Ordered to Marry by the High King - Chapter 26

She had studied, she had trained—after all the busy effort, yet her hair remained unchanged, still looking half-dead.

Zhuoxue’s hand trembled, and so did her voice. “In the mortal world, they often say that pulling up seedlings to help them grow goes against the natural law of all things. Did I… mess things up by being too clever?”

“You still had the strength to fold gauze screens and blankets into flower shapes—doesn’t that mean you’re brimming with energy?” Longming glanced at that lock of hair, further confirming her suspicion.

So the seal really couldn’t be forcefully broken, and the fox’s inner core held more mystery than expected.

Zhuoxue manifested a pair of fox ears, their tips twitching slightly.

Earlier that day, just after waking up, someone had plucked a handful of her fox fur. Then the Nightmare Clan suddenly showed up. She was too startled to react, let alone pay attention to anything else.

Now, hearing Longming’s voice again, she inexplicably felt that she could…

…hear more clearly?

Perhaps after some cultivation, her demonic power had strengthened enough to resist the seal’s grip on her ears.

Zhuoxue muttered, “I’ve been troubled—how much energy could I possibly have left?”

“And where did that ‘about to die’ conclusion of yours come from?” Longming asked lazily, completely at ease.

Zhuoxue blinked in confusion and tilted her head up, then mumbled, “Huh?” 

It wasn’t that she didn’t hear—it was that she heard too clearly. Even though it was only a slight improvement compared to before, every word was now distinct, every syllable crisp and recognizable, nothing like the muffled blur it had been earlier. It was as if a spring of clear water had washed through her ears, cleansing them inside and out. Except for the sound still feeling a little faint and far away—like coming from beyond mountains and seas—everything else was no longer a problem for her.

Zhuoxue figured it out: her hearing loss really had been caused by the seal. And that seal had done a number on her. Thinking about it, this was probably what Tianji and the Nightmare Clan had hoped for. As long as she remained this weak and easily bullied, how could they possibly fail to kill her?

She chuckled to herself—but here she was at Lingkong Mountain, foiling the plans of Tianji and the Nightmare Clan.

Longming, thinking the fox hadn’t heard clearly, repeated herself, “I said, where did you get that idea that your days are numbered?”

Zhuoxue quickly brushed her hair aside and pulled out a single silvery-white strand, holding it up in her hand. “My hair turned white overnight. In the mortal world, that’s a sign of premature aging.”

Longming leaned in, her five fingers threading through Zhuoxue’s hair. She lightly scooped up a small tuft near her ear. 

Her fingers grazed the roots, sending a dense wave of tingling sensations through Zhuoxue’s scalp. That barely-there tickle flowed along her blood, sweeping across her whole body in an instant. Zhuoxue pressed her lips shut, toes curling slightly on the brocade quilt, and involuntarily held her breath.

She gave up trying to hold it in—lowering herself flat, she buried her face into the bedding and bit down on her fingernail.

This really wasn’t the right season. Would soaking in the cold spring help at all?

The black strands atop the fox’s head were gently parted. Longming observed them closely, as if she were determined to count them one by one.

Zhuoxue’s teeth had always been a bit sharp. Now she gnawed on her finger, hard enough to draw blood. The iron tang hit her throat, neither spit-out nor swallowed. She quickly let go. She might be gluttonous at times, but not to the point of wanting to eat herself. She hoped Longming wouldn’t get the wrong idea and think she was similar to that pig demon.

But Longming didn’t notice. She was still inspecting the hair near the roots, deep in thought.

The fox was going limp, nearly writhing on the mattress. After a while, she just couldn’t hold it in anymore. Half her face peeked out from the bedding as she asked, “Is there that much? How far have you counted?”

“Not much.” Longming plucked one out with a snap.

“Ah!” Zhuoxue winced in pain and quickly clutched the back of her head. That sting wiped away the strange tingling sensation from earlier.

“See? Your hair still shines—it’s half black, half white.” Longming pinched her fingers together, letting the broken strand fall between them.

Zhuoxue’s eyes reddened with tears. It took her a while to see the fine strand clearly.

It really was half black, half white. But what was so odd about that? If it had truly turned white overnight, then she must have… been terminally ill.

Longming let go, and the strand of hair drifted down like a feather, landing softly on the couch. She continued inspecting for quite a while. The hair spilling from her hand flowed like a gentle stream. Calmly, she said, “I’ve always wondered—your beast form is a white fox, so how come your human form has pitch-black hair?”

Zhuoxue replied awkwardly, “I thought I was born extraordinary… unique.” As a child, she’d once asked Lanhui if she was a fox chosen by the heavens. Lanhui had never said no.

“You’re not.” Longming shook her head. “It’s the seal that binds you. That’s why I said before—your current true form isn’t your true form, and your demonic core isn’t either. Have you noticed this?”

Zhuoxue pouted. She’d never seen anyone else’s demonic core—how could she tell what was normal and what wasn’t? She immediately wrapped her arms around her waist and stammered, “I thought… it was because I hadn’t broken through the realm yet, so it looked like it was covered in dust.”

“Holy Immortal Lanxiang raised you for more than ten years and still didn’t help you take a look?” Longming found it amusing, but also quite surprising.

“Who just casually inspects someone else’s demonic core? It’s not like it’s gambling on jade stones in the mortal world—treating the core like uncut jade to wager on.” A sudden thought struck Zhuoxue, and she exclaimed, “Wait—you didn’t use demonic power to gamble on jade in the mortal world, did you? Is that how you picked up this bad habit of bending the rules?”

“Why don’t you ask when I looked into your spirit platform and demonic core?” Longming let her draw her own conclusions.

Zhuoxue stiffened her shoulders and neck, warily asking, “Was it last night?”

Longming nodded. “You were in the spring and nearly couldn’t break through. I helped ease a bit of the pain and itching.”

Zhuoxue had mostly forgotten the details of the previous night. But once Longming mentioned it, the memories came rushing back, crowding her mind to the brim.

Why had she held onto Longming’s hand? What nonsense had she mumbled? And why… had Longming let her?

Absurd. Completely absurd.

She couldn’t help scratching at the bedding, both ears flushing red. She muttered, “Next time just let me drown in that spring.”

“I use that spring from time to time as well,” Longming said mildly.

Zhuoxue fell silent for a moment, then asked in a small voice, “I was bawling in the water last night—will you still use it?”

Longming also fell silent for a while. She really didn’t want to discuss this with the fox. Picking up the silver hair Zhuoxue had torn out earlier, she smirked. “So you say your days are numbered? You don’t seem all that scared to me. You look full of life, still chatting away like nothing’s wrong.”

Zhuoxue noticed that silver hair being twirled into a little curl and hesitantly asked, “So my hair color should’ve matched my beast form? All silver-white?”

“Once the seal is fully lifted, you’ll know for sure.” Longming didn’t say it outright.

Zhuoxue wasn’t too worried. What if her true form was some three-headed, six-armed creature? If she really had three heads, then she’d probably have three tails too. That would actually be beautiful. She exhaled a breath of relief and murmured to herself, “So it’s not that my flame is burning out. That scared me half to death.”

“The seal doesn’t affect your lifespan,” Longming said as she pulled out a wooden box from her sleeve.

Seeing the somber look in Longming’s eyes, the breath Zhuoxue had just let out caught in her throat again. She asked, trembling, “Has the Nightmare Clan’s demon envoy left?”

“They’ve gone.” Longming placed the wooden box on the edge of the bed. With a flick of her wrist, the hanging gauze curtains lifted under demonic power. She added, “This is something the Nightmare Clan left for you.”

The gauze floated up, and even the fabric draped over Zhuoxue seemed to gain awareness, tugging insistently away from her body.

Zhuoxue was forced to roll once across the bed. To keep herself stable, she kicked the brocade quilt at the foot into an even greater mess. She didn’t believe it one bit and nervously looked up. “The Nightmare Clan named me specifically? Can I refuse it?”

“They didn’t name names.” Longming let out a cold chuckle. “But it’s clear enough what kind of trick the Nightmare King is playing—I only had to ask once to find out.”

Zhuoxue glanced around the room, afraid someone might be eavesdropping through the walls, and lowered her voice, “What did you find out? Let me hear it too.”

“Open the box,” Longming said calmly.

But Zhuoxue’s hair stood on end. She first picked up the wooden box and shook it wildly, then pressed her ear against it, tapping with curled fingers to listen inside.

There was something in there, but she couldn’t tell what it was.

“What if I open it and a poison dart springs out?” Zhuoxue imagined every possible danger.

“It was placed inside by Qiurou,” Longming said plainly.

Zhuoxue held her breath and leaned back, craning her neck farther and farther, both arms stretched forward.

Just then, Longming gave a slight hook of her finger, and the clasp on the wooden box clicked open by itself. Zhuoxue immediately turned her head away, fearing an ambush.

The inside remained quiet. Nothing strange jumped out.

After a while, Zhuoxue rolled her eyes toward the box, peeking sneakily. She had expected severed limbs or something gruesome. Instead—

It was… a scroll of the most subdued elegance?

She blinked. “What is this?”

“The Moon Dissolving Scroll.” 

Longming cast a spell, levitating the scroll into the air. The rolled scroll suddenly unfurled. It was spotless, not a speck of dust on it. With just a few sparse brushstrokes, it sketched the outline of a full moon. No stars, no clouds—only the moon. A stream of light shimmered across the moon, like moonlight spilling over the sea on a quiet night, casting rippling silver waves.

Zhuoxue had never heard of the Moon Dissolving Scroll, but upon seeing it now, she felt it was something that should exist only in the heavens.

Longming slightly raised her head, gazing at it calmly. “The Nightmare King specially dispatched a demon envoy to deliver this item. Sleep with this scroll beneath your pillow, and you’ll behold wondrous sights of the Nine Heavens. The sleeper believes it to be a dream, but in truth, their spirit leaves the body and ascends into the skies.”

As Zhuoxue listened, it was as if she could truly see, through that moon in the scroll, celestial branches made of jade interweaving above, resplendent clouds glowing with divine radiance. “So this is actually a good thing?” she asked, captivated. “Then how do you know for sure it was meant for me?”

Longming smiled, but it was a cold, indifferent smile. Her eyes glinted with chill, once again revealing that hidden hunter lurking in the shadows, harboring secret intentions. “This scroll circulates in the Demon Realm. Demons use it to send their spirits into the Nine Heavens under divine light. If caught, their bodies left behind in the lower realm become nothing but dead husks,” she said quietly.

Zhuoxue hurriedly withdrew her gaze, no longer daring to look at the Moon Dissolving Scroll.

“It’s often used to cultivate. If one can absorb spiritual energy from the Nine Heavens, their cultivation level may skyrocket overnight,” Longming continued unhurriedly. “But most demons… aren’t that lucky.”

“How treacherous the Nightmare King is, trying to lure my lord into a trap!” Zhuoxue’s pupils trembled.

“It’s not meant for me. Naturally, I have no use for it.” Longming sneered. “Tell me—who on Lingkong Mountain could make the most use of it?”

Zhuoxue’s expression turned vague. “Could it be me?”

“You just broke through a realm last night, and today the Nightmare Clan delivers this scroll. That’s no stroke of fortune from the heavens—it’s clearly bait to lure you into a cage.” With a flick of her palm, Longming caused the Moon Dissolving Scroll to roll itself up and land in her hand.

“Good thing my lord saw through the Nightmare Clan’s plot at a glance!” Zhuoxue still felt shaken. Just a moment ago, the scroll had looked like a priceless treasure, but now it resembled a venomous fang dripping blood. Even glancing at it made her uneasy.

Longming sat at her writing desk and propped her chin on her hand. “The Nightmare Clan guessed right—it’s me protecting you now. But since they haven’t seen it with their own eyes, they won’t challenge me easily.”

“So what should we do?” Zhuoxue was at a loss. After all, on the opposing side stood not only the Nightmare King, but also the Head Immortal from the heavens. Unless, as Longming had previously suggested, they first put Tianji under the spotlight and dampen his momentum.

“It seems our trip to the Yellow Spring Palace should be moved up the schedule,” Longming said, shifting the paperweight aside and retrieving a long brush from the pen rack.

Zhuoxue climbed out of bed barefoot, her hair a mess, and approached to see what Longming was about to write. If she was allowed to look, she’d look openly. If not, she’d sneak a peek.

Fortunately, Longming didn’t stop her. She tiptoed and boldly looked on.

With a flick of her wrist, Longming dipped the snowy white rabbit-hair brush into ink.

As the brush touched paper, every stroke held piercing strength and sharpness—far more elegant than any writing Zhuoxue had ever seen.

There’s a saying in the mortal world: a person’s writing reflects their character. It seemed to hold some truth.

But just as Longming completed the next character, the one before it faded away, as if the ink had completely seeped into the paper.

The letter was addressed to Kunyu, the demon lord of Jueming Ridge, to inquire about the current state of the Yellow Spring Palace and prepare for a stealth infiltration.

When Longming finished the final stroke, she flicked the brush clean, and the ink on the rabbit hair vanished instantly.

“That’s it?” Zhuoxue had never seen a magical tool like this. She had thought this tiger demon had merely picked up a taste for scholarly leisure in the mortal world, decorating her bedchamber with a writing desk for casual calligraphy.

“That’s it,” Longming replied, dragging the paperweight back into place to press down the sheet.

Zhuoxue grew hesitant and whispered into Longming’s ear, “When we sneak into the Yellow Spring Palace… can I ask for leave?”

“Of course not.” Longming looked back at her.

Last time, Zhuoxue hadn’t even made it through the palace gate before being overwhelmed by the oppressive aura of the King of the Underworld. She tried to bargain, “That place chills me to the bone. The King’s presence is icy and oppressive. The moment I arrive, I freeze up and get anxious—I’ll definitely just get in the way.”

“That’s because your cultivation is shallow, your realm too weak to resist. Which is why you need to train harder.” Longming stood and raised her index finger toward Zhuoxue’s forehead.

Zhuoxue froze, not daring to move. Though the fingertip never touched her, as it slowly descended, it felt as if it grazed her skin inch by inch.

From the space between her brows to her throat, down her neck, chest, and abdomen, stopping just below the navel—this was the path of the demon meridians connecting the spiritual platform.

“Let me see if you’ve been studying properly,” Longming said in a soft voice.