Great Demon - Chapter 83 Part 2

The group of demons and devils had only just seen the Nine Heavens’ Divine Venerable depart, letting out a small sigh of relief, believing themselves to have escaped with their lives. Yet the Vermillion Phoenix, seated loftily in the sky, had not left, leaving them on edge.

Shangxi City had drifted to an unknown place, and as it floated, the ground trembled slightly beneath them. Standing within the city felt as if they were standing on the bow of a ship, beneath which roiled a ceaseless tide.

Just as they were about to fully relax, someone suddenly cried out, “What is that?!”

The demons and devils all turned their heads skyward, only to see a mass of black mist streaking down like a meteor falling from the heavens, descending upon them in an instant.

The black mist carried an overwhelming surge of devilish energy, making them shudder uncontrollably. They had no time to dodge before it crashed down beside them with a resounding boom, like a celestial stone falling to earth.

The demons and devils turned around, their eyes wide with terror, witnessing a demon completely enveloped by the black mist.

The once-pale face of the demon turned blood-red in an instant, as though their flesh had been corroded, exposing fragments of white bone beneath.

But their throat was constricted, their eyes bulging, unable to move or even let out a single sound. The black mist seeped into their gaping mouth, and in the blink of an eye, they crumbled to the ground as if they had been made of clay.

Not even the sound of their body hitting the earth was heard—only the soft rustling of their garments as they collapsed. Wrapped within those fine silks and brocades was nothing more than a handful of dust.

It was as if this demon had instantly turned to yellow earth, leaving not even a trace of their hun soul, perishing silently before the gathered demons and devils.

Those standing closest were frozen stiff. Only after a long moment did one of them muster the courage to release their spiritual power, lifting the hem of the fallen clothing—only to find, buried beneath it, nothing but lifeless dust.

As the fabric was lifted, a faint swirl of dirt rose into the air, proving this was no trick of transformation meant to frighten them.

Suspended in midair, Zhuyou watched everything clearly. A thought crossed her mind—just how many karmic debts had Guanshang accumulated in his hands?

No wonder the heavenly tribulation sought him out. He was hardly undeserving of it. The only pity was that this tribulation would now fall upon her instead.

Within the pile of discarded clothing, something squirmed. The nearby demons and devils hastily retreated, fearing they would be affected. As they stepped back, they watched in horror as the black mist rose from the garments once more.

Some of the demons and devils let out panicked, guttural screams, pushing and shoving as they fled, desperate to avoid suffering the same fate as the demon who had silently crumbled to dust.

Zhuyou descended slowly from the air, her bare, pale feet still unshod. As she walked, the wind lifted the hem of her silken robes, revealing her slender legs—legs that no longer bore a trace of devilish markings.

She stepped onto the ground, her gaze locked onto Guanshang’s hun soul. Before her eyes, the thick black mist suddenly tore open a rift, revealing a void of endless darkness—one that was no different from the depths of the Endless Abyss.

Guanshang’s hun soul slipped into it, transforming into a pair of hands—hands whose sinews and bones stood out sharply as they forcefully pulled at the edges of the rift, holding it open so it would not immediately close.

Zhuyou abruptly lashed out with a streak of spiritual power, striking the hun soul that was prying apart the rift. At once, the hun soul recoiled, curling into itself as if in pain, and hurriedly withdrew inside.

Her gaze deepened. Slowly, she reached her hand forward—then, with a single step, she entered the abyss.

At the moment she stepped into the Endless Abyss, her vision seemed to go completely blind—there was not even the slightest hint of light in sight.

Zhuyou suddenly turned back to look at the path she had come from. With a flip of her palm, a wisp of phoenix fire ignited.

The last time she entered, she hadn’t noticed, but now she could see clearly—the rift was closing, as if it were a wide-open eye slowly and unhurriedly shutting.

She had indeed stepped into the Endless Abyss once again. The place was utterly silent, devoid of all things. Aside from darkness, there was nothing else—no clouds or mist, no sun or moon, not even trees or flowers. It was desolate and empty.

Guanshang’s hun soul drifted closer to her, speaking in a low voice, “Now that we are here, will you finally allow me to reunite my three hun souls as one?”

Zhuyou fixed her gaze on the mist before her, as if trying to see through the black haze and discern his thoughts. However, mist had no mind of its own—it was not something that could be easily read.

“You seem quite impatient,” she remarked.

“I have waited a thousand years. I can wait no longer,” Guanshang replied.

Zhuyou let out a light chuckle. “I have suffered so much because of you, and you aren’t afraid that I might turn around and kill you?”

Yet Guanshang did not appear the least bit fearful. Instead, he spoke leisurely, even with a hint of amusement, “You and I are now bound together. I expected that you would hate me, but if you wish to understand the mysteries of the Endless Abyss, you will have to set aside your grudges.” He paused for a moment before continuing, unhurriedly, “Besides, when you fell into this predicament, the Nine Heavens also played a part. You must have been in immense pain at the time—helpless, with no one to aid you, no one to whom you could bare your suffering. That kind of agony… oh, I understand it all too well.”

Zhuyou’s expression remained indifferent, but inwardly, she scoffed. So, Guanshang was trying to stir up her inner devil.

Had this been before her original form’s revival, she might have been consumed with hatred upon hearing these words. But now that she had stepped into the Ultimate stage and the spiritual threads in her sea of consciousness had suddenly emerged, bringing back memories of the brutal battles from millennia ago, she was no longer so easily swayed.

Did she hate the Devil Clan? She wasn’t entirely sure. Perhaps it was merely a lingering resentment in her heart. To subdue devils—it had felt like a duty she was born with, as if it had been imprinted on her from the moment she came into existence. Changying was like this, and so was she.

Only after coming to understand the five aggregates and seven afflictions of the mortal world did a faint, almost imperceptible sense of compassion stir within her. Only then did her heart feel as though it could truly beat, and she began to wonder in a daze—why did she subdue devils in the first place?

It felt like a mark seared into her heart, imprinted on her spiritual platform, etched into her original form. And yet, she could find no answer.

Three thousand years had passed, and she still could not comprehend it. Though she no longer placed any hopes in the Nine Heavens, she certainly would not be so easily swayed by Guanshang either.

She scoffed inwardly but said aloud, “When the ancient Devil Clan was destroyed three thousand years ago, you alone survived. I imagine that back then, you, too, were helpless and in great pain. Fortunately, you were cunning enough to survive until now.”

There was a sharp edge to her words—mocking, scornful, nothing like the tone of an ancient god untainted by the world. Yet Zhuyou spoke so naturally. Over the years, she had played the role of a devil so well that she had even picked up many of their mannerisms, nearly perfecting them.

Guanshang fell momentarily silent, as if something had lodged in his throat. What she said was true—he had survived because he was cunning enough. He let out a chuckle, then spoke in a formal, respectful tone, “It has not been easy. I ask that you now retrieve the other two hun souls from my body.”

In the distance, the clanking of armor grew nearer—the devil soldiers had noticed an intruder and were approaching.

Zhuyou did not bother with them. These minor devil soldiers weren’t even worth her attention.

The approaching soldiers saw from afar that the Vermillion Phoenix stood in the darkness, cradling a flickering flame in her palm. Her silver hair gleamed brilliantly, an exquisite sight, but her gaze was piercingly cold, devoid of even the slightest warmth.

The last time they had encountered Guanshang, they hadn’t even had time to seize his hun soul before they were blocked by a barrier. Now, seeing him again, their desire to take it surged once more. After exchanging glances, they rushed forward.

Zhuyou cast them a sidelong glance and said meaningfully, “Your subordinates lack discipline.”

“I hope you might teach them a lesson,” Guanshang replied promptly.

Zhuyou saw that they all seemed unafraid of death. Were they not terrified after witnessing her enter the Ultimate stage last time in the Endless Abyss?

With a sudden flick of her sleeve, a crimson surge of spiritual power swept across the battlefield, sending thousands of devil soldiers sprawling to the ground. Fortunately for them, they were clad in profound armor—otherwise, they would have been smashed to pieces.

The devil soldiers groaned in pain but quickly scrambled back to their feet, charging forward recklessly.

Zhuyou remained unhurried. She leisurely produced a brush crafted from a phoenix’s tail feather. As she wielded it, radiant red light gathered, forming a rune.

With a sharp burst, the rune shot toward an approaching devil soldier, embedding itself into his profound armor. The soldier suddenly froze, then frantically tried to tear off his armor. But the armor was far too solid—impossible to remove so easily.

Flames erupted across his body before he could even cry out. Within seconds, he was reduced to ashes, his armor clattering to the ground, sending a cloud of dust scattering.

It was an eerily familiar sight. Had Guanshang been in human form, his face would have darkened. Wasn’t this exactly what he had done to those lesser demons when he tore open the Endless Abyss?

Uncertain of Zhuyou’s intentions, he remained silent for a moment before letting out a low, sinister laugh. “You are right, Your Grace. Devils who refuse to obey must be eliminated.”

Zhuyou lifted her gaze slightly, unconcerned. She seemed to have unconsciously adopted some of Changying’s mannerisms—even her expression was filled with disdain. She pondered for a moment before speaking coolly, “If you wish for the Devil Lord to be resurrected, then you would do well not to anger me.”

After saying this, she couldn’t help but wonder—if Changying were in her place, what would she have done?

Shaking her head slightly, she thought to herself, knowing Changying’s temperament, she likely would have slaughtered all these devils on the spot.

But she could not act so rashly yet. The mysteries of the Endless Abyss were profound—who knew what ties it had to the realm beyond? The only way to uncover its secrets was to pry them from Guanshang’s sea of consciousness.

It had been this way before her original form’s revival, and it remained so even now. The path had circled back upon itself.

The devil soldiers halted immediately, staring in shock and fear at the armor-covered ashes on the ground. After exchanging glances, they cautiously took a step back.

Zhuyou traced a barrier with her hand, enclosing herself and Guanshang’s hun soul within it.

Only after securing the restriction did she flip her hand over and produce two strands of silver thread, woven from hun soul essence.