Master, Your Salted Fish Has Arrived - Chapter 14
Liao Tingyan had always relied on her strong survival instinct. Sensitive to danger, she knew exactly how to behave around Ancestral Master Sima Jiao: timid looks, few words, careful courtesy, and always treating him like an ancestor.
But when this “ancestor” casually weighed her chest as if testing pork at the market, her reason snapped. Boldness surged, and she retaliated—by squeezing Sima Jiao’s buttocks.
Sima Jiao: “…”
The proverb you can’t touch a tiger’s rear flashed through her mind as she saw his expression. Slowly, she released her grip. Her depleted survival instinct began to crawl back, her face shifting from anger to calm, then to confusion, with a timid touch. She leaned against Sima Jiao’s chest, obediently holding down her misbehaving left hand, and fixed her gaze on the clouds beyond the horizon.
I’m looking at the sky, I’m looking at the earth, I’m looking anywhere but at you.
She braced herself for the worst—being tossed off the giant snake carriage, perhaps even planning how to roll mid-air to minimize injuries. But nothing happened.
Curiosity got the better of her. She glanced sideways—straight into Sima Jiao’s eyes.
Cold. Piercing. His gaze cut into her skull like a blade. He was terrifying when he laughed maniacally, terrifying when he raged, and somehow even more terrifying when completely expressionless.
Liao Tingyan: Oh no. Why couldn’t I control my hand…
Sima Jiao suddenly seized the offending hand. Her wrist looked fragile in his pale grasp, as if it could snap with the slightest twist. His long fingers caressed her wrist slowly, applying pressure.
Liao Tingyan’s heart skipped. He’s about to break it.
Her instincts acted faster than thought. Instead of pulling away, she shoved his hand against her chest. “Calm down! Please, touch my chest as much as you like!”
Sima Jiao froze.
In his world, plenty of people had tried to kill him, but no one—absolutely no one—had ever dared squeeze his buttocks. He had been ready to kill her on the spot, his killing intent already sparked. The only reason she still breathed was that she intrigued him. The death sentence was waived—but punishment should have been inevitable.
Then she’d pulled this absurd move. His grip, about to crush, instead pressed into something soft, harmless as cotton. The anger bled out of him.
Meanwhile, Liao Tingyan held his hand in place with righteous conviction, as if promoting a product. “See? It feels good. Who wouldn’t like it? Men, women—even cats love kneading soft things. A murderous lunatic like you should be no exception.”
Sima Jiao lived by impulses. Bloodthirst ran in his veins; displeasure often meant death. But somehow, she kept surviving where others wouldn’t. She alone could defuse his killing urge again and again. Just like now—the impulse to snap her wrist vanished entirely.
And once it was gone, he was calm.
“Phew—” Liao Tingyan exhaled, drenched in cold sweat. Realizing she was still pressing his hand against her chest, she tried to withdraw. But Sima Jiao caught her again, pulling her close. One arm wrapped around her waist, the other locked her hand in his. To anyone looking, it was the picture of intimacy—a couple brazenly flaunting affection.
Of course, Liao Tingyan knew better. She was just trying not to die.
By then, their snake mount had already slithered down the mountain, leaving the Three Sacred Peaks. When they arrived, what everyone saw was Sima Jiao in black robes, a deadly ancestor with a beauty in his arms, standing on a giant snake.
The scene was perfect: an evil overlord, his favorite concubine, and his monstrous henchman.
Whispers spread. Once, disciples had admired the mysterious ancestor; now, they cursed him as a demon. Only his high seniority shielded him from rebellion. Sect Leader Shi Qianlü had staked everything on appeasing him, even inviting him down the mountain despite dissent. His reasoning was simple: better to keep the tiger in the cage than provoke it into slaughter.
Now, Sima Jiao had chosen White Deer Cliff as his residence—the most spiritual, picturesque place in the Immortal Mansion. Cranes flew overhead, deer roamed the paths, and the pavilions gleamed like something out of a poem.
“You like it?” Sima Jiao asked suddenly.
Liao Tingyan: “I love it!”
Sect Leader Shi Qianlü, standing nearby with hand-picked disciples, nearly wept in relief. The ancestor had found someone who could talk to him without dying. This was a miracle.
“Ancestral Master and… this lady,” he said carefully, “please make yourselves at home. Whatever you need, we will provide.”
Liao Tingyan: “…Lady?”
Sima Jiao didn’t care. “Get lost.”
Shi Qianlü retreated with the politeness of a eunuch bowing to an emperor.
When Liao Tingyan’s gaze lingered on him, Sima Jiao’s lips curled. “Don’t pity him. Shi Qianlü isn’t a good man. He’s the most ‘interesting’ in this whole mansion.”
He didn’t elaborate, only laughed coldly and strode into the palace.
Inside, puppet servants with empty eyes awaited. Liao Tingyan slipped away, hoping to be ignored. In her own chamber, she caught sight of her reflection—and froze.
What a beauty. Her transformation had peaked: curves, charm, ethereal glow. She touched her chest and hips, nearly swooning at her own reflection. Who wouldn’t want to live a hundred years in this body?
Even she found herself more alluring than before—so why did Sima Jiao remain utterly indifferent? Was he impotent? Or simply not into women?
Her musings ended when the door slammed open. Sima Jiao entered, cold and irritable.
“What are you doing? Who told you to run around?”
He glanced at the celestial gowns scattered around and kicked them aside. “Come with me.”
Liao Tingyan quickly slipped into a red gauze dress. “Where are we going?”
Sima Jiao smiled darkly. “Didn’t I say, when I came out, everyone would die? I’m going to kill.”
Liao Tingyan: Ah, my bad. Carry on.
But Sima Jiao noticed her face. “You don’t want to go?”
Her cursed truth-telling ability betrayed her. “I don’t want to go.”
His gaze sharpened. “If you don’t, I’ll kill you first.”
Liao Tingyan: “…On second thought, I’ll come.”
He stared at her again, oddly conflicted. “Why don’t you want to go?”
“Because I’m afraid of seeing dead people,” she blurted.
For once, Sima Jiao was silent. A Demon Realm woman afraid of corpses? It made no sense.
Could it be… she’d never killed anyone?
“Never,” she admitted.
Sima Jiao fell silent. For the first time, he truly couldn’t figure out what kind of creatures the Demon Realm was sending out. A woman from the Demon Realm who had never killed anyone—were they deliberately playing tricks on the Gengchen Immortal Mansion? Then again, the sect hardly needed outside help; they were already more adept at sabotaging themselves than the Demon Realm could ever hope to be.