left untouched, guarded by trembling attendants who dared not move it.
The Mistress fell to her knees at the sight. Her daughter’s mangled corpse sent a shriek tearing from her throat—raw grief that twisted her once-elegant features into something ghastly. She gathered Yue Chuhui’s body in her arms, face pale with hatred as she fixed her bloodshot eyes on the cultivator standing nearby.
That cultivator belonged to the Mian family, an outer-court clan affiliated with the Moon Palace. When Yue Chuhui resided at Purple Mane Mountain, they had been tasked with providing companions and daily offerings. Today, upon their arrival, they found the mountain silent, soaked in the reek of slaughter. Investigating, they discovered the massacre—entire halls annihilated, even Yue Chuhui and several Divine Transformation cultivators butchered beyond recognition. Horrified, they sent word, and one of their younger elites remained behind to guard the scene.
“Speak! Who did this?!” The Mistress’s voice cracked with fury, her grief barely contained.
The Mian cultivator’s heart sank. Whoever could commit such carnage was no common enemy. But how could he possibly know who it was? He knelt and stammered out consoling words, but the Mistress was deaf to them.
“My daughter stayed here under your care! I entrusted her to you, and you failed even to notice when she was slaughtered!”
Before he could explain, her palm lashed out. With a sickening crack, the cultivator was hurled across the hall, blood spraying from his mouth. The other Mian disciples trembled, bowing with their heads pressed to the floor, not daring to meet her gaze. They feared that her wrath might kill them all.
Clutching her daughter’s corpse, the Moon Palace Mistress snarled to her disciples, “Investigate! Hunt down the murderer who killed my Chuhui! I will flay them alive, tear their soul to shreds, and repay their life with mine a thousandfold!”
Then, turning her frozen glare on the Mian cultivators, she declared, “Every one of you who served my daughter will atone with your lives.”
Because of her fury, Yue Chuhui’s death became the greatest upheaval within Gengchen Immortal Mansion. The Moon family had always produced the Mistresses of the Moon Palace, one of the Mansion’s highest authorities. To lose her only heir was devastating; to lose face in front of the sect was intolerable. Her authority had been challenged, her prestige trampled. Until the killer was found and executed, her rage would fester into a heart demon.
Her madness soon left a trail of corpses. Disciples of both inner and outer court died for the crime of knowing too little, or too late.
At last, the Sect Leader Shi QianlĂĽ himself came to restrain her.
When he arrived at the Moon Palace, the Mistress was in a frenzy, lashing out at her own disciples. Their investigation had yielded nothing but vague conclusions: the murderer was of terrifying cultivation, merciless in their methods, and likely held deep enmity toward Yue Chuhui.
The Mistress dismissed these reports with a hiss. “If you cannot find the truth in half a month, you can join Chuhui in death. She valued you in life; in death you will accompany her.”
The disciples broke into cold sweat, bowing low with faces ashen.
One hesitantly spoke: “Master, there was… one survivor. A woman named Yong Lingchun, daughter of the Young Mistress of the Night Wandering Palace. She was confined in the dungeon by Young Mistress Yue herself and left unguarded. She seems unrelated, but…”
Another immediately cut him off: “Irrelevant! Yong Lingchun’s cultivation is low; she could not possibly be linked to the murderer. Brother Ruan, do not waste Master’s time.”
The Moon Palace Mistress, however, sneered. “Whether she is guilty or not, she displeased my Chuhui. Kill her anyway.”
At that moment Shi QianlĂĽ entered, calm in the face of her storm. “Moon Palace Mistress, enough. You’ve drenched the sect in blood these past days. Rumors are spreading.”
The Mistress’s laughter was brittle. “Spare me your piety, Shi QianlĂĽ. Have I killed more than you? If it were your daughter lying here, would you not do the same?”
Her bloodshot eyes locked on him. “You didn’t come here to grieve with me. Speak your true purpose.”
Shi QianlĂĽ dismissed the disciples, then said evenly, “I must intervene. I suspect this is tied to Sima Jiao.”
The Mistress froze, face twisting.
Shi QianlĂĽ continued, “He vanished after that incident, but I never believed he would leave us be. I suspect he has already returned, hiding within the Mansion while he nurses his wounds. You know his bloodline—healing is nearly impossible for him. If he is still alive, he will be desperate, and dangerous.”
The Mistress hissed, “And why would he target my Chuhui?”
Shi QianlĂĽ’s reply was cold. “Does Sima Jiao ever need a reason to kill?”
She knew his obsession with Sima Jiao—how he saw the man’s shadow in every misfortune. And yet… the scale of the slaughter, the audacity of it—it didn’t fit with someone on the brink of death. If Sima Jiao was truly that weakened, he should be hiding like a rat, not killing openly.
Still, her fury had softened. “Very well. Investigate. If you can give me my daughter’s killer, I will not forget this favor.”
Shi QianlĂĽ inclined his head.
When he left the Moon Palace, his orders were swift and merciless: detain everyone who had dealings with Yue Chuhui. That included Yong Lingchun.
…
Meanwhile, Liao Tingyan awoke from what felt like a fevered dream. Days had slipped by.
Her face, once slashed, was smooth and unmarked. The ugly bruise across her stomach had vanished, her skin pale and flawless. Her meridians flowed freely, her body brimming with energy again. One long sleep had turned her from a broken patient into a lively, whole creature once more.
Truly, the tales were right: dual cultivation could heal and restore life itself.
Sima Jiao idly stroked her belly, squeezing as if dissatisfied with the feel, before letting his hand wander higher beneath her robes.
Wait. Something was wrong.
Liao Tingyan yanked her collar closed and flopped back dramatically. “I’m fragile.”
He arched a brow. “Do you take me for blind?”
She thought bitterly: No, I just thought you might humor me. I forgot you were so… direct.
She quickly bargained, “I really can’t. I might have kidney deficiency. How about spiritual communion instead?”
His low chuckle made her skin prickle. He hadn’t meant that at all, but her flustered fear amused him. To teach her a lesson, he pressed down deliberately—
“Hey!” She wriggled away, rolling toward the bed’s far side. Only then did she notice—the bed was not the familiar one she remembered, but a new, gaudy monstrosity dripping with luxury. Even the room was different. Alarm shot through her, and she scrambled back to his side, clutching his arm. “Where are we?”
Sima Jiao, satisfied with her sudden reliance, lay back lazily. “Wind Flower City. You are now Shi Yuxiang.”
Her eyes widened. Shi? Enemy territory?
Wind Flower City lay within Gengchen’s inner court. Its mistress, Shi Yuxiang, was granddaughter to Shi Qianji, the sect leader’s younger brother. Though not favored, she lived extravagantly, notorious for her love of beautiful men. Her “City of Romance” was her playground, a den of pleasure houses where she spent her days indulging.
The perfect cover: a woman of status yet insignificance, whose household no one supervised too closely.
And Sima Jiao’s role? Her kept man.
Liao Tingyan stared at him. “…You know my acting skills are terrible, right?”
He gave her a sidelong glance. “Do you think I’m a fool?”
She laughed weakly. Of course not… though her heart whispered otherwise.
“You need do nothing,” he said. “Just sleep.”
Relieved, she flopped down again.
The little black snake slithered up, proudly presenting a bound white rat in its tail.
“…Eat it somewhere else, not on the bed,” Liao Tingyan sighed. Clearly, it had gone hunting on its own, neglected during her long sleep.
The snake ignored her, plopping the rat down before her as though offering a gift.
“No, thanks. You eat it.”
Sima Jiao snorted, a rare laugh escaping him.
She blinked. “What’s so funny?”
He pulled her close. “You can read my laughter, but not the snake’s offering?”
Confused, she glanced at the rat again.
Sima Jiao’s smile deepened. “That rat is Shi Yuxiang.”
The little black snake wiggled proudly, dragging its prize in circles before finally slithering off with it.
When evening fell, Sima Jiao rose and tugged her up by the neck. “Come. Follow me.”
She expected a stroll, perhaps some strange version of a date. Instead, he led her into a treasure vault, where he strolled through shelves of artifacts as if shopping at a market. He handed her one item after another.
She blinked at the glittering spiritual devices. “Why are you gathering all these?”
“For defense.”
“…And?”
“For defense.”
“…Anything else?”
“Defense.”
She stared. All defensive artifacts.
Only then did she realize—they were all meant for her.