Chapter 141: For My Beloved, I Will Steal Away His New Life

Though it was an urgent summons from the sect, Xiu Qingcheng—who had never possessed the slightest sense of collective honor—was in no hurry at all. She wasn’t even a member of the Tianfeng Sect to begin with. Meng Yingxing’s anxious demeanor, however, did surprise her a little.

She’d always assumed her disciple was fiercely loyal to the sect. The surprise lasted only a moment, quickly replaced by deep self-admiration.

All thanks to her constant subtle influence, Meng Yingxing could now remain so calm in the face of the sect’s great crisis.

If it were up to her, that Tianfeng Sect—which had once looked down on her disciple with blind eyes—could burn to the ground. She’d love to see rivers of blood flow through its halls!

According to Lin Yun Chuan, he had already taken Mo Han and returned ahead. Meng Yingxing would have to make his own way back.

Now, carrying the Ting Tian Sword on his back, Meng Yingxing hurried alone through Zhongyang Town, intending to buy supplies before heading to the sect to join the defense.

If he didn’t stock up now, the next time his master got hungry, he’d have nothing to satisfy her cravings.

At the still-bustling spring market, Meng Yingxing carefully selected the spirit fruits his master loved.

Thanks to the market, he could even buy spirit-infused items like these in a small town like Zhongyang. Without the fair, the Xu family, or the Tree God, this place probably wouldn’t touch the world of cultivation for centuries.

“Disciple, I’ve noticed you’re really good at copying other people’s sword moves.”

While Meng Yingxing shopped, Xiu Qingcheng finally gave some serious thought to his future training.

She realized he might have a unique gift for swordsmanship and decided to guide him down a different path.

True mastery required integrating everything he learned and developing something uniquely his own.

Blindly copying the techniques she taught wasn’t the best long-term strategy.

Was Master… praising him?

Probably?

But the tone didn’t quite sound like praise…

Meng Yingxing pondered her words before answering, “I suppose so…”

“In the future, if you face a tough sword-using opponent, try imitating their moves first. Then analyze the flaws in their style to break them. That way, no matter who wields a sword, you’ll always have a fighting chance.”

Xiu Qingcheng opened her mouth, then closed it—unable to find the right words.

Before meeting her, Meng Yingxing’s swordplay had been a patchwork of moves copied from others. Now he was copying hers too.

Since he was so good at learning, she might as well make full use of that talent.

Of course, she knew perfectly well how casually she’d said it—and how insanely difficult it would be to pull off.

Combat between masters was lightning-fast. To copy an opponent’s moves and analyze their weaknesses in that brief window was harder than climbing to the heavens.

Meng Yingxing hesitated. “Master… is that really possible?”

Though his foundation was shallow, even he could tell how daunting it sounded.

Naturally, Xiu Qingcheng encouraged him. “I believe in you—you’re my disciple, after all!”

Hearing her faith in him, Meng Yingxing pushed doubt aside, steadied his mind, and nodded with absolute certainty.

Because Master believed in him, he believed in her.

And thus, he believed in himself.

If Xiu Qingcheng ever learned that was his reasoning, she’d definitely give him a thorough scolding.

Hadn’t she told him long ago: Never live just to meet someone else’s expectations?

Yet here he was, doing exactly that.

After another round through the market, Meng Yingxing stuffed his qiankun pouch full of spirit fruits and snacks.

The talismans and artifacts were squeezed into tiny corners.

He couldn’t help smiling.

Other cultivators’ pouches probably overflowed with treasures, pills, and weapons. His? Packed to the brim with treats for his gluttonous master.

But he didn’t mind. No artifact or talisman could compare to the focused, contented look on her face when she ate.

Once preparations were complete, Meng Yingxing prepared to set off for the Tianfeng Sect.

Nearly an hour had passed since Lin Yun Chuan’s message.

“Master, let’s go.”

He drew the Ting Tian Sword, waved it in front of him, and gently wiped the blade.

The moment his fingers touched it, the sword shuddered violently. Xiu Qingcheng’s indignant voice followed instantly:

“I told you—no wiping! No wiping!”

Oddly enough, when he stroked the blade outside of battle, she always felt a surge of embarrassed anger.

Like he was touching some sensitive spot.

Anyway—she forbade it.

Startled by her scolding, Meng Yingxing quickly pulled his hand back and leapt onto the sword, soaring into the sky toward the Tianfeng Sect.

Neither master nor disciple noticed the figure watching them from afar.

When they were gone, Li Mo—wrapped head to toe in a high-collared, long-sleeved dress and skirt—stepped out from her hiding place. Her calm eyes followed the shrinking dot of Meng Yingxing in the sky.

Having lived among humans as a demon for years, concealing herself came naturally.

Only when they first met had she somehow let her guard slip.

Now, watching Meng Yingxing leave, relief settled in her heart.

She closed her eyes. When she opened them again, they were deep pools of resolve.

“My husband… we’ll meet again soon.”

Li Mo murmured, turning toward the home of Wang Zhuihai’s reincarnation.

After parting with Meng Yingxing that day, she had intended to go there at once—only to find him and Xiu Qingcheng secretly watching the house for days.

She knew they were guarding against her.

But she also knew Meng Yingxing, as a Tianfeng disciple, couldn’t watch over the infant called Jiang Feng forever.

Her chance would come.

A chance to take her tiny husband back into her arms.

And now, it had arrived.

When Li Mo came to her senses, she was already standing at the family’s door.

Jiang Feng’s mother cradled the baby, gently rocking him, her face full of love.

Seeing a young woman at the gate, she looked up and smiled.

“Miss, is there something you need?”

Li Mo had come fully cloaked before, so the woman didn’t recognize her as the one who’d once tried to take the child.

Now, Li Mo simply stared at the infant in the woman’s arms, never meeting her eyes.

At the woman’s question, she answered softly,

“What a cute baby… Sister, may I hold him?”

The request immediately made the woman hesitate.

Perhaps the trauma of the previous kidnapping lingered; she didn’t agree right away.

“This…”

Seeing the woman’s discomfort, Li Mo’s expression remained blank. She gently raised a hand that shimmered with faint blue light.

The next instant, the woman felt an immense force slam into her. The world flipped.

A burst of blue light exploded beside her. She was flung away like a rag doll, the baby slipping from her grasp.

Li Mo’s heart lurched. She rushed forward, using merfolk arts to safely catch Jiang Feng in her arms.

The moment the child was secure against her chest, her emotionless eyes filled with tenderness. She cooed softly, as if he were truly hers—not a child she’d just torn from another’s arms.

No… this wasn’t stealing.

She was simply reclaiming the one her heart yearned for.

Demonic love was desire, obsession—a blade lodged in the heart after a beloved’s death, impossible to pull free.

As the bloodied woman struggled to her feet and let out a heartbroken wail, Li Mo and Jiang Feng had already vanished.

“My husband… do you remember me? I’m your Mo’er.”

Li Mo gently played with the infant, her face soft with love.

She heard the mother’s anguished cries behind her but felt no stir of conscience.

She smiled faintly as the clueless baby played with his fingers.

“My husband… as long as you have me, that’s enough.”

The river flowed on, its roar unchanged.

Li Mo stood at the water’s edge with Jiang Feng.

Earlier, she had used a powerful merfolk illusion—Mirage Art—to conceal Nilanke’s entrance and aura, successfully fooling Xiu Qingcheng and Meng Yingxing. It had delighted her at the time.

She was grateful she’d diligently studied the Mirage lineage of merfolk arts; only that had let her deceive them.

Now she gazed at the river, worry creasing her brow.

She didn’t know if the entrance she’d hidden had truly vanished in the interim.

Using merfolk arts to protect the infant Jiang Feng, she dove in and swam straight to where Nilanke’s entrance had been.

Facing empty water, she poured her strength into dispelling the illusion.

When the Mirage faded and a small, distorted ripple of space appeared, joy lit her face.

It seemed the heavens still favored her.