Great Demon - Chapter 73 Part 2

Zhuyou lifted her bound wrist, pulling the already-short crimson cord taut. She chuckled softly and tilted her head to the side. “Are you planning to go out like this?”

Changying gave a slight nod. Zhuyou’s hand—one she had been particularly fond of for over a century—was now tightly bound by the cord, making her seem like a puppet for street performers.

Her calm gaze flickered slightly, but no emotion surfaced. “Since I agreed to accompany you, I will. And you… won’t be slipping away.”

Zhuyou assumed this dragon was simply worried she’d run off, so she gave a quiet laugh and shook her head. “Would I really slip away right under your nose?” With that, she slowly stood from the bed. With a flick of her fingers, a spell wrapped her previously bare feet in black embroidered shoes.

Changying averted her eyes and led the way toward the door, still gripping the crimson cord. Before she reached the threshold, she waved her hand, releasing a trace of spiritual power to open the thin wooden door. With the cord pulling taut, Zhuyou had no choice but to follow her steps.

A hundred years ago, it was Changying who had trailed behind Zhuyou without fail. Now, it seemed the roles had reversed.

Changying tightened her grip on the cord little by little, thinking that if this were truly a marriage bond, it would be impossible to separate them. But unfortunately, as a deity of the Nine Heavens, such spiritual objects held no power over her.

Behind her, Zhuyou remarked, “You’re pulling too tightly.”

Changying turned back to see the faint red mark on Zhuyou’s pale wrist.

Zhuyou flexed her wrist and said, “You used to be like this as a child—grabbing me the moment you saw a stranger. Now, I’ll allow you to hold on, but don’t pull too close, or I’ll end up stepping on your heels.” She couldn’t help but recall how clingy Changying had been as a child—it was oddly nostalgic.

Changying’s fingers trembled slightly as she loosened her grip, allowing the cord to sag into a soft curve.

Her mouth felt dry, as though she hadn’t had water in ages. Though not a devil herself, the blood bond between them stirred dark desires deep in her heart—desires that urged her to act on thoughts she ought not to entertain.

If not for the clarity of her mind, she feared she wouldn’t just keep Zhuyou in this dusty mortal city—she’d find a secluded paradise where no one else could reach them. There, Zhuyou would see only her, think only of her. And no one could ever hurt Zhuyou again—no more risks, no more danger.

The more Changying thought about it, the darker her gaze grew, her breath becoming more erratic. Before they even stepped beyond the door, a searing heat burned in her chest.

Downstairs, mortals drank and played finger-guessing games, their rowdy laughter echoing upwards. The noise only irritated her further, pushing her closer to the edge.

Sensing Changying’s hesitation, Zhuyou suddenly yanked her arm back, tightening the cord again to halt her steps.

Changying froze in place.

Zhuyou drew closer, her voice almost brushing against the dragon’s back. “What else are you hiding from me? Why must I wait three days to learn the truth about Moon-Watching Cliff and the Heart-Questioning Rock? Is there something special about them?”

Without answering immediately, Changying slowly wound more of the crimson cord around her fingers, shortening the length even further. Her pale lips parted. “The Heart-Questioning Rock was carved out of the Moon-Watching Cliff itself.”

Zhuyou blinked in surprise—she hadn’t expected that. But if she’d never been to the Moon-Watching Cliff, why had it felt so familiar?

Before she could voice the question, Changying wound the cord tighter around her fingers, pulling it taut as if it might snap with the slightest force.

Bound by the tightening cord, Zhuyou frowned and asked, “Then why—”

“Don’t be hasty,” Changying’s usually cold eyes showed a rare trace of earnestness.

Zhuyou had no choice but to relent. Three days—three days weren’t that long.

Downstairs, the noise was indeed deafening—men and women clamoring in a chaotic din. Changying instantly lost any desire to descend. Her fingers curled at her side, and with a clench of her fist, the open door shut again.

“But you,” she said, “are you aware that the trial of heavenly thunder and earthly fire is not something you can endure?”

Zhuyou lowered her gaze, unconcerned. “Naturally. My days are numbered.”

“Yet if you wish to break through your current realm, you must face this trial. Do you know what that signifies?” Changying spoke unhurriedly.

Zhuyou seemed entirely indifferent, as if she no longer feared life or death. She even curled her lips into a faint smile—one that never reached her eyes. “The Heavenly Dao wants me dead,” she said.

“Are you truly unafraid?” Changying wound the crimson cord around her wrist and, in doing so, pulled Zhuyou a little closer.

Zhuyou stumbled, nearly falling into the goddess’s ink-black hair and robes. Yet, she merely swayed before steadying herself.

“I will find a way to hide from the Heavenly Dao,” she lifted her gaze, countless thoughts flickering through her mind.

Changying’s expression turned cold. She knew that Zhuyou was determined to resurrect the Devil Lord. Her heart pounded, and she unconsciously tightened the sash around her wrist. “If I were to extract my immortal bone and give it to you—”

Zhuyou’s pupils shrank sharply as she fixed her gaze on Changying. “I could easily take that as a joke.”

“But I am not joking,” Changying frowned.

“Then I don’t want your immortal bone,” Zhuyou let out a soft laugh. “Since I’ve already been struck from the immortal register, what use would your immortal bone be to me? If I can hide beneath the Heavenly Dao’s notice, why should I fear the Heavenly Realm?”

“You’re not just defying the Heavenly Realm—you are opposing the Heavenly Dao itself.” Changying felt a pang of bitterness.

“Will you strike me down, then?” Zhuyou lifted her lashes lazily, casting her a sidelong glance.

Changying did not answer. She was meant to follow heaven’s mandate and subdue devils—but there were times when she simply… did not want to.

Zhuyou spoke again. “If we become enemies, then I’ll not only hide from the Heavenly Dao but also from you.”

Changying’s grip on the crimson cord tightened as if she might tear it apart. Her gaze grew icy. “So I won’t be able to find you?”

“Yes, so you won’t be able to find me,” Zhuyou answered truthfully. She tilted her chin, tucking a stray silver strand of hair behind her ear.

Suddenly, the entire room grew hot, as though firewood was blazing beneath the floor. Even under the noonday sun, it wouldn’t be this stifling.

Zhuyou froze, realizing that the heat was radiating from Changying herself. The crimson cord wrapped around Changying’s wrist burned against her skin. Her heart thudded violently, and for no clear reason, a thought flashed through her mind—Changying is angry.

Changying was furious.

Even when enraged, the dragon’s face remained calm and distant—like she wanted to cut down everything around her. It was a demeanor that suited her title as the Slayer God.

Helpless, Zhuyou yanked her wrist back and dragged the dragon with her into a hidden space—one she’d carved out from Shenhua Mountain.

She never expected the dragon to anger so easily. In their younger days, Changying’s temper was nothing more than a childish flare. Now, it demanded appeasement—or Zhuyou would suffer the consequences.

As they fell into that miniature dimension, Zhuyou landed heavily on a bed of snow, Changying pinning her down.

With a dull thud, snowflakes scattered in all directions.

Changying propped herself up, gazing down at the phoenix beneath her. Though anger simmered within her, her eyes remained as cold and clear as ever—aloof and distant. Perhaps, in that moment, she understood—her care for Zhuyou wasn’t solely because they were once aligned in purpose.

She cradled Zhuyou’s slender fingers, kneading the straight bones as if trying to imprint every inch of them into her own flesh.

These hands were truly beautiful—especially when they strained against her grasp, the taut lines of tendons visible beneath the pale skin. Even the delicate wrist bones seemed fragile.

Zhuyou lay on the snow, silver-white hair spilling around her. She raised a hand to press against Changying’s shoulder. Through the thin fabric, she felt the dragon’s searing heat—like her very blood was boiling.

Yet Changying leaned closer, her ink-dark hair mingling with Zhuyou’s silver strands. Her brow furrowed slightly, as if torn by some internal struggle, and her pale lips pressed into a thin line.

When Changying bent down further, Zhuyou quickly turned her head aside, pressing half her face against the snow.

The dragon reached out, one finger brushing lightly against Zhuyou’s chin—wanting to ask why she wouldn’t meet her gaze. But anger robbed Changying of words.

At that touch, a flush spread instantly across Zhuyou’s jaw, as if scalded by fire.

The drop of phoenix blood in the heart of the Divine Venerable seemed to burn at its fiercest—hotter, perhaps, than any flame across the Three Realms.

Changying let her hand fall lower, hooking her finger around the crimson sash at Zhuyou’s waist. The scorching heat inside her surged uncontrollably—she wanted to know if the rest of this Vermillion Phoenix’s body was also marked with devilish runes.

“You…” Zhuyou furrowed her brow tightly, struggling against the heat blazing through her veins. Even lying on the snow, she felt no relief—the very air around them burned. She grasped the sash at her waist, her breath hitching. “I’m not leaving—don’t be angry.”

As she spoke, Changying lifted her hand, dragging Zhuyou’s along with it.

Her wide sleeve slid back to reveal her pale arm, wrapped in bewitching devil marks.

Changying trailed her fingers down that slender arm, tracing the bones beneath the skin. Wherever she touched, red imprints—burned by her heat—blossomed.

Zhuyou’s breathing grew ragged, but she made no attempt to escape. In a choked whisper, she asked, “What are you trying to do?”

Changying seemed to awaken from a trance, suddenly releasing her grip.

What was she trying to do? Why not ask—what did she want?

She was supposed to subdue devils. Yet now, with a newly formed mortal body and her seven po souls restored, she found herself yearning—desiring—for something else entirely.