My Wife is a Hidden Big Shot

"Are you going to keep them locked up forever?" Alvin Morgan asked.

Aurora Sinclair shook her head and said hesitantly,

"I hold no grudge against them, so locking them up forever feels a bit inhumane. But if I let them out, I’m afraid they’ll disrupt the current order."

A faint smile touched Alvin Morgan’s lips as he offered a solution:

"You can let them out, but you need a powerful force to restrain them. After all, those three have been locked inside for over ten thousand years. No one knows what they’ve become, so it’s better to be cautious."

Aurora Sinclair nodded.

"The Space Administrator said there’s something that can restrain them, but I need to reach the Martial God Level to find out what it is..."

Alvin Morgan’s expression tightened, and he immediately changed his tune. "Let Tristan Winslow out first. Revoke the permissions for the others."

"Mm..."

Aurora Sinclair glanced at her ring. With a thought, Tristan Winslow’s body appeared a short distance away.

Although his hair was silver-white, his face was remarkably young, not at all like someone who had lived for ten thousand years. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say he looked like a young man in his twenties or thirties.

However, the Vitality emanating from him was faint, as if he were in his twilight years.

When he appeared, his face showed little surprise. His gaze, full of wisdom, fell on Aurora Sinclair with a smile.

"You must be the Son of God?"

"Martial God Winslow..." Aurora Sinclair gave a bow.

"Please, rise, My Lady."

Tristan Winslow’s expression shifted slightly. He stepped forward and made a gesture of helping her up, his attitude incredibly respectful, as if Aurora Sinclair were a person of great importance.

"My Lady, it is I who should be bowing to you."

After speaking, Tristan Winslow bowed to her with profound respect.

Aurora Sinclair glanced at Alvin Morgan, her expression unreadable.

After finishing his bow, Tristan Winslow said amicably, "My Lady, I know what you wish to ask. Becoming a Martial God is indeed a complete transformation, like being reborn."

Aurora Sinclair’s expression flickered. "May I check your pulse?"

"Of course."

Aurora Sinclair took Tristan Winslow’s wrist, her expression growing grave.

’Tristan Winslow’s pulse is normal, and his bodily functions haven’t degenerated. Logically, he should be able to live for a very long time, so why is the Vitality within him so scarce?’

Seeing her confusion, Tristan Winslow answered knowingly, "My Lady, while a Martial God’s body is beyond compare to a mortal’s, we are still human. We must still obey the rules of heaven and earth—to be born, to age, to sicken, and to die. What’s more, I have already spent several million years in the Hidden Realm..."

’Several million years?’

Aurora Sinclair and Alvin Morgan were stunned.

’Historical records state that it has only been tens of thousands of years since Tristan Winslow became a Martial God. How could it be several million?’

Tristan Winslow burst out laughing. "The Hidden Realm is a paradise for Martial Artists. One hundred years of Martial Cultivation for me inside is but a single day in the outside world. Though only tens of thousands of years have passed in history, I have lived for over several million. Naturally, my lifespan is nearing its end..."

"Why not undergo the Divine Trial? There should be realms beyond that of a Martial God..."

Tristan Winslow’s smile faded slightly, his eyes holding the look of one who had seen through all the vicissitudes of life.

"The energy of the Divine Trial is finite. If I had used it, how could my descendants have become Gods? For millions of years, I have tried every method I could think of, yet I was powerless to stop them from turning to a handful of dust..."

At this, Tristan Winslow suddenly knelt before Aurora Sinclair, clasping his hands and performing a deep kowtow.

His gaze was resolute, filled with hope.

"Son of God, only you can restart the Divine Trial and turn this place into a beacon of hope for Martial Artists, rather than their final grave. I implore you to become a Martial God and change the fate of all our descendants..."

Alvin Morgan’s face fell. He immediately pulled Aurora Sinclair back two steps by the arm and retorted hostilely, "The price of becoming a Martial God is immense. Otherwise, the four of you wouldn’t be the only ones to have become Gods."

Tristan Winslow’s gaze didn’t waver. He stared intently at Aurora Sinclair. "Becoming a God is indeed a trial with a slim chance of survival. But as long as you survive the Divine Trial, My Lady, the other three and I will willingly submit to you and never take a single step out of this Hidden Realm."

Aurora Sinclair fell silent...

"And what if she doesn’t survive the Divine Trial?" Alvin Morgan’s fists clenched tightly.

He stared straight into Tristan Winslow’s eyes and said angrily, "She is not a savior. She has no obligation to do anything for the sake of your ideals. Aurora, let’s go home."

He grabbed Aurora Sinclair’s hand and strode down the mountain.

But from behind them came Tristan Winslow’s aged sigh:

"Son of God, I have exhausted my life’s power seeking a glimmer of Vitality for this world. Only today do I understand that you are that Vitality. If you leave, where will that Vitality be..."

***

Springs went and winters came; decades passed.

Flowers bloomed and withered; another year gone.

The usually desolate Holy Mountain now seemed unusually lively.

A dozen snow huts had been built at the foot of the mountain, forming what looked like a small village.

Graham Morgan looked at his father, who stood a short distance away with his hands behind his back, and felt a sense of helplessness.

Years ago, his mother had chosen not to leave this place with his father.

This had become a source of unresolved pain for his father for all these years.

He understood his father’s heart, and he understood his mother’s perseverance and faith.

His father was a physicist; he knew better than anyone the dangers of cosmic energy rays.

It wasn’t as simple as altering the body and genes. Enduring that kind of energy without any protective measures—to put it nicely, it was called the Divine Trial, a complete transformation—was, in reality, the most simple and brutal form of selection and evolution.

For years, his father had been studying the effects of Ancient Martial Arts cultivation on the human body, and his final conclusion was:

This was the evolution of a civilization.

His mother was the driving force behind this civilizational evolution.

But from the lessons of history, such driving forces rarely met with a good end.

"Dad, it’s cold out here. Let’s go inside," Graham Morgan said, taking two steps forward and reaching out to support him.

"A little longer."

Alvin Morgan brushed his hand away and continued to stare ahead, like a statue eternally waiting for his wife’s return.

Graham Morgan sighed once more.

There was nothing ahead but a blanket of white snow. The only thing special about this spot was that it was where his mother had first entered the Trial Dimension. Moreover, every three to five years, a silver-haired young man would suddenly appear from that direction to report that all was well.

But this year, the five-year mark had already passed, and the man had yet to appear.

One couldn’t help but worry that something had happened inside the dimension.

Just as he was thinking this, a door materialized out of thin air.

Before he could react, his dad had already shot forward at the speed of a hundred-meter dash.

"Aurora..."

Graham Morgan was a few steps behind, but he also ran over.

By then, the door had already vanished, and the pure white snow was stained with a patch of crimson.

The thick, metallic scent of blood made one’s brows furrow instinctively.

Alvin Morgan was holding a woman wrapped in a black cloak, running quickly toward the house.

"Graham, open the sterile room..."

Graham Morgan hurried off, mentally thanking his father for his foresight.

Over the years, besides moving their home here, his father had also spent a fortune to build an advanced sanatorium. It was partly for his own maintenance, but mostly, it was prepared for his mother.

He never thought it would actually be put to use today.

"Ditto, activate sterile mode, open the Nutrition Repair Chamber..."

"Yes, Master."

The woman under the black cloak had silver hair, her features so exquisite they bore no trace of time. She seemed even younger than before.

Her irises were silver, and a faint smile played on her lips. She was breathtakingly beautiful.

"I’m fine..." she replied with a smile, panting slightly.

Her blossoming smile made Alvin Morgan’s heart skip a beat, but then his lips tightened into a thin line.

Her back and limbs were covered in shocking wounds. Though they were slowly self-healing, the process couldn’t keep up with the speed at which she was bleeding.

Alvin Morgan carefully placed her into the Nutrition Repair Chamber in the sterile room.

Familiar black, flocculent matter adhered tightly to her wounds.

Aurora Sinclair smiled at him, not telling him that this medicine was no longer very effective on her wounds.

For a Martial God’s wounds to heal, they could only rely on the body’s self-healing abilities and Level One Energy Stones—a type of green Star Stone.

But there were no more of these green Star Stones on this planet. She could only use the Power of Heaven and Earth to heal herself.

***

Aurora Sinclair’s return brought life back to the Morgan Family.

With the exception of Jason Morgan, who was still in seclusion, everyone was rushing toward the Holy Mountain.

"Where’s Mom?" Winona Morgan asked, looking around as soon as she put her bag down.

Graham Morgan pointed to the Holy Mountain outside the window and said helplessly, "She went to the summit of the Holy Mountain with Dad."

"Isn’t she injured? Why is she running around?" Winona Morgan frowned and was about to head to the Holy Mountain to find them when Graham Morgan grabbed her arm.

"Don’t go. They’re busy with something important..."

"What is it?"

"Paying respects to the four Martial Gods."

Winona Morgan’s eyes widened in shock.

Graham Morgan sighed. "Martial Gods are still human. They can’t escape the merciless passage of time..."

On the summit of the Holy Mountain—

Where a stone stele once stood, there were now four crystal-clear ice coffins.

The people inside the coffins retained their appearance from when they were alive, looking as peaceful as if they were merely asleep.

Aurora Sinclair crafted four shimmering white flowers from snow and placed them in front of the ice coffins.

"Hector Lennox was killed by Jasper Winslow, his body destroyed without a trace. Jasper Winslow is now a Martial God and is exploring the Trial Dimension, so I’ve let him be. There are many Cultivation Techniques in the Trial Dimension. Having one more person bring them out can be considered a contribution to the Martial World..."

Aurora Sinclair seemed to be talking to herself, but she was actually explaining things to Alvin Morgan.

Alvin Morgan watched her for a long time before suddenly asking, "Aurora, is being a Martial God your final destination?"

Aurora Sinclair paused. She turned to look into his somber eyes and shook her head. "No. Being a Martial God is just my beginning."

She raised her hand, looking at the ring gleaming with a metallic luster on her finger, and said with a smile, "From now on, I am the Star Lord of this planet!"

[End of Main Text]