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

Shen Xian strode through the air, his body radiant with spiritual light, a stark, luminous beacon against the bloody backdrop of the battlefield.

He was deliberately making a scene. He wanted the flies hiding in the shadows to see him.

He had flown no more than ten miles when a commotion arose from a mountain hollow ahead.

“Look! It’s Shen Xian!”

“He dares to fly so brazenly? He’s asking for death!”

“In this secret realm, life and death don’t matter. Kill him!”

Seven or eight figures charged out from the hollow. Leading them was Li Yan, the man who had nearly killed Wang Yu that day. A vicious grin spread across his face as he clutched a blood-red talisman, his eyes burning with greed.

“Shen Xian! Today is your day to die!”

Li Yan roared, activating the talisman.

A beam of bloody light shot into the sky, transforming into a ferocious ghostly face that pounced toward Shen Xian.

Shen Xian didn’t even glance at him. He merely flicked his hand.

Smack!

The ghostly face exploded on the spot, spraying blood mist in all directions.

Before Li Yan could react, his vision blurred.

Thud!

Shen Xian kicked him squarely in the chest, as if swatting a stray dog by the roadside.

Li Yan’s body instantly burst into a cloud of blood mist. He didn’t even have time to scream.

The others froze, their bloodlust turning to ice-cold terror. They turned to flee.

“Thinking of leaving?”

Shen Xian sneered, lightly flicking his fingertips.

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

Several sword energies shot through the air, piercing precisely through the back of each fleeing disciple’s heart.

Their bodies remained frozen in their running postures for a split second before collapsing to the ground with heavy thuds.

Without sparing them a glance, Shen Xian continued flying forward.

After traveling several dozen more miles, the fierce sounds of combat echoed from a valley ahead.

Over a dozen disciples were fighting over an ancient bronze lamp floating in mid-air. Seeing Shen Xian approach, one of them shouted, “Get lost! This is no place for you!”

Shen Xian couldn’t be bothered with words. He raised his hand and struck out with a palm.

Under the might of his Golden Core Perfection cultivation, no Foundation Establishment cultivator could withstand it.

Boom!

The shouting disciple exploded into a mist of blood. Seven or eight others nearby were sent flying by the shockwave, coughing up blood as their ribs shattered.

The bronze lamp flew automatically into Shen Xian’s hand. He glanced at it briefly before storing it away.

Shen Xian rampaged unchecked. Wherever he passed, anyone who dared show even a hint of hostility became a corpse. In this secret realm, with his cultivation unsealed, he was a god walking among mortals.

…

Under the bloody sunset, Shen Xian strolled through the air, his robes flapping loudly.

In the distance, Zhao Ming was leading several disciples in besieging a third-tier demon beast. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the dark-robed figure and his face lit up.

Although Senior Brother Lin had said not to attack him yet, the target had practically walked right into his arms. How could he let this opportunity slip?

“Trash of the Shen Family…”

He began laughing loudly, but he had only uttered three words when his vision spun wildly.

Thump!

A head soared high into the air, blood gushing forth like a spring.

Zhao Ming’s headless corpse remained frozen, pointing at Shen Xian, before collapsing heavily to the ground.

Shen Xian flew directly over the corpse, as if he had merely swatted away a buzzing fly.

“In my book…”

The corner of his mouth lifted slightly, a cold glint flashing in his eyes.

“…if there’s an opportunity for revenge, it never waits until tomorrow.”

Before his words faded, the disciples standing dumbstruck around Zhao Ming’s corpse trembled violently. A bloody line appeared simultaneously across each of their necks.

Thud! Thud!

Several heads rolled to the ground, frozen in expressions of utter terror.

Shen Xian flicked his sleeve. The jade tokens at their waists flew automatically into his hand, and the number on his own token jumped.

He took a single step forward, and his figure vanished.

All that remained were corpses littering the ground and the faint scent of blood lingering in the air.

I wonder where that Zhou Ziling is right now?

…

Wang Yu felt fortunate—fortunate that Shen Xian hadn’t come looking for him yet.

He knelt on one knee, his azure longsword deeply embedded in the ground to support his teetering body. Blood trickled down from his forehead, staining his blue Daoist robe dark red. His left arm hung limply, the shoulder blade pierced through by sword energy, revealing white bone.

“Wang Yu, is this all your Wang Family’s ancestral broken wine cup is capable of?”

Zhou Ziling stood ten zhang away. His face was pale, his brocade robe torn open to reveal a dull-golden breastplate.

Both being at Half-Step Golden Core cultivation, killing Wang Yu outright was difficult. Fortunately, Zhou Ziling had brought help.

Wang Yu spat out a mouthful of bloody froth. “Ganging up against one person—that’s about all you’ll ever amount to.”

Scattered around them lay seven or eight corpses—disciples who had besieged Wang Yu moments ago. Of those still standing, all seven bore injuries, their eyes holding traces of fear. They hadn’t expected this fallen scion from an impoverished clan to take out over half their number.

“Ganging up?” Zhou Ziling burst into mad laughter. “You really are naive, aren’t you? Now… you can die!”

“After you die, it’ll be that trash’s turn next!”

He prepared to strike the final blow.

“Zhou Ziling…” Wang Yu coughed up fresh blood, yet his gaze grew sharp. “You think… finding a bunch of trash like these can kill me?”

He bit the tip of his tongue, spraying a mouthful of essence blood onto his wine cup.

Hummm—

The cup trembled violently. The last drop of spiritual wine at the bottom boiled, transforming into nine azure dragon phantoms that soared skyward.

The dragon phantoms stirred immense power, a terrifying aura sweeping across the surroundings.

Zhou Ziling’s expression changed drastically. “Scatter quickly!”

Too late.

The nine dragon phantoms roared, tearing through the air and piercing the chests of three disciples instantly. The remaining four were sent flying, crashing heavily against the cliff walls.

Seeing the situation spiral, a flash of ruthlessness passed through Zhou Ziling’s eyes. He abruptly pulled out a purplish-black thunder pill.

Eerie electric sparks coiled on its surface, emitting heart-palpitating fluctuations.

This was his strongest trump card, reserved for a critical moment. He never thought he would be forced to use it here.

“Mystic Yin Lightning?!” Wang Yu’s pupils constricted. This weapon could severely injure even mid-Golden Core cultivators.

“Break for me!” Zhou Ziling sneered, activating the pill.

Purple lightning erupted, transforming into a large net of electricity that enveloped the nine dragon phantoms.

BOOM!

A deafening explosion echoed. The azure dragons were shredded by the electricity.

The violent shockwave sent Wang Yu flying dozens of zhang back. He slammed heavily against the cliff wall, his internal organs churning.

Pfft—

He sprayed a mouthful of blood. Looking down at the completely shattered Nine Cycles Wine Warming Cup in his hand, a flicker of bitterness flashed in his eyes.

His ancestral magic treasure had failed him.

Zhou Ziling walked over slowly, looking down with condescension. “Now—any last words?”

Wang Yu closed his eyes, awaiting death.

This gamble… he had lost.

“Don’t worry. After you die, I’ll make sure to send that trash Shen Xian to accompany you!” Zhou Ziling laughed maniacally, gathering surging spiritual energy in his right hand.

He struck down toward Wang Yu’s crown.

Just at the critical moment—

Hummm!

A strange ripple of spiritual energy flashed past. Wang Yu felt his vision blur, and his whole person vanished from his spot.

“What?!”

Zhou Ziling’s certain-kill strike slammed into empty space, cracking the ground. He jerked his head upward, eyes filled with shock. “Who is playing tricks?!”

“My person—is someone you dare touch?”

An indifferent voice descended from high above.

A dark-robed figure stepped through the air, robes flapping loudly in the wind.

Wang Yu was supported by a gentle force, slowly landing on the ground again. When he recognized the newcomer, his pupils constricted sharply.

“Young… Young Master?”

His voice held no joy, only thick worry.

Shen Xian had just entered Foundation Establishment. How could he match Zhou Ziling, especially when the other held Mystic Yin Lightning?

“Young Master, run quickly!” Wang Yu struggled to rise, but was pressed down gently by an invisible force.