Ordered to Marry by the High King - Chapter 36

With such an earth-shattering commotion, even the towering bookshelves—interlocking like thousands of gears—surprisingly did not collapse. They stood as immovable as mountains, overlooking the two living beings below, seemingly capable of transforming into avatars of the King of the Underworld, chanting sacred scriptures.

A roaring still thundered in Zhuoxue’s ears. As the saying goes, “The wise adapt to circumstances; it’s easier to rest under a big tree’s shade.” The fox clung tightly to Longming’s arm, determined not to let go.

The tower had clearly been uprooted. With a sudden tilt, even Longming lost her footing, stumbling into the bookshelf and knocking a stack of life ledgers clattering to the floor.

This was no mere tilt—it was an inversion!

Longming’s expression darkened as she cast a minor spell, bracing herself like a nail in a wall, unmoving and secure.

As the space flipped, the towering bookshelves could no longer hold. With a thunderous crash, they collapsed like mountains, layer upon crushing layer.

Suspended midair with a life ledger between her teeth, Zhuoxue was spinning wildly. Her fur stood on end, and she asked nervously, “Have we been turned upside down? Are we being treated like dice in a jar?” 

In the mortal world’s markets, dice games came in endless varieties. Skilled players, with nothing but their hands, could rival gods. Those with stronger wrists could even crush the dice inside the jar. If the Underworld King wielded such power, her strength would surely surpass that of any mortal.

“Is that the life ledger you found?” Longming looked down.

Zhuoxue merely smiled without answering.

Unfortunately, the tablet had already returned to its place, and the ghost fire had been extinguished. The two of them no longer had time to sit and examine it closely.

Longming took the life ledger from the fox’s mouth and tucked it into a palm-sized brocade pouch, frowning. “She knows where we are. Uprooting the tower was a trap—she’s trying to catch us like turtles in a jar.”

Had the entire tower truly been uprooted? That grand, imposing structure—what kind of brute force was required to lift it?

Zhuoxue was trembling with fear when a deafening crack rang in her ears.

It wasn’t thunder—it was the tower’s copper-iron walls cracking under impact.

Fortunately, even in pitch darkness, she could roughly make out the surroundings. The cracks spread like spiderwebs, and the broken bricks bulged inward. Outside, the thunderous force only grew stronger. From the patterns of the fractures, she couldn’t tell whether they were caused by weapons or magic.

What kind of weapon could be as large as a mountain gate? But if it were a spell, why use such brute force?

The wall looked ready to burst open. Yet Zhuoxue, still hanging steadily, was sure Longming must have a way to escape.

Another explosion erupted. Stone fragments flew in all directions, and a ghostly wind howled its way inside.

The Underworld was cold and dim; not a single ray of light pierced the opening. Only vaguely could they see something storming in, carried by the wind. It looked like a crystal—translucent and luminous—but not fragile like crystal. It even had a soft, fine texture, like the souls drifting upstream on the River of Forgetfulness.

Zhuoxue dared not move. Her four limbs were frozen stiff and cold. She clenched her jaw to keep her racing heart from leaping out of her throat.

A voice whispered directly into her ear—Longming was using voice transmission, The true body of the King.

The true body of the King of the Underworld, indistinguishable from a soul, must be even more colossal than her already towering human form.

Zhuoxue stared intently and finally realized: what had slipped through the hole in the tower was a single, constantly stirring finger. Like a human fiddling with an anthill, the King regarded this place as fragile as an eggshell. Who would have thought—a single finger, yet thick as a thousand-year-old locust tree. Zhuoxue dared not imagine how immense her full form must be. If she so much as bent a knee, she could crush them into dust.

The fox could no longer calm herself. She whispered, “What happened to all your skills—flying through the sky, burrowing through the earth, summoning wind and rain?”

Longming remained composed and methodical. “I can’t confront her head-on. Not yet. Tianji and the Nightmare Clan must not find out it was I who infiltrated the Hall of the Underworld King and took the life ledger.”

“One volume missing will be discovered sooner or later.” Zhuoxue crawled up Longming’s arm and curled herself around her shoulder and neck, finally no longer suspended midair.

“No one will discover it.”

As she spoke, Longming’s appearance shifted dramatically. She no longer feigned divinity but transformed into a fierce, blue-faced asura. Fortunately, the water spirit still resided within her. Her expression was shrouded in ghostly aura—she truly seemed as if she’d clawed her way out from the eighteenth level of hell.

With a flip of her palm, she conjured a flame and hurled it mercilessly into the distance. The tongue of fire licked at the shelves, incinerating the life ledgers to ash. The ashes piled together, indistinguishable one from another.

In this way, how could the King ever discern the true purpose of the intruders?

The inferno raged, climbing like vines and transforming the space into a hellish purgatory. All was bathed in a sea of red. Black smoke surged. Flames licked at the Underworld King’s crystalline hand—but she was not made of wood and could not be burned. Amid the sea of fire, only the King’s desk and chair remained untouched. Even the records atop the desk were perfectly protected, not a single spark touching them.

Longming struck with her palm, shattering the opposite tower wall, and suddenly burst into a sea of fire like a volcanic eruption.

***

The Underworld King loomed like a hundred-feet-tall mountain. The tower path she held in her hand was barely a grip to her, and the asura flying out of the tower was even less than a mosquito in comparison.

Flames surged outward from the tower, glowing like red-hot bronze and iron. The Underworld King held it aloft, like a lantern carried through the night.

Furious beyond words, the Underworld King exhaled and extinguished the blaze. The towering structure collapsed with a thunderous crash—Underworld King’s Court was utterly destroyed.

An overwhelming pressure surged out, leaving no living thing in its wake.

Ghosts a hundred miles away trembled under the weight of her presence, howling in unison with heart-wrenching wails that echoed like a great bell.

Yet the asura remained unmoved, her ghostly face calm as ever when she turned to glance back. Flames cloaked her form, conveniently hiding the white fox on her shoulder.

Zhuoxue’s vision was veiled in black smoke. Everything in the distance was a blur. Luckily, the smoke stinging her nose and eyes wasn’t real, so it couldn’t choke her.

The Underworld King’s massive body crumbled like a collapsing skyscraper—or like an ant colony falling apart—splitting in an instant into countless identical versions of herself. Immediately, these endless copies wove themselves into a bronze cage, trapping the asura within. The boundless ghostly aura condensed into countless blade-like daggers, pouring down like rain.

The asura had nowhere to hide. She turned and dove underground, heading toward the River of Forgetfulness.

Daggers plunged downward, sending shattered rock flying—but failed to pierce the one who had just burrowed away.

Then, all the Underworld King’s duplicates turned their palms in unison, movements and expressions perfectly synchronized, like reflections in a mirror.

The entire Yellow Spring Palace shook violently. This time, it truly felt like the world was spinning. The towering walls and ghostly dwellings rose to the sky, while the rolling black mist reversed and fell toward their feet. Dust and earth soared into the air, becoming collapsing storm clouds. Down it came, pouring in torrents. All sorts of buried relics tumbled out with the downpour. Nothing remained hidden. Even ancient items nearly dissolved with time were forced into view.

The River of Forgetfulness now hung in the sky like a suspended torrent, following the falling debris, pouring fully and precisely into the human world. Trapped in the mud, the asura had no place left to hide. She was forced to reveal her form. Calmly, she turned her wrist, and the descending daggers soared back up at once.

Swish—the daggers cut through the air, combining into a piercing screech.

Longming instantly saw through the Underworld King’s true body, shattering all her innumerable duplicates. It was the perfect ruse, like borrowing arrows with straw boats. She didn’t use a trace of her demonic power—no risk of her disguise being exposed.

The falling dust trickled down steadily, while the River of Forgetfulness fell in a curtain of droplets, merging layer upon layer as it descended, then flowed again into a gently trickling stream.

The asura leapt into the river. Just before she submerged, her fearsome features melted away, revealing a stunningly beautiful face once more.

Still shaken, Zhuoxue stood upright on Longming’s shoulder and looked back. “So the Underworld King’s Court is really gone? And Yellow Spring Palace turned into that?”

“No need to feel sorry for the Underworld King,” Longming swam forward like a fish, following the way they came in, not daring to delay for even a moment. “The Underworld King’s Court and Yellow Spring Palace can be restored in the blink of an eye. If she destroys her domain yet fails to catch us, it would be a loss.”

“All the life ledgers were burned. Will that affect mortal fate?” Zhuoxue asked again.

Longming looked down with a strange expression, glancing at the fox on her shoulder. She answered calmly, “Mortal fate doesn’t change just because a life ledger is destroyed. The life ledger merely records their lives. If altering a mortal’s lifespan were that easy, the Underworld King wouldn’t need to heed the eyes of Kunlun Yaojing.”

Zhuoxue thought that made sense.

Longming continued, “Every brick and tile of the Underworld King’s Court is formed from the Underworld King’s power—it can be rebuilt in an instant. But restoring the life ledgers to their original state? That’s impossible now. The fire I used is no ordinary flame.”

“What kind of fire is it?” Zhuoxue asked.

“Qilin Heartfire,” Longming replied with a faint smile. “I got it from the Huangliang Dream Market. Since it originates from Kunlun Yaojing, I merely returned it to them.”

Suddenly, a massive wave rose from the River of Forgetfulness, as if a hurricane had struck, threatening to flip the river upside down. In a blink, the once-silent river roared like a sea, wave after wave crashing wildly. The mud at the bottom churned up, clouding the once-clear waters like a mountain flood.

Zhuoxue was still staring behind Longming. The wind howled, the waves surged—and the River of Forgetfulness was suddenly split down the middle.

Of course. You couldn’t easily scoop the river, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t be parted.

Zhuoxue gasped. “Run! She just split the river!”

Longming dashed like a bolt of lightning, covering miles in an instant. At last, she spotted the bronze gate they had entered through.

Sensing something, the Underworld King conjured a great bell from thin air. As the River of Forgetfulness split open, a glimpse of the bell could be seen between the two towering waves. A peal rang out, echoing across the heavens—so loud it shook the skies.

At once, the water spirits on the bronze door swarmed toward Zhuoxue’s face like countless mayflies. She hurriedly turned away, using her tail like a broom to sweep them all aside.

The half-formed water spirit within her body stirred in response. It had been quiet and obedient, but in that moment, it surged to life. Not only did it regain its original form, it also boiled over in fury—slamming around inside her and twisting her stomach in pain.

Zhuoxue bent over, about to vomit, but before anything could come out, Longming clasped her muzzle shut. Left with no other choice, she swallowed the surging water spirit back down her throat.

The water spirit kept rising, and she kept forcing it back down, again and again, tears streaming down her face.

How could Zhuoxue dare open her mouth to speak? Her ability to move freely through the River of Forgetfulness depended entirely on this water spirit. To give it up would be to throw her life away.

Longming, however, was unaffected. Her spiritual pressure and inner power alone were enough to suppress the water spirit.

Zhuoxue was in agony, one moment puffing out her left cheek, the next puffing out the right—all because the water spirit was desperately seeking an exit, pushing her face numb with pressure. She had no choice but to curl her tongue and thrash it wildly, battling the water spirit to see which would give in first.

But the water spirit was tireless. Zhuoxue’s fox tongue was already numb from root to tip, yet it kept bouncing and ramming about. Thankfully, the water spirit at least knew its way and was stubborn to a fault. It tried only to return the way it came, without attempting to bore a new hole downward.

The fox made a few muffled “mm-mm” sounds, her eyes shifting expressively—Why aren’t you suffering like I am?

Longming, puzzled, simply reached out and cast a spell through the fox’s sealed mouth. Her fingers moved gently, guiding the rogue water spirit back down to Zhuoxue’s lower abdomen.

The water spirit attempted another surge upward, but was suddenly seized by a frigid demonic force. It trembled in place, no longer daring to move.

Relieved, Zhuoxue let out a soft sigh. Her tongue was still numb, and her words came out slurred. “I thought once it dissolved, it couldn’t take form again. Turns out it was all a trick—trying to make me let my guard down.”

Passing through a narrow gap in the gate, Longming said coolly, “If the King of the Underworld hadn’t commanded it, it wouldn’t have reformed. We can’t keep this water spirit—it must be expelled once we’re out of the River of Forgetfulness.”

“We’re not even taking it back to Lingkong Mountain?” Zhuoxue asked, a bit regretfully.

“We’re not ancient locust trees with a thousand years of cultivation. We can’t mask the water spirit’s aura. With it on us, the King of the Underworld could track us down with ease.” As she spoke, Longming struck behind her with a sudden palm, sending massive waves roaring and wailing in their wake.

The wave she raised conveniently blocked the fissure the King of the Underworld had just cleaved open, and the surging murky water obscured their forms entirely.

When Zhuoxue looked back again, there was nothing left to see.

As they retreated through Meandering Grounds, Longming even dragged the wailing, struggling spirits into the water. These tormented souls, already ripped and ravaged by the River of Forgetfulness, now fully submerged, suffered so intensely that their screams pierced the heavens.

There were too many ghosts. At this point, the mass of writhing souls was so dense that it seemed they could dam the river itself.

The King of the Underworld was forbidden from executing personal punishments on souls. Now that Longming had used the ghosts to block her, the King was forced to halt, giving the two demons a chance to escape.

After an immense struggle, Longming finally hauled Zhuoxue onto the riverbank. The water on her clothes quickly flowed back into the river, leaving her completely dry.

Zhuoxue, too, was dry as if untouched—there wasn’t even a droplet to shake off.

Longming parted her lips and spat out the half of the water spirit into her palm. It was utterly withered, its features blurred into an indistinguishable mass. Clearly, it had dissolved too thoroughly; now that it tried to reform, it could no longer assume its previous face.

Zhuoxue also bent down and spat out her half of the water spirit. Perhaps it had been knocked too hard earlier, because now it stumbled around in a daze and tumbled back into the water.

Longming casually tossed her half into the River of Forgetfulness as well, then lifted the fox by her lower belly and slung her over her shoulder.

Zhuoxue almost gagged again and thought bitterly, You’re in trouble now, big tiger. This is no way to treat me.

“Let’s go. The Underworld is crawling with her eyes and ears.” Longming’s form shifted instantly.

Beneath Zhuoxue was no longer a tall, graceful demon lord, but a striking, black-and-white striped tiger. Her tiger form gleamed with the same luster as her inky robes, no less radiant than fine silk. The beast’s massive frame was full of power, each step steady enough to shake mountains.

With a great leap, the white tiger soared, and two slightly raised patches on her back suddenly unfurled into broad wings. She rode the wind, faster than lightning.

Zhuoxue clung tightly to the tiger’s back, her heart pounding—it was her first time riding on a tiger. She had to admit, it was a bit thrilling.

A princess riding a tiger was certainly beneath her station, but as a fox, Zhuoxue saw no reason to be polite.