Ordered to Marry by the High King - Chapter 24 Part 1

This really is the worst time of year—why can’t it be winter all year round?

The fox wore soft spring silk on her body, but her heart wasn’t in it. With a burst of energy, she pushed away Longming’s hand and replied stiffly, “I’m neither hungry nor thirsty, but if my lord were to personally feed me, I might suddenly feel hungry.”

She knew Longming definitely wouldn’t like that. If angered, she might even throw her aside. She’d truly grown bold—now that Aunt Lan was backing her, she was no longer afraid of provoking Longming, nor of being easily manipulated again.

Longming looked down at the fox in her arms and gave a faint smile. “Seems like the lion has opened its mouth.”

(T/N: Something like “What a greedy little thing.”)

A lion and a tiger—both strong. Zhuoxue thought to herself, This tiger demon must recognize her worth. At least she has an eye for it.

“If you want to eat, then go eat outside,” Longming said, heading for the hall doors. The white fox in her arms was curled up into a small ball. Though she spoke boldly, her head was buried somewhere, and for the moment, it was nowhere to be seen.

Just as they reached the door, the white fox asked sheepishly, “My lord, may I shift into human form?”

Longming didn’t suspect anything. “Transform if you like.”

Zhuoxue didn’t hesitate and instantly took human form. Her black hair cascaded down like a waterfall, swift and sudden. Her slender limbs hadn’t had time to step aside and instead landed squarely on Longming.

Like being struck by lightning, Zhuoxue quickly dodged away, lowering her head like a quail, terrified that Longming might see the blush at the corner of her eyes.

She’d just been stroked from head to toe—not unpleasant, really, but undeniably strange. Hard to put into words. She really didn’t want to be that close to Longming again; it made her feel like she’d lose control.

When stealing chickens in the mortal world, she never felt embarrassed. But now, for some reason, she was.

The Festival of Restful Passing was when the soul blossoms of the Underworld bloomed. Around this time, it would be the third month in the human world. The season had truly arrived. Unfortunately, she couldn’t just disappear under Longming’s nose—otherwise, not even a hundred-foot cliff would be enough to hide her.

***

Outside the great hall, a commotion was rising. Lingkong Mountain had become half a mortal-world marketplace, with jade banquets, flying cups, music, and dancing. Some were playing leaf card games, while others gathered around backgammon boards. The unrest at the foot of the mountain had already quieted. Although that pig demon hadn’t been captured, he also hadn’t drawn a blade in front of everyone, so the other demons naturally didn’t care anymore.

Kunyu scratched her ears and cheeks in frustration. Her cards were terrible, and she didn’t know how to win. When she saw the fox dart out of the hall doors, she waved and called out, “Fox, come here and look at this for me!”

Zhuoxue walked over absentmindedly, still thinking about the season. Back then, Lanhui had told her that when the time of year came, certain demons would feel uncontrollable urges. But she’d barely listened—what she remembered was scattered and brief.

Those with strong demon power could use concentration to remain clear-headed. Lesser demons would feel worse, and the ones without awakened minds would suffer the most—lost in confusion and discomfort.

Zhuoxue realized she really needed to get serious about cultivating. If things kept going this way, she feared she’d never become a respectable fox. Moreover, with danger constantly lurking, if she lost her judgment for even a moment, she’d be riddled with vulnerabilities.

The fox’s eyes darted nervously. Her flushed gaze now looked like spring silk dyed unevenly.

Kunyu sized her up and down, then glanced boldly toward Longming, and said, “Why not just give the fox to me? You don’t treat her properly anyway. Look at her—she’s so upset her eyes have turned red.”

The fox panicked. That’s not something you should say! She’d lowered her head for nothing just now.

“Forgive me, my lord.” Zhuoxue forced a smile. “It’s just that I miss home dearly. That’s why my eyes turned red—not from grievance or anything else.”

Kunyu was curious. “Where is your home?”

Zhuoxue hesitated for a long while, unsure if she could say. If the Nightmare Clan or Tianji found out, Qiufeng Ridge would be finished.

A sudden idea struck her. She opened her mouth and lied smoothly, “By the shores of Shuyun Lake. I’m a common fox who cultivated into a demon—I came from the human world.”

Longming stepped closer with a strange expression, her gaze lingering briefly on the fox before turning to Kunyu. “You still want to take her?”

“She’s rightfully mine—you’re just reneging on your debt,” Kunyu said, slapping a stack of leaf cards on the table, full of unwillingness.

Zhuoxue jolted. What rightfully hers? Absolutely not! Now, apart from staying by Longming’s side, she didn’t want to go anywhere else. These demons might look fearsome, but they were all paper tigers—not as reliable as Longming, the real deal.

The fox blinked desperately, trying to signal the demon lord of Jueming Ridge to drop it. But all that frantic blinking landed right in Longming’s eyes, making it look like they were exchanging secret messages.

Longming had originally intended to ignore it, but because the fox bore a faint resemblance to Jueguang, she raised her hand and ordered a great demon at the table to give up their seat. She said slowly, “I’ll play a round with you and see exactly who’s the one reneging on their debt.”

All the demons turned their heads in unison. A few were so shocked their mouths forgot to close—meat and melon seeds tumbled to the ground.

When had demons ever shared a table with Longming? She had never even exchanged a few joking words with them.

Ever since claiming lordship over Wugou River, Longming had always been solitary by nature. Whether drinking tea or wine, eating or enjoying meat, she did it all alone. Let alone these mortal-world table games. Though always appearing lonely, Longming was not joyless—she simply never placed her interest in amusements.

The great demon, bewildered, stood up, momentarily unsure of where he was. Only when he saw the little demons in the distance staring in disbelief did he realize he’d just stumbled into something extraordinary.

Kunyu was also stunned, the leaf cards slipping from her hands and landing with a slap on the table. She blurted out, “If you don’t know how, there’s no need to force yourself!”

Longming calmly took a seat, her posture supremely composed. Her cold, sharp gaze swept out slowly. She replied lightly, “If even you can play, why shouldn’t I?”

The tiger is naturally the solitary king of the mountains. Even when resting in silence, it’s never truly tranquil. She was no uncut jade—she was a sleeping flame ridge: silent until thunderous.

Kunyu hesitated, wanting to ask if the fox had fed Longming some kind of charm potion. Why else would she join in such a lively scene? But then she thought again—this wasn’t right. When did she ever learn how to play? Even if it had been a hundred years ago in the mortal world, she should’ve forgotten it by now.

Zhuoxue couldn’t figure out Longming’s intentions and hurriedly gathered the leaf cards into her own hands, shuffling frantically—more scattered than eggs before hitting the pot. She couldn’t guess whether Longming truly knew how to play or not. Should she explain the rules again, just in case the big tiger was too proud to ask?

“So strange,” Kunyu muttered. “You really learned this a hundred years ago and haven’t forgotten it?” She was careful not to mention the words “mortal world” too easily.

Longming’s expression was unreadable. She raised a finger and tapped the table, signaling for the game to begin.

Zhuoxue decided not to explain the rules again. She wanted to see just how long this white-furred tiger demon could keep up the act.

Anyway, even if she lost—just don’t admit it.

The great demons around the table, who were laughing and joking moments before, now wore serious expressions—afraid to lose, yet also afraid to win. The fun of the game had been washed away by a surging tide. On that angry wave, there was only one place to stand—and it wasn’t a scenic pavilion. It was a punishment platform.

Zhuoxue, without revealing any emotion, finished dealing the leaf cards. She slowly shifted behind Longming to sneak a look. The hand wasn’t good, but it wasn’t bad either—just average.

Longming’s expression remained unchanged. She didn’t speak of the game but instead said, “These days, it’s the Festival of Restful Passing in the Yellow Spring Palace. I wonder which deity they’ve invited.”

When it came to the Yellow Spring Palace, asking Kunyu was the right move. Jueming Ridge had deep ties with the Underworld. The ridge was home to more ghosts than demons, most of them souls who refused reincarnation or annihilation. These little ghosts lived off the yin energy of Jueming Ridge. If they cultivated diligently, they could stand shoulder to shoulder with demons, immortals, and divine beings.

Kunyu was rather surprised. As she looked at her cards, she said, “I heard beforehand that the Yellow Spring Palace invited the Head Immortal of Yaojing, the Phoenix Clan from Wutong Ridge, the Dragon King of the Four Seas, the Seven Sages of Yunya, and the Seven Perfected Ones of Xianqing Mountain. But recently, there’s been no trace of immortals in the Yellow Spring Palace—it seems none of them accepted the invitation.”

“What was the Yellow Spring Palace’s response?” Longming asked again.

“Nothing unusual. They’re pretending the soul blossoms never bloomed,” Kunyu said leisurely.

“How odd. They admire the flowers every year—why not this year?” a great demon clicked his tongue. “Could it be that something happened in Kunlun Yaojing?”

“If the immortals won’t admire the flowers, then I will.” Kunyu laughed. “But what could possibly happen in Kunlun Yaojing? I hope day and night for the clouds to collapse and stars to fall—to flatten Yaojing once and for all. Otherwise, those so-called immortals will keep shouting ‘kill the demons’ until they’re knocking on my gates at Jueming Ridge.”

Longming fell silent, deep in thought. Her beautiful figure stood among the crowd of demons, yet she remained alone.

“I initially suspected that the troublemaker at the foot of Lingkong Mountain was a scheme from Kunlun Yaojing,” Kunyu said, shaking her head. “But then that pig demon appeared, and I dropped the idea.”

“Exactly,” another great demon agreed. “Kunlun Yaojing fears peace in the three realms. They talk about eliminating demons and upholding the righteous path, but it’s all just a cover for spreading chaos.”

“The mortals have been thoroughly fooled by those hypocritical immortals,” one demon said mockingly.

“But has that pig demon been caught? If it wasn’t Kunlun Yaojing’s doing, then could it be…”

All the great demons turned to look at Longming.

“The pig demon escaped. But the invitations have been sent—let’s see whether the Nightmare Clan shows up.” Longming’s voice entered their ears directly.

The expressions of the demon lords varied, while the lesser demons stood in absolute silence.

Zhuoxue heard it but paid it no mind, wholly focused on the game table.

Kunyu was never that skilled at cards to begin with. Now that she was distracted, she was all over the place. Frowning, she said, “Oh, you! You suddenly brought up the Yellow Spring Palace just to throw me off! I messed up two plays—I want a redo!”

“There are no takebacks in chess, and the same goes for cards,” Longming said without changing her expression. “Besides, I didn’t ask about the Yellow Spring Palace to throw you off.”

“Don’t tell me you suddenly got the urge to go admire flowers,” Kunyu said, skeptical.

“Mm,” the silver-haired great demon responded.

Kunyu still had two cards left in her hand that she couldn’t play, so frustrated that even the skull on her head annoyed her by blocking her view. She swatted it aside, crossed her arms, and said, “Another round. This time, no one says a word.”

Zhuoxue found it strange. Could five years in the mortal world really leave such a deep impression? A hundred years have passed, and Longming still remembers this common game?

Longming raised her slender fingers slightly and tapped the table twice. She didn’t refuse.

The demon lords all stared at each other. The match was already decided. Not only were they no match for Longming in terms of power, they couldn’t even beat her at cards.

Kunyu, upset and flustered, waved at the fox. “You come.”

Zhuoxue grew nervous, leaned forward until her chest nearly touched Longming’s back, and stayed close—truly not moving an inch away. “What does the demon lord want from me?” She was so close that her lightly moving lips brushed right by Longming’s ear. She spoke softly and with extreme caution.

Now it was Kunyu’s turn to arch her brows meaningfully. She thought, If this little fox truly wanted to leave with me, she’d have the sense to act smarter. She said with a layered tone, “You go shuffle the cards. But don’t let your heart lean toward Longming just because you’re still following her around.”

“I live in Lingkong Mountain—if my heart doesn’t belong to the High King, who else would it belong to?” Zhuoxue said, unbothered.

The silver-haired great demon she leaned against turned slightly. Her flowing hair danced in the spring wind, unintentionally veiling the dark marks beneath her eyes, like a pipa held close. Strands of hair brushed against the fox’s face, making her nose itch. She held back a sneeze until it came out like two muffled bursts of thunder, jolting her whole body.

In the mortal world, they say one sneeze means someone’s thinking of you, and two mean someone’s badmouthing you. Zhuoxue thought, It must be Longming complaining about me in her heart—though I spoke with such careful precision.

“We’re in Lingkong Mountain now, but that might not always be the case,” Kunyu said faintly.

Zhuoxue’s heart skipped a beat. So that’s where the flaw was.

Longming remained calm and even-tempered. “It doesn’t matter.”

Zhuoxue shuffled the cards again, making no tricks, and didn’t spare Kunyu a single glance.

A short while later—

“Anyone else?” Longming looked around.

Kunyu, having lost, stood up and patted the dust from her robes. “So annoying. I should’ve left earlier. It must’ve been Huang Liangmeng secretly cursing me—ruined my luck.”

Longming didn’t ask her to stay. She only said, “Another day, I’ll invite you to see the flowers.”

The little demons around them snapped out of their daze after witnessing the match. They scrambled to look busy—some munching melon seeds, others chewing meat—pretending they hadn’t seen a thing.

It was Zhuoxue’s first time acting as a demon attendant, and she wasn’t sure if she should see her off. Luckily, she’d picked up a phrase or two in town. With a flick of her sleeve, she said, “Take care, my lord! Come play again sometime!”

The demon lord of Jueming Ridge, who carried shadows wherever she went, turned into a crow and soared into the sky. After circling once, she left behind heavy clouds over Lingkong Mountain, fully convinced that the tiger and fox were taking turns playing her for a fool.

Longming didn’t pay it much attention. With a flick of her wrist, the dark clouds dispersed.

After a while, Longming asked softly, “Still thinking of leaving?”

The great demons scattered from the table in a hurry, knowing full well that question wasn’t meant for them.

Zhuoxue chuckled awkwardly. “Leave? Leave for where?”

She then saw Longming pat her own knee lightly. Zhuoxue understood immediately. Her graceful figure spun lightly, and her hibiscus-like face transformed into a shivering little fox, scampering up onto Longming’s lap in a few quick hops.

“I caught on fast, didn’t I?” said the little fox.

“You did catch on fast. One moment it’s this, the next it’s that—your thoughts change quickly too.” Longming, seeing the fox’s ears twitch, couldn’t help but reach out and give them a gentle pinch.

That light touch—neither too firm nor too soft—was like the ripples stirred in dyed silk, sending a tingling shiver through Zhuoxue’s core. Maybe she wasn’t dyed silk. Maybe she was a flower crushed during the dyeing process. And Longming happened to be the one grinding her—making her core tremble and limbs go numb until she melted entirely, her composure lost.

Zhuoxue was suddenly grateful she wasn’t in human form right now. Otherwise, who knows how embarrassed she’d be.

How could this be? she wondered. It was just a little pinch on the ear. Was I always this sensitive to a bit of handling?

“Your mountain lord told you to go to Ninghong Mountain. Why did you come running to Lingkong Mountain?” Longming asked in a low voice.

Zhuoxue didn’t want to tell the truth. She had misheard—truly thought Lanhui was marrying her off—and had even dared to sneak into Longming’s bed.

“There’s no meat at Ninghong Mountain,” the fox answered slyly.

“Clever, I see. You knew Lingkong Mountain was hosting a feast and came lured by the smell.” Longming’s crimson eyes curved slightly, her smile faint.

Zhuoxue tried to sound thoughtful. “You could smell it a hundred miles away. I just hadn’t visited Lingkong Mountain before, so I figured I’d come see what it was like.”

That at least tied things together, patched the earlier slip-up.

“So you wove a web of lies and claimed to be a tribute?” Longming said mildly. “This habit of trickery may have saved your life. If you’d gotten into danger up at Ninghong Mountain, those mortal monks wouldn’t have been able to save you.”

That’s for sure, thought Zhuoxue, her heart thumping. There were all kinds of strange and powerful beings in the world. Anyone able to work for the Nightmare Clan or Tianji couldn’t be a simple character. She stammered, “I-I didn’t exactly lie. I was sent by Aunt Lan to present a gift. Everyone else brought piles of offerings, and I came empty-handed—how could I get through the gate like that?”

“I don’t think you entered with an invitation either. As for this so-called offering—clearly a demon attendant helped sneak you in,” Longming said softly.

Ah yes—the stone demon-jiejie.

Zhuoxue snapped to alertness, her ears standing up stiffly. “I tricked her! She didn’t know anything! High King, please see the truth!”

Longming said in a low, unhurried tone, “I won’t punish her. In fact, I’ll reward her.”

“Then why not reward me too?” Zhuoxue muttered, a little indignant.

“What do you want?” Longming asked.

Zhuoxue licked the corner of her mouth and thought, Something that can be felt, not said.

Longming stopped pinching her fox ears and instead pinched her muzzle.

The fox’s eyes went wide. She raised her front paws and started clawing wildly, determined to scratch a hole right into Longming’s body.

The liveliness at Lingkong Mountain didn’t let up. Guests from afar arrived slowly, filling in the empty seats. The many demons, however, avoided crowding near Longming, deliberately leaving her some peace and quiet. Instead, they joked and chatted from afar.

Eventually, Longming finished her hot tea and turned to head back into the great hall. The hall was dark, and she melted into the shadows. With a single beckoning motion of her index finger, she summoned Chunxi.

Dark mist gathered into a humanoid form. Chunxi appeared with hands clasped in greeting, looking like she had just journeyed a thousand miles, still catching her breath.