Immortal Ascension Through Marriage: Investing in My Wife Get Returns

The local market of Qingshui Town was crowded and noisy, filled with the loud sounds of people buying and selling. Vendors shouted the prices of their vegetables, butchers chopped meat on blood-stained wooden blocks, and the strong smell of unwashed bodies mixed with the smoke from roasting chestnuts.

It was a place where ordinary people struggled every day simply to survive.

Lin Yuan stood at the edge of the central square, a worn, frayed canvas mat laid out on the cobblestones before him. Arranged on the mat were a few wooden practice swords, a blunt iron spear, and a small wooden sign that read: Azure Swallow School - Accepting Disciples.

In his true reality, he was a cultivator who could command the attention of entire sects with a single clearing of his throat. Clan patriarchs and sect leaders would have offered mountains of spirit stones just to receive a single word of martial guidance from him. Yet here, in this freezing, damp market, he was completely invisible. People walked past him without a second glance, their eyes glued to the mud, too concerned with their own empty stomachs to care about martial arts.

His ribs screamed in agonizing protest with every breath he took, tightly bound by the cloth sash hidden beneath his faded gray robes.

”Step forward!” Lin Yuan called out, forcing his hoarse voice over the din of the market. ”The Azure Swallow School offers authentic martial instruction! Cultivate discipline, defend your families, and strengthen your bodies!”

A few peasants paused, glancing at his bruised face and the obvious, painful stiffness in his posture, before shaking their heads and moving on. He didn’t look like a martial arts master; he looked like a beaten dog.

Hours passed. The cold wind bit into his skin. The terrifying reality of the empty cupboards back home gnawed at his mind. He needed silver. He needed copper. He needed to feed Lin Fan.

Just as the sun began to dip behind the town’s rooftops, casting long shadows over the market, the crowd suddenly parted. A sudden, tense hush fell over the immediate area.

Approaching the canvas mat was a veritable mountain of a man. He was easily a foot taller than Lin Yuan, with arms as thick as tree trunks and a thick, bristling beard. He wore an open, heavy leather vest that displayed a chest covered in thick, dark hair and old scars. The insignia of the Iron Palm School—a rival martial arts dojo known for its brutal, bone-breaking techniques—was branded proudly on his belt.

”Authentic martial instruction?” the man boomed, his voice echoing through the square, drawing a large circle of curious onlookers. He looked down at Lin Yuan with absolute contempt. ”I am Lei Meng, senior instructor of the Iron Palm School. We heard the Azure Swallow was on its last legs, Master Lin. Seeing you out here, begging for coppers like a crippled beggar... it seems the rumors were entirely true.”

Lin Yuan remained perfectly still, his ordinary eyes locking onto Lei Meng. ”The Azure Swallow is open. If you are not here to pay tuition, step off my mat.”

Lei Meng threw his head back and laughed, a cruel, grating sound. ”Pay tuition? To learn what? How to get beaten by street thugs? Tell you what, Lin Yuan. Let’s give these good people a demonstration. You and me. Right here. If you can last three exchanges without begging for mercy, I’ll walk away. If you fall, you burn that sign and close your pathetic school forever.”

The crowd murmured, their eyes wide with the anticipation of violence.

Lin Yuan knew the logical choice was to refuse. His body was already battered, and accepting another challenge could leave him seriously injured.

But in this world, just as in the cultivation world, reputation was a kind of currency. A martial artist needed to maintain his reputation and save face. If he backed down in front of everyone, no one would ever bring another copper coin to his dojo.

And without students, there would be no income.

Starvation would be inevitable.

”Fine,” Lin Yuan said, his voice flat and cold. He stepped to the center of the mat, abandoning the wooden weapons. He raised his bare hands, settling into a fluid, defensive stance.

Lei Meng didn’t bother with formalities. With a roar that sprayed spit into the air, the giant lunged forward.

Lei Meng threw a massive, sweeping right hook aimed directly at Lin Yuan’s jaw. The strike carried the sheer, brute force of a charging bull.

Lin Yuan processed the attack flawlessly. In his mind, he saw a dozen different ways to counter, redirect, and completely dismantle the giant. He chose a precise, deflecting maneuver, intending to step inside the guard and strike the man’s throat.

But as Lin Yuan moved, a horrifying dissonance occurred.

His mind commanded absolute perfection, but his flesh-and-blood body simply could not keep up. His muscles felt like lead. The torn, aching tissue in his ribs violently screamed as he pivoted. He was too slow.

Instead of perfectly deflecting the strike, Lin Yuan barely managed to bring his left forearm up in time to block.

CRACK!

The impact was absolutely devastating. Lei Meng’s iron-hard forearm slammed into Lin Yuan’s blocking wrist. The sickening sound of bone micro-fracturing echoed loudly. A white-hot, blinding spike of pure agony shot up Lin Yuan’s arm, completely deadening his hand.

Lin Yuan was pushed back, his boots sliding against the muddy cobblestones. He gasped, his lungs burning as if he had swallowed hot coals. His stamina was draining at a terrifying rate. Every single breath felt like he was inhaling glass.

”Is that it?!” Lei Meng taunted, stepping heavily forward, raising both hands for a devastating, double-palm strike to the chest.

I cannot match his strength, Lin Yuan realized, his heart hammering violently.

As the double-palm strike descended, Lin Yuan threw himself into the mud, rolling desperately under the giant’s sweeping arms. His fractured wrist throbbed with a sickening pulse of agony.

Using the momentum of the roll, Lin Yuan sprang up behind Lei Meng. He couldn’t punch; his hands were compromised. Instead, Lin Yuan drove the heel of his boot directly into the back of Lei Meng’s knee joint with every ounce of physical strength he possessed.

Lei Meng roared in pain as his leg buckled violently, dropping him to one knee.

Without pausing for a single moment, Lin Yuan stepped in, wrapping his good arm around the giant’s thick neck in a flawless, inescapable chokehold, while using his fractured wrist to lock the grip, ignoring the blinding pain that threatened to make him pass out.

Lin Yuan clamped down, cutting off the blood flow to the giant’s brain. Lei Meng thrashed wildly, his massive elbows slamming blindly into Lin Yuan’s bruised ribs. Lin Yuan coughed blood, his mortal muscles tearing under the immense strain of holding down a man twice his size, but he did not let go.

Ten agonizing seconds passed. Lei Meng’s face turned a deep purple. His thrashing weakened, and finally, his massive hands slapped the muddy cobblestones in frantic submission.

Lin Yuan released the hold, stumbling backward and collapsing to his knees, gasping desperately for air. Lei Meng fell forward into the mud, coughing and retching violently.

The market square was dead silent. The crowd stared in stunned disbelief. The frail, beaten master of the Azure Swallow had just choked out the biggest brute in town.

Through the haze of his agonizing pain and burning lungs, Lin Yuan saw three young men step forward from the crowd. They were dressed in modest, working-class clothes, their eyes wide with sheer awe.

”Master Lin,” the bravest of the three spoke, nervously extending a small pouch that clinked with the beautiful, life-saving sound of silver and copper coins. ”We... we wish to learn that. We wish to join your school.”

Lin Yuan looked at the pouch. He reached out with a trembling hand and accepted it. The metal coins felt heavier, and more valuable, than any divine artifact he had ever held in the real world.

It was the kind of feeling one experienced when standing at the very edge of death, only to have a great hand suddenly reach down and pull them back into the world of the living. That overwhelming sense of relief, gratitude, and disbelief coursed through Lin Yuan at that very moment. For the first time in a long while, he understood just how precious it was to be given another chance at life.

*****

Back to the Martial Arts School...

By the time Lin Yuan limped back to the Azure Swallow School, the sun had completely set. The dojo was dark and freezing. The moment the heavy front doors clicked shut behind him, the adrenaline completely left his system.

Lin Yuan collapsed onto the wooden floorboards of the hallway, entirely unable to take another step. His left wrist was grotesquely swollen, turning a deep, sickly purple. Every muscle in his body felt as though it had been shredded by rusted knives.

”Father!”

A small, frantic voice echoed in the dark. Lin Fan rushed out from the back room, holding a small, flickering candle. The boy dropped the candle to the floor when he saw the state of his father.

”Father, you’re bleeding! Your arm!” Lin Fan cried, his voice trembling violently.

The seven-year-old boy scrambled away for a moment, returning with a clean, torn strip of cloth and a small wooden bucket of cold water. With gentle hands, Lin Fan began to carefully wash the mud and blood from Lin Yuan’s wrist.

As the boy worked, wrapping the cloth tightly around the swollen joint to stabilize the bone, Lin Yuan felt a warm drop of moisture hit his forearm.

He looked down. Lin Fan was crying silently. Thick tears streamed down the boy’s dirty cheeks, his small jaw clenched tight.

”Fan’er...” Lin Yuan whispered, his voice incredibly hoarse. ”Why are you crying?”

”Because it is my fault,” Lin Fan sobbed, refusing to look up from the bandage. ”Mother is gone. And now you have to go out and get beaten half to death just so I can eat. I am a burden, Father. You are hurting because of me.”

The words struck Lin Yuan’s mortal heart with a force far more devastating than Lei Meng’s iron fists. The sheer, touching innocence of the child’s worry tore through his very being.

’So this is what it takes to cultivate a Mortal Heart after becoming a cultivator... Such profound emotions, emotions capable of clouding even my Dao Heart. To sever the Mortal Heart, one must first possess a heart worth severing!’

Lin Yuan then reached out with his good hand, pulling the small, trembling boy into a tight embrace against his bruised chest. He buried his face in his son’s hair.

”You are not a burden, Fan’er,” Lin Yuan whispered fiercely, tears welling in his own exhausted eyes as the profound, terrifying vulnerability of human love washed over him completely. ”You are my son. And there is absolutely nothing in this world I would not endure to keep you safe.”

They sat together in the cold, dark hallway, a broken mortal man and his weeping son, clinging to each other for warmth and survival.

The next morning, despite the agonizing pain, Lin Yuan was awake at dawn to sweep the dojo courtyard. He had bought rice the night before. They had eaten. They had survived.

Just as the morning bell chimed through the town, the heavy doors of the school opened. The three new students he had recruited at the market walked into the courtyard.

However, Lin Yuan’s eyes instantly narrowed.

The first two young men were dressed exactly as they had been the day before—in modest, simple tunics. But the third student, the one who had handed him the pouch of coins, had shed his unassuming disguise. He was now wearing exquisite, highly expensive silk robes, his chin raised in an arrogant sneer.

Lin Yuan immediately recognized the family crest embroidered on the boy’s chest from the memories. It was the crest of the town magistrate!