Chapter 49
The black-cloaked cultivator cast Ruan Qingzhu a sidelong glance, disdain plain in his eyes—as if her thoughts were written across her face.
He sneered. “Be a fool, or be a wise person. Fellow Daoist Ruan… surely you know which one to choose.”
Ruan Qingzhu said nothing.
Fool? Wise?
Nothing more than pretty words meant to deceive her.
Only a fool would believe him.
From beginning to end, she had never forgotten his true aim—the little monkey. For profit, he would do anything. These casual promises, these smooth words… they meant nothing.
Let him talk.
She would not listen.
Seeing her remain silent, the black-cloaked cultivator clicked his tongue, clearly bored. Still, she was useful—for now.
He leaned back slightly and spoke again, this time with faint impatience.
“Speak. Why have you come today?”
Even as he asked, he already knew the answer. There was only one thing Ruan Qingzhu cared about.
Her parents.
“What you asked me to do… barring any unforeseen circumstances, it will be done tomorrow.”
Her voice was steady.
“But before I take that monkey out of the sect, I need to see my parents. I need to confirm they’re safe.”
Just as expected.
The black-cloaked cultivator’s eyes lit up instantly.
“Really?”
His voice twisted with barely concealed excitement. It was enough to show exactly how much he valued this deal.
Ruan Qingzhu met his gaze head-on, unflinching. “Of course. It doesn’t like leaving the sect. I had to persuade it for a long time before it agreed. Tomorrow, at dusk—I’ll bring it here.”
For a heartbeat, the courtyard fell silent.
Then the black-cloaked cultivator broke into laughter, sharp and unrestrained. He clapped his hands, clearly pleased with himself.
“So you’ve finally come to your senses. Good—very good.”
His smile spread wider, satisfaction written plainly across his face.
“You’ll be glad you made the right choice.”
A flicker of irritation stirred in Ruan Qingzhu’s chest, but her expression didn’t change.
“Can I see my parents now?” she asked evenly.
“Of course.”
He agreed without hesitation. He knew better than to push her too far.
His tone softened, almost indulgent, laced with a kind of false generosity.
“If this goes through, you’ll be the one who’s contributed the most. I’m not stingy—ten thousand spirit stones will be no problem.”
Ruan Qingzhu almost laughed.
Did he really think she would believe that?
In the end, she simply gave a quiet, noncommittal response.
“…Mm.”
Let him take it however he liked.
The black-cloaked cultivator moved without hesitation, fingers weaving through a string of intricate hand seals before he struck the ground with a sharp, decisive motion.
A magic array ignited beneath them.
Cold, pale light surged upward, flooding the courtyard and swallowing everything in its path.
When it receded, two figures stood at its center.
Ruan Qingzhu’s breath caught.
Her parents.
They clung to each other, bodies trembling, faces drained of all color—like fragile creatures driven into a corner with nowhere left to run. The fear in their eyes was raw, instinctive… unmistakable.
Her vision blurred.
Tears welled up before she could stop them.
They were just ordinary people—farmers who had spent their lives under the sun, working the land. They had never known a world like this.
To be taken by a cultivator… dragged into something beyond their understanding—even without a single blow, the terror alone was enough to break a person.
They looked older now.
Not by years, but by something harsher—something carved into them overnight.
Pain twisted through Ruan Qingzhu’s chest.
For a moment, the urge was overwhelming.
She wanted to kill him.
The thought burned, sharp and immediate—right here, right now.
But she forced it down.
Not yet.
Ruan Qingzhu drew in a slow breath, steadying herself before taking a step forward. Then another.
“Father… Mother…”
Her voice wavered despite her efforts.
“It’s alright. I’m here.”
She reached out, her fingers brushing against their rough, weathered faces, as if to reassure herself they were real.
“He won’t hurt you.”
Her parents clutched her hands tightly, gripping as though she might vanish if they let go. Their lips moved, trembling—but no sound came out.
“Fellow Daoist Ruan.”
The black-cloaked cultivator’s voice slipped in, smooth and cold, cutting through the moment. “How do they look? Not a scratch on them.”
A faint smile tugged at his lips. “I’ve taken good care of them these past few days. Food, drink—treated them like honored guests.”
At his words, Ruan Qingzhu’s parents flinched.
The color drained further from their already pale faces.
Honored guests?
They had been locked away in darkness, fed just enough to stay alive—nothing more. And that gaze…
Cold. Cruel.
As if they were nothing but insects beneath his feet.
Their bodies trembled uncontrollably.
Ruan Qingzhu’s jaw tightened.
Without a word, she moved—quick and subtle—slipping something into her parents’ arms, the motion small but urgent.
Then she turned back.
“You have no shame at all,” she said, her voice cold and steady. “You kidnapped my parents for no reason, put them through this—”
Her tone sharpened. “And you still dare say you’ve done nothing?”
The black-cloaked cultivator raised a brow, a flicker of surprise crossing his face.
He hadn’t expected her to talk back.
How… unwise.
Then his lips curved, a calculating glint settling in his gaze as understanding dawned.
So she cared this much—good, very good. After all, nothing made a person easier to control than a weakness like that.
Instead of anger, a low chuckle slipped from him. “You should really fix that temper of yours.”
His posture relaxed, gaze turning lazy, almost amused. “If it were anyone else, you wouldn’t have gotten off so lightly.”
He paused, as if considering something trivial. “Fortunately for you, you met me. I’m not that cruel.”
His voice dipped, false generosity laced with mockery. “As long as you help me achieve my goal, I can pretend I didn’t hear that little outburst. Even if you feel like venting a few more times.”
Every word carried a quiet, deliberate ridicule.
Ruan Qingzhu’s eyes darkened—but she didn’t respond.
Instead, she stepped forward, placing herself squarely between him and her parents.
Shielding them.
“I’m afraid,” she said calmly, “you won’t have that chance.”
Something shifted in that moment.
A sharp, unyielding resolve surged from her—cold, absolute.
If it came to it…
She was ready to die with him.
The black-cloaked cultivator’s expression shifted, ever so slightly.
A single sentence wouldn’t have shaken him—but that sudden certainty in her tone, that unflinching composure, planted a seed of doubt he couldn’t ignore. For the briefest moment, he hesitated.
Was she bluffing?
Or did she truly have something to rely on?
He suppressed the unease creeping into his chest and narrowed his eyes. “What exactly are you implying?”
Ruan Qingzhu smiled.
There was no warmth in it—only a faint edge of cold mockery.
“On my way here, I ran into the Enforcement Hall,” she said evenly. “They’ve already taken the little monkey.”
Her gaze locked onto his, steady and unyielding. “What do you think that means?”
Silence fell.
The black-cloaked cultivator froze where he stood.
Ruan Qingzhu watched the shift in his expression, and for the first time since this nightmare began, something in her chest loosened.
Not relief—no, not yet—but a sharp, fleeting sense of control.
So he could be shaken.
Good.
Without missing a beat, she pressed forward, guiding his thoughts exactly where she wanted them to go.
Let him draw his own conclusions. Let him panic.
Judging by his reaction—he already had.
The black-cloaked cultivator’s thoughts raced.
The Enforcement Hall would never move without reason—if they had taken the spirit ape, then something must have already been exposed.
But why hadn’t Manager Chen warned him? Unless he didn’t know yet… or worse, he couldn’t send word at all.
And if he couldn’t… then there was only one explanation left.
They had already been discovered.
A chill seized his heart.
Without another word, he pulled out a communication jade slip and tried to contact Manager Chen.
No response.
Of course there wasn’t.
Manager Chen had already been captured by the Enforcement Hall.
There was no one left to answer him.
The black-cloaked cultivator’s expression flickered, turning uncertain.
“Useless trash!” he spat, fury breaking through. “Can’t even handle something this small, yet he dares demand eighty percent? An absolute idiot!”
He had long planned it out—sell the Spirit Ape, disappear without a trace, and leave Manager Chen to rot.
And now?
Before the deal was even done, the man was already gone.
Then, all at once, he went still.
Something clicked into place.
His head snapped up.
Not far from him, Ruan Qingzhu stood with a bead resting in her palm—no larger than a thumb, yet radiating a presence that made the air itself feel heavy.
Red and violet light coiled within it, twisting together as sparks crackled and thin arcs of lightning flickered across its surface.
A suffocating, dangerous aura spread outward, pressing down on everything in its reach.
“The Thunderfire Pearl!”
The words tore out of him, sharp and unguarded.
He recognized it immediately—and his expression darkened.
A single-use artifact, forged from compressed thunder and fire spiritual energy. Violent. Unstable.
Once it detonated—there would be nothing left behind. Not even ashes.
Ruan Qingzhu turned the bead lightly between her fingers.
“Yes,” she said calmly. “The Thunderfire Pearl.”
This was her trump card—her most precious possession, and now, her final line of retreat.
When the Enforcement Hall had arrived earlier, panic had nearly overwhelmed her. What if the little monkey didn’t come back? What if something went wrong?
But once she forced herself to think it through, she steadied. With so many witnesses present, that outcome was impossible.
And when she saw the monkey being taken away—strangely, she felt relieved.
Better for the sect to protect it than to leave it in her hands.
Because even she couldn’t say, with absolute certainty, that under enough pressure… she wouldn’t use it to bargain for her parents’ lives.
Fortunately, that moment never came.
With the monkey gone, the last of her hesitation vanished. There was only one thing left to do—save her parents, and do it quickly. Before the other side sensed anything amiss. Before suspicion turned into action.
That was why she hadn’t told the Enforcement Hall.
If the black-cloaked cultivator realized she had sought help, he might kill her parents without hesitation.
A mistake like that—she could never take back.
So she chose silence. Chose caution.
No matter the cost.
“Are you insane?!”
The black-cloaked cultivator’s voice cracked, his composure shattering.
“That thing can’t withstand even the slightest disturbance! One wrong move and it explodes—none of us will make it out alive!”
His heart slammed hard against his ribs.
Too close.
She was holding it far too casually—like it was nothing more than an ordinary trinket.
Ruan Qingzhu went still.
She heard it in his voice. The fear. Raw, unhidden.
Her fingers stopped moving.
When she spoke again, her tone was calm—so calm it felt almost unnatural.
“I know.”
Her gaze sharpened, cutting straight through him.
“There’s a formation set up in this courtyard.”
A brief pause, then—firm, unyielding: “Open it. Now. Let us leave.”
Her voice lowered, quiet but absolute. “If you try to stop me…”
Her grip tightened, just slightly, around the bead. “Then we die here together.”
Silence descended, thick and suffocating.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Then the black-cloaked cultivator let out a low, bitter laugh. “So that’s how it is…”
Understanding dawned, slow and cold.
Everything she’d said before—every promise, every concession—a lie.
A trap.
She had never intended to go through with the deal.
This meeting had only ever been about escape.
“Good,” he muttered, eyes darkening. “Very good.”
“Of course,” Ruan Qingzhu replied, her voice just as cold.
Their gazes locked.
Invisible sparks seemed to crackle in the air between them.
“Ah—!”
The sudden cry shattered the standoff.
Ruan Qingzhu’s head snapped toward the sound on instinct, her heart lurching—only to ease a breath later. Her parents were unharmed.
Relief surged through her chest.
She had prepared for this. Before coming, she’d pressed defensive talismans into their hands. If she hadn’t…
If they’d fallen back under his control—there would have been no way out.
Across from her, the black-cloaked cultivator clicked his tongue in open disappointment. So she had accounted for even that.
Ruan Qingzhu caught the sound. A faint, cold smile curved her lips.
“Your methods are quite shameless,” she said, her voice sharpening. “Seems you don’t value your own life much.”
Her fingers began to tighten around the Thunderfire Pearl.
“In that case—”
“No!”
The shout came instantly, sharp with urgency.
She stilled, lifting her gaze. “Then show me your sincerity.”
His expression shifted again and again—anger, hesitation, unwilling calculation flickering across his face. In the end, he ground his teeth.
“…Fine.”
The word was forced out.
“I’ll open the barrier.”
A thin, hollow smile stretched across his lips. “I hope your journey is smooth, Fellow Daoist Ruan… and that you don’t happen to run into any bandits.”
In truth, he wanted nothing more than to crush her where she stood—this insignificant ant who dared defy him. But he didn’t dare gamble.
Could he move faster—or would she crush the bead first?
He didn’t know.
And that uncertainty was enough to stop him.
“Then I won’t trouble you further.”
Ruan Qingzhu’s voice remained steady, but inwardly, her vigilance rose to its peak. She was one step away—just one. She couldn’t afford the slightest mistake now.
A faint chime rang out.
The formation dissolved. The barrier opened.
Under his cold, watchful gaze, she began to move—one careful step after another, retreating toward the door.
“The compass is reacting! It’s here!”
A bright, excited voice suddenly rang out from outside.
Before anyone could react—
Bang!
The courtyard gate was kicked open.
Ruan Qingzhu, standing right beside it, was caught completely off guard. Her footing slipped, her body pitching forward as her grip instinctively tightened around the Thunderfire Pearl.
It’s over.
At this rate—she might actually ascend on the spot.