Master, Your Salted Fish Has Arrived - Chapter 48
Sima Jiao had crafted a new defensive treasure for Liao Tingyan, once again using a ying-luo necklace as the foundation—though this one, taken from Shi Yuxiang’s vault, was far more exquisite. Into it, he fused the Thunder Stone’s heart, making it so resilient that even heavenly lightning would struggle to pierce it.
In his own words:
“If you run into someone like Shi Qianlü and can’t escape, just lie down and let them attack. Even with their full strength, they’d need half a day to break through.”
Liao Tingyan believed him. After all, this was something he had labored over for half a month, refining and adjusting it countless times. For a man like him to spend that much effort, it could only mean the treasure was truly formidable.
Still, she asked while weighing the necklace in her palm, “And after the defense is broken?”
Sima Jiao merely snorted, resting his still-healing fingers against his chin. His voice carried quiet arrogance:
“By then, I would have arrived. You can continue lying there.”
The “towering” ancestor stood at a height of about 188 centimeters, but what truly made him imposing wasn’t his size—it was his unshakable confidence.
And with good reason. His comprehension was frightening, his strength unmatched. Cizang Dao Jun, unique under the heavens, was truly without rival. Even with the Sima clan reduced to him alone, he had kept the world’s great sects uneasy while imprisoned at Three Saints Mountain. Once freed, he turned the mighty Gengchen Immortal Mansion upside down and walked away untouched. He had left the righteous Master Shi Qianlü utterly helpless and had even torn through heavenly thunder barehanded.
Yet this formidable man could sometimes act childishly.
One night, after she had fallen asleep, he took her carved figurines, wiped away their faces, and replaced them with bizarre, nightmarish expressions. When she confronted him in horror, he actually said:
“Don’t they look more natural this way?”
Pah! Waking in the middle of the night to three grotesque figurines looming by her bedside—it was less slice-of-life, more horror flick!
For a moment, she questioned his sense of aesthetics. Then she reminded herself—since he had chosen her, he couldn’t be that tasteless. He was just mischievous.
“Here. Draw however you want with these, but don’t ruin my Little One, Little Two, or Little Three.” She handed him a bundle of blank wooden figurines she had whittled during idle hours.
Sima Jiao didn’t even glance at them. Instead, he pointed out, “The one you call Little Three? I animated it.”
Liao Tingyan: “…Let’s not bring that up. Talking about Little Three only leads to arguments.”
Sima Jiao tilted his head. “Arguments? You mean, you’d argue with me?”
“Why wouldn’t I? Couples argue. We just haven’t had the occasion yet.”
His lips curved slightly. “Then argue with me now. Let me see.” His tone was the same curious one he used when asking her to curse just to hear how it sounded.
“…There’s no atmosphere for it right now. Next time.”
She tossed out the words casually, never expecting “next time” would come so soon.
During their stay in Shi Yuxiang’s Flower Wind City, visitors often arrived—Shi Yuxiang’s lovers and flings, drifting in and out without restraint. Among them was a young master of the Mu family’s outer branch, notorious for his libertine habits. Whenever he passed through, he would linger with Shi Yuxiang.
This time, however, he stumbled into the wrong place.
Liao Tingyan had been napping in the flower garden. When she woke, she found an unfamiliar man leaning close, touching her face, his voice dripping arrogance.
“I heard you’ve been lonely lately. What’s wrong? Did those men stop satisfying your lustful body?” He smirked and reached toward her chest.
Startled and enraged, Liao Tingyan cursed and kicked him away before she was even fully awake. Normally, Sima Jiao was always by her side, deterring such insolence. But this man—an affair partner of Shi Yuxiang—had free access, slipping past guards without announcement.
Unfortunately for him, Sima Jiao returned just then.
What followed left Liao Tingyan sick to her stomach. Sima Jiao had laughed once, seized her hand against her will, and forced her palm down until the man’s head burst like a melon.
The sensation of bone and brain matter gave her nightmares. She vomited on the spot, retching until her chest ached.
Sima Jiao only looked confused. “It’s just killing someone.”
But she knew. He couldn’t understand.
They came from different worlds. In his, killing was survival; in hers, it was abhorrent. Neither was wrong in their context—but to her, his casualness was unbearable.
She spent that night silent, listless, her back turned to him. When he tried to touch her, she slapped his hand away. “Don’t talk to me. I don’t want to right now.”
For the first time, Sima Jiao felt… rejected. Perplexed, he asked, “What’s wrong? Just because I made you do it?”
After a pause, she sighed. “You can kill as you wish—I’ve never forced you to stop. But don’t force me.”
Those words unsettled him. No one had ever told him “you can’t.” For him, there was only want or don’t want—never “cannot.” But because it was her, he actually considered it.
“I know you dislike killing,” he said at last, frowning. “But you’ll have to kill eventually. Sooner or later, what’s the difference?”
She stared blankly at the embroidered canopy above, her chest heavy. She had long suspected that one day she might kill for him. But not like this. Not with such indifference.
Their moods clashed, and he left in frustration. She didn’t follow. Nightmares plagued her sleep, and she lost her appetite, her usual lightness gone.
Three days later, he returned. His anger had cooled, but restlessness remained. When he failed to sense her aura in the garden, panic flickered. Had she left him—over something so small?
The thought burned. He leveled a wave of flowers with a flick of his sleeve and followed the necklace’s tracking spell.
He found her by the Cloud River, fishing for flying rays. A bucket beside her brimmed with catches, her bait the worms she’d collected in Thunder Echoing Valley. She sat alone, dejected, grilling the rays but refusing to eat.
Sima Jiao lingered beneath a tree, watching her quietly.
When she murmured, “I thought flying ray meat would be delicious… I wanted to try it with you,” his chest tightened.
At last, he stepped forward, took a grilled ray, and ate in silence.
“You can’t do that to me again,” she said softly.
He snapped, “Such a small matter, and you’re still angry?”
Her tears fell without words.
He froze, then muttered, “…I understand.”
“I didn’t scold you or strike you,” he added awkwardly. “I’ve agreed.”
“I had nightmares,” she whispered.
And just like that, his defiance melted. He hooked her close, wiped her tears roughly with his thumb, and pressed his forehead to hers. “Stop crying.”
Her tears wet his scarred fingers. She leaned into his palm and pleaded, “If I say no, then it’s no. Don’t force me.”
For a long moment, he just looked at her. Then, lowering his voice, he murmured against her eyes:
“I understand. Don’t cry anymore.”
It was clumsy comfort, but it was the first time the unyielding Cizang Dao Jun bent for someone else.