Ordered to Marry by the High King - Chapter 46

The fox didn’t know who she had bitten, but she bit down with great force. Even as her teeth ached and her tongue grew numb, she refused to let go. A couple of muffled whimpers escaped her lips, and her other hand dangled at her side, scratching at the ground in discomfort. Her fingers became caked with mud and sand. At this rate, she’d soon be scratching until she bled.

Fortunately, once the barrier was raised, no insect or beast could enter, and neither birdsong nor chirping could escape. All was silent. At this moment, the only thing in turmoil was the heart beating beneath her chest.

The fox was unsettled, and Longming wasn’t much calmer either. She caught the fox’s scratching hand and blew away the dirt between her fingers. A faint snort escaped her—it sounded like mockery, but perhaps it wasn’t.

“When you were biting me, you still remembered to hold my hand. But when you were clawing at the ground, you forgot?” Her voice was cold, but not to the bone—it was like thin ice over a river, ready to crack under a single step.

What was she saying?

The fox couldn’t quite hear. The unbearable heat was rushing through her like a storm, clouding her mind completely. Sweat poured down her body. She clamped tightly onto Longming’s wrist, refusing to let go even after she drew blood. Yet Longming seemed entirely unaffected, as if willing to let her bite until her teeth sank to the bone.

“What? What did you say?” Zhuoxue murmured, her voice muddled. Her previously dazed eyes now gleamed like polished jade and gold. Her gaze shimmered with clarity—it carried no emotion, no desire, like a bolt of unbleached silk.

Though driven by the fever of passion, she wasn’t bound by lust. She didn’t understand desire—she simply sought coolness and instinctively leaned into it. It felt good, but it wasn’t enough—like a lone boat adrift at sea, unable to find shore.

Tasting the blood, Zhuoxue licked like a beast, savoring the sweet, metallic flavor, then bared her teeth and bit again.

Such sharp teeth.

Longming didn’t move. Her wrist was now covered in bloody marks, but she didn’t even glance down. The barrier was too narrow; the air couldn’t circulate. The space became oppressively stuffy. The heat radiating from the fox gradually overtook the coolness in her body. She seemed to have plunged into a boiling pot, sweat soaking her forehead and hair.

“Zhuoxue, don’t move,” Longming called.

Zhuoxue had bitten for a long time, yet still felt unsatisfied. She finally let go of Longming’s wrist and collapsed limply downward.

The boat was about to capsize—why couldn’t it reach the shore?

Zhuoxue felt wronged. She clutched tightly at Longming’s sleeve, looked up without a word, and thought, Save me—why won’t you save me?

As Longming was being clung to, she let herself sit down. Her black hair faded away, returning to its original long silver form. Her crimson eyes were hauntingly cold, and the two black streaks beneath them shot up to her temples like slashes from a blood moon shrouded in dark clouds. 

Thankfully, with the barrier in place, even if someone ventured into the forest at night, they’d notice nothing strange—only the eerie wind all around.

No sooner had Longming sat than a damp arm reached around her. The fox seemed to treat her like a bed of ice, wrapping around her and sinking downward. Her head rested squarely against Longming’s chest. The top of her snowy-white head, nearly matching her fox fur, nudged gently at her neck.

“What? What did you just say?” Zhuoxue still couldn’t hear. She pressed her cheek to Longming’s face and slowly turned her ear toward her.

Longming saw that her ear had flushed pink—like the flesh of a peach, half-white, half-red. “I told you not to move anymore,” she said.

Zhuoxue looked puzzled. She clearly still didn’t understand. She didn’t know how to ease her discomfort—only how to cling, only how to pant and whimper softly. But the more she squirmed, the worse she felt—like an overripe peach, with skin so thin that the slightest scrape would cause juice to pour out.

Then, from amidst the silver and black strands of her hair, a pair of fox ears suddenly sprouted, and her tail flicked out, brushing against Longming’s leg.

Longming was briefly surprised. Transforming required demonic energy. When she checked Zhuoxue’s spiritual core again, sure enough—it was completely empty.

Utterly barren. Spotless.

This time, no matter what, the demon core couldn’t absorb another drop of spiritual power. Zhuoxue had none left to give.

Suddenly, Zhuoxue choked on a sob. Her tears fell into the hollow of Longming’s neck. She didn’t know what to do with the agony inside her. She clutched Longming’s sleeve tightly and cried, her entire body trembling.

Longming lifted a hand to brush her shoulder, eyes half-closed. She raised her arm and looked at the shimmering moisture on her fingertips—it looked like moonlight spun into thread.

“It hurts so much, Longming,” said Zhuoxue.

“Don’t cry,” Longming murmured, lowering her head.

Zhuoxue stopped crying. With her face buried in Longming’s chest, she muttered, “I’m going to die. And you’re just going to let me.”

This wasn’t anywhere close to death—but no matter how Longming explained it now, Zhuoxue wouldn’t hear a word of it.

The drop of crystal on Longming’s fingertip was about to fall. After a long while, she finally said, “Look at me.”

This time, she actually heard.

Zhuoxue tilted her head slightly, her eyes landing on Longming’s face. Her eyes were dewy, ready to rain—her entire gaze moist and glistening.

Longming reached forward and gently pressed that tear on her fingertip to the center of Zhuoxue’s forehead, leaving behind a faint, glowing mark.

Even the slightest touch was unbearable—any contact could trigger a storm within.

Zhuoxue shuddered violently. Tears welled at the corners of her eyes, and even as they fell, they brought with them an overwhelming ticklishness. She stuck out her tongue, licking the tear that had rolled down her cheek, tasting its salty flavor.

Longming’s index finger still pressed against the fox’s brow. Maintaining that posture, she slowly channeled spiritual energy into her. The energy flowed gently through the fox’s body—it avoided her spiritual meridians, so the demon core wouldn’t consume it. Nor did it surge wildly. Instead, it followed the flow of blood and qi, seeping through every inch of her body. Wherever the spiritual energy passed, it stirred waves of tremors.

“What’s going on… inside?” Zhuoxue’s voice was as soft as drifting willow fluff. She struggled to lift herself up, the other hand brushing along her own body. Wherever the spiritual energy shifted half an inch, her fingertips followed it the same distance.

Touching herself, a light moan slipped from her lips despite her attempts to suppress it. The drifting boat had finally found a sense of direction—it swayed from east to west, searching for a way to survive.

Her robe slipped off her shoulders, the beaded sash at her waist became tangled from her fumbling. Following the spiritual energy downward, her fingers slowly explored, and when the pads of her fingers reached below her belly, she gasped sharply.

Longming abruptly withdrew the spiritual energy—she… could only help this far.

In that instant, Zhuoxue once again became a vine too limp to prop up, collapsing heavily onto Longming.

The boat rocked, crashing into dense mist, and once again all sense of direction was lost. How could she ever reach the shore, oh how could she ever reach the shore?

Zhuoxue’s golden eyes had finally been stained with desire, yet she still didn’t fully understand it—hazy and muddled, without clarity. With no more spiritual energy to guide her, she felt lost and empty, as though her spiritual channels were hollowed out, impossible to fill. Her hand pressed below her navel, slowly lifting her skirt, but even when her fingers touched bare skin, something still felt missing.

The boat would have to pass through the sea fog before the path ahead could be seen clearly.

She hadn’t reached deep enough—she had to go further in, had to be more intimate, just like where the spiritual energy had been moments ago.

Zhuoxue reached a damp and tender spot, her fingertip probing into the hidden valley, and a soft gasp escaped her lips.

“What is this?” Zhuoxue looked up at Longming, her hand moving gently, and her breathing immediately turned fragmented and broken.

Longming gave no reply.

Zhuoxue tried again. Even her shoulder blades turned numb from the sensation. Her head drooped so low, she could no longer lift it.

The silver moon hung high, thin clouds drifting back and forth—who knew how many times they had come and gone. In the dark forest, the wind whispered low, shadows of trees swayed on all sides, overlapping like entwined silhouettes.

After a long time, sensing that Zhuoxue’s breathing had finally calmed, Longming at last raised her arm and once again touched the fox’s brow—this time, to erase the memory from Zhuoxue’s spiritual platform. Peering again into Zhuoxue’s spirit, she saw the demon core had once again been shrouded in murk, as if the layer it had just shed had been wrapped around it anew.

Longming had never witnessed such a phenomenon. She placed her hand against Zhuoxue’s nape, and to her surprise, no matter how she tried to activate the seal, the sigil didn’t glow at all. It was utterly still. If she hadn’t seen it clearly before, she might have thought it had been broken completely.

Indeed, the seal had burned away halfway, but half of it still remained.

Longming pondered—the demon core now stood in balance against the seal. If Zhuoxue managed to break through her cultivation realm, the seal would surely shatter. That’s why the demon core was desperate to evolve, yearning to absorb all the spiritual energy it could. Most likely, only after that breakthrough would the devoured spiritual energy come pouring back out of the abyss, returning to the spiritual channels and core.

Longming had released her spiritual energy partly to test the demon core, and partly to give Zhuoxue some means of protecting herself. Just as she suspected, no matter how much spiritual energy she offered, it was all devoured by the demon core, leaving nothing behind. With no alternative, she could only cast a suppression spell to relieve Zhuoxue’s discomfort. But this was no long-term solution—suppress it too long, and it would spiral out of control.

***

The next day, the carriage rocked and jolted—not entering Yunjing again, but winding along a narrow, twisting mountain path toward a mountain city.

When Zhuoxue awoke, her head throbbed painfully. She slowly opened her eyes and only upon sitting up realized that her side had been cushioned with soft pillows. Her headache hadn’t come from the carriage at all.

Why was she on the road again? Had the seal on her neck overwhelmed her into unconsciousness once more?

She lifted the curtain and saw Longming driving the horses.

Beneath Longming’s bamboo hat, her black hair swayed slightly in the wind—there was no trace of white now. It seemed she had returned to her mortal form again.

One glance was all it took. Zhuoxue immediately let go of the curtain and grabbed a fistful of her own hair, trembling as she said, “Longming, my hair… it’s half black now.” She used to hate how her beast form was so pure white—so conspicuous. If an enemy appeared, even hiding was a challenge. Now even her human hair was turning white. It was bitterly bleak.

From outside the curtain, Longming said unhurriedly, “If you had broken through your realm, it would’ve turned completely white by now.”

Zhuoxue froze. “So… I didn’t break through?”

“You broke through once,” said Longming. “Most demons can’t break through twice in a row. But you did. It’s just that the second time, you didn’t have enough spiritual energy to reach the end.”

Only now did Zhuoxue realize she couldn’t summon a single thread of spiritual energy anymore. How was this any different from when she had first taken human form? All she had left was a body slightly sturdier than a mortal’s.

“How did this happen? Where’s my spiritual energy?” Zhuoxue asked, voice trembling. “Even if I failed my tribulation, it shouldn’t have ended like this.”

Longming replied coolly, “Your demon core is unlike the others. Right now, the spiritual energy within it is just enough to counterbalance the seal. It’s desperate to evolve. Either you stay in this state, or—you seek out more spiritual energy to fill it.”

“What a huge appetite,” Zhuoxue marveled. So it was like master, like core. She really had been too gluttonous.

“Right now, no matter how much spiritual energy you take in, it’ll all be absorbed by the demon core,” Longming added.

Zhuoxue was silent for a moment. Suddenly, she reached up to the top of her head and touched a pair of fox ears. Then she reached behind herself and, as expected, felt her fox tail. She was on the verge of tears. “Then how can I change my appearance now? Before, I could get by without caring. But now, my hair’s half white, and I’m stuck with these fuzzy ears.”

The wind lifted the hanging curtain. Longming turned her head to meet the fox’s bright golden eyes. She smiled calmly and said, “I cast a spell on you. No one but you and me can see your true form. It won’t be a problem.”

Zhuoxue was mostly reassured but asked in confusion, “All I remember from last night is those three bolts of lightning. Did I pass out from the pain of the seal, or was I knocked out by the heavenly thunder?”

“The thunder,” Longming replied indifferently.

Zhuoxue furrowed her brow. “I thought only great demons have to endure lightning tribulations when breaking through their realm. Why did it strike me without reason?”

“My guess is, it was Tianji’s doing,” said Longming. “The seal fluctuated last night, and he must have sensed it.”

“So the heavenly thunder didn’t come for me because I was special. It was because I was being manipulated.” Zhuoxue sounded a bit disappointed. She moved closer to the edge of the carriage. “So after that, you made this carriage and took me away?”

“Mm.” Longming gave no more than that.

Zhuoxue placed a hand on her waist and lower abdomen. “Will my spiritual energy come back?”

“Of course,” said Longming. “Once your cultivation realm breaks through, the demon core will release all the spiritual energy it’s taken.”

That eased Zhuoxue’s anxiety. She just didn’t know how much more energy the demon core would need before it was satisfied.

She exhaled gently, then asked, “We left in such a hurry last night, I didn’t get a chance to ask—when we were inside the nightmare, if someone broke the rules of the dream, would they die? Or what happens?”

Longming replied, “Violating the flow or laws of that world will cause the nightmare to corrode one’s spirit. Even the Nightmare King himself cannot act recklessly inside a dream.”

“But that Nightmare King clearly had countless methods—he took the pouch directly in the dream,” Zhuoxue mused.

Longming smirked. “I cast a spell on that pouch. Unless I give it up myself, no one can take it. And he wouldn’t dare step beyond the edge of the nightmare realm. Once his mind becomes confused, he won’t be able to escape.”

Zhuoxue felt a lingering sense of fear. “Good thing he didn’t appear in Yunjing himself. If he’d struck while we were trapped in the nightmare, he could’ve killed us from outside.”

Longming sneered, “There are too many immortals in Yunjing. Not all of them side with Tianji. How could he dare to stir up trouble under Tianji’s name?”

Zhuoxue nodded slightly. Even though she’d only just woken up, she already felt exhausted again—likely because her spirit platform was too depleted, leaving her body drained of strength. She lay back down, poking and prodding the soft pillows around her, still unable to figure out how Longming had suddenly become so thoughtful—even protecting her head.

Could it be that those three heavenly bolts hadn’t just struck her, but scrambled Longming’s mind as well? But that didn’t make sense. Longming had just spoken with perfect clarity—not like someone who had lost their senses.

Why, then?

Her expression didn’t resemble someone who had realized Zhuoxue was Jueguang. If she had, wouldn’t she have wept with joy and transformed into a white tiger, curling up at her knees?

Zhuoxue couldn’t figure it out. In the end, she simply concluded—Longming must have been frightened by her two enormous “ladles.”