Ordered to Marry by the High King - Chapter 23

Who knows how many people suffered from this unwarranted disaster in the mortal world?

In the eyes of Tianji and the Nightmare Clan, perhaps the outcome was still undecided, but many mortals had already entered a death trap during those five years of plague.

Lanhui looked sorrowful. “I’ve long known the Plague Ghost. She would never be so careless. Later, I went to the Underworld and found that a volume of the Book of Life and Death had mysteriously caught fire. It hadn’t been copied in time, and everyone listed in it had died from the plague. Coincidentally, one of them was a reincarnated immortal. If there was a mistake, it must have been the fault of the Immortal Realm. I then tried to subtly seek traces of the immortal along the Path of Reincarnation, but found nothing. Helpless, I returned to Kunlun Yaojing and reported it to the Celestial Law Bureau. The Bureau told me that given time, the burned Book of Life and Death could be copied anew, and the new immortal had already passed through the Gate of Reincarnation and was now at the Bureau. In seven days, they would officially take office—personally appointed by Tianji—and told me not to overstep my bounds. I’m a tortoise immortal of ten thousand years. Even without using my power, I can easily control clouds and mist. With suspicion in my heart, I quietly manipulated water vapor and detected lingering demonic energy from the Nightmare Clan in the Bureau. Though it was faint as a thread, it couldn’t escape me.”

The anger in Longming’s eyes transformed into an oppressive aura that swept in all directions, frightening the fox on her lap into a shiver.

Zhuoxue was also overwhelmed with sorrow. Tears streamed down her face like a spring. She kept wiping them away on her tail, not understanding why she was so upset. She was saddened by Jueguang’s unjust death, but she and Jueguang were strangers—why was she this affected?

Oh no, she must have been scared silly by Longming, unable to even make sense of her own feelings.

But Longming’s rage quickly turned into a cold sneer. No matter how much she pretended to disbelieve, it was just self-deception. “It seems you didn’t see it with your own eyes either.”

Lanhui replied calmly, “Why did the Bureau mention seven days? Because only seven days after death can one enter reincarnation. However, that Nightmare demon was already brought to the Celestial Law Bureau by Tianji even before passing through the Gate of Reincarnation. He was clearly in a hurry.”

Zhuoxue thought this ridiculous. The whole Kunlun Yaojing was just a bunch of amateur players. She might as well go live in the heavens herself.

But what about her? Where was her role in all this?

“This fox—how did you find her?” Longming lowered his gaze, releasing the fox’s paws.

Lanhui said, “No matter how brazen Tianji and the Nightmare Clan may be, they wouldn’t dare kill a mortal before their reincarnation. First, they couldn’t avoid heavenly thunder. Second, only by balancing cause and effect could they escape the judgment of the heavens. If they wanted to silence someone, it would have to be after the mortal was reborn.

Longming smoothed the fox’s bristling fur. “Mortals are like clouds, and there are plenty of demons. Before both gates, crowds form in lines. Finding her would be no easy task.”

“I couldn’t find her, so I had to try another way,” said Lanhui. “I hid in the Demon Realm, wanting to monitor the Nightmare Clan’s every move. On the first day of the tenth lunar month eighteen years ago, I saw unusual activity from them. I hurried to follow and discovered they intended to silence a newborn fox. The Nightmare Clan would never act without reason, much less make a major move and send their most powerful members. I suspected the fox was the mortal who should have become immortal that year, so I intervened and brought her back to Qiufeng Ridge.”

That was the entire truth behind the fox’s origins. Only now did Lanhui fully reveal the story.

Zhuoxue finally understood why Lanhui never allowed her to leave Qiufeng Ridge. The outside world truly was full of dangers. Those who wanted her dead weren’t just immortals—there was also the Nightmare Clan.

And she really hadn’t finished drinking the forgetfulness soup. The daydreams that came and went were likely fragments of her past life. She must have been some talented person beside Princess Jueguang.

So…

She wasn’t doomed to be an animal in both lives after all. She had even once lived as a good person who had amassed great merit. Impressive, really. Who knew how much virtue it took to get listed in the Immortal Registry? Sadly, her name wasn’t in the records now. All that effort for nothing. She might as well have spent the time eating a few more chickens.

“You didn’t save her in vain,” Longming said as she stood with the fox in her arms. “The Underworld is difficult to infiltrate. There may be no trace left from those years. If the seal can be lifted, it would save us much trouble.”

Zhuoxue’s fur bristled again. What now? Was she going to jab her neck with demonic power again? After all those attempts, why wouldn’t she give up?

“The Underworld is indeed hard to breach,” Lanhui said gravely. “And once the seal is broken, the heavens will take notice. Celestial phenomena will appear, and Tianji’s secrets will be exposed. It’s certainly the most direct method.”

The fox’s paws twitched nervously in Longming’s arms. She couldn’t believe Lanhui would agree.

Breaking the seal by force would cause her soul unbearable pain—she might even be separated from her body, and by then Lanhui would regret it too late.

“But—” Lanhui suddenly shifted tone, fixing her gaze on Longming. “—the seal must not be broken by force. Otherwise, Zhuoxue’s life will be in danger. If anything happens to her, it would play right into Tianji and the Nightmare Clan’s hands.”

Zhuoxue let out a long sigh of relief.

Longming gazed at the fox in her arms, her five fingers combing through the thick fur. “Besides breaking the seal, there’s another way.”

“What way?” Lanhui was puzzled.

Zhuoxue had a bad feeling—surely it was another crooked or dangerous method.

Then, a flash of silver light burst forth as demonic power spread from Longming’s palm, like ten thousand torrents crashing down in a flurry of snow. The power didn’t aim to break the seal but instead surged straight into the fox’s skull, forcibly prying open her spiritual platform without warning.

Zhuoxue’s head throbbed; the soul flickering atop her spiritual platform was gripped by cold and wrapped tightly, making her feel like a crispy peanut being effortlessly shelled. Though she still retained her fox form and her fur was intact, for a moment, it was as if she had become a bare, naked body—utterly exposed.

“Don’t harm her soul!” Lanhui cried out in panic.

Longming gained nothing and withdrew her power. “The bones are demon bones, and the soul appears to be a demon soul too. There must be an illusion spell cast on her spiritual platform, most likely tied to the seal on the back of her neck.”

Zhuoxue panted heavily, barely recovering her senses. After a while, she weakly tilted her head up and bared her teeth at Longming.

The baring of her teeth was so feeble it looked more like a smile.

“What are you laughing at?” Longming asked, confused.

Zhuoxue was frustrated and indignant. She resolved to start cultivating tonight, no matter what.

“This method doesn’t work. I tried it once years ago and even thought I’d saved the wrong person.” Lanhui sighed. “Later I realized that without the illusion, she likely wouldn’t have passed through the Gate of Reincarnation at all. But for years, I never found any trace of the spell—only now do I learn it’s been hidden at the back of Zhuoxue’s neck all along.”

“Because of the time that’s passed, the curse’s energy began to ripple—Tianji must’ve sensed it and tracked her down.” Longming sneered. “And what a coincidence—it happened just as this fox was attacked in my mountain.”

“I’ve yet to thank my lord for saving her,” Lanhui said with a bow. “Two days ago, I gave Zhuoxue a minor punishment and intended to send her to Ninghong Mountain for a vegetarian retreat. Who’d have thought… she ended up at Lingkong Mountain.”

Zhuoxue finally understood—it was all a misunderstanding. She had thought Lanhui had some ulterior motive when it was just a mix-up between Ninghong Mountain and Lingkong Mountain.

She wondered if her hearing problems were also caused by the seal on her neck.

The seal wasn’t just interfering with her cultivation—it was messing with her senses too. It really was no good.

“It’s too early to give thanks,” Longming said. “The Nightmare Clan and Tianji surely won’t give up so easily.”

Lanhui fell silent for a while. “I can’t show my face. If Tianji or the Nightmare Clan attacks, I may not be able to protect her. I ask my lord to keep Zhuoxue here.”

Zhuoxue looked up, her fox eyes filled with fear. Others might be lambs entering a tiger’s den—she was a fox entering one.

But then again, Aunt Lanhui was an immortal. If she exposed her immortal energy because of Zhuoxue, wouldn’t she end up cast into the mortal world like Longming had been years ago?

She was best at eating—suffering a bit was nothing. As long as Aunt Lanhui didn’t suffer, that was enough.

Besides…

Staying by Longming’s side was indeed safer than anywhere else. Not to mention that on Lingkong Mountain, fine food and wine were everywhere—it was much easier to get meat.

The fox desperately tried to convince herself. With Lanhui speaking on her behalf, surely this big tiger wouldn’t trouble her anymore.

“Keeping her here isn’t difficult,” Longming said with a faint smile. “As it happens, these days mark the Festival of Restful Passing in the Underworld.”

“The Festival of Restful Passing—the best time to admire soul blossoms,” Lanhui said with nostalgia. “In past years, immortals and gods would always travel to the Underworld together to view the soul flowers.”

“But the Immortal Realm is in chaos these days, and Heavenly Gate is sealed,” Longming said, lifting an eyebrow slightly. “No one will be admiring flowers now, and I won’t be able to sneak in either.”

Lanhui frowned.

“No matter. I’ll find another way,” Longming said unconcerned.

Zhuoxue thought to herself—if they could get in, that’d be great. Last time she couldn’t make it, and she still didn’t know what it looked like inside.

Longming then reached into her sleeve and pulled something out, tossing it to Lanhui. It was a tiny item—Zhuoxue couldn’t see clearly what it was.

Lanhui hastily caught the object, looking down at the jade bead in her hand with a puzzled expression.

“There’s my spiritual energy within the jade. Use it to send me a message,” said Longming.

Suddenly, the hall doors were struck from outside. A demon cried out in a panic, “My lord, just now—it seemed like immortal energy!”

The fox jolted upright in fright, instinctively holding her breath.

“You smelled wrong,” Longming replied calmly, then looked toward Lanhui.

No matter how reluctant she was, Lanhui couldn’t stay. She averted her eyes, not daring to look too long at Zhuoxue, for fear that another glance would make her unable to leave. After a moment, she clenched the jade bead tightly and sighed. “I’ll go on ahead. If there’s any news, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

Longming waved her hand, sending out a gust of wind that cracked the bronze doors open. “Please.”

In the blink of an eye, Lanhui transformed into white mist and drifted gracefully out the door.

Zhuoxue felt her heart drifting out with her. But then—poke!—a touch to her lower back startled her back to reality. Then came a light, rhythmic pat, like a mortal soothing a swaddled infant. The silver-haired demon lord suddenly lowered her head, her flowing hair nearly covering the entire fox.

Zhuoxue didn’t dare breathe. With Lanhui just gone, who knew what this tiger demon might do to her?

“Do you know how to play the zither or wield a sword?” Longming asked abruptly, out of nowhere.

The fox stammered, “N-not the zither, but I know how to use a slingshot. Sword dancing, no, but I did learn lion dancing while in the mortal world. Do you want to see that, my lord?”

After a moment, Longming said blandly, “I must be delusional.”

The fox grew alert—did Longming mistake her for Jueguang, even for just a moment?

So many people died that year. If she were Jueguang…

If she were Jueguang, she’d make sure this big tiger learned what it meant to have one-sided feelings—falling blossoms with no stream to carry them.

“No need to be nervous. I’ll feed you well and treat you kindly. I absolutely won’t let you get spoiled,” Longming said slowly, her breath brushing the furry fox ear. With each clear, deliberate word, the fox ear twitched once.

She’d better mean it. The fox kept her thoughts to herself.

“Why so quiet?” Longming returned to her bone-carved throne, cradling the white fox with one arm, while her other hand cast demonic power.

The hall groaned and rumbled. Debris rolled over the sunken ground like a swarm of ants, flowing back into place. The mud pit was filled, the cracked stone slabs restored to their original form—without a single visible flaw.

Zhuoxue was dumbfounded. Then—pat!—another light touch to her lower back.

The fox finally spoke. “You say I’ll be treated well, not even hung out in midair to dry anymore?”

“So long as you don’t misbehave,” Longming replied coolly. “Like poking around where you shouldn’t.”

Zhuoxue certainly didn’t dare. One look at that white jade lily of the valley was enough.

“You’ll also serve as an attendant. Under no circumstances are you to vanish from my sight, not even for half a moment.” Longming laid down the rule.

Zhuoxue muttered internally, How about I stick to you instead? I wouldn’t need to walk, and you’d always see me. Win-win. But with a gleam in her fox eyes, she said aloud, “That’s easy. Anything else?”

“If anything unusual happens to your body, you must tell me,” said Longming.

Zhuoxue was skeptical. “Even if I’m thirsty or hungry? What if I’m itchy? That could be endless. In fact, I’ve got an issue right now.”

Her feet were itchy—she wanted to run.

“Everything, no matter how small,” Longming said, and without warning, flipped the fox over in her arms. Her palm stroked leisurely down the soft fur of Zhuoxue’s chest and belly, and she asked with casual poise, “Are you hungry now—or thirsty?”

The fox froze.

The heat of Longming’s palm seemed to seep right through her fur, ironing its warmth into her skin without missing a spot. Her waist and belly had been thoroughly caressed. She couldn’t even tell whether it tickled or tingled—only that she wanted to surrender completely. She imagined herself as a length of dyed silk, gently pressed and kneaded by nimble fingers, softened in warm water, saturated and pliant, every inch attended to—soft red spring fabric that exuded fragrance with every breath and motion.

Yet she had no idea what posture one needed to take to become that soft spring silk.

When Longming finally withdrew her hand, Zhuoxue was struck by a sudden thought—the vague, sparse lines about “joining bodies” in mortal world love stories.

Thankfully, she was in fox form. If she were in human form, she’d have flushed red, ears burning, and bolted right out the door.

Could it be that the age was right? The season too?

Oh no. At this rate, she didn’t want to touch the tiger’s butt anymore… but who else could she get close to?