Ordered to Marry by the High King - Chapter 42

The night was misty. The surroundings were deathly silent; the villagers who had followed must not be too close, as they hadn’t heard the commotion.

Zhuoxue was terrified, muttering repeated apologies in her heart. She had offended Longming badly, but it couldn’t be helped—circumstances were urgent. Let Longming be angry if she must, but hopefully she wouldn’t take it out on Zhuoxue directly. Still, had she not been inside this nightmare realm, she wouldn’t have known she possessed divine strength—strong enough to knock out Longming with just a gourd ladle.

Apparently, a good ladle could rival a magic weapon.

Zhuoxue hoisted up Longming, looking for all the world like a murderer burying a body on a rainy night. She crept forward, stooping low and glancing nervously in all directions. She sneaked toward puddles on purpose, to avoid leaving muddy footprints that the heavy rain wouldn’t wash away—no trace for others to follow. All those past times she snuck down the mountain behind Lanhui’s back to steal chickens had trained her well—who knew it’d come in handy now.

Half of Longming’s body dragged along the ground as the fox pulled her forward. Ripples swirled across the puddles, blurred into nothing by the rain.

The ladle had proved so useful that Zhuoxue couldn’t bear to leave it behind. She tucked it into her waistband. At a glance, it looked like she was carrying a gourd flask—but only half of one. It couldn’t hold any elixirs, but it could knock someone out on contact.

Zhuoxue trudged through the rain, then stopped to remove her raincloak and laid it over Longming. She also fished out a handkerchief and stuffed it into Longming’s mouth to gag her.

Longming was half-sitting on the ground. It was too late to keep her dry now—the cloak was mostly to cover her face, in case the villagers caught up and didn’t immediately recognize her as a person.

Just then, Zhuoxue didn’t dare look too closely at Longming. This went far beyond simple offense—it was outright blasphemy toward the demon lord.

But the deed was done. With a surge of resolve, Zhuoxue dragged Longming all the way to a cornfield half a kilometre away. The corn stalks were taller than a person—plenty good for hiding. She let out a long breath, tilting her face to the sky and letting the cold rain beat down. Her body was burning hot, like a boiling cauldron, her very breath seething with heat.

She looked down at the motionless Longming. That pale, cold face showed no emotion. Unable to resist, she crouched and stared for a long time.

Right now, Longming bore ordinary black hair and lacked the dark, sharp marks on her face. Without that usual piercing presence, she looked almost pretty.

A different thought crept into Zhuoxue’s mind—she wanted to do everything she’d never gotten the chance to on Lingkong Mountain. At this point, Longming would be furious regardless—what difference would a little more fuel on the fire make?

Throwing caution to the wind, Zhuoxue rolled Longming onto her side, then took a deep breath of the earthy rain-soaked air.

There would be no second chance. Raising her hand, she let her slender fingers fall just beneath Longming’s waist.

Like swatting a mosquito—one quick touch, and then she pulled away.

A fox with determination always succeeds.

With that sudden motion, she hurriedly rolled Longming back onto her back, pretending nothing had happened.

Zhuoxue, for all her mischief, still hoped Longming would wake soon. She watched for a long moment, wondering if Longming, now stripped of her demon power, might be cold. With a sigh, she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around her tightly. Her own body was scalding hot—so much so that even the rain felt like boiling water as it hit her. Longming wouldn’t freeze like this.

Two demons pressed close—one imposing her will, the other with no say in the matter. If Suli saw this, even jumping into the great river couldn’t cleanse her reputation. She had knocked Longming out, dragged her here, and now clung to her—wasn’t that a sign of longing?

If there were a courthouse nearby, she’d go bang the drum and confess herself.

Thankfully, there wasn’t.

But even after half an hour, Longming didn’t wake.

Zhuoxue, out of options, strapped the swaddled bundle with the brocade pouch to her own back, as if carrying a child. She wrapped the ropes again and again, dizzying herself in the process. If someone tried to snatch it, they wouldn’t be able to untie it anytime soon.

Another half hour passed before Longming’s fingers twitched, like she was about to wake. Zhuoxue’s heart was in her throat—if even this didn’t wake Longming, she truly had no other choice.

The great demon in her arms suddenly opened her eyes, startled by the face so close to hers—a rare expression of surprise flickered across her face.

No wonder she was stunned—when it came to beauty, no demon was fairer than a fox.

Right now, washed by the rain, Zhuoxue looked like she was veiled in mist, an ethereal creature one couldn’t quite see clearly.

Longming’s brows knit tightly, confusion clouding her face.

She didn’t immediately shove Zhuoxue away—perhaps too stunned to process everything. She couldn’t understand why this sly fox had left her such suggestive letters, or said such ambiguous things earlier.

Sensing this wasn’t the usual Longming, Zhuoxue lowered her head to meet her questioning gaze and said with a smile, “You’re awake.”

Longming snapped out of it, abruptly pushed Zhuoxue away, and rolled out of her arms—immediately catching sight of the swaddle half visible behind Zhuoxue’s back. Her voice turned cold. “Return the child to me!”

Forget the bell tower of Yunjing—this was the real world wonder now.

Zhuoxue paused for a beat, then refused. She raised her voice and said, “It’s in my hands now—so it’s mine.”

Longming’s gaze turned icy. “You’ve gone mad. What does this child have to do with you?”

Zhuoxue simply played the fool. Longming wasn’t fully herself right now—she just needed to stall with a few lies to fool the Nightmare demon. She looked puzzled and responded, “What’s yours is mine, and what’s mine is still mine. How could it have nothing to do with me?” That letter was already written—she might as well go all in and completely play the part of a lovesick fool who loved in vain. She had read and heard enough romance stories to have a hundred kinds of deranged lovers in her head; surely one of them could match the scene now.

Longming looked at her like she was mad, lunging forward to snatch the bundle back. Without any magic or demonic power, and lacking her usual intimidating presence, she truly had to fight hand-to-hand.

Zhuoxue, thinking herself still clear-headed, believed that her pitiful skills could defeat Longming. She didn’t expect to be completely overpowered—her limbs pinned down, lying flat in the cornfield, unable to move.

Longming leaned over her, her expression indifferent.

Zhuoxue was burning up, but her eyes still shone like stars, bright and clever. She sneered. “It’s mine, so I won’t allow you to send it up the mountain on your own.”

“You’re going up the mountain too,” Longming said coolly.

Zhuoxue was startled. “You really despise me that much? You insist on sending me to my death?”

These words made Longming pause for a moment before she replied, “There’s no hatred. We’re strangers. It’s just that the divination revealed the fox spirit named you.”

There was divination involved?

What fox spirit—it was clearly the Nightmare Clan trying to get her killed.

Zhuoxue smiled and lay still, her long hair fanned out beside her, half her body covered in mud, beautiful like unpolished jade. Feigning sudden realization, she said, “So, you don’t really want me to die. You do feel a bit of pity for me, don’t you?”

She was clearly twisting logic.

Longming was momentarily at a loss for words and reached forward again, but Zhuoxue lay completely flat, tightly pressing the bundle beneath her. If that had been a real baby, it would have been smothered by now.

Zhuoxue panted lightly from exhaustion. She pushed at Longming’s shoulders, and after their scuffle, her collar was slightly open. Her body was visibly fairer than the mud clinging to it.

Longming hesitated slightly.

Zhuoxue squinted at her and said, “You’re so unwilling to let go of this child, refusing to abandon it even though it’s seriously ill. So why now, are you suddenly able to harden your heart and offer it to the fox spirit?”

Longming stayed silent for a while before replying blandly, “The villagers want to survive. If Qiufeng Village wishes for peace and prosperity, it cannot offend the fox spirit. All those chosen by the fox spirit are considered blessed. They are not being sent to their deaths—they are helping to build a better future for the village.”

What a way to describe sacrifice. Zhuoxue was dumbfounded, thinking that if Longming were in her right mind, she’d probably want to bash herself with that ladle too.

Zhuoxue bent her knee to block Longming from approaching, furious. “Why don’t you ask those who were forced to die if they feel lucky?”

Longming looked down at her. “Some people can’t come to terms with it and choose to die on their own. Fortunately, the fox spirit is merciful—so long as Qiufeng Village provides replacements, there won’t be punishment. Only the next year’s harvest will be a bit smaller.”

Zhuoxue couldn’t take it anymore. She snapped, “Clearly, you didn’t care that much for your old friend after all. You gave her up just like that.”

“I—” Longming suddenly stopped. A trace of sorrow flickered in her eyes. “I should let go of the past too.”

What? She dares forget Jueguang?

Zhuoxue had truly had enough. She silently picked up the ladle and gave Longming another solid knock on the head. Luckily, though her powers were sealed, Longming’s body—honed over three hundred years of cultivation—was surely as sturdy as stone, indestructible.

Sure enough, Longming went soft and limp, fainting once more, collapsing right on top of Zhuoxue, pressing down hard.

Zhuoxue tossed aside the ladle. Longming’s hair brushed against her cheek, tickling slightly, and she suddenly felt lost. 

The heat was unbearable. Warm breath landed softly by her ear. She felt herself melting again, turning into soft spring silk—all mush and no bones.

After a long while, Zhuoxue finally recovered and was now certain: Longming was under some kind of enchantment.

To affect Longming this deeply, the spellcaster must be none other than the Nightmare King.

In the cornfield, a shadow peeked out furtively. Seeing no one around, it quickly dragged the unconscious woman into the deep woods.

On the way to find the tree hollow, Zhuoxue suddenly noticed a footprint. Judging by the size, it clearly wasn’t left by Suli.

The villagers had followed Longming out. Seeing no signal from her for so long, they must have realized something was wrong and were now searching the area. They’d skipped this forest earlier, but now they wouldn’t overlook it.

But Zhuoxue was already inside. Turning back would be riskier than hiding deeper within.

She struggled to drag Longming, and sure enough, voices echoed from afar—villagers calling out to one another.

“She’s not here. Where did those two girls go?!”

“Nothing on my side either!”

“No wonder we couldn’t find the body these past few days—it was them playing tricks!”

The voices drew closer. With no other choice, Zhuoxue clutched Longming tight and dove into a nearby pond. Luckily, the pond was surrounded by jagged rocks, and the water wasn’t too deep—just enough to cover their heads. The water was murky. Floating before her were Longming’s strands of hair, drifting like waterweed, curling around Zhuoxue’s neck. Longming’s eyes were tightly shut. Her long lashes didn’t flutter even once. She looked, in that moment, just like a beauty who had drowned.

Zhuoxue stared in a daze, afraid that Longming might really drown. She herself was close to running out of breath, yet she couldn’t help but lean in a little closer.

Their lips were just a breath apart—barely a hair’s width away.

She was about to breathe air into Longming, unwilling to let her die like this.

If she died within a nightmare, she might never wake up again.

In that brief instant, the demon who seemed as though she had drowned suddenly opened her eyes. Her gaze was calm and clear, completely different from before.

Zhuoxue, unable to hold her breath any longer, faintly heard that the patrolling villagers had moved away. Finally, she surfaced and leaned on the edge of the pool, coughing uncontrollably.

With a splash, Longming also emerged from the water. Without warning, she grabbed Zhuoxue by the back of the neck and flipped her onto the ground.

Zhuoxue stopped coughing and lay silently, looking up at Longming. The corners of her eyes were red, like ripe cherries, so vividly red that one could easily think of sweet, juicy fruit. She didn’t resist. From that one glance, she could tell that Longming had regained her senses.

Longming released her grip on Zhuoxue’s neck, then without a word, lowered her head and quickly untied the swaddling cloth. Her eyes were dark and unreadable. No matter what shocking things she might have said earlier, at this moment she wore an expression of total calm. It was hard to tell whether she was forcing this normalcy, fearing that if she showed even a hint of emotion, she’d completely lose her composure. Her slender fingers brushed Zhuoxue’s neck, grazing the burning edge of her ear flushed from emotion.

Zhuoxue, tossed to the side, started coughing again. The swaddling bundle slipped from her back and was swiftly taken up by Longming. She turned suspiciously, cursing in her heart—she must be faking it. This big tiger wasn’t even a little flustered, not the slightest bit angry.

Cradling the bundle in one arm, Longming gathered both of Zhuoxue’s wrists with one hand and said coldly, “You must go up the mountain.”

What a turn of events—it was Zhuoxue who got hit on the neck this time. But Longming’s strike was far too light, like a gentle scratch.

Zhuoxue figured, Hitting that lightly, surely it wasn’t out of revenge. She paused for a second, then pretended to faint, closed her eyes, and just went ahead and fell asleep.

After two exhausting days, the little fox started softly snoring. Longming hoisted her up onto her back. With her body against Longming’s, it felt like resting against a ball of fire. One moment of clarity told Longming exactly what was going on.

If one tries to calm the mind without fully settling it, and their thoughts remain chaotic, they’re especially vulnerable to falling into a nightmare realm.

Just then, the little fox was flushed with desire and deeply disoriented—even if a nightmare took advantage, it couldn’t fully cloud her mind.

***

Zhuoxue fell into a deep sleep. When she awoke, the world was noisy and chaotic. It sounded cheerful—villagers laughing and drinking merrily.

The room she was in now was much sturdier than the old thatched hut. At least the windows didn’t let in wind, and the roof didn’t leak.

Looking around at all the clutter, she realized this must be a storage room. At least Longming had been kind enough to give her a straw mat.

Zhuoxue yawned and got up. She tugged at the door a couple of times, but it didn’t budge, so she let it be. She turned and poked a hole through the paper-covered window lattice and saw the villagers holding a banquet in the rain. A crowd of them were rejoicing, raising their arms in song—it looked like a demonic carnival.

Suddenly, the door creaked open. The great demon entered with the bundle in her arms, walking slowly but confidently, her gaze once again sharp with purpose. 

Behind her came another person, carrying a low table. Ink, brush, paper, and an inkstone were placed upon it.

That person bent to set it up, not daring to look at Zhuoxue. Once the ink was ground, he handed her a brush and sighed, “It’s almost time to leave. If there’s anything you want to say, write it down.”

Zhuoxue looked at Longming, then reached out her left hand to take the brush.

Longming asked, “Why aren’t you using your right hand to write?”