Great Demon - Chapter 73 Part 1

Zhuyou’s fingers were warm as they pressed against Changying’s wrist bone, applying little force—soft and gentle.

She had only just woken up. Though still drowsy beyond measure, she forced herself to open her eyes. Her gaze shimmered like rippling water, making her appear even more innocent and pitiful.

The moment she opened her eyes, she immediately sensed something was off. The surroundings were eerily silent, with not even the faintest sound. Looking outside, she saw birds in mid-flight frozen in place, as if turned into wooden carvings suspended in the air, their outstretched wings unmoving for an unnaturally long time.

A chilling pressure had seized everything, rendering all living beings in the Mortal Realm completely motionless.

She didn’t even need to guess to know who was behind this. Aside from Changying, there were probably few left in the Three Realms capable of such a feat.

Zhuyou lay on the bed. Though her eyes were open, moving was difficult—only her fingers could curl slightly. So, she simply lay there, motionless, waiting for Changying to return. That dragon would come back, without a doubt.

Sure enough, after a while, the door was pushed open with careful, quiet movements. A peculiar floral fragrance clung to Changying, its scent rich and thick. Zhuyou didn’t know which immortal she had brushed against to pick up such a scent. She found it vaguely familiar, but as she searched her mind, several faces flickered past, and yet, she could not pick out the right one.

Once Changying returned, the area returned to normal. As soon as the door closed, noise erupted from outside the windows, as if the world had regained its vibrance. The bird that had been frozen in midair for so long finally flapped its wings and took off, chirping as it flew away.

Zhuyou extended a hand from beneath the brocade quilt. Her wrist bones were thin and fragile, seemingly breakable with the slightest force. She lifted her wrist slightly and pressed it against the dragon’s.

Changying had not expected her to wake so soon, and a trace of surprise flickered through her heart. Lowering her gaze, she met Zhuyou’s unblinking stare—sharp and direct, like a crescent moon forged into a hook, reeling in her heart. She pressed her lips together and asked, “When did you wake up?”

“I asked first. You answer first.” Zhuyou lay there, looking up at her, the tip of her chin still hidden beneath the quilt, making her seem all the softer, all the more pitiful.

Changying’s face remained expressionless as she studied her in silence, as if weighing her words. She rarely spoke, and each time she did, she seemed to take her time, as though even forming sound required careful deliberation.

“I summoned an immortal to deliver a message,” she finally said.

“Telling them you caught me?” Zhuyou remained calm. Now that she had fallen into this dragon’s hands, she had already resigned herself to the situation.

But Changying shook her head and said frankly, “I have taken two immortals under my command. I instructed an auspicious grass immortal to bring them to see me in a few days.”

“An auspicious grass immortal?” Zhuyou pondered, recalling that there was only one such immortal in the heavens. “Zhiying?”

Changying had no intention of hiding it and gave a slight nod.

Zhuyou let out a faint laugh. The last time she had seen Immortal Zhiying was at Shenhua Mountain. Back then, Zhiying had gone to the Devil-Suppressing Tower to subdue a hun soul of the Devil Lord. She hadn’t expected that instead of capturing the devil, she would end up losing an entire tower.

Later, Zhuyou had used the Heaven-Observing Mirror to infiltrate the Heavenly Palace and encountered Zhiying again at the Falling Star Spring. After that, they had not crossed paths.

Thinking back, it was because of her that Zhiying had been punished at the Falling Star Spring. If they were to meet again now, would Zhiying still hesitate to strike because of their past acquaintance?

“It is her,” Changying confirmed honestly. Zhuyou’s delicate finger rested against her pale wrist. A single flick could have shaken it off, yet Changying made no effort to do so.

“You met her a hundred years ago,” Zhuyou mused. “Wasn’t she following the Heavenly Emperor? Why is she taking orders from you now?”

Changying countered, her voice as calm as ever. “If she obeys the Heavenly Emperor, why can’t she obey me?” Her tone was so level, her expression so tranquil, that it didn’t even seem like she was flaunting her divine authority. She genuinely seemed confused.

Zhuyou, well aware of how dense this dragon could be, nodded. “That’s fair.”

Wrapped tightly in the quilt, the edge of the fabric nearly reached her lips. When she spoke, the rough fabric brushed against them, a faint and repetitive sensation.

Changying watched her for a moment, then slowly raised a hand, lifting Zhuyou’s finger before reaching down to fold back the quilt’s corner, revealing her chin.

After a pause, she pulled it down a little further, exposing the pale length of her neck as well.

Zhuyou didn’t understand her intent and shifted slightly. “I don’t actually feel cold,” she said, hinting that the quilt was unnecessary.

But whether it was because a century ago Zhuyou had insisted on wrapping Changying in blankets, or for some other reason, the dragon now stubbornly insisted on wrapping her.

Zhuyou pursed her lips, and Changying, somewhat awkwardly, rubbed her index finger twice. For some reason, she suddenly felt an odd urge—like the quilt, she wanted to brush against Zhuyou’s lips.

The thought struck her out of nowhere, so strange it left her momentarily dazed. She quickly pressed her hand against her side, uncertain why such an impulse had even crossed her mind.

Zhuyou, after having her fingers brushed aside, didn’t tease her about it. Instead, she lay there as if finally settling in comfortably, unwilling to move. Now that she knew Changying wouldn’t harm her, she felt peculiarly at ease.

In these past hundred years, she had never truly felt at peace. When she first left the devil’s domain, she had been on edge, constantly looking over her shoulder. It was only after recovering from her injuries that she slowly regained some confidence.

She was never one for suffering. In the past, when she was in the heavens, she had been a Vermillion Phoenix surrounded by flocks of birds. Later, when she entered the devil’s domain, though life was harsh, the little devils treated her with utmost reverence, offering her everything they could. It was never truly unbearable.

Now, wrapped in this quilt, she felt even more comfortable, as if she could just drift along, seeking nothing more.

But that thought barely lingered before she regained her focus. No, she would never be deceived by fleeting comfort. She was a devil—when had a devil ever been content with mere solace?

Changying said, “The two immortals I took under my command—you know them.”

“Oh?” Zhuyou lazily lifted her eyelids, the shimmer in her eyes still lingering. “There are so many immortals in the heavens. How am I supposed to guess?” She paused, seeing Changying remain unfazed, and then added slowly, “Not that I care to know.”

Changying’s gaze flickered. “You’ll find out in three days.”

“Why must I stay with you for three days?” Zhuyou suddenly asked, her drowsy eyes resembling the hazy venomous mist they once held—glistening, alluring, pitiful.

Changying adored this look. A hundred years ago, when Zhuyou lay on the soft couch in the Grand Hall, she had been the same, boneless and languid. Only in front of outsiders would she force herself to sit up straight, feigning an unapproachable demeanor.

Caught off guard by the question, Changying hesitated. “Three days is just right. There are things I haven’t figured out yet.”

In truth, she didn’t need to wait three days. If she wanted, she could summon the Heavenly Emperor’s people now and call her subordinates to her side.

But she stubbornly wanted these three days—to make up for the century they had lost.

But could a hundred years truly be repaid in just three days?

A hundred years wasn’t merely a brief moment. It was a mortal’s entire lifetime, a hundred cycles of spring and autumn, thirty thousand lifetimes of mayflies born at dawn and perishing by dusk.

“Well,” Zhuyou said with a teasing smile, “it seems even a Divine Venerable like you has your fair share of burdens.”

“It’s fine.” Changying’s calm gaze shifted slightly as she said indifferently, “I’ve never been here before. Staying for three days will at least let me appreciate the scenery of the Mortal Realm.”

Zhuyou fell silent for a moment. Watching Changying sitting motionless, she didn’t seem eager to appreciate any scenery. Zhuyou thought to herself—could this dragon really be bored stiff up in the heavens, coming down to amuse herself with her?

After a long pause, she finally said, “Since that’s the case, why not go out for a walk?”

Only then did Changying rise. “Then let’s go for a walk.” She stood by the window and glanced outside. The streets were bustling with mortals, all appearing quite busy—those leading horses seemed to be mostly merchants. Turning back, she asked, “Why don’t you ask how I found you?”

Zhuyou gave a faint smile. “With your current cultivation level, how hard could it be to find someone? Why would I waste my breath asking?”

Left to explain herself, Changying said, “When I left before, I left a wisp of divine sense on the Turbid Mirror, infused with my dragon breath. Even after reclaiming the divine sense, I could still track you through the lingering dragon breath.”

After a brief silence, Zhuyou remarked, “So, you basically just breathed on the mirror.”

Changying was speechless. After a moment, she still felt the need to make her point. “… It’s dragon breath,” she insisted.

That stubborn, humorless demeanor—probably even the old immortals in the heavens couldn’t compare.

The sky outside was clear, seemingly spotless. Yet, winds stirred through the city, carrying fine yellow sand, and the clearer the sky grew, the more the city itself seemed murky and dust-laden. It bore a resemblance to the devil’s domain, where yellow sands stretched endlessly.

All of a sudden, Zhuyou recalled the Moon-Watching Cliff in the Heavenly Palace—remarkably similar to the Heart-Questioning Rock in the devil’s domain. After a moment of thought, she asked, “When I first infiltrated the Heavenly Palace to retrieve the Turbid Mirror, I noticed how much the Moon-Watching Cliff resembled the Heart-Questioning Rock. Now that your memories have returned, you should know the reason, shouldn’t you?”

She tilted her head upward, as if she could see through the clear blue sky to glimpse the Heavenly Palace. But the sky was empty—until, after a while, a lone bird flew past.

When she didn’t hear Changying’s answer, Zhuyou was about to withdraw her gaze when she suddenly felt something wrap around her wrist. Lowering her head, she found a crimson cord looped tightly around her wrist, resembling the fabled red thread of fate tying destined lovers together.

But it wasn’t any kind of marriage bond—just an ordinary string infused with a minor spell.

The cord contrasted sharply with her pale, jade-like wrist bones, and its ends crossed neatly, binding her wrist securely. Following the cord with her gaze, she saw the other end pinched between Changying’s fingers.

She followed the cord with her eyes and saw that the other end was held in Changying’s hand.

Changying held it calmly, her face as indifferent and serene as ever, as if she found nothing amiss. Her features were strikingly beautiful, but her expression was so cold and distant it seemed devoid of human warmth—one glance felt like a death sentence, as though she was naturally meant to wield power over life and death.

“Don’t be impatient. I will let you know,” Changying said, and seeing the confusion on Zhuyou’s face, she added, “Didn’t you want to go out for a walk?”