The Great King Ordered Me to Marry – Chapter 13

Speaking of the Pig Demon’s Night Raid on the Little Fox

Zhuoxue still thought the great tiger was being attended so closely for the first time, and felt a bit embarrassed.

She let out a cheerful cry, like a hawker at a mortal market, and said with a grin, “This humble girl is versed in all eighteen arts of personal service. I guarantee the Great King will be comfortable.”

            

In truth, she knew nothing of the sort—it was all loose talk.

She’d already stayed at Lingkong Mountain and even lain in the bed. If she just up and left now, that would be such a waste—not to mention being scared for nothing.

“If you won’t leave on your own, I’ll see you out,” Longming said evenly.

            

Zhuoxue sat up slowly, silently lamenting the loss.

She’d originally planned to wear her down with soft persistence—after all, back at Qiufeng Ridge, that was how she always softened Lan Hui up.

But Longming’s heart was harder than stone. It wasn’t something that could be softened so easily.

            

Never mind, never mind.

The silver-haired demon lord’s eyes were already a brooding crimson—even when she smiled, they resembled a blood moon on the horizon.

Now, as she half-lidded her eyes, that blood moon shrank and turned to sickles, and the ferocity hidden within descended together with the heavy curtain of night.

            

The fox stared blankly into those eyes as a daydream forced its way into her mind, beyond her power to refuse.

In the dream, a white tiger walked solitary and alone. Wherever it went, there wasn’t so much as a cat or dog nearby—not even insects or flies.

Yet the white tiger would either settle down to rest or stand motionless, gazing into the distance. It never drove away any living creature, and didn’t seem like the type that needed to kill or see blood.

            

It wandered among celestial towers, its sleek, massive form as magnificent as the grand, towering ramparts around it.

The white tiger turned its head slowly, its eyes like green tourmaline—so unhurried, its gaze so tranquil…

Why had she fallen into this aimless daydream again? The white tiger in the dream was nothing like the tiger demon before her—it couldn’t simply be that because both were tigers, the dream had caught her off guard.

            

Green eyes and red eyes—the difference was far too great.

Zhuoxue shook her head. The moment she came to her senses, she was nearly pulled back under by a pair of red eyes in the distance.

In that single instant, a chill ran through her bones and every hair stood on end—a crushing pressure bore down on her until she couldn’t breathe.

            

She was forced to crouch low, and just as her whole body was about to give out, she abruptly shifted into her true form.

A tiger’s territorial instinct was always fierce. She had come uninvited—she was practically walking straight to her death.

The white fox, so smug just moments before, bolted through the half-open window in a flash, slipping away faster than smoke on the wind.

            

A patrol small demon happened to be passing by outside, and the fluffy white ball that suddenly leapt from the window startled him so much he stumbled backward. He blurted out, “Where’d this big white rat come from? Great King, this little one is here to help!”

The fox turned and bared her teeth at him, her fluffy tail swishing uneasily.

“Oh, it’s the new fox!” The patrol small demon realized this fox was no ordinary creature—she was the one following the demon lord. He bowed and said, “Many apologies. Where are you off to this late?”

            

Running for my life, the fox thought to herself.

Behind her came a creak—the half-open window had suddenly shut. Clearly, Longming had closed it.

Her tail dropped at once. The fox had no mind to answer—she tucked her tail and vanished into the night.

            

The night was at its deepest—a fine time to head home. Longming had told her to leave, so she wasn’t leaving without permission.

She had done what she could and left the rest to fate¹. She’d tried her best, and she knew how difficult it would be to fulfill Lan Hui’s wishes. Retreating in the face of difficulty was nothing to be ashamed of.

On the quiet, desolate Lingkong Mountain, a few faint drunken murmurs occasionally drifted out. The fox crept downhill on tiptoe like a thief, then slipped and slid three chi across the ground.

            

Mortals always said foxes were sly. The fox didn’t think so herself—the slipping part was real enough.

But slippery as the mountain path was, she could only go on foot.

Zhuoxue’s demon power was shallow. If she tried to ride clouds, she’d likely burn out before making it halfway down—and if anything unexpected happened then, how would she cope?

            

Oddly, she hadn’t walked more than a few steps before she started growing hot, her collar instantly damp with sweat.

That wasn’t right. Zhuoxue hissed softly. She hadn’t grown hot from walking—it was the back of her neck burning, searing with pain, as if an oil lamp were singeing her from behind.

The spot that hurt was the same as during the day. She’d been too busy running for her life then to investigate properly. When the pain stopped, she’d forgotten about it.

            

Now she reached back to feel it, but found no scrape or wound. She had no idea where the pain was coming from.

Zhuoxue pressed a hand to the back of her neck and headed downhill. She saw small demons sprawled every which way across the mountain—some hanging upside down from treetops, others curled in crevices between rocks, sleeping in a hundred and eighty different postures.

She trod carefully, not daring to disturb these small demons. Even when the pain made her gasp, she didn’t dare inhale too loudly.

            

As she made her way down, she observed that the demons on Lingkong Mountain were more like demons than those at Qiufeng Ridge.

Perhaps Lan Hui was too proper and disciplined—the demons at Qiufeng Ridge were all well-behaved, even their sleeping postures remarkably demure.

She missed Qiufeng Ridge. One day away felt like three years.

            

The guests had nearly all fallen asleep. The only ones still awake and moving about, besides herself, were likely just the patrol guards.

The infiltrating pig demon hadn’t been caught yet—how could the small demons sleep in peace?

Zhuoxue skirted around a patrol small demon. The back of her neck was growing hotter and hotter, so searing that she couldn’t help baring her teeth and grimacing, as if not just her skin but her very bones were being roasted.

            

Yet when she pressed her hand against it, she couldn’t feel a single trace of a wound.

By all rights, it should have been hot enough to scorch her skin dry. Yet the back of her neck was as smooth as ever, and the touch of her hand—cooled by the night frost—felt so relieving she nearly sighed.

Zhuoxue stopped short. She thought of what Longming had said about the back of her neck glowing—and it suddenly seemed possible. Maybe her neck really did glow?

            

It must be because her neck was glowing that it burned so painfully.

Could it be that her demonic core had grown in the wrong place and was now acting up?

Zhuoxue wanted more than ever to go back to Qiufeng Ridge. Many mortals longed for home when they fell ill—demons were the same.

            

There were lamps on the mountain. Though the light was dim and unclear, it still illuminated the vast, hazy expanse of the maze array below.

Ghost’s Dread had been completely swept from the mountain, so there was no need to fear hungry ghost attacks—but the burning at the back of her neck was alarming, so intense she could barely take a step.

It felt as though the fire was spreading, the heat impossible to diminish.

            

She felt her forehead—it wasn’t hot. Truly, only the back of her neck burned.

Of course. Chills and fever were mortal ailments—how could she catch them?

Zhuoxue was frantic to get back, wishing each li were no more than ten steps so she could rush straight to Lan Hui’s side. But Lingkong Mountain was boundlessly vast, its peaks stretching endlessly, ridge upon ridge.

            

Just as she was about to plunge into the maze array, a gust of demon wind swept through the mountain, shaking branches and leaves until every tree shadow on her face seemed to be baring its teeth and claws.

The newcomer meant no good!

It carried that same murderous resolve—the kind that would cut the grass and pull out the roots. The killing intent concealed within was ferocious, clearly holding nothing back.

            

This was far more terrifying than Longming’s glance just now. No matter how fierce Longming was, she’d only meant to frighten her. This demon energy genuinely wanted her dead!

Zhuoxue couldn’t understand. The pig demon and those hungry ghosts—were they not targeting Lingkong Mountain after all?

But she was just an ordinary country fox. What ability did she have that would make these demons and ghosts go to such lengths to take her life?

            

The demon wind struck like a hurricane, knocking her a hundred chi away. Her form drifted weightlessly, becoming a wisp of cloud on the mountainside.

Fortunately, branches crisscrossed the mountainside. She grabbed a thick bough and hung on, suspending herself in midair.

The encroaching demon energy suddenly coalesced, transforming into a thousand densely packed gray blades, every tip pointing straight at her.

            

The fox was still hanging in midair, unable to dodge in time. She wound one arm around the bough and flicked her long sleeve, releasing a burst of energy to try to scatter the thousand blades.

The pig demon’s power clearly exceeded hers. She was an ant trying to shake a tree²—she barely dislodged two of the blades. The rest remained utterly unmoved.

This was bad.

            

If only she’d trained harder before—would she even have been able to put up a fight?

Just as the airtight wall of blades was about to pin her like a target, she gritted her teeth, released the bough, and the wind roared past her ears.

Her slender form plummeted like a falling stone. She actually wasn’t riddled with blades—only a few locks of her long hair were sheared off, leaving her once-neat braid in tatters.

            

The silver bell on her ankle shook frantically. Lan Hui had tied it there specifically to track her whereabouts—now it served as an alarm, its rings echoing across the empty mountain peaks.

But the bell’s chime was too faint compared to the chirping of insects. Who knew if it could wake anyone.

Zhuoxue lunged for the cliff face beside her. Her nails shot out nearly two cun³ long, curving like hooks, and scraped against the stone with a piercing shriek.

            

Just as her nails were utterly ruined, she barely managed to steady herself.

She didn’t dare breathe easy. With a flex of her narrow waist, she swung into a cave halfway up the mountain, pressed her back and shoulders tight against the stone, and clamped a hand over her mouth and nose, hiding herself.

Her nails were torn and broken, both hands a bloody mess.

            

Normally she’d have been crying out in pain by now. But she didn’t dare—she didn’t even dare breathe.

The cave was pitch-black. She didn’t know where it led, or whether an uninvited guest might suddenly appear from the other end.

Who would have thought—the patrol demons and the leopard had searched for half a day without finding the pig demon, yet she’d run right into it.

            

No—the pig demon had deliberately come after her. Otherwise, how could it be such a coincidence?

Outside the cave, demon wind howled past. The fox had just lowered her hands when the distant wind unexpectedly doubled back.

Black demon energy pressed down like a suffocating cloud, pouring aggressively into the cave mouth, intent on sealing it shut.

            

Zhuoxue was nearly thrown off again. Through the thick fog, a hand with a severed finger thrust forward.

It was indeed the pig demon.

In that fleeting instant, the fog froze. Even that hand—the one missing a finger—stopped dead in midair, unable to move.

            

“Don’t move.”

A voice came from behind her.

Zhuoxue’s heart pounded like a drum. Every muscle and bone in her body was locked tight, her soul already half-fled, her gaze unfocused.

            

She didn’t dare turn around.

An overwhelming pressure enveloped her completely. Five fingers, as finely sculpted as art, brushed past her ear.

Like taking something from a bag⁴, Longming effortlessly broke the pig demon’s wrist.

            

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The author has something to say:

Great Tiger, how do you manage to sleep?

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