Ordered to Marry by the High King - Chapter 22

Though the true intentions of Tianji remained unclear, there was no doubt that he and the Nightmare Clan were now as interdependent as lips and teeth—prosperous together, doomed together. If the lips perish, the teeth feel the cold.

Longming spoke calmly. “You’ve been in the Demon Realm for a century, and only now do you bring up the idea of a conspiracy. Don’t you think it’s a bit late?”

“I’ve lived in peace for so long that even the edges of my tortoise shell are being worn smooth,” Lanhui said with a bitter smile. “Now that Zhuoxue’s fate is uncertain, I’ve no room left to retreat.”

“And what makes you so sure I’ll conspire with you?” Longming asked quietly. “You’ve laid everything bare like this, yet you’re not afraid I’ll turn against you?”

“This is my show of sincerity,” Lanhui replied firmly. “Across the two realms of immortals and demons, there are few who can rival Tianji. And since you too have suffered at his hands, you naturally wouldn’t betray me.”

“I could have matched him at my peak.” Longming scoffed. “Now that my old wounds are yet to heal, what do I have left to fight him?”

“If not for the Nightmare Clan’s sabotage back then, you wouldn’t have lost,” Lanhui said.

“You and I alone discussing this isn’t enough to stir up a storm. There must be solid proof—only then will the three realms be convinced.” Longming’s gaze turned cold as it landed on Lanhui. “Why should I trust you?”

“Proof? First, by lifting the seal. Second, by searching the Yellow Springs for any clues left behind from back then.” Lanhui looked directly at Zhuoxue. “I stake my life on it.”

“I want to see the proof,” Longming said thoughtfully.

Lanhui closed her eyes, then opened them. “There will be proof.”

“If what you say is true, I want Tianji isolated and helpless, and then I’ll take his life. After that, the Nightmare Clan will be wiped out as well.” There was no trace of pity in Longming’s eyes, no care for the lives of others—only fleeting shadows in her view. Her resolve had never wavered, not even after her downfall a century ago.

A chill ran down Zhuoxue’s neck. She realized she was already adrift in a vast sea, with no way to escape—her fate no longer her own.

Lanhui’s pupils trembled slightly. She saw the blazing light beneath Longming’s blood-red eyes and whispered hoarsely, “I’ll help you—but I have conditions.”

“Name them,” Longming said coolly.

Whether Longming agreed or not, Lanhui continued slowly, “Once it’s done, you’ll return to Wugou River, while Kunlun Yaojing purges its internal traitors and returns to peace. The two realms shall never again encroach upon one another.”

“How can demons and immortals not cross each other?” Longming found this amusing.

Lanhui replied, composed and unyielding, “It lies in the will of people. Since the dawn of time, the laws of heaven have never decreed that our realms must clash. It is desire that drives imbalance.”

About half a moment passed. The dark hall seemed to sink into a void, silent and eerie.

Zhuoxue thought, Longming would likely agree. She had sensed it the moment she was captured—Longming was different from the Nightmare Clan. Longming’s concern wasn’t merely for Wugou River. The seal at the back of her neck was like a pool of clear water: the clearer it was, the more truthfully it reflected.

“Very well. I accept.”

Sure enough, Longming agreed. With a flick of her index finger, the demonic energy that formed a cage unraveled and dissipated. The oppressive force vanished entirely into stillness.

“If you can swear a life oath, all the better.” The condensed demonic energy, like drifting snow, coiled around Longming’s palm and vanished as her fingers clenched.

A life oath, as the name suggests, binds one’s life. If broken, the soul is forfeit to the Yellow Springs. It is sworn upon the Heavenly Dao—absolute and irreversible.

“I swear,” said Lanhui. As her voice fell, her hand pressed to her chest. Through living flesh, she painfully extracted a drop of heart’s blood.

Longming spoke slowly. “With the Heavenly Dao as witness, you vow to help me uncover evidence of Emperor Tianji’s collusion with the Nightmare Clan. Should you speak even one false word, your tongue will be torn out, your bones shattered.”

Lanhui cradled the drop of heart’s blood in her left hand. With her right hand, she formed a seal and declared, head held high, “With the Heavenly Dao as witness, I, Lanxiang, speak only truth. I vow to aid Demon Lord Longming of the Cangqiong Realm in exposing the Emperor Tianji’s collusion with the Nightmare Clan. Whatever obstacles may arise, I shall not falter.”

“Your heart must remain resolute, with only one goal—to cleanse Kunlun Yaojing of its traitor Tianji, and not to return until the deed is done,” Longming added.

Lanhui clasped her fingers tightly. Her longing for Yaojing, the Heavenly Realm, weighed on her like a leaden scale, making her waver for just a moment.

Could this really succeed?

How long had it been since she last saw the misty divine aura of Xuanxiao’s celestial halls?

The immortal mountains stood scattered in layers, lush with rare flowers and jade grasses. From afar, the jade pavilions hung beside the clouds, their crimson eaves and carved beams glorious beneath the morning sun—resplendent and dreamlike.

But such yearning, too, could become an axe that shattered all.

Lanhui clenched her palm so tightly it hurt. “I have no divided loyalties. I only wish for Kunlun Yaojing to be rid of Tianji. Until the matter is settled, I will not take a single step through the Heavenly Gate. Should I break this vow, may heavenly thunder strike me down and my soul be scattered.”

Zhuoxue stared blankly at her. After knowing each other for over a decade, how could she not hear the sorrow in Lanhui’s voice? Lanhui must be heartbroken, as if her very soul were being torn apart.

The life oath was sealed. That drop of heart’s blood spun upward, then embedded itself like a nail into Lanhui’s forehead, sending a tremor through her entire body.

The hesitation in Longming’s eyes faded into dust. Even the way she stroked the fox’s fur grew gentler as she prepared to make her own vow.

Zhuoxue dared not move. She curled obediently in Longming’s arms, resisting the urge to dig around restlessly.

“You must still have spies in Kunlun Yaojing,” Longming said as she turned her palm over. In the distance, a chair made of entwined vinewood appeared from thin air.

Lanhui rose from her knees and sat down. “I did. It was a fish spirit born in the light outside Tianji’s bedchamber. But she perished a few years ago. Since then, I’ve had no news from Yaojing.”

“A shame,” Longming said, lifting the fox’s chin and teasing its nose. “I’ve heard Kunlun Yaojing has changed lately—but truth or rumor, I can’t be sure.”

“Changed?” Lanhui froze. “What do you mean?”

“The Jade-Glazed Wall is letting people in but not out. That kind of lockdown is rare,” Longming said, now idly brushing the fox’s silver whiskers.

Zhuoxue couldn’t hold back a sneeze. The spatter landed on Longming’s robe. She froze, then started scratching at the ground with her hind legs, trying to dig a hole to bury herself in.

Longming grabbed both her front paws, preventing her from digging further.

Lanhui’s gaze turned grave. “It seems something really has changed in the palace. I’ll find a chance to investigate.”

“No need,” Longming said indifferently. “What matters most right now is a trip to the Yellow Springs.”

Zhuoxue immediately stopped digging. Her ears perked straight up. She’d already forgotten her pain and couldn’t help thinking—she knew that place.

“When did the Nightmare Clan tamper with the Immortal Registry? And when exactly did you find this fox?” Longming asked. “I’ll need to look through the Reincarnation Records.”

Zhuoxue no longer felt so familiar. She had never actually entered the gates of the Yellow Springs—only wandered around the outskirts with old Madam Qian. She didn’t want to go digging into her past life. Once those records were opened, she’d only sink deeper into the mire. Peace would become a luxury she could no longer afford.

Even stealing chickens might be out of reach.

Lanhui lowered her eyes, searching her memory. “I suspect Tianji and the Nightmare Clan were already laying the groundwork before the war between the Immortal and Demon Realms turned endless. Their aim was to turn Kunlun Yaojing into a court ruled solely by their will. After the war, both sides suffered heavy losses. Kunlun Yaojing should have investigated the whereabouts of the fallen immortals. Whether they had vanished into smoke or entered the cycle of reincarnation, it should all have been recorded. But back then, there was no successor to the Head Immortal, and every department was in chaos—so the matter was shelved. When Tianji later assumed the position, he didn’t have time to fill the gaps in the registry. On the contrary, he abolished many positions, forcing the remaining immortals to take on multiple roles—barely able to keep up. It wasn’t until the fifth year after the war that Tianji finally began updating the registry. He had no choice but to visit the Yellow Springs himself to confirm the fates of the immortals. But I, having long watched over mortal well-being and longevity, feared discrepancies in the Book of Life and Death. So I went there even earlier to borrow the records. And that’s when I discovered that a mysterious plague had been ravaging the mortal world for five years. I’d been caught up in other matters and hadn’t heard even a whisper of it. Countless mortals died from the plague, many years earlier than what was written in the Book of Life and Death. It was incredibly suspicious. The Plague Ghost was dismissed, but no one knew how the contagion had escaped.”

“I was still in the mortal world then,” Longming said, her voice turning ice-cold.

Five years—the exact span Longming had lived in seclusion among mortals.

Zhuoxue had always dreamed of a joyful, peaceful royal capital in the mortal world. She now wondered what kind of suffering lay outside its gates when the plague struck.

Suddenly, she remembered—Jueguang had died in that plague. Perhaps she… wasn’t supposed to die.