Immortal Ascension Through Marriage: Investing in My Wife Get Returns

”The words have been spoken. The pride has been laid bare,” Emperor Tianxu’s voice rolled over the amphitheater, vibrating with the supreme power of the Qilin. ”Now, we let the Dao decide the truth of your convictions. Adjudicator Xuanji, open the first round!”

Before the Grand Court’s outer terrace, a space so unfathomably vast it could comfortably swallow a small city block, hundreds of cultivators had assembled. This was the staging ground for the preliminary round. Beneath their boots, carved directly into the floor, lay a massive, sprawling formation array.

The sheer scale of the gathering was breathtaking, yet it perfectly illustrated the brutal hierarchy of the cultivation world. Hundreds of nominees had been brought from the fifteen provinces—both Upper and Lower Division alike. The contrast among them was stark.

On one side of the terrace, the Lower Division retinues stood in tight clusters. Many of these cultivators, despite being revered as unparalleled geniuses in their home sects, were visibly sweating. Their hands twitched near the hilts of their swords, their eyes darting nervously as they assessed the monsters around them.

On the other side of the terrace, the Upper Division delegations radiated a completely different frequency. They lounged with the easy confidence of talents who had never lost a fight worth remembering. They did not look at the Lower Division cultivators as rivals, they looked at them as walking target practice.

Away from the immediate crush of the gathering crowd, Lin Yuan stood perfectly still, his black and white robes rustling gently in the wind, while Bai Qingyue sat before him in her wheelchair.

Lin Yuan reached down, his hands gently adjusting the fox shawl draped over her shoulders, ensuring the freezing high-altitude winds could not reach her body.

”It’s about to start,” Bai Qingyue murmured softly, her eyes lifting to meet his. Despite her absolute faith in him, the thought of his impending departure cast a faint shadow over her beautiful features. ”You are going to be surrounded by enemies, Yuan.”

”Then let them surround me,” Lin Yuan replied calmly. ”I have never been afraid of walking into a storm. As long as I know what I am fighting for, no enemy in this world can make me lose my way.”

He reached up and gently tucked a stray lock of black hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering against her cheek.

”I know,” she smiled, leaning slightly into his palm. ”I do not fear for your victory. I only...” She paused, searching for the words. ”I only ask that you do not let their arrogance force you into carelessness. The monsters of the Central Continent fight with resources and artifacts we have never seen. Do not underestimate the depths of their cruelty.”

Lin Yuan’s deep purple eyes softened profoundly. He knelt on one knee, bringing himself exactly to her eye level, ignoring the stares of everyone.

”I will not underestimate them, Qingyue,” Lin Yuan promised, his voice carrying the immovable weight of his Dao Heart. ”I understand the difference between us. If I were to confront any of them head-on, I would be seeking my own death. But I have no intention of doing that.”

He leaned forward, pressing a soft, lingering kiss against her forehead.

”I love you, Qingyue. My wife.”

Bai Qingyue’s eyes softened, a warm smile touching her lips.

”I love you too, Yuan.”

She gently squeezed his hand, her gaze unwavering.

”Then go. Walk your path without fear. May your Dao remain unbroken, and may you return to me safely.”

As Lin Yuan stood up and prepared to step out of the isolated alcove and into the staging area, he felt a sudden, heavy presence shuffling toward him.

”Excuse me! Ah, apologies, moving through—forgive the sweat, it’s the altitude!”

Lin Yuan turned his head slightly. Wiping his brow with a handkerchief was a remarkably chubby cultivator. The man was dressed in vibrant, slightly too-tight green robes that strained against his generous proportions. He possessed a round, entirely unthreatening face and a cultivation base that hovered somewhere around the Mid-Stage of Nascent Soul.

The chubby cultivator sidled up beside Lin Yuan, offering a wide, but slightly nervous smile that immediately flagged him as someone desperately seeking a friendly face among a sea of predators.

”You’re the crazy guy from the Zhao Province, right?” the young man whispered conspiratorially, leaning in close, though keeping a respectful distance from Lin Yuan’s personal space. ”The one who invoked the Ascension Clause? Man, I thought my sect elders were insane for throwing me in here, but you’ve got guts.”

Lin Yuan looked at the man, his expression perfectly neutral. ”And you are?”

”Fu Lang! Representing the glorious, if entirely overlooked, Fu Province of the Lower Division,” the fatty introduced himself, puffing out his chest before immediately deflating with a sigh. ”Though, between you and me, I’m mostly just here to survive. My Dao is the Dao of Absolute Defense. Which is a polite way of saying I run away very fast and hide.”

Lin Yuan felt a flicker of mild amusement. In a courtyard filled with arrogant, posturing killers, Fu Lang’s shameless, pragmatic cowardice was strangely refreshing.

”A survivalist,” Lin Yuan noted mildly.

”Exactly!” Fu Lang beamed, wiping his forehead again. ”I figure, since we’re both Lower Division brethren walking into this, maybe we should watch each other’s backs? Or, at the very least, agree not to rob each other if we cross paths in there?”

”If you do not draw your weapon against me, Fu Lang, I will have no reason to do so against you,” Lin Yuan said calmly.

It was not exactly a promise of alliance, but for Fu Lang, it was better than a threat. The fatty let out a massive sigh of relief. ”I’ll take it! May the heavens preserve us both, Brother Lin.”

As Fu Lang scurried away to adjust a dozen defensive talismans hanging from his belt, Lin Yuan stepped fully into the ranks of the gathered nominees.

The moment he joined the crowd, the atmosphere shifted.

Across the sprawling sea of heads, the towering, massive figure of Chu Kuang stood out like a bloodstain on white silk. The arrogant heir of the Chu Province was surrounded by his retinue, but his manic, bloodthirsty eyes instantly locked onto Lin Yuan.

Chu Kuang did not shout this time.

He merely offered a look of open, absolute, and dismissive contempt. Slowly, deliberately, Chu Kuang raised his massive thumb and drew it across his own throat, a silent, unmistakable promise of slaughter.

Lin Yuan did not react. He simply broke eye contact, dismissing the Peerless Stage genius as little more than irrelevant noise.

Yet Lin Yuan knew better than to underestimate him. A cultivator who had reached the Peerless Stage of Spirit Severing was no ordinary opponent, and arrogance was the fastest path to death.

As his gaze swept the rest of the Upper Division delegations, Lin Yuan’s eyes caught him.

Standing at the very edge of the Feng Province delegation, entirely separated from the posturing egos of the other Peerless Geniuses, was Feng Yao. The sixteen-year-old boy looked incredibly small. He was the only person in the entire courtyard who did not seem to be posturing, preparing, or even paying attention. Feng Yao stood quietly, his head tilted back slightly, his eyes completely closed, as though everything bored him to sleep.

But for a fraction of a second, the boy’s eyes fluttered open.

Those terrifying, pupil-less eyes, filled with solid, milky white light, passed over the hundreds of cultivators and landed directly on Lin Yuan. The gaze lingered for a beat too long. It was completely unreadable.

Just as quickly, Feng Yao’s eyes slid shut again, returning to his previous posture.

Lin Yuan filed the interaction away in the depths of his mind. The boy was dangerous, not because of malice, but because of the sheer strangeness of his situation.

Before any further silent exchanges could occur, a resonant, deafening chime echoed across the Grand Court, vibrating in the marrow of every cultivator present.

Above the massive formation array, standing upon a hovering dais, was Elder Xuanji.

The Chief Dao Adjudicator of the Central Continent’s Cultivation Court looked down at the hundreds of assembled nominees. He read as a man who was genuinely fair. He was an expert who had spent centuries enforcing the absolute laws of the Emperor without a single exception, and he took a terrifying pride in that consistency.

”Nominees of the Peerless God Tournament,”