Great Demon - Chapter 57

The marsh was muddy all around, and the surroundings were pitch black, with only the occasional flicker of fireflies leaving behind a faint trace of light.

Zhuyou’s heart was pounding. She couldn’t discern the cultivation level of the woman before her, and she didn’t know what her chances of success would be if she were to rashly try to snatch the sacred herb.

Her eyes were fixed on the sacred herb in the woman’s hand. She knew that even if her chances weren’t good, she wouldn’t be able to offer Burning-Heart Wood in exchange.

She truly didn’t have any Burning-Heart Wood. Back then, when she was engulfed in the calamity fire, she hadn’t managed to obtain any. Her vision had been blurred, and everything had appeared hazy.

The calamity fire had been unbearably hot, scorching her entire body until she couldn’t bear the pain and eventually passed out from the agony. When she woke up, the calamity fire had dissipated, and the Burning-Heart Wood within it had naturally vanished as well.

She hadn’t even been able to complete her tribulation, and instead of breaking through to a higher realm, her cultivation had regressed significantly. How could she have had the leisure to retrieve the Burning-Heart Wood?

During that tribulation, she had seen a hand reach into her calamity fire—it seemed to belong to Jingyi. Jingyi had extended her hand into the calamity fire, and who knows what other misdeeds she had committed besides poisoning.

After the fire tribulation, she had been falsely accused, and before she could even determine whether her Burning-Heart Wood had been completely incinerated by the calamity fire, she had been dragged to the Execution Platform.

On the Execution Platform, she had fallen into the Devil Realm. When she broke through her realm again, there was no phoenix tree, and naturally, she couldn’t find any Burning-Heart Wood.

After that, she had heard in the Devil Realm that Jingyi had obtained a Burning-Heart Wood, not only replenishing her three hun and seven po souls but also breaking through to a higher realm, basking in glory.

But who had given Jingyi the Burning-Heart Wood? She had no idea.

Jingyi.

Just the thought of that name filled her with rage. If it weren’t for that wretched bird, she might not have ended up in such a dire situation.

“Do you know what Jingyi said?” Changying, holding the sacred herb, asked calmly.

Zhuyou looked at her. The woman’s face was half-lit by the dim glow of the fireflies, making her features indistinct, but her nose was sharp, and the outline of her cheek was strikingly beautiful.

Zhuyou had just been thinking about that name, and now she heard it from someone else’s mouth. She frowned. “Do you know her?”

“No,” Changying denied firmly and without hesitation.

Zhuyou raised an eyebrow. The way this woman was so quick to distance herself made it seem like she had some grudge against Jingyi.

Since when did the immortals of the Heavenly Realm start playing these games of betrayal and confrontation?

“Jingyi claimed that two hundred years ago, you were the one who gave her the Burning-Heart Wood,” Changying said slowly.

Zhuyou was stunned for a moment, her emotions a tangled mess. She found it almost laughable.

Could it be that Jingyi had actually taken her Burning-Heart Wood back then, waiting for her to descend into the human world and suffer the cycle of reincarnation before using it, all while claiming that Zhuyou had given it to her? Unfortunately, Zhuyou hadn’t endured the punishment of reincarnation. Instead, in front of all the heavens, she had fallen into the Devil Realm.

Was that single piece of Burning-Heart Wood really worth all that?

Zhuyou’s heart was pounding so hard it made it difficult to breathe, and her gaze trembled.

How absurd. If that were truly the case, then two hundred years ago, shouldn’t it have been Jingyi who fell into the Devil Realm?

She had devilish thoughts in her heart—how could she not have fallen?

Zhuyou nearly drowned in these thoughts but quickly pulled herself back. When she looked up, she saw the woman still standing there, holding the sacred herb, unmoving.

She hadn’t left, nor had she made any move to attack.

Zhuyou was indeed wary. In the Three Realms, there were few who could conceal their cultivation level from her.

Back then, she had taken a risk and exchanged heart’s blood with Changying. After that, she didn’t know what the dragon had gone through, but she had seized the opportunity to break through to a higher realm, reaching the Arcane stage. Now, even if the two Divine Lords from a hundred years ago joined forces with the Evil-Punisher Divine Lord, she might not necessarily be at a disadvantage.

But the woman before her was too enigmatic. She had asked for Burning-Heart Wood out of the blue and then brought up Jingyi. What was her intention?

After reaching the Arcane stage, she should have been able to see through others’ true forms at a glance, but now she couldn’t.

The woman’s transformed appearance was unclear to her, as if she were some colossal creature.

Something between a Kun and a Jiao, indistinct and immeasurable.

(T/N: Kun is also known as the Mythical Giant Fish, a colossal fish that dwells in the Northern Ocean. It is so massive that “no one knows how many thousands of miles it stretches.” Kun can transform into a Peng, a gigantic bird with wings like clouds covering the sky. Jiao is known as the Flood Dragon, a serpent-like dragon that dwells in water, sometimes depicted with four legs. It can control rain, storms, and rivers.)

Since when had such a person existed in the Three Realms? Why had she never heard of her?

Seeing that Zhuyou hadn’t spoken, Changying stood calmly, unmoving, still keeping her aura suppressed, like a dragon curling its fierce claws into its palm.

“Did the Heavenly Realm send you to capture me?” Zhuyou asked cautiously.

Changying admitted, “No.”

It was true—no one had sent her. She had come voluntarily, and her purpose wasn’t to capture anyone.

Zhuyou wasn’t sure how much of this was true. If she wasn’t sent by the Heavenly Realm, then what was this woman here for? Was she really after her sacred herb?

There was only one sacred herb, and it was said to grow a single petal every five hundred years and bear fruit only after a thousand years, making it extremely precious.

Fortunately, it wasn’t the fruit of the sacred herb that could cure all poisons, but its root—the crimson, blood-like root was the rare medicine of the Three Realms.

“So you’re here to compete with me for this sacred herb,” Zhuyou said, narrowing her eyes.

Changying, of course, wasn’t here for the sacred herb. She had opened the Cold Eye precisely so that Zhuyou could obtain this medicinal herb to completely dispel the poison in her eyes and nourish her body.

But she wasn’t good with words, and she couldn’t help feeling that Zhuyou should have recognized her.

Could there be another dragon in the Three Realms who resembled her?

That was impossible.

Seeing that Zhuyou’s spirit sword was still drawn and her gaze was sharp, Changying took a half-step back, wondering how to retreat without making it too obvious.

Zhuyou watched her every move closely, afraid that the woman would turn and leave, leaving her unable to catch up. When she saw the woman take that small step back, she tilted her spirit sword slightly and immediately attacked.

Trying to leave? Not a chance.

The tip of her sword aimed straight for the woman’s face, while her other hand flipped over, causing the water in the marsh to surge. The vines buried beneath the surface instantly came under her control, reaching out like ghostly claws.

The vines covered the entire marsh, and when they shot out of the water, they resembled rough chains or writhing water snakes.

But Changying, who had taken that half-step back, stood still, completely unruffled.

In an instant, thorns climbed up her legs, and the spirit sword was at her brow.

Changying merely tilted her head slightly, her black hair billowing back from the spiritual energy, the golden ornament on her forehead swaying gently.

The only light came from the fireflies, flickering like ghostly flames, too dim to illuminate anyone’s face.

Zhuyou had wanted to see if the woman had a small mole on the bridge of her nose, like Changying did, but whether it was because the woman had tilted her head or because the surroundings were too dark, she couldn’t make it out.

In her urgency, she thought of summoning a phoenix flame, but then remembered that phoenix flames couldn’t burn in the Cold Eye.

At a glance, it didn’t seem to be her.

This woman looked nothing like Changying. She was much taller, almost half a head taller than Zhuyou, and though her figure was slender, she couldn’t be described as frail or delicate.

Zhuyou had once wondered what Changying would look like when she grew up. In her imagination, even after a hundred years, Changying wouldn’t grow too tall. She would remain delicate, with a cold, sickly appearance that made her seem easy to bully.

Her face and body would be pale, her shoulders thin, her limbs long and slender, with a soft, supple waist.

As a child, she had been like that, so as an adult, she should have been tender and delicate, even if she remained cold and aloof—just a little girl who could pout and act spoiled.

It was better that this woman didn’t resemble Changying. Zhuyou felt relieved. That way, even if she took the sacred herb, Changying wouldn’t frown and look like she was about to cry.

Although… she had never seen Changying cry.

Changying had never laughed or cried, as if her heart had been carved out the moment she hatched.

In the past hundred years, Zhuyou hadn’t gone looking for Changying. The risk was simply too great.

In the chaos of the conflict a hundred years ago, she had been taken away from the Devil Realm by Hanzhu. When she woke up, Changying was nowhere to be seen. She had wanted to question Hanzhu, but seeing the peafowl demon covered in blood, kneeling beside her and trembling, she couldn’t bring herself to be harsh.

What had Hanzhu said?

The peafowl demon had been weeping uncontrollably, terrified, her shoulders shaking as she hurriedly explained, “The dragon didn’t come with me. Besides, she belongs to the Heavenly Realm. Even if we left her in the Devil Realm, as long as the heavenly soldiers knew her identity, they wouldn’t harm a single hair on her head. But those immortals might not show you any mercy, Mistress!”

Zhuyou knew full well that if Changying had been taken back to the Heavenly Realm, her life would have been better than if she had stayed by her side.

Hanzhu had stammered, hesitating. “I just… I just don’t know if the heavenly soldiers would mistake her for a devil and slaughter her along with the rest.”

Zhuyou’s expression darkened. “You knew that, yet you didn’t take her with you? I told you to take her and leave first. Why didn’t you go?”

“She refused to leave. She wouldn’t come with me. She wanted to return to the heavens!” Hanzhu insisted, her inner thoughts surging uncontrollably.

Zhuyou entered her consciousness, examined her spiritual threads, and realized that the peafowl demon had dared to deceive her.

“Even if you didn’t take her, there was no need to lie to me like this.”

Hanzhu’s eyes were filled with struggle, and she slowly clenched her fists.

“You never liked her much to begin with,” Zhuyou said coldly, cutting to the heart of the matter.

Hanzhu immediately bit her lower lip. After a moment, she suddenly bowed her head. “I admit… I never liked her. After all, she’s a dragon. She’s not like you, Mistress.” As if she were summoning all her strength, she gritted her teeth and shouted, “I beg you, Mistress… to carve out that drop of heart’s blood!”

Zhuyou remained silent for a long time.

“Mistress…” Hanzhu’s heart was in turmoil, already prepared to face her wrath.

“Wait one more day,” Zhuyou finally said after a long pause.

That day, it was fortunate that she hadn’t carved out the heart’s blood, or she wouldn’t have tasted the sweetness that followed.

In just seven days, the pain in her body was completely swept away, and she felt as comfortable as if she were bathed in divine light.

Although, she could no longer bask in divine light.

After those few days, her injuries healed rapidly, and she even broke through to a higher realm while in the human world.

Back then, she had tricked the dragon into exchanging heart’s blood, and now she had even taken advantage of that dragon. Upon closer reflection, it was better not to meet again, as the connection through the heart’s blood still remained. Perhaps Changying had forgotten about it.

It was better not to meet. If they did, the meeting of an immortal and a devil would be fraught with tension. Changying might remember that the drop of blood in her heart wasn’t hers and demand it back on the spot, which would be incredibly awkward.

Zhuyou snapped back to reality in an instant, only to see the thorns from the marsh still clinging to the woman’s legs. The woman didn’t struggle, and her fearless demeanor was eerily similar to Changying’s.

But probably… probably it wasn’t Changying.

When Changying was a child, she had been so clingy. If they were to meet again, she would likely question why Zhuyou had abandoned her back then.

Zhuyou thought about it and realized she might be overthinking things. After enjoying the luxuries of the heavens, the dragon might not even want to recall the hardships she endured in the Devil Realm.

Dragons, with their serpent-like appearance, were probably impossible to tame.

The tip of her spirit sword was still pressed against the woman’s brow. As she leaned in slightly, she caught a whiff of a cold, faint fragrance—not the scent of an immortal.

A hundred years ago, she had leaned in close to Changying just to smell her scent. Now, she was facing a woman who was slightly taller than her, which felt somewhat strange.

The woman remained calm, not flinching at all. As Zhuyou moved closer, she simply lowered her head slightly.

Zhuyou pushed the sword forward, the sharp spiritual energy lifting the woman’s forehead ornament. Half an inch more, and blood would be drawn.

Her spiritual energy spread out like a carpet, covering the entire marsh. The vines in the marsh became indestructible, tougher than chains of black iron.

With this, even if the woman wanted to escape, she wouldn’t be able to.

The woman still showed no fear. As the sword tip nearly touched her brow, she didn’t tremble at all. Instead, she leaned back slightly and raised the sacred herb in her hand, using it to block the sword.

Zhuyou hadn’t expected her to use the sacred herb as a shield and quickly withdrew her hand. Her spirit sword dissipated, and she immediately reached out to grab the sacred herb, her nails cutting through its stem.

The stem of the sacred herb was severed, and its crimson, blood-like sap splattered out, cold as ice water.

Zhuyou was caught off guard by the cold. It had been a long time since she had felt such a chill—the last time was when Changying was still with her.

After securing the crimson stem, she quickly retreated, a smug smile tugging at her lips. She couldn’t figure out what this woman was here for. It seemed like she wanted to compete for the herb, but after losing it, she didn’t leave. Instead, Zhuyou had managed to snatch it back.

With a flip of her hand, the sacred herb stem disappeared, stored away in her spatial pouch.

Once the stem was safely hidden, Zhuyou lifted her hand and blew a gentle breath over the sap-stained back of her hand. The cold immediately dissipated.

She glanced back, not releasing the spiritual energy binding the vines, so the woman remained trapped, standing motionless as if she were dumbfounded.

Anyone who could enter the Cold Eye likely had considerable cultivation, so this woman’s level shouldn’t be low. But why did she seem so foolish?

Zhuyou didn’t dwell on it and quickly looked up, her gaze falling on the sea above, dark as ink in the night.

Fish darted through the coral, and the invisible barrier still held the seawater at bay.

She had obtained what she came for, but how was she supposed to leave now?

She was about to rise into the air and use her spiritual energy to shatter the barrier above when the woman in the distance suddenly spoke. “Take this as well. The leaves of this immortal plant can heal soul injuries, and the flowers can boost three hundred years of cultivation,” the woman said calmly, tossing the now stemless sacred herb toward her.

Zhuyou was stunned for a moment. Instead of catching it with her hand, she used her spiritual energy to draw it toward her.

Her heart skipped a beat. She couldn’t understand the woman’s intentions. After going through the trouble of descending into the Cold Eye to obtain the sacred herb, why would she give away the flowers and leaves so easily after losing the stem?

Fearing a trap, she enveloped the herb’s leaves and flowers with her spiritual energy, only to be surprised to find no spells, poisons, or insects on them.

Was she really giving them away for free?

What puzzled her even more was that the vines binding the woman’s legs suddenly retreated, even though… she hadn’t released her spell.

Zhuyou’s eyes widened, and she tightened her grip on the sacred herb. “Who are you, really?”

The woman didn’t answer. She slowly walked across the marsh, each step hovering above the muddy ground, not a speck of dirt touching her.

In the darkness, her black robes swayed slightly, and the white jade pendant at her waist tinkled softly.

Zhuyou felt like she should know this person, but she was certain they had never met. If they had, even just seeing her silhouette, she should have recognized her.

Tall and slender, cold and peculiar.

As the woman approached, Zhuyou frowned warily, a strand of spiritual energy coiling around her finger. “Do you want it back?” she asked.

The woman still didn’t answer, as if she were mute.

As she walked, her aura, though restrained, exuded a fierce, oppressive energy. Though she hovered above the marsh, ripples spread across the surface with each step, as if it were being touched.

Zhuyou grew increasingly uneasy and wanted to leave the marsh as quickly as possible.

The Cold Eye was vastly different from Shenhua Mountain. The Cold Eye had never appeared in the world before, and its mysteries were likely tied to its internal structure. If it allowed people to come and go so easily, it wouldn’t be so enigmatic.

As the woman drew closer, Zhuyou quickly rose into the air. The spiritual energy around her finger surged like a spring, rushing toward the barrier above.

“Don’t you want to know who I am?” the woman asked, stopping and looking up.

Zhuyou frowned. As her spiritual energy collided with the barrier, she was struck by the rebounding force.

The energy was wrapped in dragon aura, icy and piercing, causing her to shiver.

The dragon aura was strange, carrying an ancient, muddy scent, as if it had been trapped for millennia. Fierce and oppressive, it didn’t feel like the aura of a divine dragon from the heavens.

Violent and cold, neither god nor devil.

Could the Cold Eye be a relic from ancient times?

Zhuyou was stunned, her heart leaping into her throat. If this truly was an ancient artifact, she might not be able to break through the barrier.

“Shouldn’t you ask who I am?” the woman below asked calmly.

Zhuyou didn’t ask. She had already sensed that this person was no ordinary being. Her palm pressed against the barrier, pouring a continuous stream of spiritual energy into it, trying to shatter it.

If the barrier broke, the seawater above would come rushing in, flooding the marsh and destroying the plants. The sacred herb might never grow here again.

But before she could break it, the woman below spoke again, her voice calm and emotionless. “I’ll send you out.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, Zhuyou felt the world spin around her, as if the seawater above had flipped to the bottom and the marsh had turned upside down. Her vision went dark, and the cold enveloped her once more. Before she could regain her senses, she suddenly fell from midair. When she steadied herself, she realized she was already outside the Cold Eye.

The moonlight was bright, reflecting off the ink-like surface of the sea.

Zhuyou quickly stabilized herself, hovering above the water. She looked down, but there was no sign of the vortex or the Cold Eye.

But how had that woman sent her out?

The oppressive aura descending from above wasn’t sharp, as if its edge had been dulled, making it feel unusually gentle.

Zhuyou looked up sharply and saw the woman descending from the sky.

Her expression was cold, her black robes shimmering with a flowing brilliance under the moonlight, her long hair scattering in the wind.

Her golden eyes slightly lowered, and her thin lips parted as she spoke. “You don’t recognize me anymore?”