Ordered to Marry by the High King - Chapter 52

The fox was quick with her hands, and others might not have been sharp-eyed enough to catch it. Even if the Nightmare King was watching, he likely couldn’t see clearly what was taken and then retracted so swiftly.

Zhuoxue’s face remained calm, her heart steady like a still well. She had fully prepared to respond to any threat, yet chose not to flaunt it openly. 

“You saw it, right? Then let’s hurry up and leave,” she urged again.

Longming had indeed seen it, and in that instant, a flurry of questions came to mind. 

The tear was clean and decisive, and there were only those few thin pages—no more, no less—proving just how certain and deliberate the person who tore them was. She had already found the fox odd today, but hadn’t expected that all her cleverness was spent on this.

She had deceived not only the one guarding the ledger, but Longming herself had been fooled too.

With a faint, cold laugh, she silently studied the fox, trying to see past that beautiful face to the teeming thoughts beneath. If the mortal world were an endless ocean, the fox would not be a trapped fish, but a drifting reed—free and buoyant.

A reed can ride the waves to shore, and carry others across as well.

“So, you claimed you needed the privy, but were actually plotting this?” Longming said.

Zhuoxue didn’t bother checking Longming’s expression and replied dismissively, “Mm-hmm. Are we leaving or not?”

“Of course we’re leaving. But I do have something to ask,” Longming said, voice low and slow.

Zhuoxue paused, knowing well there was no way to talk her way out of this now. She had just claimed she hadn’t looked closely, yet now it was obvious she remembered exactly which pages were taken. She couldn’t exactly say the life ledger had entered her dreams and whispered it to her. If the ledger had a spirit, then she might as well prepare for her funeral.

“Ask whatever you want, quickly,” Zhuoxue said in one breath.

Longming didn’t ask her to pull the pages out again, simply said, “Can you still see the writing?”

Of course not. If anyone knew the nature of the life ledger, it was Longming, far more than the fox.

Zhuoxue’s golden eyes flicked away uneasily. After a moment of fumbling, she shook her head, unable to come up with a decent excuse, and muttered, “If I could still see the words, the capital should just recruit me directly. I’ll report to the Yellow Spring Palace first thing tomorrow.”

Longming said evenly, “Then how did you remember which pages to tear? Don’t tell me each one was numbered.”

“Ask the King of the Underworld to add page numbers next time, then there’ll be some,” Zhuoxue mumbled, still avoiding her gaze, her voice so soft it was practically to herself.

That mumbling clearly betrayed a guilty conscience.

“Looks like not only did you read carefully, you analyzed every single word and nuance,” Longming said slowly.

“It’s a natural gift. I may read ten lines at a glance, but every word sticks,” Zhuoxue said, giving herself a convenient excuse.

Longming gave another soft laugh.

The little demon who had been serving tea nearby was more anxious than the two main parties. Seeing that they were still chatting away, she quickly said, “Please, my lords, leave quickly! If my mistress returns and asks about this, we’ll say you had already left!”

Longming didn’t press Zhuoxue any further and simply replied, “Thank you.”

Zhuoxue immediately looked toward the little demon with gratitude, though her hands were empty. She could only pluck a handful of fox fur from her ear to show thanks. She stuffed the fur into the little demon’s hand and gently instructed, “Whether your mistress has escaped the Heart-Piercing Gu or not, if she asks, just tell her you did everything you could to catch me—but only managed to grab this bit of fur.”

Such a generous handful. If one blew on it, it would scatter like dandelions.

Clutching the fur tightly, the little demon said with a trembling voice, “Thank you, my lord. I believe my mistress, as a blessed demon, will break free of the Heart-Piercing Gu soon enough.”

“I just fear it won’t be your mistress chasing us, but demons from the Nightmare Clan,” Zhuoxue said, instantly animated. She had already pushed thoughts of the life ledger from her mind, and now urged Longming to do the same. She nudged Longming’s waist again—it was slender and graceful. After two pokes, she’d gotten her fill. She had been too focused on that tiger’s rear earlier to notice anything else.

What a lovely waist, the fox thought with admiration.

***

Outside the tower, the crowd of demons and immortals grew rowdy. Some, still refusing to leave, demanded someone inside come out and explain. Some went so far as to hurl spiritual energy at the doors and windows, shattering the glass and shaking the entire tower as if it were about to collapse.

“I’ll go ahead,” Longming said, wrapping her arm around Zhuoxue’s waist. With a swift leap through the window, they vanished like a bolt of lightning, too fast for the demons below to even catch a glimpse.

The wind rushing past them carried the smell of burning. The fox, with her sharp nose, choked and coughed, quickly burying her face in Longming’s shoulder and neck. Longming slowed down slightly and swept her sleeve to fan away the scorched stench.

They flew until they reached the outskirts of the Dream Market, where a faint vision of a mountain city appeared ahead, its tall stone towers like mirages suspended in the sky.

Leaning into Longming, Zhuoxue showed no fear. The sight stunned her. She smiled and said, “So this is called Pillow the Mortal Dust. Truly fitting. It’s a pillow of worldly dust—outside the mundane world, yet still within it.”

Longming silently turned to glance at her. On that ghostly mask, only a pair of golden eyes remained unchanged.

But that was enough.

As they burst through the bounds of Huangliang Dream Market, the world shifted. The lanterns hanging in the air vanished instantly, and the surrounding lights dimmed. The ghost masks on their faces burned slowly from bottom to top, not harming their skin at all. The wooden plaques shattered into powder, their green paint becoming ash and drifting away.

It truly had been a dream. Now that the dream had ended, the mortal world returned once more.

Zhuoxue reached for her empty waist and couldn’t even catch a speck of dust.

“I took one step out, and the wooden plaque and ghost mask shattered. If I wanted to re-enter Huangliang Dream Market, it’d be next to impossible,” Longming replied, scanning their surroundings, still alert. She didn’t know whether any Nightmare demons were hiding nearby. The mountain city had passed into midnight; the night market had long dispersed. Looking out over the city, there wasn’t a soul in sight. Everything was silent, not a single window still lit. There wasn’t even a trace of spell residue outside the dream market—not just from the Nightmare demons, but even Liangmeng had come and gone without a trace.

Longming let go of Zhuoxue’s waist. She had wanted to question her further about the life ledger pages, but seeing that Zhuoxue had no intention of discussing it, she dropped it as well.

Rather than press her, it would be better for the fox to speak up herself.

Zhuoxue let out a light sigh, wiped the sweat from her brow, and quietly asked, “Where do we go now?”

Originally, the plan had been to head to Buzhou Mountain after leaving the Dream Market. But something had changed midway—the mistress of the market had gone missing.

“To Jueming Ridge,” Longming said coolly. According to the hedgehog demon, Liangmeng had been ambushed near the outer edge of Jueming Ridge. Whether it was true or not, they had to go and see.

“Are we going to save Liangmeng?” Zhuoxue reached into her sleeve, worried that the pages might have fallen out on the way. Only when her fingertips touched it did her heart finally settle.

Longming frowned. “Though the Heart-Piercing Gu only lasts five days, there’s no telling if the Nightmare King might add more curses. We’ll scout Jueming Ridge, but everything after that will have to be entrusted to Kunyu. Afterward, I’ll take you to Buzhou Mountain.”

Having no spiritual power to speak of, Zhuoxue naturally followed Longming’s lead. She nodded. “Then let’s go quickly. I’m curious to see what Jueming Ridge is like.”

“It’s not pretty,” said Longming.

“Then I’ll just take a quick look, not a deep one,” Zhuoxue replied, still sounding cheerful despite her words.

Though the distance from the mountain city to Jueming Ridge wasn’t a full hundred miles, it was still a long journey.

After being tossed around all night, Zhuoxue grew weary again. Having only just regained some peace of mind, her earlier vigor faded quickly. She yawned and asked, “I’m so tired. On the way to Jueming Ridge, can I lie down for the trip?” Anywhere was fine—as long as she could lie down, even on a tiger’s back, she’d be content.

Longming didn’t shift into her tiger form. Instead, under cover of night, she snapped her fingers and turned a dead branch on the ground into a white horse. The lifeless object instantly sprang to life. Fortunately, all the townsfolk were fast asleep, and no one noticed.

The demon lord, her black hair flowing, swung onto the horse with striking grace. With a flip of her hand, she conjured a bamboo hat and set it on her head, hiding her face except for a lovely chin. 

She leaned down slightly and offered her hand. “Once we’re out of the city, I’ll switch to a carriage.”

Just then, the already-loose wooden hairpin fell out, letting her black hair spill down her shoulders. The wind blew some strands across Zhuoxue’s cheek. Zhuoxue just managed to catch the hairpin. She smiled and slowly climbed onto the horse, holding Longming’s hand. Once letting go, she awkwardly started to fix Longming’s hair. She was clumsy at it—back on Qiufeng Ridge, mountain demons used to do her hair for her. She was never any good at it herself.

Longming winced as her scalp was pulled but didn’t say a word. With a sharp tug on the reins, the horse broke into a gallop toward the city outskirts.

The night hung heavy. One could summon a white horse in plain sight now, and even make a flying carriage without anyone noticing. But Longming refused to switch to a carriage or reveal her true form to take to the skies. She insisted on riding this swaying, jostling white horse.

The road down the mountain was rugged and steep, and the ride jarring. It was Zhuoxue’s first time riding a horse. With each bounce, she couldn’t help but recall things from her previous life—back when Jueguang had brought the white tiger back to the palace and named it Hanxing.

But the princess didn’t always stay in the palace. She traveled far and wide, speaking for the people.

The white tiger was no kitten or puppy. Even when close to humans, it never whimpered or acted cute. It would only pace silently at her side, watching her. Some palace maids thought the tiger was sizing up prey and urgently told Jueguang to keep her distance.

Jueguang wasn’t afraid. She understood the language of beasts and could sense their intent. She stepped forward and gently soothed the tiger. “No one here dares harm you. Stay and sleep for a while. When you wake, I’ll be back.”

The tiger gave a low, displeased growl.

Jueguang chuckled. “I’m going to ride. How will you follow me on horseback?”

The tiger said nothing.

She continued, “The streets are full of people. If you run after me, you’ll only frighten them.”

Hearing this, the white tiger finally retreated slowly, glancing back at her with calm eyes. Its massive body was like a mountain moving—slowly shifting away.

Later, someone gifted Jueguang a swift horse. Proud and high-headed, the horse was full of vigor.

She brought it back to the palace, but the white tiger avoided it, refusing even to look, let alone stay in the same room.

Back then, Jueguang had said, “Hanxing, if you could one day take human form, I’d let you ride with me.”

A hundred years had passed. Jueguang never had the chance to ride with Hanxing, but Longming had now taken Zhuoxue for a ride.

Zhuoxue was silent for a moment. She couldn’t tell if it was from the jolting saddle or something else, but her stomach suddenly felt empty. Half-asleep, she leaned against Longming’s back, drooling until a large patch of Longming’s robe was soaked.

Once they left the mountain city, the white horse silently split in two—the front half became a complete horse, the back half transformed into a carriage, settling the fox comfortably inside.

Zhuoxue wasn’t fully asleep. Sensing the horse’s sudden change, she half-opened one eye, lifted the curtain slightly with the wind, and secretly studied Longming’s back.

Hey, why does that fabric look like it has a damp patch? Nevermind—the white tiger isn’t human, so even her sweat must be different.

Back then, she had failed to recognize true worth, mistaking the down-and-out demon lord for a dumb big tiger. Even the Wugou River full of water that the tiger spoke of, she had written off as nonsense made up by a clueless beast.

Shameful. Truly shameful.

The carriage finally lifted off the ground, light as a speck of dust drifting with the wind.

The white horse galloped through the clouds, as though it could pluck stars from the sky. Its speed was hardly any slower than Longming’s tiger form.

A pity it was still deep night—no matter how far she leaned out the window, she could see nothing of the scenery.

Left with no choice, Zhuoxue lay back on the soft cushions and drifted into sleep. In her dream, the white tiger curled around her knees, as lively as a big white mouse with dark spots.

When she woke, the morning light was dim and hazy. Zhuoxue rubbed her eyes for a good while before remembering to ask, “Did you send a message to Kunyu?”

“No,” Longming replied from outside the curtain. “Messages to her can only be passed with that thin sheet of paper from Lingkong Mountain.”

Of course. Longming found Kunyu noisy to begin with—why would she carry a tool just to keep in contact with her?

Zhuoxue lifted the gauzy curtain at the window and saw nothing but thick fog. All around were towering mountains—no cities, no traces of the human world. Clearly, she and Longming had entered the Demon Realm.

“We’re here?” she asked, sitting upright.

“Just a bit farther. Beyond that hunchback-shaped hill is Jueming Ridge,” Longming said, holding the reins in one hand and pointing toward the distant mountains. “We’re already in the territory of Jingming Realm.”

The carriage slowly descended as the white horse galloped in a downward dive. The closer they got to Jueming Ridge, the colder it became.

Beyond that hunchback hill was a stretch of low, valley-like terrain. Not a single tree grew on the mountains; the soil was as black as ink. From afar, it looked like a careless brushstroke on a painting.

This realm was no larger than Cangqiong Realm, and it felt just as lifeless. Other than Kunyu, no great demon seemed interested in claiming it.

Every now and then came a wailing sound—ghostly cries that made it feel like they’d stumbled into the Yellow Spring Palace by mistake.

The moment the carriage touched ground, it silently turned into dead branches. Zhuoxue landed steadily on her feet.

This place was far too eerie. Zhuoxue narrowed her eyes, peering into the depths of Jueming Ridge, where she saw countless graves packed tightly together. Her hair stood on end.

“Kunyu lives here?” Zhuoxue asked in disbelief. Good thing she hadn’t agreed to come here with Kunyu. Judging by the desolation, there probably wasn’t even a full meal to be had. She’d have to live every day on edge.

“Come to think of it. You did consider offering yourself to Kunyu,” Longming said suddenly.

Zhuoxue was momentarily stunned. “She’s the demon lord of a mountain realm—I thought she’d at least pick a better place to live. Who would’ve guessed Jueming Ridge was this bleak?”

“So, are you still going to offer yourself?” Longming asked in a neutral tone.

Zhuoxue’s golden eyes shifted slyly. “Didn’t you already give her that vase as compensation? Why bother offering anything else?”

Longming chuckled faintly. With a lift of her hand, a black-feathered bird appeared from thin air. It flapped its wings and flew into the mountains, looking just like a crow sweeping past the graves.

Not long after, a swarm of wandering souls drifted out from the graves. Black shadows lined the path, calling in unison, “This way, my lord.”

Zhuoxue stayed close to Longming. Fortunately, the ghosts looked more or less human, so she wasn’t quite as terrified. She leaned in and whispered by Longming’s ear, “How are we going to entrust Kunyu with this task? Isn’t she afraid even of you? How would she dare go up against the Nightmare King?”

Just as the words left her lips, a low, spectral voice echoed from within the mountains.

“I heard that.” Kunyu’s voice was laced with gritted teeth. “So you didn’t come with me because you think I’m no match for Longming?”

Zhuoxue held her breath and stopped in her tracks, clutching Longming’s sleeve tightly. Her bright golden eyes darted anxiously.

Say something! Quick!

Longming paused and looked into the distance. “It was I who forbade her from coming.”