The Temple Master Always Wants to Make an Early Appearance chapter 91

Chapter 91: Today, I am Definitely Consummating This Marriage

What was a world without Song Yilou like?

An ordinary world composed of mortals, where everything developed according to a pre-planned trajectory. Occasionally, extraordinary individuals with unique talents would perform world-shaking feats, earning a single glance from Yun Wuxiang—but only a glance.

Before his abdication, Yun Wuxiang had been the very sky of Xuan’an Guo, the sole sovereign of that small realm.

The great affairs of the world were held in his hands; the joys and sorrows of the common people shifted at his whim.

The world respected him, the commoners sang his praises, and he was revered as a god.

That was the pinnacle of power.

In a world without Song Yilou, Yun Wuxiang stood at a height worshipped by ten thousand people. Some loved him and wished to draw near, yet lacked the courage or the knowledge of how to do so.

Some hated him, wishing to pull him down from the clouds, yet lacked the capability.

Whether it was love or hate, it felt as though he were watching someone else’s performance; he himself remained untouched by a single spark of emotion.

The decades spent in that small world seemed to have taught him only one thing: Song Yilou was truly rare—so rare that a second one could not be found.

Yun Wuxiang pulled the red silk in his hand, tugging the person behind him to the front.

A vibrant red garment crashed into his vision, lending a touch of eerie festivity to that cold, white ghostly face.

Long hair draped over the shoulders, yet it was not messy; the flow of every strand seemed meticulously designed, making that already extraordinary face appear even more exquisite and handsome.

Yun Wuxiang was not proficient in the arts of makeup or grooming. Had it been anyone else, he likely wouldn’t have noticed the subtle details of their appearance, but he was familiar with Song Yilou. This ghost had clearly put effort into tidying himself up.

Looking at the other’s clothes, he was a proper Gui Xinlang.

Scanning his own sleeves from the corner of his eye, they were equally draped in a sea of red.

Before closing his eyes, he had been looking at his own coffin; upon opening them, he was wearing a wedding robe, with a deeply resentful Gu ghost complaining: “That boring Guanzhu stayed inside for so long, delaying our Yuanfang day for quite a while.”

As Song Yilou spoke, he wound his entire body around Yun Wuxiang. He was currently using his adult form from the small world. While it seemed he only had one arm hooked around Yun Wuxiang’s waist, in reality, his Yin energy permeated the surroundings, wrapping Yun Wuxiang layer upon layer.

Yun Wuxiang sensed a ripple in space, and in the blink of an eye, the two appeared in a room dominated by the color red.

Before Yun Wuxiang could take in the view, his vision spun, and his back sank into a soft pile of bedding.

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His wrists tightened as the red silk bound them together, securing them to the headboard.

Yun Wuxiang moved his wrists uncomfortably.

“Guanzhu, this Qianjin is manifested from my Guihe. As long as I have one breath left, it will not unravel. Even for you, it would take a significant amount of time to break free.”

As for the fact that if his Guihe was damaged he wouldn’t die but would likely become an idiot—who cared? At least, Song Yilou didn’t care.

Song Yilou curled his lips into a smile, a canine tooth pecking out slightly, revealing the aggression of a male creature.

His gaze was burning enough to melt someone, filled with a primal ferocity—like a large carnivore that had been starving for eight hundred years and had finally caught its prey just as its patience reached its limit.

“I have already prepared the Hunfang, and I have learned the Shuangxiu techniques, Guanzhu.” Song Yilou leaned down close to Yun Wuxiang, his gentle tone laced with an irrepressible paranoia: “Today, I am definitely consummating this marriage.”

Yun Wuxiang lifted his eyes to meet the downward-looking ghostly pupils, taking in the desperate madness within.

“I feel your current state is not suitable for Shuangxiu.”

Riiiip!

In the time it took to say that single sentence, Song Yilou reached out and tore his clothes open. His chest and abdomen were exposed amidst the complicated layers of silk, as Song Yilou’s fingers began to roam clumsily and restlessly.

He was currently incapable of listening to any words that opposed the consummation.

Yun Wuxiang was not truly opposed; in his eyes, carnal union was merely a biological instinct, and giving it as a reward to a pet was no great matter.

However, he did not have much faith in Song Yilou’s actual skill level. For instance, right now, the fellow’s claws were touching everywhere randomly. The burning passion and electric tingles described in Shuangxiu manuals and secular novels were entirely absent; Yun Wuxiang only felt that Song Yilou was constantly poking his ticklish spots.

He felt Song Yilou’s technique was flawed. The image of this fellow being an illiterate idiot regarding cultivation techniques was deeply rooted in Yun Wuxiang’s heart. Although he had some intention of teasing Song Yilou, he had actually read those Shuangxiu manuals himself; Yun Wuxiang believed he could definitely do a better job than Song Yilou.

“Your technique is lacking. Release my hands, I will lead—ungh!” Yun Wuxiang let out a muffled groan of suppressed sensation, his head tilting back involuntarily, his slender neck arching in a graceful curve.

Song Yilou bit down on Yun Wuxiang’s Adam’s apple, his fingers extending downward, sliding through the layers of clothing around the waist to strike the vital point.

“You will lead? And lecture me on the flow of meridians for another night?” Song Yilou ground these words out through his teeth. Thinking of the scene when they were learning the techniques earlier, he opened his mouth to find a new spot, grinding his teeth against Yun Wuxiang’s neck to vent his fury.

“Guanzhu, today is our Dongfang. I won’t listen to a single word you say.”

Song Yilou did exactly as he said. His lips blocked Yun Wuxiang’s words, his tongue wreaking havoc in the oral cavity like a wild, dancing serpent. There was no technique, only bone-deep madness and accumulated desire, all of it vented into this kiss.

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His hands were not idle either, fanning the flames everywhere, squeezing his way into a foreign territory. He ignored the host’s push and continued forward like a bandit breaking through a door.

Before Yun Wuxiang could be ignited, Song Yilou had already become a mass of violently burning fire. He moved his body tirelessly, determined to drag the other into the boiling heat, to explode like fireworks at the peak of desire.

Strange sensations spread across his entire body. Yun Wuxiang finally found a correlation between his physical reactions and the descriptions in those books.

His body experienced an unprecedented sense of loss of control, and Yun Wuxiang instinctively barked a command: “Stop!”

In such moments, Song Yilou was at his most disobedient. He not only didn’t stop but made his movements even more excessive, his voice, accompanied by heavy breathing, blowing past the ear: “Guanzhu, forget those damned techniques and meridians in your head. Right now, you only need to feel my existence.”

Song Yilou’s existence was like a train that had derailed and crashed into someone’s front door—unreasonable force and volume, a strong and abrupt presence violating the nerves. It was hard to ignore—no, it was impossible to ignore, because he had not stopped moving.

The driver had gone mad, the tracks were lost, and steam billowed, blurring the eyes.

When a certain point was struck, Yun Wuxiang also used his mouth, biting into the side of Song Yilou’s neck. His teeth sank deep into the skin; the cool, ghostly texture was strange and surreal, and even as his teeth touched hard bone, not a drop of blood appeared.

Ghosts had no real flesh or blood, but Song Yilou had a sudden whim. He manifested his own blood; the bright red liquid flowed down the corner of Yun Wuxiang’s mouth, sliding from the chin into the collar, rolling and spreading along the contours of muscle amidst the turbulence.

Song Yilou’s smile widened through the pain. His tongue licked away the rolling droplets of blood, but his movements only caused more blood to fall onto Yun Wuxiang, licking more as more appeared.

Bloody droplets splashed everywhere, scattering into every corner of the room.

…

As the days and nights cycled, the people of the Qingdi Guan had not seen their Guanzhu for nearly three months.

Most of the humans and demons felt this was normal. In cultivation, years could pass without notice; losing contact for a few years was a common occurrence, let alone a few months.

“Teacher, has Wuxiang still not returned? I have urgent business with him, really urgent!” Yun Xinyang paced around the Chongming Bird, filled with anxiety.

“What is the rush? Even if the sky falls, it won’t be your turn to prop it up.” The Chongming Bird tilted its head toward the white-tailed Merman and asked, “It should be about time, shouldn’t it?”

Bai Jiao: “I have been cultivating my character lately and haven’t looked at the stars. Given the Guanzhu’s temperament, he probably wouldn’t indulge him for too long. It should be about finished.”

This bird and this merman—one was an ancient Banzun who had survived since the primordial era, and the other was the strongest diviner of the current Merman race who could read the heavens and glimpse fate.

Song Yilou’s commotion in preparing the Hunfang at Qingdi Guan could be hidden from others, but not from them.

Only Yun Xinyang listened with a face full of confusion: “What are you talking about? Who is Wuxiang indulging?”

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The Chongming Bird snorted coldly and remained silent.

Bai Jiao gave a meaningful smile: “Nothing. It’s just that our Qingdi Guan will likely be holding a grand ceremony soon.”

Yun Xinyang was even more bewildered.

[System 39, do you know what they’re talking about?]

[3339: Heh.]

[What’s with that tone? You know?] Yun Xinyang didn’t understand. What exactly was going on that only he didn’t know? It shouldn’t be; he and the System shared senses.

[3339: Yes, my naive host. I have a piece of unfortunate news for you. There is a 90% probability that Song Yilou has officially become your Gefu.]

[Oh, I thought it was something big. So they finally got together and are holding a wedding, right.]

[3339: …]

Why were you able to accept this so easily?

“Teacher, according to the customs here, what role do I play in the wedding as Wuxiang’s family?”

While the System was still struggling, Yun Xinyang quickly accepted the fact and began enthusiastically inquiring about the details. He hadn’t attended a wedding of someone from his own generation yet; he was quite excited.

Chongming Bird: “Weren’t you in a rush just now? How do you have the heart to ask about this now?”

Yun Xinyang: “Didn’t you say that even if the sky falls, it’s not my turn to prop it up?”

“I think what you said makes a lot of sense.”

Such a weakling’s remark earned him a wing-slap to the head. The Chongming Bird felt he was a hopeless case, flapping its wings at him again and again: “It’s not your turn because you! are! useless!”

“Tanyun was born from you; like a person’s shadow, he reflects the original body. What he can achieve, you should naturally be able to achieve as well.”

The more outstanding Yun Wuxiang appeared, the more the Chongming Bird found Yun Xinyang an eyesore.

“Teacher, I can’t do it! I absolutely cannot fall in love with a ghost! It’s too terrifying.” Yun Xinyang fled with his head in his hands, though with his cultivation, no amount of running was useful.

“Am I talking about that? Do you think a Gu ghost is a common object? Even if you wanted to find a second one, you couldn’t!”

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“He is quite rare.”

“Not as rare as you wishing a Xinmo into a Shouhuling.”

It was because Yun Xinyang had performed such a feat that even a Daozun found it astonishing that the Chongming Bird had placed high hopes on him and taken him as a disciple.

In the end, he was stuck in a mental block and couldn’t get out, leaving the Chongming Bird anxious for nothing.

Amidst the master and disciple’s bickering, Bai Jiao leisurely wove merman silk. The Merman race had sent word that Ying San had woken up; after recovering for a bit longer, he could come find him. He wanted to weave more silk to decorate the Dongfu and make his Daoist companion live comfortably.

Bai Jiao suddenly looked up, turning toward a certain direction. His closed eyes seemed to see the approaching figure through his eyelids: “The Guanzhu is back. Little Xinyang has business with you.”

Yun Wuxiang was draped in a black silk robe, its texture somewhat similar to the merman silk in Bai Jiao’s hands. His right hand carried a birdcage, and the black scorpion inside was hitting the bars, making constant noise.

“Coincidentally, I have business with you as well.” Yun Wuxiang sat down by the stone table, shaking the cage a few times until the black scorpion inside was tumbling head over heels.

Yun Xinyang saw him and ran over with his head in his hands: “Wuxiang! I have something to tell you! Big news! Let’s find a private place to talk.”

“No need, I have a good place.” Yun Wuxiang lifted his left hand, and a miniature version of the black-and-white Fushenghua floated above his palm.

His red eyes swept over the man, the merman, and the bird, his brows carrying a trace of subtle lethality. The slow, light tone he had developed over decades in the small world flowed out: “Everyone, touch a petal.”

The Chongming Bird landed on Yun Xinyang’s shoulder: “I must enter as well?”

Yun Wuxiang: “Shishu is currently the existence with the highest cultivation in Qingdi Guan. There are some things Shishu naturally needs to know.”

“Besides, doesn’t Shishu wish to see an old friend?”

“Hmph, a troublesome old friend. Better not seen.” The Chongming Bird lifted its chin high and turned its head away, refusing to look at the flower.

“Oh, Teacher, if Wuxiang asks you to go, just go.” Yun Xinyang grabbed its wingtip and tapped it against a petal.

Bai Jiao put away the merman silk he was weaving and touched a petal.

Inside the small world, Tianqing Daozun, who had been waiting until the flowers withered, sensed someone entering. She flipped up from the ground and stood with her back to the newcomers, looking like a carefree expert who held everything in her palm: “I knew you’d come back.”

Leaving in such a hurry to find a lover without asking anything—he came back after all.

Peeking back, she saw one, two, three, four.

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Why were there so many people?

Translator’s Note:

For those unfamiliar with the terms:

Gui Xinlang (鬼新郎): Ghost Groom.
Hunfang (婚房) / Dongfang (洞房): The wedding chamber / bridal room.
Yuanfang (圓房): The consummation of the marriage.
Guihe (鬼核): A ghost’s core, essentially their life source.
Qianjin (牽巾): A red silk ribbon used in traditional weddings for the couple to hold.
Gefu (哥夫): A term for a brother’s husband (brother-in-law).
Banzun (半尊): A “Half-Venerable” rank in cultivation.
Xinmo (心魔): Inner demons/mental blocks.
Shouhuling (守護靈): Guardian spirit.
Fushenghua (浮生花): “Floating Life Flower,” the name of the artifact/item.