A “bloody affair” sparked by a bowl of soup. How an iceberg melts into a warm-hearted man. When fate says we have to die, we insist on living together. And when a sword cultivator pampers his wife, no one else can compete.
Lin Xiaonuan is the star of the cultivation world’s cafeteria, and her dream is to open a chain of spirit-food restaurants.
That is, until I splashed hangover soup all over Ling Hanxiao, the aloof beauty of the sect.
The icy sword cultivator said with a cold face, “Cultivators shouldn’t indulge their appetites.”
Then he sneaked in at midnight and stole every pot I used to make soup.
Later, disaster struck the three realms, and fate said my blood could complete his sword soul, at the cost of my life.
I smiled and nodded. “Sure. You owe me a lifetime’s worth of soup money, anyway.”
But he tore up the Book of Fate. “Either we live together or die together. There is no option where she dies and I live.”
Later still, a strange sight appeared in the cultivation world:
The same Ling Sword Venerable once renowned for his merciless swordsmanship followed me around every day.
“My wife, what soup would you like today? I’ve learned to make spirit ginseng and squab stew.”
Everyone: “Weren’t sword cultivators supposed to be above love?!”
He wrapped an arm around my waist and raised an eyebrow. “I cultivate the Sword Way of Spoiling My Wife. Got a problem with that?”
