Ordered to Marry by the High King - Chapter 37

The white tiger tore through sand and stone, surging against the wind. Her pair of wings were as solid as bronze and iron, sending rocks and debris flying, as if stars were tumbling from the heavens. Though in form she was a white tiger, her momentum rivaled that of a slumbering dragon. She soared through the fog with commanding presence, treading sand and stone into surging waves, climbing straight to the sky.

At this moment, the whirling sand and flying stones were the most reliable curtain of concealment. The white tiger moved freely, unbothered by the King of the Underworld trailing behind.

Moments later, a fierce wind pierced through barriers, and a ray of daylight suddenly broke through. The turbulent sand instantly stilled—proof that the human world was near.

The fox was still shaken. Her two paws clung tightly to the white tiger’s back, her body stretched into a long line, as if the gale had pulled her taut. The sunlight was blinding, and she couldn’t open her eyes. Squinting, she asked, “Are we there?”

With a thunderous crash, the white tiger landed, as if a mountain had collapsed. But when she shifted back into a tall, slender woman, her steps were lighter than a goose feather.

“We’ve arrived in the human world,” said Longming.

The Yellow Spring’s water spirit had already left their bodies, and the ghostly aura that had soaked into their organs had dissipated. Longming’s stunning face now bore no trace of her asura-like fierceness. Only her crimson eyes remained sharp and vigilant, clearly still on guard.

“Did the King catch up?” the fox asked again.

Longming suddenly raised her hand and pinched a nearly imperceptible wisp of drifting smoke. Colorless and odorless, it clung faintly to her palm like a thin layer of ash. 

No good omen—this wasn’t a gift-bearing messenger. More likely, it was sent to lead them to their deaths.

Zhuoxue held her breath and said nothing, her tail twitching restlessly from side to side.

The wisp of smoke was crushed between Longming’s fingers, vanishing in a gray puff—and at that instant, it let out a faint, hoarse wail. Such a strange and grating sound could only have come from the Yellow Spring Palace.

Finally, Zhuoxue allowed herself to relax. Her fluffy head rested on Longming’s shoulder as she asked in confusion, “What was that?”

“It was one breath of the King of the Underworld,” Longming replied coldly. That breath was truly well-hidden—anyone else might not have discovered it in time.

Zhuoxue glanced toward the muddy ground, suddenly afraid that countless vengeful ghosts and lost souls were already on their way. She quickly whipped her tail to smack Longming on the back, urging, “Then let’s get out of here, quick.”

Unhurried, Longming loosened the silk pouch and took out the life ledger. It was a thick volume—barely manageable in one hand.

But now, without the King of the Underworld’s ceremonial tablet and throne, there was no way to access it properly. No matter how she turned the pages, the life ledger remained blank.

“How did you find it?” Longming looked toward her shoulder.

Zhuoxue answered honestly, “By chance. Maybe I sensed it somehow.”

Out of billions of life ledgers, it was too much of a coincidence. Longming was briefly speechless, then asked again, “Then how were you certain this was the one?”

Zhuoxue vaguely remembered the contents, but with the book now blank, she had no proof. So she simply said, “There’s a red thread that connects it to me.”

“That’s the life thread,” Longming said as she returned the life ledger to the pouch. “Each soul has three ledgers across three lifetimes. All are linked to the soul by this thread. Did you read it in detail?”

With Longming so casually picking up and putting down the ledger, Zhuoxue suddenly decided not to reveal too much. After all, based solely on her words, there was no evidence that she was really Jueguang. And she certainly didn’t want to try persuading Longming with sentimental appeals—it would make her seem eager for recognition.

What she wanted was for Longming to miss her for a while longer. The more Longming yearned with unfulfilled longing, the more Zhuoxue found it satisfying.

All that playful mischief, repressed for a hundred years, had finally found release during her time in fox form—like untamed wild grass growing freely, with no need for restraint.

She answered vaguely, “I was reading it, but then you appeared. I thought the King of the Underworld had come back, so I quickly hid behind the bookshelf.”

“It just so happens that we can’t return to Lingkong Mountain for now,” Longming said thoughtfully. “Why not come with me to the human world for a while?”

“What for?” Zhuoxue turned to glance behind them, a little paranoid. “Is the King really going to catch up?”

“One breath from her can reach across ten thousand miles of ghost and spirit. If we head straight back to Lingkong Mountain now, all our previous efforts to evade her will be wasted.” Longming paused. “As it happens, to learn the full contents of the book, we’ll need help from the mistress of the Huangliang Dream Market—and that mistress resides in the mortal world.”

Before the fox could respond, the woman beneath her changed again.

Longming spun upward—not back into a white tiger, but into a vast, winged bird that spread across the sky, soaring through the blue sky.

The fox clung to the bird’s back, staring down at the endless earth below. She dared not move, afraid that a single slip would shatter her to pieces. She silently added another grudge against Longming to her mental tally.

The sky was crystal clear, blue, and boundless; it was a perfect day. Fortunately, the bird flew high—over a hundred meters in the air. If anyone looked up from the ground, they would surely think they had stumbled into a fairy tale. After all, how else could a bird be carrying a fox into the sky?

Zhuoxue looked down at the green mountains and rivers below, utterly entranced. In all her lives, this was the first time she had flown this high.

Now, with clouds brushing past her, she realized how small the lakes and rivers truly were—mere smudges on the earth. Even the sprawling cities below were no wider than her palm. Could it be that this whole world was just a corner torn from a celestial scroll? The great mountains and vast rivers below were nothing more than scattered strokes of ink on a scroll.

Wind howled past her ears. Zhuoxue had no idea where Longming’s ears were now that she’d taken the form of a bird. She pressed her face to the back of the flying bird’s neck and said, “Aren’t we going to the human world? Why are we still in the sky?”

The warmth of her breath had barely settled on the bird’s neck when the fierce wind swept it away.

Longming paused for a moment before replying calmly, “We need to shake off those ghosts first. They can burrow through the ground, but they might not dare rise straight into the sunlight.”

It was broad daylight—ghosts feared sunlight more than anything. There was no way they would ascend into the skies.

Zhuoxue, now like a charioteer driving a carriage, chanted under her breath, “Faster, faster—hya, hya!”

Suddenly, the flapping wings halted. Longming spoke with a peculiar tone, “Hya what?”

Hya? This is a royal expedition!

Moments ago, Zhuoxue had been slumped on her stomach. Now, she was spirited and alert, her words laced with laughter. “I don’t know. Back when I was in the mortal world, the commoners would shout something like that when they wanted to go faster. Doesn’t ‘hya hya hya’ mean ‘hurry hurry hurry’?” It was pure nonsense—feigned ignorance.

But it seemed to fool Longming. After a long pause, she only said, “It doesn’t. You misunderstood.”

(T/N: It is actually “jia”, a term of “to harness a cart to an animal to pull” so Zhuoxue is simply taking Longming as a cattle or horse)

Zhuoxue kept craning her neck downward, asking question after question—about the rivers, the counties, even the waterfalls in the cliffs. She wanted to know everything.

“Look at that river—like a silver ribbon, winding like nine loops of intestines. What river is that?”

“Huilong River.”

“That massive city, with rooftops lined up like the teeth of a comb—what city is that?”

“Yuhe City.”

“That hanging waterfall looks bigger than my thumbnail, and there are people nearby too. Does the waterfall have a name?”

“Thunderfall on the Sanqi Peaks.”

“That mountain, why is it suddenly a sheer cliff? The bottom is so deep I can’t see it, and it’s all green and lush.”

“Divine Echo Valley. They say one can hear the will of the heavens there.”

Zhuoxue was startled by how readily she got answers. “How do you know all this? Did you memorize the geography of the mortal world?”

The bird replied, “I didn’t spend all three hundred years in ignorance.”

Zhuoxue had originally thought that this white tiger—once the ruler of the Wugou River—must have cultivated for at least a thousand years. Otherwise, how could she go up against the millennia-old Holy Immortal Lanxiang? She never expected that Longming was only three hundred years old—just two hundred and eighty-two years older than herself. She wondered if, after another two hundred years of cultivation, she too could become like the Longming of today.

The bird dove downward, rapidly descending.

The vast forest below, once a blur of green, gradually resolved into clearly distinguishable ancient trees. Even the thread-like mountain paths unfolded visibly before her eyes.

Upon landing, Longming reverted to her human form. Her silver hair instantly turned black, and her eyes no longer stood out from those of ordinary mortals.

Zhuoxue nearly lost her grip on Longming’s shoulder and asked in confusion, “Should I turn into a human too?”

“I could go around with a fox who talks like a person. That wouldn’t be strange at all,” Longming replied, clearly sarcastic.

Zhuoxue gave a soft snort. “It’s not like I need to talk in front of mortals.”

Still, after she spoke, she leapt down from Longming’s back. Her body stretched and elongated into the form of a graceful young woman. The silver in her hair wasn’t enough to cover the black, so from a distance she simply looked like a young person with premature graying.

She looked around, unsure of direction, and asked with keen interest, “Are we off to find the Huangliang Dream Market now?”

Longming casually picked up a dry twig. With a single breath, the twig expanded like leavened dough.

That fragile twig turned, in the blink of an eye, into a fine carriage drawn by a white horse. Silk curtains with ink-like patterns draped over the windows. As the spring wind passed, the carriage bells jingled.

Longming clapped the dust from her hands and said lightly, “Yes. The mistress of the Dream Market has a way to make the life ledger show its words.”

“Is it far?” Zhuoxue poked and tapped around the carriage, unsure if it was sturdy. She worried it would fall apart the moment she sat down.

Longming couldn’t say. “Sometimes far, sometimes near. The Huangliang Dream Market drifts like duckweed, traveling across the land, resting wherever it pleases.”

“So the Dream Market mistress is like a traveling peddler?” Zhuoxue climbed into the carriage. “Why can’t you just send her a message?”

With a single clap, the previously still white horse came to life. It pawed the ground and flicked its tail. Aside from its vacant gaze, it looked no different from a living creature.

Longming didn’t enter the carriage. She took the reins and said, “The Dream Market opens only on the second, third, fourth, eighth, ninth, and tenth days of each month. On those days, the mistress is completely unreachable. We must seek the market itself to find her. And today just happens to be the eighth.”

“With less than ten days a month open, she still manages to run a business?” Zhuoxue was amazed. She remembered that shopkeepers elsewhere were all early risers, working harder than roosters and sleeping later than dogs.

Back then, if she wanted to steal a chicken, she had to avoid those diligent mortals.

She marveled, “If she doesn’t even need the King of the Underworld’s jade tablet to read the life ledger’s markings, then between her and the King, who’s really supposed to be working for the Underworld?”

“Kunlun Yaojing tasked the Underworld Lady with such an important duty, yet did not grant her full authority. However, there is a peculiar item in the capital called the Tear-Treasuring Eye—half an eye that weeps day and night like a spring. Take a drop the size of a rice grain and let it fall onto the life ledger, and it will reveal the truth,” Longming said slowly.

What a rare treasure. Zhuoxue was captivated, then asked in surprise, “Could she really get her hands on such a thing? But isn’t she a demon? How could she enter Kunlun Yaojing?”

“Minor immortals are occasionally granted rewards, which they can trade for what they need at the Dream Market,” Longming replied.

“I thought she must be some master thief, pulling off illusions to fool the heavens,” Zhuoxue said idly.

“In that case, her Dream Market would have been shut down by Kunlun Yaojing before it even opened,” Longming said with a light scoff.

Zhuoxue mused further that the Huangliang Dream Market probably wasn’t some simple market set up with fences and tents. After all, its visitors were demons or immortals—they couldn’t just parade about in the open. A place so unusual—if a mortal stumbled into it, they might write a legendary tale about it the very next day.

“Then how do you find the Dream Market?” Zhuoxue asked again.

“She uses a scent called Smoke and Rain Dream to guide demons and immortals there,” Longming said.

“What does it smell like?” Zhuoxue guessed from the name that it was probably the earthy scent after rain, though she wasn’t sure what the “dream” part implied.

“It’s hard to describe in a few words—you’ll know it when you smell it,” Longming said, flipping her hand to conjure a conical hat and placing it on her head for shade.

Her black hair billowed behind her, eyes dark as inkstone, carrying a faint smile—less aloof now, just lofty and untouchable.

Zhuoxue watched Longming ride ahead, lifted half the curtain, and leaned sideways to admire the mountain scenery. This was her first time riding in a horse-drawn carriage. She had never understood how mortals, without magical powers, could travel a thousand miles in a day. Now she saw—when the wooden shaft rolled and the horses galloped, they really could cover a hundred feet in an instant.

The carriage rocked gently, making her drowsy—but just as she was about to close her eyes, she was startled awake by a sudden heat.

Zhuoxue hissed softly, touching the back of her neck. “The King of the Underworld may be gone, but the Nightmare King is probably already on his way.”

“What makes you say that?” Longming frowned.

“My neck’s burning hot.” Zhuoxue had curled herself on the soft mat, legs tucked pitifully in front of her. As the carriage jolted, the silver bells on her ankles jingled, ringing in harmony with the chimes outside.

Longming flicked her fingers to cast a spell on the white horse, then released the reins and stepped into the carriage.

Sure enough, the outline of a sigil reappeared on the back of the fox’s neck. The chaotic brushstrokes glowed brightly, like the endless winding mountain paths, stretching beneath her collar.

Longming had no choice but to press her palm close and release cold energy to ease the heat. She said softly, “Focus. Channel your spiritual power, disperse the pain and itch through your meridians, and use your demonic core to suppress the sigil’s agitation.”

Whether Zhuoxue managed it or not was unclear—half her face was hidden under sweat-soaked strands of hair, making her skin appear ghostly pale.

When the sigil finally faded, Longming brushed aside her damp hair and, as expected, found her sound asleep.

***

The carriage passed over mountain passes, even rolling across a narrow beam above rushing rapids. It traveled through deserted forests and past smoky village chimneys, and eventually even crossed a thirty-foot-high city wall, silently entering a bustling city.

Outside the window, the streets bustled with people and horses, full of noise and life.

Zhuoxue woke, clutching the back of her neck, belatedly realizing the burning pain had subsided. She lifted the curtain and peeked out the window, startled by what she saw: ornate rooftops layered upon one another, every tile glazed in colored glass—truly magnificent.

Where had she been brought?

A voice came from outside the carriage, “Awake?”

“Barely,” Zhuoxue said. “The heat nearly knocked me unconscious.”

The voice replied, “Now it’s my turn to ask—where is this place?”

Zhuoxue was still staring out the window and answered without thinking, “Pingyang.”

Longming was momentarily speechless. After a pause, she asked, “Why Pingyang?”

Zhuoxue looked at the lively streets again, then at the mighty demon who had somehow descended to the Mortal Realm. She hesitated slightly, then said, “Maybe… because the tiger has fallen to Pingyang?”

(T/N: The complete phrase is “A dragon in shallow water is bullied by shrimps; a tiger in plain lands (Pingyang, same characters) is bullied by dogs”, which means the fall of a high person due to the difference in environment)