Immortal Ascension Through Marriage: Investing in My Wife Get Returns

Han Zilie let out a low, humorless chuckle, stepping further into the moonlight. "You are as perceptive as your reputation suggests, Senior Disciple Mu. I appreciate the directness. You are correct. I am not here to trade poetry. I am here because I believe we currently share a common, incredibly frustrating variable in our respective lives."

"A variable?" Mu Tianyang arched a single, elegant brow.

"Let us not insult each other’s intelligence," Han Zilie said, his voice dropping. "Lin Yuan. And, by extension, that entire upstart household he has dragged into the provincial palace."

Mu Tianyang’s expression did not shift, but the internal temperature of his Qi dropped by a degree. He remembered the unspoken threat Lin Yuan had delivered at the garden gathering. He remembered the chilling, immovable weight behind Lin Yuan’s eyes.

"I have no quarrel with Lord Zhao’s chosen General," Mu Tianyang lied smoothly. "My interactions with him have been brief and entirely constrained to formal pleasantries."

"Perhaps you have no quarrel with him," Han Zilie sneered softly, stepping closer to the edge of the lotus pond. "But you surely must have a quarrel with that pathetic, babbling boy who trails behind him. Bai Chen."

At the mention of Bai Chen’s name, Mu Tianyang’s facade of absolute serenity finally showed the faintest crack. A muscle in his jaw twitched, and his eyes hardened for a brief moment. Han Zilie, possessing the keen, opportunistic instincts of someone who had spent his life navigating clan politics, noticed the reaction immediately. He had found the opening he was looking for, and without hesitation, he pressed his advantage.

"I attended the garden gathering this afternoon," Han Zilie continued, his words slick and dripping with fabricated concern. "I watched the proceedings from afar. And I watched how that boy looked at Envoy Su Yin. But a boy’s foolish infatuation is one thing, Senior Disciple Mu. What happens when that infatuation is weaponized by an arrogant household seeking to further solidify their stolen status in this province?"

"Speak plainly," Mu Tianyang commanded, his voice suddenly void of its pleasant warmth, dropping to a dangerous tone.

Sensing the opportunity he had been desperately waiting for, Han Zilie fully deployed his poisoned narrative.

"The boy is not merely admiring her from afar," Han Zilie lied, his tone laced with indignation. "He is pursuing her. Improperly. And aggressively. I have ears among the palace servants, Mu Tianyang. The lower staff are already trading whispers. Bai Chen has been boasting in the outer courtyards. He speaks of Su Yin not as an honored Saintess of the Pure Cloud Sect, but as a prize he has already secured."

Mu Tianyang’s eyes narrowed into terrifying slits.

"He claims," Han Zilie pressed, twisting the knife, "that because his brother-in-law currently holds the absolute favor of Lord Zhao Shenming, the Pure Cloud Sect will have no choice but to entertain a formal union. He is using Lin Yuan’s newfound political weight to corner her, treating her kindness as a silent submission to his advances. He speaks of her as if she already belongs to him."

A profound, suffocating silence descended upon the garden path.

Deep within his spiritual sea, Mu Tianyang felt a sudden, violent spike of genuine killing intent. It flared like a burst of black fire against the immaculate purity of his Dao Heart. Su Yin was his. She was the ordained future of the sect, the perfect counterpart to his Middle Nascent Soul brilliance. The very idea that a lowly, stammering whelp was dragging her name through the dirt of the servants’ quarters, weaponizing political favor to force a bond, was an insult so profound it demanded blood.

However, Mu Tianyang was not a fool. He was a cultivator of immense control. He looked at Han Zilie, his intellect rapidly dissecting his words.

He knew Han Zilie was manipulating him. He knew the young master was likely exaggerating the rumors, if not outright fabricating the extent of Bai Chen’s boasts, simply to use Mu Tianyang as a proxy weapon to strike at Lin Yuan’s household.

But it doesn’t matter, Mu Tianyang thought, his mind racing with cold, clinical precision. Whether the boy is actually boasting or simply harboring quiet delusions, the threat to my perfect alignment remains the same. Bai Chen is a weed growing too close to my garden. Han Zilie’s lies simply give me the righteous, undeniable justification to uproot it.

"Those are severe allegations, Young Master Han," Mu Tianyang finally said, his voice completely level, betraying none of the violent storm raging within his soul. "To slander the reputation of a Pure Cloud Saintess, and to attempt to use provincial politics to force a sect’s hand... that is not a mere breach of etiquette. That is an affront to our entire lineage."

"It is an absolute disgrace," Han Zilie agreed fervently, sensing victory. "It reflects poorly on the Zhao Province, and it insults you personally, Senior Disciple. But as you surely know, Lin Yuan is currently untouchable. If you were to strike at the boy openly, without provocation, Lin Yuan would use it as an excuse to retaliate, and the Lord would likely look the other way."

"I am aware of the political realities," Mu Tianyang said dismissively. "What is your proposal?"

Han Zilie smiled, a thin expression in the moonlight. "We form a quiet arrangement. I have the resources of the Han clan at my disposal within this palace. I can ensure that Bai Chen finds himself isolated, away from the protective shadow of Lin Yuan, in an environment where he can be put on full display before reliable witnesses."

Han Zilie took a step closer, lowering his voice. "I will set the stage, Mu Tianyang. I will provide the opportunity for him to step out of line publicly. And when he does... you will be perfectly positioned to step in. Not as an aggressor, but as the righteous Senior Brother defending the honor of his sect and his Junior Sister. You break his Dao Heart. You humiliate him so profoundly that he never dares to look at her again. You cripple Lin Yuan’s household from the inside, without ever raising a blade against the man himself."

Mu Tianyang turned back to the lotus pond. He watched a single, dead leaf drift across the perfect, glassy surface of the water.

It was a flawless strategy. Han Zilie would shoulder the risk of the setup, acting as the architect of the trap. Mu Tianyang would merely play the role of the honorable defender, crushing the boy with the full, overwhelming disparity of their cultivation realms, all while remaining entirely justified in the eyes of the palace. It would serve as a brutal warning to Bai Chen, and a calculated, testing strike against Lin Yuan.

"I have no interest in the petty political squabbles of your clan, Han Zilie," Mu Tianyang said slowly, his voice echoing with the chilling resonance of his Middle Nascent Soul authority. "But I have an absolute interest in preserving the purity of my sect and the honor of Su Yin."

Mu Tianyang turned his head, his cold eyes locking onto the young master.

"Set your stage," Mu Tianyang commanded quietly. "If the boy demonstrates the arrogance you claim... I will ensure he learns the exact, agonizing distance between the mud he was born in, and the sky he is attempting to reach."

Han Zilie’s smile widened into a grimace of pure, vindictive satisfaction. He bowed deeply, far lower than he had upon his arrival. "It will be done, Senior Disciple. Rest well. The coming days will be... highly surprising for our mutual friends."

With a final, sharp bow, Han Zilie turned and retreated into the shadows of the spirit-willows, his footsteps fading away until the garden was once again consumed by silence.

Mu Tianyang remained by the pond for a long time. He closed his eyes, inhaling the cold night air, feeling the immense, crushing power of his Nascent Soul humming within his chest. The alliance was formed.