I Was Forced to Marry a “Trash” Cultivator, But She Turned Out to Be a Reborn Empress!

The hooked-nosed cultivator narrowed his triangular eyes, a predatory heat rising in his chest. His gaze lingered on the [Azure Cloud Robe], tracing the rhythmic pulse of its spiritual light. A treasure of this grade… it was practically made for me, he thought, his heart thrumming with greed.

He licked his parched, cracked lips, already imagining the awe he would command once he donned the garment. “A mere rogue dares to drape himself in such finery?” he spat, his voice booming to ensure the entire clearing heard his challenge. “Why not lend it to someone who can actually defend it?”

Surges of Essence rippled through his limbs as he spoke. He didn’t care where the robe had come from; the Green Mist Sect had the numbers, and in this wasteland, that was the only law that mattered. Besides, the boy stood alone. No half-dead rogue would risk their neck for a stranger.

“This fat sheep is just begging for the slaughter,” he hissed. With a cruel sneer, he lunged, his fingers hooked like talons toward Shen Xian’s lapel. The strike was laced with a venomous, bone-chilling force—even if he didn’t strip the robe immediately, he fully intended to shatter the boy’s dignity and force him to his knees.

Around them, the other rogues watched with the hollow, cold indifference of the desperate. They hadn’t survived this far by meddling in the business of others. Those who had already defected to the Green Mist Sect were even more eager, craning their necks to witness the humiliation, as if seeing Shen Xian broken would justify their own cowardice.

Even the Green Mist leader stood back with crossed arms, a thin, mocking smile playing on his lips. He saw no reason to stop a disciple from claiming a trophy. Only the alchemist, Bai Zhi, looked away, her face tight with a pity she was too terrified to voice.

Shen Xian remained perfectly still, his expression as calm as a mountain lake. Just as his fingers began to curl, ready to extinguish the man’s life…

“Senior?”

A clear, melodic voice cut through the tension like a bell. The joyful exclamation was soft, yet it had the effect of a thunderclap. Every cultivator on the plain froze.

Emerging from the mist was a woman in an emerald-green gauze dress—the unmistakable uniform of the Divine Wood Sect. She glided forward upon the shimmering phantom of a spirit bird, the sect token at her waist glowing with a lustrous, ancient light. The characters for Divine Wood pulsed with a suppressive weight that made the lesser cultivators’ breath hitch.

Behind her stood two men of equally formidable bearing. One carried a [Cyan Jade Sword Case] that hummed with the resonance of seven lethal blades; the other was flanked by a three-colored spirit lotus that breathed radiant light. Though only at the late Golden Core stage, their equipment alone was worth more than the collective lives of every rogue present.

“The Divine Wood Sect…” the Green Mist leader stammered. His arrogance evaporated instantly. He scrambled backward, clearing the path with frantic haste.

The hooked-nosed disciple turned to stone. His hand remained suspended inches from Shen Xian’s chest, trembling as his brain struggled to process the shift in reality.

“Senior!” Liu Qingxu ignored the Green Mist group entirely as she landed. The spirit bird dissolved into specks of emerald light as she rushed forward and performed a deep, profoundly respectful bow. “I never dared to hope I would encounter you here.”

The hooked-nosed man turned deathly pale. His mind went blank as the image of the elite Divine Wood disciple bowing to his “fat sheep” burned into his retinas.

The rogue… he’s a Senior to the Divine Wood Sect?

Cold sweat drenched the Green Mist leader’s back. He dropped his crossed arms, his heart hammering against his ribs. How had he been so blind? If the Divine Wood Sect—the undisputed hegemon of Qingzhou—took offense, his entire sect would be reduced to dust before sundown.

“Se-Senior…” the hooked-nosed cultivator croaked, his voice a pathetic rasp. His outstretched hand shook violently, his knuckles white. The cruelty he had planned was replaced by a bone-chilling terror that radiated from the soles of his feet to the crown of his head.

The silence among the rogues was absolute. Han Shan’s ancient bronze mirror slipped from his nerveless fingers and clattered onto the red sand. Those who had been gloating moments ago now looked like ducks with their necks wrung—mouths agape, but unable to make a sound.

Bai Zhi pressed her hands to her lips, her eyes wide with shock. She realized then that Shen Xian’s composure hadn’t been arrogance—it was the absolute certainty of a predator amongst insects.

Shen Xian looked at Liu Qingxu, a flicker of recognition in his eyes. He remembered her from the Dragon Transformation Pool; he had saved her life on a whim.

“So, it’s you,” Shen Xian replied, his voice carrying the effortless aloofness of a true expert.

“Senior, your grace has never been forgotten,” Liu Qingxu said, her eyes bright with genuine joy. She then glanced at the trembling man in front of him, her brow furrowing with sudden sharp intent. “Senior… has this fool shown you disrespect?”

The hooked-nosed cultivator felt as if a bolt of lightning had struck him. He collapsed to his knees, his forehead cracking against the hard ground. “This Junior was blind! I failed to recognize Mount Tai! I beg the Senior for mercy!”

The Green Mist leader didn’t kneel, but he bent so low his torso was parallel to the earth. “It was my failure in discipline,” he rasped, his voice dry. “Please, be magnanimous.”

Shen Xian ignored them as if they were dust on his boots. He looked at Liu Qingxu. “Why are there only three of you? Where is the rest of the Divine Wood Sect?”

“Senior, our strength is meager, so we separated from the main group,” Liu Qingxu explained, a bit embarrassed. “We didn’t want to be a burden to Senior Shen Xing, and the Sword Asking Pavilion has its own trials. We hoped to find our own luck here.”

Shen Xian nodded. The man with the sword case stepped forward, bowing deeply. “If Senior is also bound for the Pavilion, perhaps you would allow us to accompany you?”

Shen Xian glanced back at Han Shan and the shattered remnants of the rogue alliance. They were preoccupied with their own terror, a scattered mess of broken morale. There was no longer any use for them.

“Very well,” Shen Xian said.

“Then the second layer of the Pavilion should be within our reach!” Liu Qingxu cheered.

“Senior, after you,” the swordsman said, assuming a position of a respectful guard.

Without a second look at the trembling “experts” of the Green Mist Sect, Shen Xian stepped forward and vanished into the mists toward the pavilion.