Great Demon - Chapter 118 Part 1

The scorching Divine Sun blazed fiercely, yet it failed to extinguish the lingering trace of devilish energy within her bones.

Zhuyou furrowed her brows, feeling the restlessness of her heart’s blood surging uncontrollably. The piercing chill cut through her like blades of wind and swords of frost, scraping relentlessly at the tip of her heart.

It was Changying. Changying’s heart was in turmoil, and so, the drop of heart’s blood became just as chaotic.

Because of this connection, that faint yet unruly devilish energy surged wildly, creeping inch by inch up her spine as if trying to burrow into her spiritual platform, seeking to seize control of her consciousness.

Zhuyou reached behind her, pressing two fingers firmly against her spine, attempting to guide the rising devilish energy back down.

Yet, the energy was restless and unyielding, refusing to be tamed. Even as she tried to restrain it, it remained beyond her control.

Why? What was Changying thinking? Why wouldn’t she wake up?

Zhuyou hesitated for a moment, then lowered her head. Changying’s brows were tightly knit, and beneath her thin eyelids, her eyes shifted restlessly, as though trapped in a nightmare. Her pale lips trembled slightly, moving as if she were speaking—or was it just a shiver?

Hurriedly, Zhuyou leaned in, tilting her head to press her ear close to Changying’s lips, hoping to catch her words.

Yet, though Changying’s lips moved, not a single sound escaped. Whatever she wanted to say remained locked in her throat.

The devilish energy continued to rage, chaotic and uncontrolled, like a trapped serpent thrashing in a desperate frenzy. The more it crawled, the deeper Zhuyou’s brows furrowed. Without hesitation, she formed a seal to lock it down.

Spiritual power surged from her spiritual sea, materializing into crimson-red bindings that forcefully suppressed the writhing energy.

She dared not relax. Her sharp gaze remained fixed on Changying. Thinking carefully, she extended her index finger and pressed it against Changying’s forehead, attempting to examine her consciousness.

Inside Changying’s spiritual platform, an icy desolation stretched before her. Everything was frozen, blanketed in an expanse of snow, towering peaks standing in silent solitude. Yet, there was no sign of a single soul.

Her primordial spirit remained intact, and her spiritual form bore no visible damage, but her consciousness was absent—hidden away in some unknown place.

Zhuyou searched everywhere but found no trace of her. However, the moment she stepped into Changying’s spiritual platform, the devilish energy in her back began to struggle violently again, shattering the spiritual restraints that bound it.

At that moment, she seemed to sense the source of this rage through the devilish energy. A crushing pressure twisted her heart, her entire body compressed as if by the weight of the five elements. The fury burned like a raging fire, igniting from her chest and searing all the way to her head.

But it wasn’t her anger—it was Changying’s.

Then, as suddenly as it came, an overwhelming wave of remorse washed over her like a deluge, dousing the fire in an instant. She was left utterly drained, frozen in place, wanting nothing more than to bury herself in the ground.

Why was Changying so angry? And what was causing this regret?

Trapped between fire and ice, Zhuyou felt as though she were being torn in two.

She abruptly withdrew from the spiritual platform. The moment she left, a weight lifted from her body, and she suddenly realized—

Changying didn’t want to see her.

She had truly hidden herself away, even blocking Zhuyou from entering her spiritual platform.

Zhuyou recalled the words the Immovable Buddha had spoken before leaving. She felt powerless. What was Changying waiting to hear? What could she say to awaken this dragon?

She had no answer.

For the past few days, few celestial beings dared to approach. No one wished to disturb them. Matters that had been brought up remained unresolved and were left unattended.

Zhuyou, consumed by worry, noticed Changying’s pale lips, dry and lifeless. She retrieved a flask of Liqueur Spring, dipped her fingertip into the liquid, and gently moistened Changying’s lips.

Footsteps sounded in the distance. Zhuyou turned her head and saw Immortal Zhiying approaching.

The last time they had faced each other had been in Shenhua Mountain—when Zhuyou had shattered the Devil-Suppressing Tower, causing Immortal Zhiying to be held accountable and imprisoned beneath Falling Star Spring as punishment.

Immortal Zhiying stood at a distance, silently watching Zhuyou, who sat by the side of the Obsidian Dragon. She did not take another step closer.

Immortal Zhiying stood in the distance, quietly watching Zhuyou sitting next to Obsidian Dragon, and did not move closer. She wanted to speak, but when she saw Zhuyou turn his head, she could not speak for a while.

She had intended to speak, but upon meeting Zhuyou’s gaze, she found herself unable to utter a word.

Their eyes met, and Zhiying caught sight of the crimson phoenix markings at the corners of Zhuyou’s eyes. The once-innocent gaze now carried a warning, a clear refusal to let her approach.

Zhiying’s body stiffened. A sour bitterness welled up in her throat. After a long pause, she slowly bowed.

Zhuyou pressed her cold, sweat-drenched hand lightly against Changying’s ear and asked, “What is it?”

“That day in Shenhua Mountain… the Devil-Suppressing Tower suddenly collapsed,” Zhiying spoke cautiously.

“It was because of me,” Zhuyou replied flatly. “I followed Guanshang’s wandering hun soul into Shenhua Mountain, used the Devil-Suppressing Tower to destroy its physical body, then entered the tower to capture the soul—and in the process, destroyed the tower as well.”

“But… I don’t remember any of it.” Zhiying lowered her gaze, looking lost.

“Later, I infiltrated the Heavenly Palace and found you in Falling Star Spring. I noticed your spiritual threads had been severed.” Zhuyou spoke slowly. “At that time, you were the only celestial being in Shenhua Mountain. I assumed you had destroyed them yourself.”

“I only know that I removed my own spiritual threads and that the Devil-Suppressing Tower was destroyed by my hand. But I could never figure out why I did it.” Immortal Zhiying shook her head slightly, her hands tightly gripping the edge of her draping shawl as if deeply unsettled. “So it was because I saw you.”

Zhuyou stared at her steadily. Her thin, red lips moved as she spoke just two words. “Thank you.”

Immortal Zhiying abruptly raised her eyes, but all she saw in Zhuyou’s gaze was distance. She pressed her lips together before hesitating to say, “Two hundred years ago, the Nine Heavens could not distinguish right from wrong and was easily deceived by devilish influences. Please… forgive us.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Zhuyou shook her head, her hands still covering Changying’s ears. Seeing that Immortal Zhiying had yet to leave, she asked, “Is there something else?”

“The immortals all wish to atone for what happened two hundred years ago,” Immortal Zhiying said hesitantly.

Zhuyou was silent for a long moment before asking, “And what do you think those events mean to me?”

For a moment, Immortal Zhiying was at a loss for words. Now that Zhuyou’s spiritual form had recovered, and she had regained memories of events from three thousand years ago, the past two hundred years seemed like nothing more than a single drop in an endless river.

In that light…

They were insignificant.

Zhuyou’s eyes curved slightly, but there was no trace of a smile in them. “There’s no need to dwell on the past. The ones still burdened by it are you all—not me.”

Her words landed like a heavy stone, crashing into Immortal Zhiying’s heart.

Only then did she truly understand—Zhuyou was unmoved. The Nine Heavens meant nothing to her. Even the agony she had endured on the Immortal Execution Platform two hundred years ago was nothing more than a fleeting moment in her three-thousand-year existence.

A bitter ache rose in Immortal Zhiying’s throat, pressing against her eyes and nose. She felt a wave of sorrow wash over her, yet she still did not leave.

Zhuyou lowered her gaze toward Changying and suddenly felt the devilish energy along her spine crawl upward once more.

Why this time? Was it because Immortal Zhiying was here?

She knew well that this dragon had been steeped in jealousy since childhood. It was one thing to compete with Hanzhu, but now, even while lying there unconscious, she still hadn’t climbed out of her vat of vinegar.

Zhuyou paused, belatedly realizing—could Changying hear everything?

This dragon was far too cunning, even more so than devilish creatures. She could clearly hear everything yet refused to open her eyes.

“You should leave,” Zhuyou said to Immortal Zhiying calmly. “She doesn’t want you lingering here too long.”

Immortal Zhiying had expected to be dismissed but hadn’t thought it would be because of the Nine Heavens’ Obsidian Dragon. She froze for a moment before speaking hoarsely, “There is one more matter.”

“What is it?” Zhuyou asked.

“The mortal realm’s Eastern Continent has changed dynasties. When the Heavenly Emperor and Queen Mother of the West were still present, they would send the qingluan to descend and offer blessings. Now, however, the qinguan is about to ascend as a phoenix, and the Divine Venerable has yet to awaken. We do not know which immortal should be sent in their place,” Immortal Zhiying said quietly.

“I will go,” Zhuyou suddenly said.

Immortal Zhiying was stunned and quickly raised her eyes.

“It’s just on the way. I was already planning to descend and find two demons,” Zhuyou said.

Immortal Zhiying knew that one of those demons was the peafowl that had been exiled because of her. But as for the other, she had no idea. She pressed her lips together, thinking—so even demons could remain by Zhuyou’s side.

Zhuyou did not let go of Changying’s ears. Instead, she covered them even more firmly, lowering her voice to say, “While I’m gone, if you have nothing else to do, just stay here and watch over your Divine Venerable. But don’t get too close—don’t wake her up.”

Immortal Zhiying nodded quickly, not even daring to respond aloud. She even softened her breathing, afraid of disturbing Changying.

Only then did Zhuyou finally release her hands from covering Changying’s ears. She stood up unhurriedly, and once she had put some distance between them, she revealed her true form and descended toward the human world. As her four wings spread wide, brilliant flames flared across her body, and her feathers had fully returned to their former radiance.

As the Vermillion Phoenix streaked across the sky, the clouds and mists were dyed in vibrant red, like a tapestry unfurling across the heavens.

The Eastern Continent had indeed undergone a dynastic change. The fires of war along its borders had ceased, the land had been redivided, and refugees no longer needed to flee aimlessly. Soldiers were distributing porridge to displaced civilians, gradually bringing them comfort.

Now that the dragon veins had been restored, spiritual energy was slowly returning to the land. However, it remained faint, not yet strong enough to support an entire dynasty. The qingluan’s role was to bless the land, ensuring peace and prosperity in the coming years.

In the human world, drums thundered, and in the capital of the Eastern Continent, the faces of its people were filled with joy as they gathered outside the Cloud Altar to witness the new emperor’s heavenly rites.

A twenty-inch incense stick was planted into the four-legged square cauldron, and tendrils of smoke curled upward.

The new emperor of the human world had not yet reached thirty, his aura of bloodshed completely concealed. His demeanor was composed and steady.

From the clouds above, Zhuyou gazed downward and unexpectedly spotted Jing Kexin and Luo Qing outside the Cloud Altar.

Luo Qing was a ghost. Though he had cultivated for centuries, he still could not step into the Cloud Altar. He watched the new emperor kneel and bow to the heavens, his normally calm expression rippling with an undercurrent of emotion.

Jing Kexin pressed down on Luo Qing’s shoulder and said, “You’ve been watching for so long and still refuse to leave. Is this the little emperor who made you fall into devilhood?”

Luo Qing stared for a long moment before shaking his head. “It’s not him. He has changed a lot.”

Over these centuries, the little emperor had likely gone through several reincarnations, and the nature engraved in his soul had accumulated and evolved. He was the same person, yet not the same. Seeing his composed and dignified demeanor now, he seemed capable of leading this dynasty to prosperity.

Luo Qing tilted his head back, gazing at the sky, and let out a long sigh. His lingering obsession dissolved in an instant, and his figure suddenly began to blur.

Jing Kexin froze for a moment, stunned. “You shattered your own soul core!”

Luo Qing nodded without another word, as if he had no more attachments.

Jing Kexin stared blankly. The shoulder she had been pressing down on suddenly felt empty. She looked again—he hadn’t sunk down. He had turned into smoke.

Inside the square cauldron, the incense continued to burn, its smoke curling upward. The national priest raised a long banner in one hand and shook a bell in the other, his voice ringing out, “May the Kingdom of Hu enjoy favorable weather and abundant harvests!”

From the clouds, the Vermillion Phoenix suddenly spread its wings and soared over the Cloud Altar.

The phoenix lifted its head and let out a cry, which, when it reached mortal ears, sounded like the whisper of the wind.

People looked up and saw the sky ablaze with red, as if ignited by fire. A magnificent glow spread across the heavens, casting an auspicious omen. The crimson light bathed the new emperor standing on the Cloud Altar, turning his face a deep shade of red.

The fiery clouds stretched far into the distance like an endless brocade, mirroring the boundless future of the Hu Kingdom, reflecting the grand fortune of the empire.

The human world erupted in cheers, with drums and music resounding in celebration.