Ordered to Marry by the High King - Chapter 54

The fox spoke wildly, yet her expression remained firm and certain, not like someone making baseless claims.

Kunyu hadn’t believed it at first—how could something that stirred all three realms be taken so lightly? She’d rather assume she misheard. The flame in her eyes grew stronger. She moved her lips. “When did they join forces?”

“A hundred years ago, during the great war,” said Longming.

Kunyu had long despised the Nightmare Clan for their shameless usurpation. Now she loathed them to the bone, gnashing her teeth. “Vile rats and sparrows, utterly disgusting. I just wonder what benefits they reaped from it all.”

“Countless,” Longming sneered coldly.

“Should we send troops?” Kunyu’s eyes burned with fury.

“Hold your temper.” Seeing the surging demonic aura surrounding Kunyu, clearly on the verge of erupting, Longming quickly released a strand of spiritual power and shot it into the center of her brow.

Kunyu jolted as if struck by lightning and snapped back to her senses, exhaling heavily.

Longming said, “I have not yet fully recovered my peak strength. If I fight Tianji, I only have a forty percent chance of winning. And since Tianji has allied with the Nightmare Clan, if we attack Yaojing without cause, the Nightmare King will certainly step in to stop us.”

“Could the key to breaking the deadlock really lie with her?” Kunyu looked toward the fox, baffled.

Zhuoxue assumed this great demon had simply been overcome by fury. She glanced over with some pity and said, “You don’t believe me—fine. But you don’t even believe Longming?”

Kunyu was so stunned she could hardly speak. But seeing that Longming made no effort to deny it—seemingly going along with it—she finally began to half-believe. Still, she couldn’t understand: how could this fox, with such weak demonic power, possibly break the stalemate? Surely she wasn’t going to play a few rounds of leaf cards with Tianji and the Nightmare King.

“How will she do it?” Kunyu knew that Longming would never treat this like a game. She only wanted to understand a bit more.

Zhuoxue answered calmly, “A mountain recluse has their own clever tricks.”

Seeing Longming remain silent, Kunyu knew she wouldn’t get any answers today. She lowered her gaze to the flowered hairpin in her hand. When she turned around, her mind was made up. She walked away with purpose, kicking up clouds of black sand, each word she spoke forceful and clear. “Take care on your journey. I’ll go ahead to Wugou River. Liangmeng has always been clever—she may have left other clues behind.”

Longming only reminded her, “Remember—don’t act on impulse.”

Kunyu turned into a shadow and vanished, while the gathered ghosts all flew back to Jueming Ridge to guard the mountain gates. Only Zhuoxue and Longming remained. The two demons had already made plans and were in no rush.

“Ready to go?” Zhuoxue’s eyes sparkled like sunlight on a long river, full of spring warmth.

Longming looked into the distance. “It’s a long road. Don’t back out now.”

“What’s ‘backing out’? I don’t know how to do that,” Zhuoxue said, glancing aside, entirely forgetting how many times she’d quietly backed out before. She’d nearly beaten the drumskin through with retreat. 

No matter. A little patchwork could last another three years.

They were no longer in the mortal world, so Longming didn’t use a carriage. Instead, she transformed into a white tiger. With a flap of her wings, fierce winds swept up the black sand on the hilltop, blotting out the sky.

Some ghost souls, hiding beneath the black sand to rest, were startled awake by the sudden chaos and ran back to Jueming Ridge without looking back, thinking the demon lord of Cangqiong Realm had suddenly gone on a killing spree. It was truly a terrifying scene!

Little did they know the white tiger was only preparing to carry the fox on her back. Her tiger heart thudded wildly—not with killing intent.

Zhuoxue climbed onto the tiger’s back, clutching both of her ears to keep from falling due to lack of strength. She had clearly mistaken the tiger’s ears for reins and was treating the great demon like a mere mount.

Longming had never been treated this way before. In over three hundred years, every demon in the Demon Realm had shown her deference, even if only out of flattery. Even during her five years in the human world, when a hunter had whipped her, it was only out of fear of the tiger’s size and ferocity. The fox had once feared her, too, though not falsely—it was like a river running eastward, passing quickly and gone. Just like the sudden flashes of insight in her mind, they stayed only for a moment.

Without a word, Longming rose into the air, soaring over a hundred zhang high, like a drifting wisp in the wind, swift and sharp. It was far higher than they could ever fly in the mortal world.

Zhuoxue had never been to such heights before. The view was breathtaking—but the rushing wind sliced her face like knives. She let out a startled cry, quickly shut her mouth, and buried her head, swallowing all the words she’d meant to say.

There were few buildings in the Demon Realm—only a vast stretch of diverse mountains and rivers. The pitch-black terrain resembling the Yellow Spring belonged to Kunyu. Ahead, the burning purgatory was the blazing Fire Sea Mountains, home to shadowy demons. Beyond the fire, verdant peaks rolled like waves. Some mountains looked as though a chunk had been gouged out, filled with clear heavenly water that reflected the azure sky like a mirror…

Demons dwelled in such places—touching the sky and leaning on the earth, drawing the essence of sun and moon to achieve longevity.

The white tiger spread her wings calmly, her massive body piercing through the clouds like a shooting star.

Night faded. The sun rose high, then slowly sank again, bringing back the cover of night.

Zhuoxue, who had scarcely left Cangqiong Realm, realized for the first time that the mere three words Lanhui once spoke casually referred to a place so distant it took an entire day to reach. She used to think Lanhui stayed in Qiufeng Ridge out of ennui from seeing too much of the world—who would have thought that graceful, celestial-like Aunt Lan truly was a celestial? 

Lanhui had mentioned not only Kunlun Yaojing, but also the Eastern Sea and Southern Mountains. She had even spoken of Penglai and Qingqiu, not to mention the Buzhou Mountains connected to Kunlun Yaojing.

Snow fell all year on Buzhou. Lanhui had only been there twice, and even on its outskirts, the cold was enough to make one shiver uncontrollably.

Zhuoxue drifted in and out of sleep on the tiger’s back. Suddenly, she sensed the glaring brightness of daylight. Slowly lifting her eyelids, she was startled to find the world before her consumed in endless white. She sat up straight, the biting wind whipping her fox tail back and forth. At first, she thought her tail had a mind of its own, but a violent shiver told her she was simply frozen stiff.

“We’re here?” Zhuoxue’s teeth chattered so much she could hardly speak. “Wasn’t it still night just now? Why is it suddenly so bright?”

“There is sacred light here. In Buzhou Mountain, there is no night.” The white tiger descended slowly onto the snow. As its body sank downward, it was quickly buried by the piled snow—more pushing it forward than walking.

Zhuoxue’s bare feet curled slightly from the cold, and she didn’t dare climb down from the tiger’s back, fearing she wouldn’t be able to take even a single step.

On Buzhou Mountain, even ice worms from the coldest regions would cry out in misery. To walk here required channeling one’s spiritual energy to resist the cold.

Zhuoxue had no spiritual power of her own, relying entirely on Longming’s protection—though she had not yet realized it.

Longming finally spoke, her voice still steady. “This is the base of Buzhou Mountain. From here, we begin our ascent.”

Zhuoxue looked up. From afar, all she had seen was a vast expanse of white. But now, closer, she could faintly make out a gray shadow in the mist. That gray shadow loomed high into the sky, boundless and immense. It sent a chill through her heart, making her feel as small as an ant. That must be the mountain itself—but with such a blizzard, why did it appear gray?

The sacred light above was so intense that if a mortal accidentally wandered in, they would likely be blinded at a glance. Zhuoxue squinted against the light. Perhaps it was the radiance that made her joints ache dully, yet her soul felt as if it were basking in nourishing sands—so comfortable it was almost euphoric. Was it because beneath her demon flesh and bones, she housed an immortal soul?

Longming was never one for many words, and since stepping into Buzhou Mountain, she had grown even more silent. Likely, she too was uncomfortable, and saved her strength by speaking little.

Zhuoxue leaned closer to the tiger’s ear, fearing her voice might be lost in the wind. “Where exactly is that spiritual herb? It’s not in the sky, is it?”

Frost clung to Longming’s brows and lashes, nearly obscuring her vision. “It’s not in the sky.”

Zhuoxue perked up, her eyes bright. “Seeing how hard it is for you to move, why don’t I go get it?”

The white tiger shook its head, scattering the frost. Longming replied coolly, “Buzhou Mountain is perilous.”

That was a clear refusal.

Still eager, Zhuoxue pressed on, “But I feel light and clear-headed here. Surely the danger can’t trouble me.”

“Your demon flesh and bones haven’t yet seen even half a cycle. Your spirit may withstand the sacred light, but your body?” Longming’s voice was low, as if chewing on ice—cold and heavy.

Zhuoxue asked in confusion, “Then why bring me up the mountain?”

“I used my spiritual power to shield your body. I wanted to see what effect the sacred light might have on you,” Longming said calmly.

Zhuoxue blinked, then looked down to realize a thin layer of spiritual power was indeed wrapped around her. She had thought she was simply resilient enough to bear the cold and the light. As for any ‘special effects,’ she didn’t really feel anything—just a pleasant clarity of mind.

Her heart leapt. “If you withdraw your spiritual energy… will my body melt under the sacred light?”

“All things that oppose the sacred light have already been reduced to nothingness,” Longming said serenely, as if it were not a terrifying statement.

Reduced to nothingness?

Zhuoxue instantly pressed herself flat against the tiger’s back, terrified she might evaporate into snowmelt before she could even say a few last words. The nightmare realm was better than this—at least in dreams, the villagers who sent her to die gave some warning in advance.

She whispered, “This spirit herb we’re looking for… it’s not buried under the snow, is it? How would we find it then?”

“It’s not only beneath the snow,” Longming replied. “It’s buried in the frozen earth.”

That single sentence drained Zhuoxue of all motivation and strength.

Underground? It was so cold she could barely walk—how was she supposed to dig through snow and frozen soil? Not to mention, Buzhou Mountain stretched boundlessly and towered impossibly high—it was impossible to know how long they’d have to dig before unearthing even a single stalk of herb. And even then, what they found might not be the one they needed.

Zhuoxue was ready to give up again, her heart full of frustration and on the verge of tears. But she didn’t dare to cry—for fear that her tears would freeze the moment they appeared.

“Afraid?” The white tiger walked slowly forward. “If so, I’ll leave you at the foot of the mountain. Wait for me a moment.”

“I don’t dare believe you could find that herb in just a moment,” Zhuoxue muttered. “You didn’t say it was buried in snow—if I’d known, I would’ve rather gone back and soaked in the spirit spring for half a year.”

To dig out that spirit herb, they might very well need half a year anyway.

“That herb blooms once every fifty years. After blooming, it withers in a day. Then it takes another fifty years to flower again. Every time it reappears in the world, countless demons brave the cold to climb the mountain.” The white tiger carved a winding path through the snow that looked, from afar, like a snow-white mountain ravine.

Thankfully, the black stripes on her tiger body made her stand out—otherwise she’d be indistinguishable from the snow.

“There’s not even a single demon in sight now,” Zhuoxue said nervously. “Don’t tell me we came during the fifty-year withering period.”

“No matter. Even the remaining roots of the herb are enough to help you break through your realm,” Longming replied after a short pause. “Though roots are much harder to retrieve.”

Zhuoxue scooped up a handful of snow, pressed it into a ball, and gently tossed it downhill.

The snowball rolled along the slope and soon vanished from sight.

Looking a little sheepish, Zhuoxue said softly, “Pulling it up by the roots—it feels heartless.”

“It’s fine. There’s more than one herb on this mountain. It’s just not easy to find,” Longming said indifferently.

Even after walking this long, they were still only at the mountain’s base. In the distance, there was still nothing but thick white mist. The mountain’s silhouette was blurry and indistinct.

“You still haven’t said—how do we find it?” Zhuoxue straightened and looked around, golden eyes blinking from the piercing sacred light.

“Its flower gives off a unique fragrance. From afar, it smells like faint orchids; up close, like burnt sandalwood. It lives up to its name—‘Blazing Heart Orchid,’” Longming stopped walking, her crimson eyes gazing upward. “The closer you are, the stronger the scent—it’ll even sting your nose. That’s how you can judge the distance.”

“But this isn’t blooming season,” Zhuoxue said, surprised.

Longming lowered her head, the tiger’s nose buried in the snow, coming up with a face full of white frost. “Even its roots carry a faint scent.”

Zhuoxue suddenly flipped down from the tiger’s back, sinking halfway into the snow. Even under Longming’s protection, she couldn’t stop herself from shivering violently. She had a delicate, slender frame, wore a white dress, and only a few strands of black hair remained among her silver locks—she practically blended into the snowy mountain.

“What are you doing?!” The white tiger suddenly turned her head, her large mouth moving in as if to grab the fox girl and place her back on her back.

Leaning back, Zhuoxue pushed the tiger’s face away and whispered, “Don’t interrupt—I’m trying to catch the scent. Tiger noses aren’t as good as foxes’. With me here, you might as well relax.”

The white tiger gave a low growl, and snow tumbled off the mountain in response. Her body tensed slightly, but she fell silent.

Zhuoxue’s fox ears twitched slightly as her silver hair fluttered. She scooped up a handful of snow and sniffed it carefully.

The snow was scentless. That meant the herb wasn’t nearby.

Unfortunately, a human form wasn’t as agile as a tiger’s. Zhuoxue struggled to move forward, every step sinking into the snow. Even after quite a while, she hadn’t covered a hundred feet. Her hands were bright red from the cold. As she bent close to sniff, even her nose turned pink—she looked just like a little pink-nosed kitten. Still unable to pick up the scent, she gave up trying to stay dry and plunged headfirst into the snow. After each sniff, she’d pop back up and shake her silver hair, scattering snowflakes in every direction.

“Why don’t you ride on my back?” Longming said. “I’ll break the trail. If you want to sniff, just grab a handful of mountain snow.”

Zhuoxue shook her head. “That wouldn’t let me smell it clearly enough.”

“Then I’ll go ahead. Just tell me where you want to go.” Longming, full of spiritual energy and protected by her tiger pelt, was naturally resistant to the cold.

“When I can’t walk anymore, you can carry me,” Zhuoxue said, for once showing a little sympathy for the tiger.

As they moved forward, they entered a dense fog. The chill deepened, and a thin veil covered their vision—everything ahead became indistinct.

Zhuoxue squinted at the gray, looming mountain silhouette, fear once again creeping up inside her. She patted the tiger’s back and said, “I can’t walk well. You go ahead and lead. I’ll tell you which way to go.”

In truth, she just wanted Longming in front in case some demon, ghost, or monster jumped out from the mountain.

The white tiger moved forward with a faint smirk. “Now you’re ordering me around again?”

The mist draped softly over them, even softening the crimson gleam in the white tiger’s eyes.

Zhuoxue didn’t respond, only slapped the tiger’s back again to hurry her along. She herself followed unhurriedly, sniffing here and there.

It turned out that just like alcohol could bolster courage, the mountain cold could too. She actually dared to boss Longming around.

The white mist only blanketed the section above the mountain’s base. Once they passed through it, a gray, rocky cliff came into view.

It wasn’t that the higher areas weren’t covered in snow—but rather, the snow had turned gray-black, infused with the lingering aura of demons and ghosts that had yet to be completely dissolved by the sacred light.

Zhuoxue froze in place. After a long pause, she plunged back into the snow to continue her search. When she surfaced again, she was gasping for breath, and whispered, “I think I smell it.”