Ordered to Marry by the High King - Chapter 8

Which one is my master?

Zhuoxue looked around in confusion, putting on the appearance of someone who had lost sight of her master.

Fortunately, with the demon lords now exiting the hall, the banquet was about to begin. A flood of demons surged forward to flatter them, completely blocking the mountain path.

The little demon exclaimed, then leaned in to whisper to Zhuoxue, “I’ve got to go. I haven’t finished my chores yet—if I’m late, they’ll deduct my spirit stones.”

Zhuoxue had no intention of keeping her; she would’ve gladly sent her ten miles away. Waving her off, she said, “Go on, I’ll stay and look around. My master might have been pushed somewhere in the crowd.” In truth, she wasn’t looking for any master at all—she didn’t even know which mountain realm these demon lords came from.

Just then, patrol demons suddenly emerged from both sides, their expressions grim and cold, instantly scattering the cheerful atmosphere like snow dumped into hot soup—overwhelming, extinguishing even the fire.

Only the demon lords who had been inside the hall knew of the intruder. The lesser demons, startled by the shift in mood, were terrified, thinking this gathering was actually a Hongmen Banquet.

(T/N: refer to a trap or a situation ostensibly joyous but in fact treacherous)

And that wouldn’t be entirely wrong—rumor in the Demon Realm had it that Longming had long been dissatisfied with the Nightmare Clan. Perhaps she had never accepted her defeat in the great war back then. Over the years, she’d hosted banquet after banquet, aiming to rally powerful demons in an attempt to reclaim Wugou River. How exactly she meant to win them over was the subject of much speculation—perhaps through sincere alliances, or maybe through coercion and cunning.

Each minor demon had their own thoughts, stealing glances at their own lords. Only after seeing their masters remain calm did they breathe a little easier.

The silver-haired demon lord in the black cloak stepped out of the hall. It was only a few short steps, without any thunderous display, yet the presence alone made even the air freeze—no one dared even sweat. She truly was a tiger—born of majesty. Even her calm, emotionless gaze silenced the wind and stilled the rain.

Longming shifted her gaze. Wherever it landed, no little demon dared to lift their head to meet her eyes. The crescent-shaped markings under her eyes, resembling her true form’s stripes, had sharp, thunderbolt-like points. They seemed to explode before the crowd of demons—loud without a sound.

The once-rowdy Lingkong Mountain main peak now fell so quiet that the rustle of grass and the stir of leaves became sharply audible.

Zhuoxue stole a glance at Longming, then quickly looked away, not daring to meet her gaze. Her mind raced—how could she deceive everyone and stay safely on Lingkong Mountain? And if she couldn’t stay, how could she escape?

“Stop scaring them,” one demon teased.

Longming said coolly, “All who come are guests, but those who arrive uninvited…”

Every demon tensed at her words—they understood immediately: someone had broken in.

Zhuoxue nearly buried her face in her chest, terrified of being exposed. She hadn’t even picked a fake master yet. Thankfully, with so many outsiders on the mountain, Longming wouldn’t be able to trace it to her right away.

“If they won’t come forward themselves—” Longming added, eyes lowering slightly, chin sinking into the fur collar of her cloak, her gaze sharpening, “—then Lingkong Mountain shall not show them mercy.”

Zhuoxue was scared but couldn’t help admiring her—how could a demon be so beautifully sharp? Even the bone-melting vine back in Qiufeng Ridge paled in comparison. She admitted it—Lanhui was ambitious, and she had taken a risk coming here. But now that she was here, to turn and flee would be like saying “I’m guilty” without words.

The guests exchanged uneasy glances, then saw the patrol guards of Lingkong Mountain begin to encircle the area, preparing to check each lord’s invitation one by one. The minor demons went in search of their respective lords. Each pair had to undergo spell-based verification to ensure no intruder had disguised themselves with illusions.

Watching the number of demons around her shrink rapidly, Zhuoxue panicked. She stepped back and blended in with the demon attendants standing nearby.

All the attendants stared wide-eyed—when had a fox joined their ranks?

Suddenly, a black wind swept in, stirring up dust and sand.

The black wind spun into Chunxi, the leopard woman, who held a severed, bloody finger in her hand—its owner unknown.

The moment that finger appeared, no one dared make a sound.

Chunxi held the severed finger in her palms, stepped forward, and knelt before Longming, bowing her head as she spoke quietly, “My lord, the mountain’s illusion array has been destroyed, and Ghost-Inviting Grass scattered everywhere. I happened to find traces of the infiltrator and pursued them. I intended to capture them alive, but the demon’s body techniques were exceptional. They’d rather sever a finger than be caught.”

Ghost-Inviting Grass—now that was serious. This plant attracted wandering, hungry spirits. With the mountain’s illusion gone, the spirits could easily invade and turn the banquet into utter chaos.

Zhuoxue thought to herself—this was the work of an enemy, no doubt about it. Since Longming had once ruled Wugou River, she must have no shortage of enemies. But who could say which one was behind this?

Maybe that was for the best—if the finger belonged to a real saboteur, then the powerful demons would focus on that culprit instead of punishing a fox to make an example.

Zhuoxue let out a silent breath of relief, though she shivered at the sight of that bloodied finger. She had wanted to give Lanhui a show of red—yet she was the one who saw red first.

Red comes in many shades—some festive, some brutal.

“This is a pig demon’s severed finger,” Chunxi said, raising her arms.

Losing that finger would cost about sixty years’ worth of cultivation—an entire lifetime’s power for an average demon.

“They even spread Ghost-Inviting Grass everywhere?” Longming took the severed finger from Chunxi’s palms. She examined it closely, then clenched her fist, as if about to grind it into dust.

Zhuoxue was stunned. So the rumors weren’t just empty talk. The reason the Cangqiong Realm demon lord was said to eat people and spit out no bones was because she… actually destroyed the bodies.

But just as the thought formed in her mind, she felt an unexpected wave of disappointment.

Because the demon lord hadn’t destroyed the evidence as Zhuoxue had feared. Those long, strong fingers slowly unfurled—revealing that the severed bone was still intact. The difference was, the human finger had turned into a pig’s toe.

Longming suppressed it with her demon power, forcibly revealing the true form of the pig demon’s severed toe.

“Pig demon—whose pig demon dares to run wild on Lingkong Mountain?” a great demon sneered.

Longming appeared thoughtful, bringing the severed digit to her nose for a sniff. Whatever oddity she detected, she didn’t share. A moment later, she returned it to Chunxi’s palm and said, “Keep looking. Let the banquet continue. Hold onto this for now—it’ll be useful later.”

“At your command,” Chunxi responded.

Zhuoxue thought she was in the clear and turned slowly to leave—only to be called out by a demon attendant who looked like a steward.

“I’ve never seen you before. Which peak were you stationed on previously?” the steward asked suspiciously. Her voice was loud, and with the mountain still eerily quiet, it drew every gaze toward Zhuoxue.

Zhuoxue felt like ants were crawling up her back. A thousand deaths flashed before her eyes, all of them unjust.

“I…”

“You’re not from Lingkong Mountain,” the steward declared. “Who are you?”

Zhuoxue thought of the severed finger just now and glanced tremulously at the tiger demon. Her beautiful pupils shrank like crystal flowers caught in wind and snow—fragile, but not without resolve.

It wasn’t surprising that the steward saw through her immediately. Few demons possessed such beauty—unforgettable once seen. She didn’t appear particularly powerful and, being a fox not a pig, likely had no relation to the intruder.

The great demons looked on with amused interest.

Longming was also watching her—quiet, yet behind the stillness was a predator lying in wait. So cold, so confident in victory.

Zhuoxue thought, This is it. Steeling herself, she cried out, “High King!” The call was loud enough to shake the sky.

The other demons were baffled. That shout was like some poor mortal pounding the drum at a magistrate’s gate, demanding justice. Foxes crying thief weren’t uncommon—but this one was doing it with startling conviction.

The curiosity in Longming’s eyes vanished. She chuckled for no reason and beckoned with a hand. “No need to panic, everyone. She’s a new personal attendant of mine. Come here, fox.”

Come?

Come where?

Zhuoxue was stuck. She desperately wanted to run, but had no choice but to approach the tiger demon. As the tiger entered the hall, she had to follow.

Inside, Longming sat on the bone throne. Her overwhelming aura spilled out like a breached flood, engulfing the hall.

Zhuoxue’s knees buckled. Even her soul seemed to recoil. Her consciousness drifted to the clouds.

“Closer.” Longming beckoned again.

Barely recovering, Zhuoxue clutched her chest, panting. Her heart might have been covered, but her head still throbbed. How was she supposed to get closer? Sweating in her human form, lips bitten red, she didn’t take a single step. It was more painful than being punished by Lanhui. At least Lanhui’s ruler didn’t make her feel like she was about to die.

“You can’t even take a step?” Longming said, her tone unreadable—uncertain if it was surprise or pity.

At her words, the pressure lessened slightly.

Zhuoxue exhaled sharply. The sweat-soaked clothes clung to her back. Her face, briefly pale, flushed slightly. It was like surviving a disaster. Her eyes flicked back wistfully, but with great reluctance she stepped toward the bone throne. However rebellious she might normally be, now wasn’t the time to act out.

Creak. The doors shut.

Scratch that. If she was going down, she might as well act once more.

The fox returned to her original form and tried to leap out. But her bushy tail had only just swished out when it was caught—dragged back without mercy.

Thud. The door closed.

A ball of white fur crashed to the ground, looking like fresh-fallen snow—but it landed with impact.

The fox grunted in pain, heart lodged in her throat. She scrambled forward on all fours, barely making a foot of progress, leaving claw marks on the stone.

Longming held her down with one hand—effortlessly.

Her paws ached from the scraping, Zhuoxue stopped struggling. Trembling all over, she summoned her strength. “You knew from the start, didn’t you? Why didn’t you catch me then? Why toy with me like this?”

“My original target was someone else,” Longming said.

“Then why are you catching me now?!” Zhuoxue gasped.

After a pause—

“You look familiar,” Longming said, tightening her grip on the fox’s tail.

Zhuoxue hurried to explain, “I’ve never been to Lingkong Mountain before, and I’ve never met you either, my lord. This is my first time here—I mean no harm!”

“I meant… you resemble…” Longming looked down, gently stroking the fox’s fur. Her quiet tone held a deep and boundless yearning. “…my yī wèi gùrén ((an) old acquaintance).”

The fox’s chronic hearing problem acted up again. “I resemble what—yī wàn gèrén (ten thousand people)?”