Ordered to Marry by the High King - Chapter 33

Longming had explained things clearly—unless there was a third person present here.

Zhuoxue jabbed downward with her raised hand, feeling the bridge of her own nose. Times had changed—now even great demons were counting on her.

Unbelievable. Truly unbelievable.

But she was just a fox. She had never wanted to stand tall and act human—who in their right mind would place hopes on her?

After a while, Zhuoxue looked at the looming, pitch-black tower in the distance and asked suspiciously, “You didn’t trick me into coming here just to have me walk right into a trap, did you?”

Foxes think fast—even if not always in the right direction.

“You think I’d go through all this trouble to trick you?” Longming gave a faint, mocking smile. “Then consider it ill intent on my part.”

The immortal before her looked utterly convincing, with celestial energy swirling around her. She seemed like someone who dined on dew and nectar, untouched by worldly dust.

“So you admit it.” Zhuoxue reached for Longming’s side, and the ethereal aura brushed through her palm, leaving a faint sting. “Where have you hidden the real Longming?” She opened her fingers with a hiss. “Pain like this can’t be fake.”

With a completely unfamiliar face, Longming smiled faintly—it carried an inexplicable edge. She said in a low voice, “Then I’d have to trick not just you, but the entire Demon Realm, for this colossal lie to hold.”

Zhuoxue actually believed her, rubbing her stinging palm as she murmured, “True… a hundred lies can’t make one truth.”

“It’s dragon’s breath,” Longming brushed her hand, dispelling the sting. “I bought it at the Huangliang Dream Market.”

Zhuoxue hadn’t truly suspected her—it was just that she didn’t want to go into the tower alone. After a moment, she sighed. “There won’t be mountains of ghost soldiers inside, right? If I go in waving a lantern like it’s no big deal, isn’t that just digging my own grave?”

“There are no ghost soldiers inside.” Longming understood what the fox was worried about and softened her tone. “Once I lure the King out, I’ll have to lead him further. I’ll find a way to slip away—then I’ll enter the tower and find you.”

“And once I’m upstairs, I have to find the Book of Life and Death all by myself?” Zhuoxue couldn’t even imagine what the inside looked like—how was she supposed to find anything?

“The book is neatly arranged. No need to panic,” said Longming.

Zhuoxue puffed out her cheeks, putting on a look of noble sacrifice.

Longming, speaking slowly and clearly, continued, “When you reach the top of the tower, you’ll see a pitch-black jade orb hanging from the central beam. That orb is called Sheltering Shade. Turn it once, either clockwise or counterclockwise.”

“What does the orb do?” Zhuoxue wouldn’t go into that tower without knowing every detail.

Longming explained, “Once the orb glows, it means the Underworld King is at rest. No ghost soldier or wandering soul may enter.”

“Then how will you get in?” Zhuoxue mulled over every phrase, chewing it over like a cow chewing cud.

What kind of fox was she? Well perhaps she was more like an ox or a horse, being tasked with a life-risking mission.

Longming shook her head. “I’m neither ghost soldier nor wandering soul—why wouldn’t I be able to enter?”

“So the orb isn’t some magical device that makes intruders wish they were dead?” Zhuoxue let out a breath of relief. “It’s just a sign on the door that says ‘closed to visitors’?”

“Exactly. So rest easy,” Longming looked her in the eyes. “Did you remember everything I just said?”

“I’ve memorized it backward and forward.” Zhuoxue inhaled deeply, then exhaled slowly, casting a resentful look at her. “You’d better return quickly—don’t mess this up. Otherwise, I’ll haunt you even in death.”

Longming gave no reply. She merely raised her palm and waved it in front of Zhuoxue. In that instant, the girl turned into a wisp of smoke—caught by the wind, she vanished without a trace.

Zhuoxue didn’t even understand what had happened. She only felt that something was strange—why couldn’t she see the bridge of her nose? She looked down. Her view was completely empty. Only then did she realize that she had vanished into thin air—so thoroughly even she couldn’t see herself.

“What is this?” Zhuoxue raised her hands anxiously, fumbling across her own body. “You never taught me this move in all those chants. Are you holding back on me?”

As she spoke, her moving lips suddenly froze.

She hadn’t just turned invisible—her voice was gone too.

Wait—what had she just said?

It wasn’t just the sound. Even her memory seemed to be slipping.

She didn’t know if Longming had heard her or not. Longming had already unrolled the heavenly edict in her hand, calmly reading it from beginning to end. When she was done, she walked toward the Underworld King’s Court, saying in a level tone, “Come with me. No one can see you—not even the Underworld King.”

Zhuoxue crept along behind her. Even her own footsteps made no sound. It truly felt like she didn’t exist in the world. Her footprints were gone. Her voice erased. As if the three realms themselves refused her presence.

Zhuoxue, uneasy, asked, “How long does this invisibility last? It won’t be forever, right?”

“One hour,” Longming replied.

So the caster could hear her—Zhuoxue felt a little better. She watched as Longming stopped before the Underworld King’s Court, raised her arm, and released a surge of extraordinary spiritual power, striking three beats like on a drum.

No drum could be seen, but the sound echoed clearly.

The first beat shook the earth.

The second turned the heavens.

The third stilled all creation.

Longming held the long scroll in her arms. With a wave of her hand, the imperial edict floated in midair like a ribbon of fine silk, drifting unsteadily.

Zhuoxue hid behind Longming, and for a moment, she felt that old Madam Qian hadn’t been wrong back in the day—this demon really did have a bit of a divine air about her. That face was plainly ordinary, yet somehow revealed a hint of ethereal beauty. What fragrance did that magnificent robe conceal, that it could bring such serenity to the heart?

Longming moved her lips, and her voice instantly resonated in all directions. Every word she read from the scroll shimmered with golden light. The suspended edict became ever more dazzling—once merely glimmering, it now radiated with brilliant rays.

Zhuoxue was transfixed. If this edict was truly a creation of demon magic, then even if it were placed among the Kunlun Yaojing, it could easily pass as genuine.

This tiger demon really had seen the world. If it were her pretending to be an emissary from the Heavenly Palace, she probably wouldn’t even know she had to beat a drum and recite an edict.

Longming’s voice was close to her ear. Though disguised, it wasn’t unlike her usual calm, unhurried tone.

“By decree of the Kunlun Yaojing, the Yellow Spring Palace and Underworld King’s Court shall heed this edict…”

The ornate characters on the scroll lit up from beginning to end, the entire edict gleaming like a falling star—enough to shake an entire realm.

Zhuoxue couldn’t even look at it directly. Even the scattered light made her eyes sting like they were being scorched by fire.

It had to be authentic. After all, Longming had managed to bind the spirit of the River of Forgetfulness to Lingkong Mountain—what difficulty would there be in secretly keeping a genuine celestial edict?

Her eyes burned. Just like the burn she’d felt when the seal on the back of her neck loosened—only this time, it was her eyes. That pain made her want to roll on the floor. 

And yet Longming stood calm as ever. The blazing light of the edict so close to her, yet she was unfazed, unaffected. Zhuoxue couldn’t fathom how powerful one’s demon energy must be to withstand the radiance of heaven. Still, even with such strength, Longming hadn’t managed to return to the Wugou River. Clearly, the Nightmare King was a formidable opponent.

As the edict hovered in the air, the tall gates of the Underworld King’s Court began to move with a rumble like a mountain collapsing.

A tall and imposing figure slowly approached. Their face was shrouded in ghostly mist, hair trailing to the ground in disarray, making it impossible to make out their true features.

Only when they suddenly spoke did Zhuoxue realize—it was a woman.

“The King of the Underworld accepts the decree.”

Her stature was extraordinary—she appeared even taller than Longming. From afar, she resembled a mountain turned to flesh and blocked the entrance with her presence alone.

The gates were only half open. Zhuoxue hesitated—should she enter or not? If she brushed past the King of the Underworld and was noticed, Longming would surely be implicated.

Then the King of the Underworld took the edict in her hands and, with a slight nod to Longming, said, “Many thanks, celestial envoy.”

Longming turned silently, her gaze sweeping briefly to the side without pause.

As the gates slowly began to close, Zhuoxue seized the moment and slipped through the gap, freezing in place as the darkness of the tower overwhelmed her. Dust drifted down from the doorframe, and the narrow gap was soon sealed tight, hiding Longming’s unfamiliar face behind the closing doors.

Inside the tower, it was utterly silent. Though the King of the Underworld had departed, her oppressive aura lingered. A strange, probing gaze pressed in from all directions, pinning Zhuoxue to the spot.

Only after a long while did Zhuoxue, drenched in cold sweat, manage to slowly turn to the left.

Judge’s Token…

Where was the Judge’s Token?!

She groped around carefully, her mind blank. Longming never told her what it looked like—how was she supposed to find it?

Holding her breath, she searched with trembling hands. Suddenly she recoiled—her fingertips had been frozen stiff by something cold. After a moment, she reached out again with a single finger to test the chilly object. Whatever it was, it felt loose, and her touch stirred a clatter like that of wooden tags.

Could this be it?

She pulled one out—and found that while it wasn’t a tag per se, it was carved from wood. It reminded her of the hu tablets described in mortal texts. There were shallow carvings on the tablet. She traced them with her fingertip and felt they resembled the characters for “Underworld Decree.”

With the Underworld Decree in hand, the next step was to find the eternal flame before the divine altar.

Strangely, though it was called an eternal flame, there wasn’t even a flicker of light. She’d been fumbling in the dark for a long time, completely disoriented. Still, the divine altar was probably on the wall. If she felt her way around the tower wall, how could she not find it?

Zhuoxue tucked the hu tablet into her belt and began inching sideways along the wall, muttering prayers for the King of the Underworld’s forgiveness with every step. At the same time, she groped not only above her head but also along the floor.

The inner walls of the tower were unlike those in the mortal world—uneven, as though studded with hideous ghostly faces.

The King of the Underworld clearly had more courage than the heavens. If Zhuoxue had to work among these every day, she’d be depressed within ten days.

One moment she touched a ghost’s sharp teeth, the next she brushed its eyeball. She was terrified the eye might blink, or the mouth might snap shut and bite her finger off.

Zhuoxue kept mumbling in her heart, Please forgive my offense, forgive my offense. King of the Underworld, be merciful—don’t hold this against me. She was just a clueless wild fox from the countryside, chasing chickens into the Underworld and stumbling into this place by accident.

After feeling around the base, the fox shuffled a step to the side. Just as she was about to stand and reach upward, something knocked into her head.

The bump brought tears to her eyes. She held her breath and stepped back cautiously before slowly standing up. At last, her fingers touched the small wooden shrine-like structure. She didn’t know if there were other items placed on the shrine, so she touched it carefully, afraid she might accidentally knock everything over.

Thankfully, this shrine differed from those in the mortal world—there were no fruits, incense, or candles, only a single lamp resting upon it.

Zhuoxue picked up the lamp, fumbling all over it, but couldn’t manage to light it. Eventually, she gave up trying, found the staircase, and started climbing one step at a time.

She couldn’t hear her own footsteps. At times, it felt like she wasn’t even stepping on solid ground. If not for the daunting three-hundred-foot tower making the climb feel like scaling the heavens, she might have thought she’d become a speck of dust, drifting upward on the wind.

The higher she climbed, the heavier her steps became, as though Mount Tai pressed upon her shoulders, leaving her gasping for breath. Fortunately, the dim lamp slowly began to glow. The closer she got to the tower’s peak, the brighter the flame inside the wick burned.

So it wasn’t that the eternal lamp couldn’t light—it simply hadn’t been placed in the right spot.

Zhuoxue was utterly exhausted. Her legs were weak, and she swayed as she walked, nearly collapsing to her knees.

When she reached the final step, the Judge’s Token tucked into her belt swung wildly, nearly snapping the string of beads that held it. Zhuoxue hurriedly pulled the token out—only for it to suddenly slip from her grasp, darting forward like a bird and slamming onto the nearby table with a sharp crack.

Immediately, the flame within the eternal lamp scattered into a swarm of glowing fireflies, blazing and scattering in all directions, rushing to the eight walls of the tower.

As the fireflies landed, ghostly green flames ignited along the base of the walls, illuminating the entire tower.

Zhuoxue understood now—the Judge’s Token and the eternal lamp were meant to be used here. They hadn’t been given to her in vain.

With the ghost fire now lit, towering cabinets stacked floor to ceiling appeared before her. They were packed densely with life ledgers, so tightly packed there wasn’t room for even one more volume.

Naturally, she didn’t dare rummage through the items on the Underworld King’s desk. After hesitating a while, she tiptoed over to the cabinets and looked up at the faded, hard-to-read engravings. Each level of the cabinet was labeled with a place name from the mortal world, with detail down to villages, streams, even remote valleys.

Zhuoxue dared to take one down—only to find it completely blank. Perhaps she was opening it the wrong way? But no matter how she held it—upright or upside down, flipping front to back or back to front—she couldn’t find a single trace of ink.

Could it be that only the Underworld King could read the writing in the life ledgers?

Zhuoxue then thought to look for her own life ledger. But suddenly she remembered… Lanhui had only told her she had been washed to Qiufeng Ridge by the flood, but never mentioned where she had actually been born. And the “sequence” that Longming had spoken of had not appeared either. Maybe it was too far away, and the life ledger didn’t register her soul. She couldn’t possibly go through the ledgers one by one to find this sequence—she’d be at it until the end of time.

A clever thought struck the fox: why not go straight to the royal capital? What if she really had been born there in her past life?

Luckily, there was no need to move the cabinets at the back. She easily found the ledgers for Shuyun Kingdom’s Yunjing.

She started flipping from a century ago, picking one volume at random.

The moment she opened it, she froze in shock.

There were words in this one.