Great Demon - Chapter 103

The few on duty couldn’t leave their posts, but the common folk eager for a spectacle at the Su residence tightly followed behind Su Wenqing.

Everyone knew that Sir Su was strict, and all his children were well-behaved and sensible, never involved in the slightest scandal—let alone something as disgraceful as getting drunk in public wearing only their inner garments. Once he returned home, he would likely be beaten within an inch of his life.

Su Wenqing stayed right behind the woman, as if he had lost his soul. The two figures ahead, one tall and one small, didn’t even glance back, acting as though they had nothing to do with him.

He staggered with every step, appearing extremely intoxicated, swaying as he turned a corner and wobbled his way to the Su residence gates. The moment he laid eyes on the grand entrance, he collapsed onto the ground with a loud thud.

The gatekeeper was startled. Seeing the man’s disheveled appearance, his face obscured by tangled hair, he failed to recognize him at first glance.

The man had collapsed at just the right moment—right at the doorstep—making it unclear whether he had come to cause trouble.

The two servants exchanged a glance. They weren’t cowards—after all, the Su family held great standing in Changming City. If they couldn’t even handle a drunkard, wouldn’t that be an embarrassment?

They stepped forward in unison toward the fallen man. One of them bent down and muttered, “You think he’s just pretending to be drunk?”

“If he is, we’ll set the dogs on him,” the other replied.

“But what if he’s truly passed out drunk?”

“Then we’ll throw water on him to wake him up.”

Summoning his courage, the first servant used his shoe to nudge aside Su Wenqing’s hair. The moment he saw the man’s face, he fell straight onto his backside and shouted, “Young Master! The young master has returned—!”

As soon as he finished, he slapped his own leg twice, almost wanting to tear off the shoe that had touched his young master’s face. He hadn’t meant to be disrespectful!

The other servant craned his neck to take a look, then immediately turned and bolted into the residence, shouting all the way, “The young master has returned!”

Outside, the first servant noticed passersby craning their necks to watch and hurriedly scolded, “What are you looking at?!” Then, after some thought, he carefully rearranged Su Wenqing’s hair to cover his face, hoisted him onto his back, and carried him inside—closing the main gate behind him of his own accord.

With the gate shut, the onlookers had no choice but to disperse, leaving with a sense of disappointment.

A few lingering wisps of spiritual energy entwined around Su Wenqing slipped through the gap in the door, drifting across the bustling street until they coiled around the young girl’s hand.

Changying’s expression darkened as she abruptly clenched her fist, crushing the strands of spiritual energy into her palm, making them vanish in an instant.

Zhuyou didn’t pause her steps, walking straight to the end of the street. She glanced around, then looked up at the sky, frowning. “Too quiet.”

She wasn’t referring to mortals, but rather to the devils that should have been rampant in the Mortal Realm.

The young-looking Changying turned back for a moment but saw nothing unusual. “Didn’t you enter Changming City before?”

“I did,” Zhuyou replied. “I even entered the Su residence.”

Changying’s form had shrunk, making her look as soft and delicate as she had a hundred years ago. She had only been lightly pinching a corner of Zhuyou’s sleeve at first, but after a while, she grew bolder and hooked her pinky around Zhuyou’s finger.

Zhuyou’s hand twitched. The sensation of dragon teeth biting into her finger still lingered, and she nearly flung Changying’s hand away.

Changying asked, “Was it like this before?”

“If I had sensed the presence of a devil back then, I wouldn’t have caught up to you so quickly,” Zhuyou replied, continuing forward without looking sideways, thinking about how to shake off the dragon’s grip.

Changying tilted her head up to look at her and noticed, to her surprise, that Zhuyou’s ears were flushed red. “Next time, there’s no need to bother with that mortal.”

Zhuyou frowned. “What does this have to do with mortals?”

Changying gave a meaningful smile. “That parasol tree—I quite liked it.”

Zhuyou immediately understood. So this dragon hadn’t come to Changming City sincerely searching for devils—she had just dragged her along for a stroll.

“Unfortunately, devils are rampant, leaving no time for leisure,” Changying said nonchalantly.

Zhuyou found this rather agreeable and remained silent. Slowly, she pried off the fingers hooked around her pinky.

Changying’s face turned cold. She grasped the edge of Zhuyou’s sleeve again, fuming quietly.

Despite searching all of Changming City, they found no trace of devilish energy—it didn’t seem as though the city had been tainted by devils at all.

Changying had not taken this form for a long time. A hundred years ago, when she was still this small, she hadn’t quite remembered how to walk, often stumbling about like a child. Now, however, her steps were swift and steady, perfectly in sync with the woman beside her.

After circling the city once more, Zhuyou let out a quiet sigh and spoke directly into Changying’s mind. Strange. The devil gate isn’t here.

Changying nodded and halted her steps. “Forget it. We shouldn’t linger. You should find an opportunity to take Qiao Fengsheng back to Shangxi City. If anything unexpected happens, knock three times on the dragon’s breath, and I’ll know.”

“There won’t be any accidents,” Zhuyou said.

She only felt Changying release her grip on her sleeve. Lowering her gaze, she saw the small dragon turn and walk toward an empty alleyway.

Zhuyou stopped at the entrance, watching as Changying walked deeper in.

She wasn’t sure if it was because of the extraction from her spiritual sea, but the reverse scale felt even more restless than before. A cold sensation spread across her collarbone, as if Changying had pressed her fingertip there once again.

The young girl had already reached the depths of the alley. For some reason, Zhuyou had a feeling that Changying would turn around—and indeed, she did.

Changying faced her, her youthful face cold as ice. In an instant, her dark pupils turned golden, and a suffocating aura of slaughter surrounded her—a presence honed through countless battles.

Dark, inky scales surfaced on the child’s cheek, as if ink had been splattered across an exquisite painting.

“The scales on your face,” Zhuyou murmured. She had the feeling that this dragon was finding it harder and harder to suppress the ferocity within her.

“It’s fine.” Changying raised her hand, and the moment her fingertips brushed against the scale, the pitch-black dragon scales seemed to be startled, vanishing abruptly.

She did not immediately revert to her original form but remained in her short and stocky state, gazing out of the alley as if reluctant to leave.

Unwilling and angry, she kept her face tense, as though someone owed her something.

Zhuyou said nothing, but she lifted her hand and pressed down on the lone scale at her collarbone through the thin fabric.

Something in Changying’s heart must have been stirred. Her pale lips parted. “Don’t touch it.”

Zhuyou did not move her hand. She was still unaccustomed to the presence of this extra scale on her collarbone.

Changying shifted her lips. “It tickles.”

Zhuyou immediately withdrew her hand, her breath faltering.

“Once I retrieve the Reincarnation Pool, I’ll come find you. It won’t take long.” Changying spoke calmly.

Zhuyou gave a slight nod.

Yet Changying still did not leave. She stood in the shadows, her gaze unreadable.

Zhuyou’s mouth went dry. She said, “Hurry. I may not be able to keep Qiao Fengsheng hidden for long.”

Changying stared at her intently, as though barely holding herself back from stepping out of the darkness.

The scale on Zhuyou’s collarbone suddenly itched on its own, cold to the touch. Unable to bear it, she pressed her hand over it through her clothes. It really was her reverse scale—even without touching her heart’s blood, Changying’s emotions were laid bare.

It was difficult to endure.

“You’re freezing me.” Zhuyou murmured.

In the alley, Changying’s gaze sharpened. “Wait for me.” With that, her figure turned to mist and shot straight toward the sky.

Zhuyou watched as the mist vanished into the distance. Just as she was about to look for Hanzhu and Huoshu, she suddenly noticed that the two demons had already left Changming City through the east gate—heading directly for Tiger Roar Ridge.

That wasn’t good.

That devil had left just now, but who knew if it would return?

Huoshu and Hanzhu raced toward Tiger Roar Ridge, growing increasingly uneasy as they went. Why was this place so eerie?

Of course, it was eerie. The houses along the way were all destroyed, bodies littered the ground, and the heavy presence of yin energy was suffocating.

Hanzhu looked ahead and frowned. “This isn’t right. If Mistress had come here, she should have left a trace for us.”

Huoshu scoffed. “I think she just didn’t want you following her.”

Hanzhu pursed her lips, her brows deeply furrowed, shoulders slumping at once.

“Don’t look so down. Let’s keep searching—we might still find her. But really, it’s strange. Su Wenqing bringing Qiao Fengsheng to a place like this… it’s like he’s planning to kill and bury a body.” Huoshu shuddered.

As a demon who had lived for centuries, she had seen all kinds of horrors. It wasn’t the yin energy of the mortal world that scared her; but if this was connected to the Devil Lord…

An icy dread crept up her spine, instinct screaming that she should find a hole to hide in and save her own life.

Hanzhu took a few more steps, then suddenly caught a familiar scent—exactly like the one she had smelled the day her mind was overwhelmed. Her expression changed. She grabbed Huoshu’s arm and frowned. “We need to go.”

“Go where? This is Tiger Roar Ridge.” Huoshu glanced around. She was about to mimic the Vermillion Phoenix and conjure a flame in her palm, but as soon as she lit a spark, Hanzhu smothered it.

Hanzhu’s shoulders were tense. She suddenly slapped Huoshu’s palm in urgency. “Leave. Now.”

Times had changed. If her mistress encountered a devil, she could protect herself. But if she had two burdens trailing behind her, the outcome was uncertain.

She grabbed Huoshu and turned quickly, lowering her voice. “I smelled it.”

Huoshu had been about to ask what she meant, but seeing Hanzhu’s anxious expression, she immediately realized what she had detected.

The bird and the rat dashed down the mountain, moving even faster than when they had arrived.

Yet unexpectedly, a thick devil mist suddenly coiled around in front of them. A massive cloud of darkness—it was unmistakably wrapped around a human figure.

Hanzhu couldn’t make out who was inside, but she assumed it had to be one of Guanshang’s subordinates. Her brows knitted together. She was about to take off when the devil mist abruptly shot toward the sky.

Halfway up, the devil mist suddenly froze, then morphed into a giant palm, swinging down toward them.

Hanzhu immediately dropped lower and shoved Huoshu’s shoulder. “Quick! Dig a hole!”

Huoshu was so frightened that whiskers sprouted from her face. She hastily touched her cheeks—thankfully, it was just whiskers and not a full rat face.

Seeing that the devil mist was about to crash down on them, Huoshu transformed into her true form and swiftly dug a hole into the ground.

Hanzhu scooped up the palm-sized Huoshu and dove in, landing with a muffled thud. With a wave of her hand, she used her spiritual power to push the surrounding soil back over the entrance, sealing it shut.

Above them, the sliver of sky disappeared, now completely blocked off, as if they had buried themselves alive. The bird and the mouse huddled together in the dirt, not daring to move.

Through the thin layer of soil, just a few inches deep, the sounds outside were crystal clear.

It seemed as if something was shrieking—so loud that hot liquid seeped from Huoshu’s ears. Just moments ago, she had been squirming in Hanzhu’s palm, but the instant she heard that cry, she went completely still, as if dead.

Hanzhu recognized the sound. A hundred years ago, during that brutal battle in the Devil Realm, Zhuyou had made the same cry when she transformed into a Vermillion Phoenix. Holding her breath, Hanzhu remained motionless, as if she were a flower seed nestled in the earth, afraid to stir.

With her current cultivation level, she was no match for these devils. The best she could do was stay quiet so as not to distract Zhuyou.

Above the pit where the two demons lay buried, a wisp of devilish energy transformed into a humanoid shape—it was the same devil as before. But unlike earlier, its eyes now gleamed with intelligence, as though it had broken free from some binding. Its expression grew more wanton and reckless.

Suspended in midair, the Vermillion Phoenix gazed down at him, her crimson eyes burning like flames.

Zhuyou swooped down, and with a shake of her four wings, fiery feathers scattered like a rain of arrows, whistling through the air as they shot toward the devil.

The devil quickly raised his hands, gathering the swirling winds to shield himself from the onslaught of feathers.

But he was too slow. The fiery feathers pierced through the winds and wrapped around him completely. The phoenix fire burned away the devilish energy clinging to him, charring his body bright red. His flesh was destroyed, and even his bones sizzled as if seared by molten iron.

“The Nine Heavens treated you like this, yet you still stand with them?” the devil rasped.

Zhuyou folded her wings and gracefully landed in human form. She looked at the devil—now little more than a heap of scorched bones—without a trace of pity or anger. Why would she be angry? She simply did what needed to be done.

“I don’t stand with the Nine Heavens,” she said softly. “The only reason you ended up like this is that you nearly hurt my peafowl and little mouse.”

The devil’s eyes, glowing red from the fire, blazed with fury. “Don’t you want to know the secret that lies within Qiao Fengsheng?”

“That’s Guanshang’s secret, not mine,” Zhuyou said, her innocent eyes curving slightly in amusement as she watched the fire burn. “If he wants him back, he can come and ask me—but only if he’s sincere.”

“The mortal was supposed to fall into our hands!” Despite his body being nearly reduced to ash, the devil showed no sign of pain.

Zhuyou narrowed her eyes. “I think you wanted to kill him—and destroy both his hun and po souls while you were at it.”

“The Devil Lord will come for you,” the devil warned.

Zhuyou nodded slightly, still watching the burning remains. “I’m counting on it,” she said, her tone calm.

Just then, she sensed something was wrong. Without hesitation, she thrust her hand into the fire and pulled out a charred pile of bones.

They weren’t devil bones—they were cow bones.

The devil hadn’t screamed because the phoenix fire had never touched him. He had swapped himself out with this beast and escaped unnoticed.

The roaring phoenix fire abruptly extinguished, leaving only a heap of blackened bones behind, their shape still faintly discernible.

Zhuyou’s eyes darkened. She reached out to the space where the flames had burned, searching for a crack leading to the Endless Abyss—but found nothing.

Strange. The word echoed in her mind.

She glanced toward the disturbed patch of earth and, with a flick of her hand, used her spiritual power to lift the two demons buried below.

Hanzhu emerged, clutching a trembling white mouse in her arms. Startled, she tumbled onto the ground.

Hanzhu looked dazed, while the pointy-eared white mouse slowly stopped shaking. The bird and mouse both tilted their heads to look up at Zhuyou.

Zhuyou was silent for a long moment before asking dryly, “Was it comfortable being buried down there?”

Hanzhu didn’t dare to answer.

“Sleeping with the sky as your blanket and the earth as your bed?” Zhuyou teased.

Only then did Hanzhu stammer out, “Mistress… will the Devil Lord really come after us?”

“No,” Zhuyou shook her head. “He’ll be watching me. As long as I don’t side with the Nine Heavens, Qiao Fengsheng is of no use to me. He concerns the Nine Heavens and Guanshang—not me.”

She distanced herself completely from the Nine Heavens, as though the fate of the world had nothing to do with her.

If Hanzhu hadn’t seen how easily Changying had led Zhuyou away earlier, she might have believed her.

Hanzhu clicked her tongue inwardly. That dragon was getting more and more cunning—she might look pure and fair, but she was as black-hearted as they came.

The white mouse in Hanzhu’s hands suddenly transformed back into human form with a soft pop. Huoshu quickly unfolded her fan and hid her face. “Your Grace, have you already found Qiao Fengsheng?” she asked.

Zhuyou nodded slightly. “I found him and the young master of the Su family and returned to Changming City, but by the time I arrived, you two had already left. So, I came to find you.”

Huoshu almost cried with relief. She never expected that all her efforts over the past few days had been significant enough to prompt their mistress to rescue them personally. Wiping away a tear, she glanced behind Zhuyou and whispered, “And… what about the other one?”

“Gone,” Zhuyou replied, her fingers unconsciously twisting the silk of her dress. She thought of the way Changying had looked before leaving—like a wolfhound abandoned in the rain, fierce yet pitiful.

“Oh,” Huoshu said, sensing she shouldn’t press further. She touched her face to make sure she hadn’t accidentally kept her whiskers and then asked, “Your Grace, where should we go now?”

“You and Hanzhu will stay in Changming City in disguise and search for something,” Zhuyou said calmly.

Hanzhu raised her head. “What are we looking for?”

“A devil gate,” Zhuyou replied. “There should already be one in the Mortal Realm, but I can’t locate it yet. I need to return to the Demon Realm—there are still matters I need to resolve.”

Hanzhu froze in disbelief. Was she supposed to find something like that?

Huoshu exchanged a helpless look with her, both at a loss for words.

Zhuyou continued, “I’ll leave a phoenix feather behind to make Guanshang think my body is still in the Mortal Realm.”

Hanzhu quickly nodded. “Rest assured, Mistress.”

With a flick of her hand, Zhuyou produced a gleaming feather, its tip still burning with phoenix fire. She blew on it gently, and the feather transformed into a perfect replica of herself. 

Zhuyou looked at the transformed feather, and the feather looked right back at her. Even their expressions were similar.

Huoshu gawked in amazement—it was impossible to tell which was the real one.

Zhuyou cast one last glance at her duplicate before transforming into a streak of red light and disappearing across the sky.

As soon as she was gone, Huoshu whispered to Hanzhu, “If the other one comes down to the Mortal Realm, she won’t mistake this copy for the real one, right?”

Hanzhu shook her head. Honestly, she almost hoped the dragon would get it wrong—it would certainly shake her mistress up a bit.