Ordered to Marry by the High King - Chapter 48

Their gazes met. Perhaps it was because the fox was staring so intently, with a hint of curiosity, that Longming slightly shifted her gaze, looking only at the fox’s temples.

“I looked,” Longming said calmly and composedly. 

She did look, but not completely.

What lay before her was a fragment of light, a sudden wave in a vast ocean, a single drop in a silent, nourishing rain. What surged was the sea of her heart; what was moistened by the rain was her dried-up thoughts.

“Two steps?” Zhuoxue muttered. “You’re probably trying to fool me. From here to the high platform above, that’s way more than two steps.” 

Did she really look that gullible?

Longming simply turned back, tossed the conical hat in her hand aside, and swiftly used a hairpin, which appeared out of thin air, to tie up her long hair. There was no one else around. As soon as the hat hit the ground, it turned to ash and vanished without a trace. With her hair tied up, the great demon looked efficient and capable. She turned around, her back facing Zhuoxue, the nape of her neck under the moonlight pale and smooth like satin.

Zhuoxue muttered internally, What are you, a bird? Go on, spread your wings then.

“Didn’t you say you were tired?” Longming glanced sideways. “Get on.”

Familiarity breeds comfort. Zhuoxue climbed onto Longming’s back once more, much more well-behaved this time. After all, she was already tired of the mountain city’s markets and no longer felt the urge to glance around curiously.

Longming said, “If you can break through your next cultivation stage, you won’t feel so exhausted.”

Zhuoxue wanted to break through too, but spiritual energy didn’t just come to her out of thin air. She picked up a strand of her own hair, grumbling, “Where am I supposed to find the spiritual energy I’m lacking?” The only one around her who had abundant spiritual energy was Longming. If she asked Longming to give her her energy, and some villain attacked while she was weakened, they’d both end up staring at each other in helpless silence—nothing left to do but cry. She’d rather soak up more essence from the sun and moon, study spells harder, than drain Longming.

She couldn’t take more from the Nightmare King either. His spiritual energy never returned once taken. He was probably still fuming.

“When we retrieve the Tear-Treasuring Eye of Yaojing, we’ll return to Lingkong Mountain at once,” Longming said, already planning it out. “You’ll stay there, and I’ll go to Buzhou Mountain to find you a medicine.”

Buzhou Mountain was the closest place to Kunlun Yaojing, but living beings were rarely seen there. It snowed year-round, was frozen for thousands of miles, and the cold was extreme—spiritual protection was of no use. If a demon insisted on entering, she’d have to endure the corrosion of the divine light of Yaojing. Few would willingly seek that kind of suffering.

Zhuoxue had heard of it before and knew how dangerous Buzhou Mountain was. She asked in shock, “Isn’t there another way? Even soaking in the cold spring for half a month wouldn’t be enough to break through?”

“The spring’s spiritual energy is limited. If drained completely, it takes time to recover,” Longming said mildly. “We also don’t know exactly how much energy your demon core is still lacking—half a month might be enough, or it might not.”

Zhuoxue blew into her palm, sending her strands of hair fluttering.

“Unless we can retrieve Wugou River. Among the Demon Realm, only that place has abundant spiritual energy,” Longming sneered coldly.

“If you’re going to Buzhou Mountain, then I’m coming with you,” said Zhuoxue.

“It’s bitter cold up there.” Longming neither agreed nor refused.

“Then I’ll wait for you at the foot of the mountain. If we’re talking danger, then without you, Lingkong Mountain could turn into a dragon’s pool and tiger’s—” Zhuoxue paused, then corrected herself, “—a dragon’s pool and a wolf’s den.” After all, Lingkong Mountain was already a tiger’s den.

Longming chuckled softly.

***

The great demon slowly approached the scent of Smoke and Rain Dream, but Muhui City remained just Muhui City. Some mortals were still out hawking wares under the night sky, but not a single demon was calling out.

Zhuoxue looked downhill and suddenly noticed that Longming had stopped in her tracks.

“Strange,” Longming said coldly. “The Dream Market has never opened inside the city before. Last time in Yunjing, I smelled the scent of Smoke and Rain Dream, but the most concentrated location was clearly the outskirts, a mile away.”

Zhuoxue pondered. “Could it be that this place lacks a guardian deity, so the owner of the dream market is acting without restraint?”

Longming clenched her hand in midair and turned her head. “Get down for now.”

Zhuoxue slowly jumped down. After being carried the whole way, she felt completely refreshed. She was just wondering why she was being told to get down. Her lips had barely parted to ask, when her chin was firmly caught by Longming. Longming suddenly leaned in and stuffed an invisible, colorless object into her mouth.

That stench—muddy and rotten—shot straight up into her brain. It was worse than a bolt from the blue; it felt like her lungs and brain had been soaked through by the foul odor. If Longming hadn’t forced it on her, she wouldn’t have swallowed it voluntarily even if someone skinned her and turned her into a fox pelt.

Zhuoxue’s eyes went wide—and then, the world before her changed drastically. The mountain city remained the mountain city, but its people had vanished without a trace. The dim lanterns had been replaced with walls of red ones. Figures moved in the distance. Looking more closely, they weren’t human—some were demons with trailing snake tails, others were magpies with wings. Everyone wore ghost masks to conceal their true faces.

At the entrance, a small demon was distributing ghost masks and wooden tokens to guests.

When Longming approached, the little demon recognized her immediately as the demon lord of the Cangqiong Realm. Without a word, she handed over a token and mask, bowing low. “My lord, it’s been a while.”

“Give me another token,” Longming said.

Only then did the little demon notice that someone was following behind the demon lord. That silver hair and golden eyes were rare, but those features—so strikingly beautiful—might not be found again across the three realms. She was momentarily entranced.

Zhuoxue was half-hidden behind Longming, her pale palm stretched out, silently asking for the token and mask. She didn’t know what the wooden token was for, but getting it couldn’t hurt.

The little demon snapped out of her daze, quickly picked out a beautiful ghost mask and carefully placed it in Zhuoxue’s hand. Then she selected a token with finely carved characters and respectfully offered it with both hands.

Zhuoxue turned the ghost mask over in her hands curiously, then eagerly put it on. Unexpectedly, the moment she wore it, the mask adhered perfectly to her skin, fitting like a second face.

Perhaps seeing the panic in her eyes, the little demon hurried to explain, “Don’t worry, my lord. Once you leave the Dream Market, the mask will fall off on its own.”

Zhuoxue was relieved. That was fine by her. At least it wouldn’t fall off in the market, which might be crawling with shady characters.

The wooden token was engraved with a peach blossom and a beastly green-painted face. The creature’s eyes, strangely enough, could swivel.

The little demon said, “Please drip blood onto the token, my lord. In the dream market, if someone acts on a sudden urge to kill or tries to rob by force, the token will shatter instantly. The green paint will seep into their spiritual veins, rendering them unable to use immortal or demonic powers.”

That was actually a useful item—no wonder Huangliang Dream Market was so peaceful.

Longming dripped her blood onto her token, hung it securely at her waist, and donned her ghost mask. “Which way do we go?”

The little demon pointed to a brightly lit path behind her and said respectfully, “This way, my lord.”

In the distance were four paths, each separated by hanging lanterns, and overhead were upside-down paper umbrellas—each one different from the rest. From left to right, the colors were blue bamboo, red plum, white orchid, and golden chrysanthemum.

The little demon softly said, “Today, demons take the bamboo path, ghosts take the plum, immortals take the orchid, and any mortals who mistakenly enter will walk on the far-right path.”

They didn’t even block mortals who stumbled into the area—no wonder there were always rumors in the city of a ghost market appearing at midnight, where one might see hundreds of ghosts parading by, including immortals and demons.

Zhuoxue was currently unable to bear the pain and itching; just biting her finger was enough to bring tears to her eyes. After dripping blood onto the wooden plaque, she quickly hung it up and followed closely behind Longming, lowering her voice. “That’s all it takes to pass? And once inside, we’ll meet the mistress of the Dream Market?”

Longming slowed her pace so that the weakened fox could keep up, answering calmly, “If she happens to be free, you’ll see her.”

Because the Dream Market was set in a mountain city, even the path there was as difficult to walk as the winding alleys of such cities. The mountain trail was narrow and uneven, constantly going uphill or down, and the lanterns on both sides almost dazzled the eyes. Looking through the gaps between the lanterns toward the opposite side, one could only see a pitch-black path. It likely wasn’t empty, but spells concealed whatever was there, making it impossible to see clearly.

Zhuoxue was panting, looking every bit like a delicate and sickly figure, needing to stop and rest after walking only a short distance.

Longming paused along with her and helped support her, saying, “Tired? Why not stay here and wait for me? I’ll be back shortly.”

How could Zhuoxue agree? This place was filled with demons, ghosts, and immortals—who knew what kind of uninvited guests might be lurking? Even with the wooden plaque for protection, it might not help. In her current fragile state, someone could kill her without even using immortal or demonic powers.

“We’ve come this far—we’re finishing it together.” Zhuoxue clung tightly to the corner of Longming’s robe, her expression so determined it was as if she meant to live or die with her.

Longming said, “Walking along this lantern-lit path hides your aura. No one can recognize you. The seal on the back of your neck is currently suppressed by the demon core, so don’t worry about Tianji dropping from the sky.”

Zhuoxue refused to let go. Her face was hidden behind a mask, but her pair of golden eyes still looked unmistakably like her own. She gave Longming a little shove on the shoulder and said, “If we’re going, then let’s go. Stop dawdling.”

So Longming continued onward, muttering softly under her breath—what she was saying was unclear.

Zhuoxue leaned in to listen and finally realized Longming was counting. Shocked, she asked, “You’ve got the leisure to be counting your steps?”

Longming stopped. “When we’ve passed 1,080 lanterns, we’ll arrive at the center of the Dream Market.”

One thousand and eighty?

Zhuoxue was stunned. “If you count wrong, we won’t be able to get in?”

So after walking this long road, they still hadn’t actually arrived at the real Huangliang Dream Market.

Longming replied, “If you count wrong, you’ll end up back in the human world.”

“Then first-timers who don’t know anything just have to stumble in by accident?” Zhuoxue was confused.

Longming nodded slightly. “The Huangliang Dream Market is passed on by word of mouth among immortals and demons. Those who enter by mistake aren’t considered true guests. They can only rely on luck to get in.”

Zhuoxue immediately fell silent, afraid of disrupting Longming’s focus.

Fortunately, Longming didn’t miscount. When she reached the 1,080th lantern, she stopped and suddenly pushed open the lantern on the right. The lantern frame swung open like a door, and faint music of flutes and strings drifted out. Behind the frame was a brilliant night market, filled with masked demons and immortals. There were stalls everywhere, and the vendors were clearly not human but belonged to strange, rare races offering exotic goods. 

This was the real Huangliang Dream Market. The buildings were beautifully arranged, with elegant canopies and grand halls. Under every flying eave hung a lantern marked with the word “Dream.” The mountain trail before was merely an illusion meant to confuse intruders.

Zhuoxue’s eyes were dazzled by the surreal, fantastic sight. Though it wasn’t as bustling as Yunjing, its splendor certainly rivaled it. Some buildings were clearly not built by conventional means—one had a red door with a pavilion stacked on top, and another roof layered with even more eaves, resembling a squashed pagoda from afar. Grotesque and absurd, perhaps, but since this wasn’t the mortal world but the Dream Market, it didn’t seem so outlandish after all.

The Huangliang Dream Market really was like a dream—illusory and unreal, bewitching the senses.

“This is the Huangliang Dream Market.” Zhuoxue gawked at vendors holding mirrors that could show human faces or ladles that squealed when scalded, overwhelmed by the strangeness of it all.

Some vendors hawked their wares enthusiastically, while others lazily lounged nearby, ghost masks slapped with four big words: Buy It or Don’t.

“What do you use to buy things here?” Zhuoxue asked.

“There’s no standard currency,” Longming said, glancing in the direction Zhuoxue was looking. “You have to barter. See something you like?”

Zhuoxue had already turned to look elsewhere, fascinated by everything. “I’m just curious. How does the bartering work?”

“If it’s not something of equal value, then you trade with spiritual power,” Longming replied calmly. “If it happens to catch the vendor’s eye, the trade will go through.”

Zhuoxue understood. Whether the trade worked depended entirely on luck and affinity.

Demons and immortals mingled freely in the Dream Market—anywhere else, it would be a rare sight in history. The long street was surprisingly peaceful—no quarrels, no scuffles. Whether they were bursting with demonic energy or radiating immortal aura, everyone was quietly and dutifully shopping for what they needed.

Longming approached a tall pavilion and said to the two little demons at the door, “I request an audience with the mistress of the Dream Market.”

The two little demons peeked out to check the bloodstain on Longming’s wooden plaque.

The demons working here could easily recognize the aura of regular visitors. Once they saw who it was, they broke into wide smiles. “Please come in, my lord!”

The doors swung open, and a pleasant fragrance wafted out—nothing like the putrid smell of the Smoke and Rain Dream. Inside, demons lined the path in welcome, guiding the guests all the way upstairs. The fragrance was distinct, and every wall was draped with colorful silk, turning the pavilion into a labyrinth. Once inside, it was impossible to see the way clearly. With all the twists and turns, if it weren’t for the little demons leading the way, guests would never find the staircase. Below the skylight was a rockery and fish pond. The pond’s jade stones shimmered, and from above, it looked like a giant lantern stand, with the occasional fish shadow darting through it.

Zhuoxue followed closely behind Longming, not daring to fall behind. She couldn’t shake the feeling that unseen eyes were watching them from the shadows—but seeing Longming calm and composed, she kept silent.

At the top floor, the little demons bowed and poured tea, speaking gently, “Please wait a moment, my lord. We will inform the mistress.”

Longming nodded.

The two little demons withdrew and lowered the gauzy curtain over the doorway.

Longming began to turn her teacup slowly, then suddenly picked up her brocade pouch with a serious expression.

Thinking something had gone wrong with the Book of Life and Death, Zhuoxue hurriedly leaned in and asked quietly, “What is it?”

Longming took out a jade bead—it was the one she used to communicate with Lanhui.

After many days, the bead lit up for the first time. Blue mist surged inside, like a ghost trapped within, now struggling and leaping violently. With a flick of her finger, Longming drew out the mist, which entered her brow without a trace. Then she saw the image Lanhui had left behind.

Lanhui held the jade bead in her hand, her expression anxious as she transformed into a black-shelled divine turtle and dove into the water. “The King of the Underworld has gone to Kunlun to receive punishment. Have you retrieved the Book of Life and Death?” Her turtle flippers stirred, rippling the water. “Yaojing closed the Celestial Gate because the Mourning Dove Messenger was mysteriously killed. The matter involves Tianji and Zhuoxue. I beg the demon lord to keep my child safe.”

The image vanished abruptly. The blue mist fled back from Longming’s brow and was pressed back into the jade bead.