I Ruined the Long Ao Tian Script
Chapter 108

Ambush

Xu Shulou was struck down from the sky.

What hit her was an umbrella—bamboo-framed, silk-covered, embroidered with plum blossoms braving the snow. Its handle was slightly longer than that of an ordinary oil-paper umbrella, for it concealed a slender sword within.

This was a very famous umbrella, and its owner had once been a very famous person.

Xu Shulou stared in astonishment as the Plum Blossom Umbrella was recalled into its owner’s hand. A figure stepped forward from the shadows, revealing a face of icy, unearthly beauty.

Xu Shulou had never seen this face before, but the umbrella was far too renowned, and those capable of knocking her out of the sky were few and far between. "Senior Yu? Is that you?"

Yu Qishuang, revered in the cultivation world as the "Snow-Surpassing Immortal Maiden"—a title derived from the phrase "surpassing snow and defying frost"—was once the direct disciple of the Qingcheng Sect’s leader. Gifted with unparalleled talent, she had reached the Tribulation Transcendence stage in less than three hundred years.

This was somewhat similar to Xu Shulou, though Yu Qishuang’s reputation far outstripped hers by leaps and bounds. It was said that her character was as noble as jade graced by the wind or snow-clad branches—a cultivator truly worthy of the title "Immortal Maiden."

Even now, when people in the cultivation world spoke of her, they would often shake their heads regretfully, saying that had she not disappeared, no one else would have dared covet the Qingcheng Sect’s leadership.

But she had been missing for a very, very long time. Over three hundred years ago, war broke out between the cultivation world and the demon realm. Yu Qishuang fought valiantly on the battlefield, holding off a hundred enemies single-handedly until she was gravely wounded. Her elders ordered her to retreat and recover, but she vanished amid the chaos of the battlefield.

Later, the misunderstandings between the demons and the cultivation world were resolved, and the war ended. Yet Yu Qishuang never reappeared. In time, it was discovered that her soul lamp, which burned within the Qingcheng Sect, had extinguished—meaning she had perished.

Naturally, the Qingcheng Sect refused to let such a prodigious disciple die under mysterious circumstances. They pursued the truth for decades but found not a single trace. The battlefield had been too chaotic; no one had noticed who took the wounded Yu Qishuang away. Eventually, the sect leader ascended, and his successor no longer prioritized the matter.

Three centuries later, her disappearance remained an unsolved mystery. The prevailing theory was that demons had seized her in the chaos and killed her.

But how could such a person appear here now, launching a sneak attack on Xu Shulou under the cover of night?

Was it truly her, or someone impersonating her?

The figure did not answer Xu Shulou’s question. With a flick of her wrist, the umbrella spun toward Xu Shulou, aiming straight for her forehead. In that instant, Xu Shulou’s hair stood on end. She sensed no killing intent, yet the attack was undeniably lethal—the Plum Blossom Umbrella hurtled toward her with overwhelming force and speed. If she failed to dodge, the blow would leave her "brains splattered," quite literally.

In that moment, Xu Shulou was certain: the woman before her was almost undoubtedly Yu Qishuang herself. This move, "Fierce Snow and Howling Wind Grow Ever More Bitter," was her signature technique. Who could possibly imitate it?

Xu Shulou summoned the fastest reflexes of her life, leaping aside with the speed of an eagle in flight, barely evading the razor-sharp tip of the umbrella.

If this truly was Yu Qishuang—a cultivator who had reached the Tribulation Transcendence stage over three hundred years ago—could Xu Shulou even hope to defeat her?

Yet she didn’t dwell on the question. After dodging the first strike, she immediately pressed forward with her sword, her usual indomitable spirit undimmed.

Whether she could win or not, she had to try first.

The figure recalled the umbrella and attacked again. Every move was executed with precision—each angle of the umbrella’s rise, each speed of the strike, was flawlessly measured, as if she had honed her skills strictly according to the sword manuals.

Xu Shulou grew puzzled, almost suspecting a trap—that her opponent was luring her into adapting to this pattern before suddenly changing tactics to catch her off guard.

Why had this once-promising cultivator vanished so abruptly? Why had she reappeared here? Why attack Xu Shulou? The questions swirled in her mind, but now was not the time for answers. She hadn’t faced such a formidable opponent in years. In this duel, the slightest lapse could mean death, lending the fight a thrilling, life-or-death tension.

Just as she focused entirely on the battle, a tremendous force slammed into her waist, sending her flying before she could react.

Spitting blood, she strained to look behind her and saw a man holding a pair of yellow bronze maces, each nearly twice the size of her head.

Before darkness claimed her, Xu Shulou had only one thought: Not only is your cultivation higher than mine, but you also brought backup for a sneak attack? How shameless…

———

When Xu Shulou awoke, her eyes met a pale yellow bed canopy. Beneath her was a soft mattress, and nearby, someone was brewing something, the steam filling the small room with an oddly cozy atmosphere.

Had she not been chained to the bed, she might have even asked the host for a bowl of soup.

"You’re awake?" The other person in the room glanced over, pouring the contents of the pot into a bowl before approaching and offering it to her. "You were injured. I made you medicine."

"Thank you," Xu Shulou replied politely, gesturing with her bound hands. "What happened to me?"

"I’ll feed you."

"…"

"I’ve sealed your spiritual power. You can’t recover on your own now," the man said, forcing the spoon to her lips. "Without the medicine, you’ll die."

Xu Shulou smiled wryly and let him feed her. "Good thing I’ve always valued my life."

The man seemed pleased. "I like obedient girls."

After drinking the medicine, Xu Shulou studied him. He had a somewhat sharp, rodent-like face, his pallid skin and brooding expression giving him a resentful, cynical air.

"Was the person I saw earlier Yu Qishuang?" she asked.

"Yes, and no."

"What do you mean?"

"She was once Yu Qishuang, but she died," the man said matter-of-factly, his words chilling. "I turned her into a puppet."

"…" Xu Shulou froze, then sighed deeply. A genius cut down in her prime, pure snow trampled into mud—she couldn’t help but grieve for Yu Qishuang.

The man watched her silent reaction. "What are you thinking?"

"I’m thinking… I hope you didn’t get the order of events wrong," Xu Shulou said, her expression complicated. "I hope you truly made her into a puppet after she died."

"You’re sharp," the man chuckled, his smile the smug grin of someone who’d finally accomplished something after long resentment. "Fine, I’ll admit it. To be precise, she died during the process of becoming my puppet."

"…"

He shrugged. "I didn’t want to be cruel, but how else could I preserve her abilities?"

Xu Shulou clenched her fists, recalling the man in the gladiator arena who stitched living humans together with beasts: "You and Shen Zhuang must have a lot to talk about."

"Shen Zhuang? You guessed wrong. We have nothing to say to each other," the man shook his head. "He was once my junior brother, but he disagreed with our master's philosophy and left the sect long ago."

"What a coincidence."

"I know you killed him," the man smiled again. "But don’t worry, I have no intention of avenging him."

"..."

When she remained silent, he asked, "Do you know why I abducted you?"

Xu Shulou retorted irritably, "Because I’m breathtakingly beautiful?"

The man shook his head. "Think about what you and Yu Qishuang have in common."

"That’s not hard to guess," Xu Shulou gazed at the sky outside the window. "Under three hundred years old, yet already at the Transcendence stage."

"Clever. There’s a phrase for it—what was it again? Ah, yes, 'peerless brilliance.' That’s what describes people like you," the man stood by the window, his back to her. "Some toil diligently for over a millennium and still may never reach the Transcendence stage, while prodigies like you ascend effortlessly. How is that fair?"

"Some people?" Xu Shulou raised an eyebrow at him. "Including you?"

"Silence!" His expression darkened abruptly. "The heavens are unjust, favoring the blessed like you, letting you transcend and ascend without hindrance. So I’ll create trials for you myself—doesn’t that balance the scales?"

"So you’re jealous of our talent?" Xu Shulou let out a faint, ambiguous laugh. "Don’t you have your own gift? A talent for puppetry?"

"Such talent won’t help me ascend to immortality," the man stared at her face, as if searching for traces of mockery. "Besides, it wasn’t even my talent—it was my master’s."

"Your master?"

"When he was alive, he forbade us from committing such atrocities. We only sold wooden and stone puppets to the Qingcheng Sect for spirit stones. What a waste of his genius!" The man looked down at his hands. "So I stole the notes he intended to burn."

Xu Shulou had no interest in his inner turmoil. "How many puppets have you made?"

"Counting you, three."

The other two were naturally the pair who ambushed her the night before. She had recognized Yu Qishuang but couldn’t recall any prodigy in the cultivation world who wielded the Primordial Hammer. Perhaps it was some obscure cultivator who trained in solitude, poised to make a name for themselves—only to fall just as they reached the Transcendence stage.

She turned to the man. "How did you know I reached the Transcendence stage?"

"I have my ways."

Xu Shulou lowered her gaze, swiftly assessing her predicament. "You claim to create trials for cultivators like us. If you simply kill me, how is that a trial? Admit it—you just want to slaughter."

The man shook his head. "Don’t provoke me. It won’t work. Fine, I’ll give you a month while I prepare materials tailored for you. If you can escape within that time, I’ll concede to your skill. Hahaha!"

He burst into laughter, utterly confident that Xu Shulou could never break free from a prison guarded by two Transcendence-stage puppets.

Xu Shulou raised her shackled wrists. "My spiritual power is sealed. Won’t you at least remove these chains?"

The man took a step back, cautious. "After I leave, Yu Qishuang will release you. While I’m here, don’t even think about it."

Xu Shulou arched a brow. "So terrified—what’s your cultivation level, really?"

The man snorted but didn’t answer. "Rest well. Just make sure you don’t die before I begin refining you into a puppet."

He hurried out, leaving Xu Shulou alone on the bed with a sigh. If all the world’s madness amounted to ten measures, she alone had encountered eight.