Great Demon - Chapter 72 Part 1

Changying transformed into a streak of lightning and shot out of the sea, her figure dissolving into the air like smoke, startling an albatross into a shuddering flutter. 

The once-tranquil sea surface shattered instantly, sending white-bellied fish tumbling out of the waves, landing on the deck with a heavy thud.

The dozing fisherman on the boat jolted awake once more, bewildered by the strange happenings. He had heard the old tales of fish raining from the sky a century ago, but he never imagined he would witness such bizarre occurrences himself.

Changying soared toward the clouds, only assuming human form once she reached their peak. Her black robes trailed downward, appearing like a dark storm cloud gathering in the sky. Though her features were striking, almost dazzlingly beautiful, her expression was cold and austere to the point of intimidation.

Fortunately, before leaving earlier, she had suppressed the dull ache in her head and the pain in her spiritual po soul, and she had left a trace of her consciousness on the Turbid Mirror. That way, if Zhuyou fled overnight with the mirror and her little attendant, she would be able to locate them swiftly.

Her face remained icy as she lifted a finger slightly. Instantly, a wisp of azure smoke rose from below, winding its way through the clouds before curling around her fingertip—it was the very trace of her consciousness she had left in the Turbid Mirror.

Her divine sense had departed from the mirror, but her draconic aura remained. Closing her eyes for a brief moment, she quickly discerned Zhuyou’s whereabouts.

Dust, sandstorms, and scorching winds.

But the scent of this place was entirely different from the devil’s domain. It carried the warmth and dryness of a land baked under the blazing sun.

Changying pressed the strand of divine consciousness back into her forehead, her slender brows furrowing slightly. Though there was no visible trace of hostility on her face, her indifference was chilling. The title of Slayer God had not been bestowed upon her without reason.

She had expected that Zhuyou wouldn’t stay long at the mortal inn, but she hadn’t anticipated that she would head west. For what purpose, she could not yet tell. She dared not delay—beneath her chest, the drop of heart’s blood burned like fire, a clear sign that Zhuyou was in some kind of trouble.

For the past century, the connection through her heart’s blood had bound her to Zhuyou like an unbreakable thread. No matter what fate befell Zhuyou, she would always know. Normally, the sensation would be nothing more than a brief surge of heat, but now it felt as if it was scorching a hole through her chest.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Changying stepped onto the clouds and sped toward the western Mortal Realm.

The farther west she traveled, the sparser the clouds beneath her feet became. The scorching sun cast its light over a vast expanse of yellow sand. Below, the winding mountains were bare, as if every blade of grass and tree had been stripped away.

Looking down, she saw hardly any mortals in sight. The land was desolate—certainly not a place fit for habitation.

Yet, what business did Zhuyou have here? Surely, she wasn’t merely hiding from her?

Anxious, Changying transformed into a dragon mid-flight, her obsidian-black scales shimmering under the relentless sun, reflecting iridescent colors. She streaked across the sky like a shooting star, her long tail slicing through the heavens. With a powerful twist of her serpentine body, she surged forward, chasing the wind and lightning.

From below, a flash of dark lightning seemed to flicker across the sky. If any mortals happened to glance up, they wouldn’t even be able to make out its true form.

Abruptly, Changying halted midair.

A sudden ringing sound reached her ears from below—the chime of camel bells, crisp and melodic, like a call beckoning wandering hun souls.

She lifted her gaze toward the blinding black sun above. Her slit pupils, luminous and pale, seemed almost transparent.

The Obsidian Dragon abruptly assumed human form, though her eyes remained the same—a dragon’s gaze, sharp and untamed.

As she looked up, a lock of hair slipped from behind her ear, falling over her shoulder. The pale curve of her neck was exposed under the light, appearing almost fragile.

But how could a god of the Nine Heavens ever be described as fragile?

Her gaze was piercing. Something about this place felt eerily familiar.

So familiar that, the moment she stepped into its boundaries, her heart’s blood surged violently, her entire being brimming with an uncontrollable killing intent. The suffocating pressure of her presence nearly escaped her restraint.

She scoured her sea of consciousness, searching through the threads of her spiritual memory until realization struck her—This was the place where, long ago, the ancient Devil Clan had been slaughtered by the ancient gods.

Back then, the skies were not as they were now. The black sun had hung low between the sand and sea, its light reflecting off the crashing waves as if they would flood the world. The tides had roared, their deafening echoes like war drums sounding across the battlefield.

It was here that the ancient devils had been pierced through by a thousand divine feathers, their bodies impaled beyond recognition. The ancient gods had seized the momentum and struck them down completely, ensuring that the Devil Clan would never rise again.

That day, many ancient gods had fallen as well. Even she had not escaped unscathed.

But before her downfall, she had divided her spiritual po soul into seven parts and cast a spell to reconstruct her mortal body. The others had not been so fortunate—most had their hun souls scattered, unable to find peace even in death.

Had the Heavenly Dao not intervened, even Zhuyou would never have been able to reincarnate after thousands of years.

Changying stood frozen for a moment, recalling how Zhuyou had been drawn into the chaotic realm twice while trapped inside the Turbid Mirror. The second time, the mirror had even revealed Zhuyou’s original form before her reincarnation, entangling her in the past conflicts.

So, Zhuyou had suspected it all along.

She had seen that stretch of yellow sand in the Turbid Mirror.

She had seen the ruthless ancient devils.

That was why she had come here—to seek the truth.

Zhuyou was bound to learn the truth eventually, but for some reason, Changying felt an unbearable tightness in her chest. Her thoughts flickered, and she could already foresee Zhuyou’s crushing disappointment upon discovering everything.

She abruptly lowered her gaze, scanning the endless desert for Zhuyou’s figure.

She took a slow breath, the small mole at the tip of her nose shifting slightly with the motion—a flaw, like a crack in fine porcelain, softening the icy distance of her expression.

The draconic aura left on the Turbid Mirror was crisp and distinct—an exact reflection of herself.

Following the trail of her lingering energy, Changying rushed forward, soon spotting the figure she had been searching for, standing in the heart of the vast desert.

The person was clad in a flowing black dress that swept the ground, the crimson sash at her waist trailing down to her feet. That shade of red was brighter than blood, reminiscent of the only trace of color left on her true form as the Vermillion Phoenix—the fiery glow at the tips of her jet-black feathers.

Wind and sand whirled through the air. Zhuyou’s dress and sash were partially buried in the dunes, an indication of just how long she had been standing there.

Beside her, a peafowl in green robes held up a shimmering barrier, shielding her from the black sun’s oppressive glare.

Zhuyou’s silver hair fluttered in the wind, her eyes shut tightly as if in distress, her eyelids trembling ever so slightly. The phoenix pattern at the corners of her eyes stretched outward, ready to take flight—just like her true form, its feathers dark as ink.

Hanzhu was visibly anxious, her mouth opening and closing in silent cries, yet Zhuyou gave no response.

Changying’s heart pounded violently.

Suddenly, the sky darkened. Looking up, she saw the black sun gradually being obscured by thick clouds.

Thunder rumbled from the Nine Heavens. Below, the desert crackled with fire, its heat so intense that despite the dimming sky, the scorching air remained unbearable.

It was too hot.

The waves of heat lifted Changying’s hair, the golden ornament on her forehead trembling slightly.

The clouds above roared with heavenly thunder, while the sands below churned like a boiling sea.

This was no ordinary storm. It was the arrival of both tribulation lightning and earthfire.

Changying’s expression darkened.

Had Zhuyou recalled something from the past? If so, then despite her current cultivation level being far from the Ultimate stage, the awakening of her original self would allow her to ascend far more rapidly.

A phoenix breaking through realms must undergo rebirth through fire.

Upon first entering the Arcane stage, it is met with thunderfire. Later, upon reaching the Ultimate stage, it must endure earthfire. Beyond that, no one has ever withstood the flames—presumably, they must be heavenly fire. Previously, Zhuyou still retained her celestial bones and meridians, and the fire she bathed in was merely ordinary thunderfire. But now, if she were to face the divine fire of the earth, she would likely… have only a one-in-ten chance of survival.

Like a falling meteor, Changying descended at lightning speed. On the vast desert below, the green-feathered peafowl holding up a protective barrier had been trembling in terror. However, the moment it saw her, its eyes instantly welled up, as if seeing a savior.

Hanzhu should have feared Changying—after all, a hundred years ago, she had abandoned Changying and even deceived Zhuyou, claiming that the dragon had refused to leave with them. Though the fear still lingered in her heart, the thought that Changying would act to save them overpowered it, making her set aside all hesitation.

At this moment, the dunes were shifting, making it difficult for her to stand steadily. The sand beneath her feet seemed to undulate, truly resembling boiling water, and it was scorching hot. If she could move, she would have long since leaped away.

Hanzhu stared wide-eyed at the dragon that had leaped down from the clouds. With only one arm still supporting the barrier, she reached out with the other to shield Zhuyou. She wanted to ask Changying for help but hesitated.

Changying saw everything clearly and thought to herself that this peafowl was indeed protective of its mistress. Because of this alone, she could never harm it in the slightest.

Zhuyou, however, remained motionless, her brows tightly furrowed, eyes closed, as if she could neither hear nor perceive anything. It was as though her five senses had drifted into emptiness.

Hanzhu was filled with alarm and unease. When she met Changying’s gaze directly, her eyes burned unbearably, and she found herself unable to utter a single word, her throat feeling sealed shut.

“Wake up!” Changying commanded in a stern voice.

Her voice was so powerful that it seemed to carry a dragon’s roar, making it impossible for Hanzhu to distinguish whether it was Changying speaking or if she had reverted to her true form and was bellowing.

A ringing filled Hanzhu’s ears, a warmth spreading inside them. If not for the faint sound of the wind, she would have thought she had gone deaf.

At that moment, Zhuyou’s eyes snapped open. She saw Changying standing rigidly before her, her expression icy, lips pale and tightly pressed together. That face, which should have been indifferent, was instead filled with worry.

Zhuyou felt dazed, as if she were a mortal feverish and delirious, her mind failing to catch up. Even though her eyes were open, scenes from when they were shut still lingered before her.

Whose memories were those? How had they entered her mind?

Her gaze was dull, and when her eyes shifted slightly, they landed directly on the dragon before her. Its chest rose and fell unsteadily—it must have arrived in a hurry, as it was still panting. This added an unexpected frailty to its usual imposing presence.

But why was Changying here now?

Zhuyou’s thoughts were muddled, unable to make sense of anything. After a long pause, she finally moved her lips, forcing out a single word “You—” but she had no idea what to say next.