Great Demon - Chapter 93 Part 2

Huoshu hurried to the western market and saw the peafowl demon still questioning passersby. She raised her hand and placed it lightly on the woman’s shoulder, speaking in a languid tone, “I know where the Vermillion Phoenix is.”

The demons who had been watching scattered immediately, never expecting Huoshu to personally lead this peafowl to the Vermillion Phoenix.

Hanzhu turned her head and asked, “You do?”

Huoshu studied her for a moment, thinking to herself that there was nothing remarkable about this peafowl. How could she possibly be the handmaiden of Her Grace? She secretly harbored doubts but kept a smile on her face. “Please, follow me.”

Hanzhu did not hesitate and turned to follow her without question.

Huoshu found it strange—this peafowl had no sense of caution whatsoever. She wasn’t afraid of being deceived, didn’t ask any questions, and followed so blindly… Was she a fool?

Half a moment later, Hanzhu was respectfully brought to the frozen river trench. She stood there in a daze, truly looking as if she had lost her wits.

The ice river stretched for miles, freezing rows of pavilions and buildings within its depths. The ice was thick and showed no sign of melting, clearly not a product of ordinary spells.

Huoshu led Hanzhu forward and said, “Look, Her Grace is right up there.”

Hanzhu looked up and was caught off guard when she saw Zhuyou sitting high above, looking down at her.

The moment Zhuyou saw Hanzhu, her brows furrowed sharply. It was as if her gaze had been pulled by invisible threads, locking onto her, unable to move away.

This feeling was truly strange. Heat surged through her body, so intense that even the ice beneath her could not cool it in the slightest. She pressed her lips together tightly, as if something were clenching her heart. The desire she had suppressed deep within her surged like a tidal wave, crashing over her with such force that she nearly lost all sense of reason.

Something was wrong.

She raised a hand to press against her chest, then struck it hard with her palm, forcefully stabilizing the turmoil in her blood.

Hanzhu’s pupils were deep and dark, like an abyss, drawing her in to explore its depths.

“Spent all your travel funds and had to beg along the way?” Zhuyou suddenly shut her eyes, then reopened them with a faint smirk. “Otherwise, how else would you have taken so long?”

It was the same familiar tone as always.

Yet there was no sign of joy on Hanzhu’s face, as if she were not the one who had been searching the entire city just moments ago. She slightly parted her lips as if to speak, but after a long pause, no words came out. Instead, she felt an oppressive force bearing down on her—one eerily similar to the one Obsidian Dragon had once imposed upon her.

The Vermillion Phoenix, who leaned lazily against the ice, exuded a terrifying pressure. Her cultivation was truly fearsome. Just locking eyes with her for a moment made Hanzhu’s eyes sting.

Zhuyou steadied herself, slowly suppressing the restless heat within her.

The peafowl demon standing below suddenly averted her gaze, a cold sweat trickling down her temple. She had finally found the Vermillion Phoenix she had been searching for, yet she couldn’t even bring herself to say “Mistress.” Her teeth chattered as she slowly raised a trembling hand to press against her neck.

Huoshu stood to the side, thinking that these two—master and servant—were behaving strangely. She quickly asked, “Your Grace, shall I step away?”

“No need,” Zhuyou replied calmly.

Huoshu remained uneasy, feeling that something was off.

The peafowl demon raised her head again, but the motion was oddly stiff, like a puppet being pulled by strings, each movement rigid and unnatural.

Huoshu watched the peafowl demon standing there like a fool, unmoving. Wanting to curry favor with the great demon, after some thought, she snapped her folding fan shut and lightly tapped Hanzhu’s shoulder, whispering, “Are you dazed?”

Only then did the peafowl demon seem to snap out of it, as if her meridians had suddenly been unblocked. She blurted out, “Mistress, forgive me for arriving late.”

Zhuyou’s gaze darkened as she looked at her, nearly digging her nails into her own palm. Just one more glance at her, and her breath would grow hotter, the veins at her temple pulsing rapidly.

This was bad.

“You are certainly late,” Zhuyou said slowly, her eyes carefully scanning her up and down. “Where have you been all this time?”

Hanzhu hesitated, looking visibly uneasy.

Zhuyou’s eyes turned cold. Before Hanzhu could respond, she suddenly raised a hand and clenched her fingers.

The peafowl, who had been standing perfectly fine beside Huoshu just moments ago, was instantly lifted off the ground, as though an invisible grip had seized her throat. Her face turned red, unable to utter a sound.

Huoshu took two steps back in fear. She had truly thought this mistress had a gentle temperament—perhaps she had been mistaken.

But Zhuyou was not angry. She had long forgotten how to be angry. The reason she acted this way was because she had spotted something—an extremely faint mark on the palm of Hanzhu’s hand.

That strange inked pattern was imprinted on her neck, intricate and subtle—the mark left behind by an ancient devil to control a hun soul.

Hanzhu was lifted onto the rooftop. Just as she was about to lose consciousness, the grip around her throat abruptly loosened. Her legs gave out, and she collapsed onto the ice.

Zhuyou stood up, stepping lightly over the frozen surface. She leaned down and pressed a single fingertip against Hanzhu’s forehead.

Hanzhu’s gaze flickered, and she slowly shook her head. “Mistress, I—”

Zhuyou said nothing as she delved into Hanzhu’s consciousness, searching through the threads of her soul from the past few days. Finally, she found the traces left behind by a devil.

It had happened the day Guanshang escaped from the Endless Abyss. The ones who had found Hanzhu were none other than Guanshang’s devil soldiers.

Those devils moved like shadows, coming and going in Shangxi City without a trace—that was unsettling enough—but now they could even appear in the Mortal Realm in an instant?

Zhuyou felt a deep chill settle in her heart. She had found the root of the problem. These devils could traverse the Three Realms freely—they must have already built a devil gate in secret. Once the devil gate was complete, the Three Realms would become their lair.

Of course. Three thousand years ago, there had been a devil gate in the Heavenly Palace as well—located at the Moon-Watching Cliff. And she had been unable to destroy it. All she could do was sever it from the Nine Heavens.

Hanzhu clenched her eyes shut, trembling uncontrollably like a leaf in the wind, her entire being consumed by fear.

In that sea of consciousness, Zhuyou saw the devil standing before Hanzhu, saying, “Your mistress has already awakened her divine form. She is neither god nor devil now—far beyond your reach. How pitiful. You devoted yourself to her, followed her into the abyss, yet she left you behind and soared away on her own. Before long, she will return to the Nine Heavens, while you remain nothing more than an insignificant little peafowl.”

“You once served as her peafowl celestial mount. When she fell to the Lower Realm, not only did she fail to repay you, but she has been ordering you around day after day. Isn’t that trampling on your loyalty?”

Such divisive words were exactly what those devils would say.

Hanzhu, however, froze as if entranced, her gaze dull and unfocused. She seemed to want to resist, blinking rapidly and clenching her jaw, but still, she had fallen into their trap. At that moment, her pupils turned pitch-black, locking onto the devil before her as she said, “You must be lying to me.”

“You followed her for two lifetimes, yet now she abandons you again. Are you truly willing to accept that?” the devil murmured coldly.

Hanzhu had not expected the devil to know such things. Her expression turned frantic as she furrowed her brows and said, “That’s impossible. Mistress would never abandon me.”

“When she regained her divine form, the memories that returned to her were those from thousands of years ago. And you—what do you count as in her eyes? Nothing more than a fleeting presence from just a few years past.”

Hanzhu pressed her lips together and said nothing, trembling all over.

“I know your heart is set on her. Your desires are written plainly on your face. Go find her in Shangxi City. I will grant you this mark—once she lays eyes on you, she will be drawn to you, utterly captivated.”

Hanzhu intended to turn and leave, but her legs were bound by devilish energy. Startled, she exclaimed, “You—”

Before she could react, a wisp of devilish energy clamped around her throat. She had no way to evade it and was forced to accept the mark. Only then did she finally make her way to Shangxi City, now a hundred miles away.

Zhuyou abruptly withdrew from her consciousness, her pale fingers resting lightly on Hanzhu’s fragile neck. Her expression was complicated. She had always known that Hanzhu was loyal to her—whether before she fell into the devil path or after—but she had never expected Hanzhu to harbor such feelings.

The devils were too cunning. They had ensnared Hanzhu’s consciousness, prying open her heart bit by bit.

Hanzhu kept shaking her head, her pupils still as dark as ink.

Zhuyou’s five fingers suddenly tightened around her throat, forcefully tearing apart the devilish energy coiled around it.

The faint mark instantly dissolved into smoke and dissipated.

Hanzhu lost consciousness in an instant and collapsed with a thud.

Zhuyou let out a long sigh, withdrew her hand, and straightened up. Looking down at Huoshu below, she said, “Take her to your place and let her recover for a few days.”

Huoshu hurriedly leapt up, slung the peafowl demon onto her back, and hesitantly asked, “Your Grace, what happened to her…?”

“She was tricked and acted foolishly,” Zhuyou replied in a calm voice.

That explanation clarified nothing. Huoshu remained utterly confused but carried Hanzhu away nonetheless.

Zhuyou let out another long breath. She wondered how things were going on Changying’s end. Gazing down at the ice beneath her, she thought for a moment, then slowly began tracing shapes and symbols upon it with her fingertip.

***

High above the Nine Heavens, within Mount Danxue, the Obsidian Dragon’s expression suddenly shifted.

Yunshuo, seated nearby, spoke in a measured tone. “At that time, when we were within the Turbid Mirror, we personally witnessed these events. We would not dare conceal anything from Your Divinity.”

After speaking, he lifted his gaze toward Changying, only to find that the Divine Venerable, seated motionless before him, had her eyes tightly shut—her hun soul seemingly absent.

Changying’s consciousness had left Mount Danxue and, in an instant, descended upon her divine presence in Shangxi City. She abruptly materialized in human form and seized Zhuyou’s hand, saying, “Stop writing.”

Zhuyou turned to look at her.

Changying added, “It makes me feel itchy.”