The Great King Ordered Me to Marry – Chapter 20
by Little PandaSpeaking of Lan Hui’s True Identity
Zhuoxue had been frightened to the point of boneless, nerveless jelly. The cold sweat she’d broken out in before entering the hall had dried in an instant, and now she didn’t dare sweat at all.
Fortunately, aside from being suspended in midair, there were no further traps or schemes.
“Don’t hurt her!”
Someone shouted at the top of their lungs.
Now that they were close, Zhuoxue recognized it at once—this was Lan Hui’s voice.
Zhuoxue seized the moment to sob: “Great King, even mortals sentenced to beheading get a last meal. I’ve been up since dawn and haven’t had a single piece of meat yet.”
Before her words had even faded, she felt as though she were trapped in a narrow crevice. Invisible demonic power engulfed her, binding her hands and feet so she couldn’t move at all.
She’d thought that would be the worst of it, but then her neck felt as though the flesh were being gouged out, ten thousand needles driving into it, threatening to pierce straight through her throat.
It was demonic power again—vast demonic power bearing down directly on the restriction at the back of her neck, and she couldn’t struggle against it.
The great hall blazed with light in an instant as the restriction flared, every rune contour laid bare.
Zhuoxue wished she were dead. Her throat was gripped as if in a vise, and she could only let out faint gasps—like a fish long out of water, too weak to even thrash properly.
Pain.
Pain from the inside out.
Her frail Demonic Core trembled violently, on the verge of cracking, and her soul was nearly separating from her body.
It seemed this restriction was truly bound to her life—if it were forcibly broken, she would not survive.
At that very moment, a spell utterly unlike demonic power crashed forward with the force of a thunderbolt, smashing apart the blade of energy hovering behind Zhuoxue’s neck.
Lan Hui was panting, having clearly exerted every ounce of her strength.
Longming was half unsurprised and half caught off guard. She was certain Lan Hui was not entirely ignorant, yet she couldn’t confirm Lan Hui’s true identity.
“You are no demon.” She looked at Lan Hui.
Four words like thunder and driving rain, each syllable shaking the earth.
If not a demon, then what?
Naturally, she couldn’t be human. Though some mortals practiced the mystic arts, even with spells at their command they remained of mortal flesh and [redacted], reliant on artifacts to channel spiritual power. They could never shift wind and cloud with a mere turn of the palm or a single gesture.
Zhuoxue couldn’t see Lan Hui’s expression. She could barely manage a light gasp in the brief respite.
By now Lan Hui had withdrawn her power. She didn’t raise her eyes or respond, as though she hadn’t heard a thing.
“Are you truly Lan Hui, Mountain Lord of Qiufeng Ridge?” Longming demanded.
How could it not be Lan Hui? After more than ten years together, even if the other woman were reduced to ash, Zhuoxue would still recognize her.
Zhuoxue was still suspended in midair. The restriction on the back of her neck had been awakened and wouldn’t cool down easily. She was burning and aching, and could only squeeze out a muffled: “Auntie Lan, go.”
“It is indeed me.” Lan Hui didn’t leave. Her voice was gentle and composed, as always. “I must trouble the Demon Lord to withdraw her power. This little fox has been spoiled rotten. If she has given offense, please forgive her.”
Longming smiled. “Your paths are fundamentally different, yet you make excuses for this fox. It seems it truly was you who raised her for over a decade. Time bred affection, and now you go soft at the sight of her.”
Lan Hui didn’t respond.
Longming struck again to test her, clearly intent on using the fox to force Lan Hui to reveal everything.
The back of Zhuoxue’s neck hurt like needles again. Formidable demonic power split into a thousand threads, pressing finely against her skin and flesh, as though trying to break the restriction down to its last detail.
Zhuoxue’s thoughts grew sluggish. One moment she wanted to beg for mercy, the next she couldn’t help puzzling over Lan Hui’s identity.
If Lan Hui was neither demon nor human, then what could she be?
By the end, the pain left her no room to think. She could only gasp desperately, tears blooming from the corners of her eyes until her entire face was wet.
“Please, Demon Lord, show mercy!” Lan Hui raised her voice.
“My conversation with the master of the Huangliang Dream Market just now—you heard it too,” Longming said, her tone neutral. “Kunlun Jade Capital would not leave a restriction on this fox without reason, and you would not have found this fox without reason either.”
Lan Hui didn’t answer. Her hands at her sides were visibly trembling. She raised her eyes and said, “The little fox has neglected her cultivation since childhood. Her Demonic Core is no larger than a fingertip. If this continues, she will certainly die.”
Zhuoxue also felt she would certainly die. She was already spent, too exhausted to even roll her eyes.
“You won’t kill her,” Lan Hui said with certainty.
Longming gave a soft scoff and stopped forcing demonic power into the restriction.
As the demonic power receded, the light that had rippled across the restriction from the attack slowly dimmed, and shadows pooled throughout the hall.
Zhuoxue froze, sensing the invisible cage around her dissipating—though a single thread still held her, keeping her feet off the ground.
But in the next instant, demonic power surged around Longming. The billowing white mist spread until it nearly filled the entire hall.
The white mist coalesced in a flash into a fearsome, bone-chilling tiger palm. Heaven-shaking pressure bore down like a tidal wave—so cold it seemed it would reduce anyone beneath the palm to flying ash.
Zhuoxue’s eyes were still brimming with tears. Her vision was blurred, and the less she could see, the more frightened she became, her heart suspended high.
The pressure forced her breath into short, desperate gasps. She stared wide-eyed in terror, clutched her head, and screamed: “Don’t hurt Auntie Lan!”
But this was the Demon Lord of the Cangqiong Mountain Realm—how could she possibly stop there?
In an instant, the hall seemed to scatter like swirling snow, the wind howling in fury.
When had Zhuoxue ever witnessed pressure like this? It was more terrifying than heavenly lightning. For a single instant she regretted everything—if only she hadn’t come to Lingkong Mountain.
From afar, the coalesced tiger palm had already suspended itself above Lan Hui’s skull. The aggressive force bent Lan Hui double so she couldn’t straighten her back.
Lan Hui’s feet ground and cracked against the floor. To resist the demonic power, she had crushed the stone slabs beneath her.
Lan Hui, usually so mild and elegant, now clenched her jaw, her gentle eyes filled with fierce resolve.
Whoever could stand against Longming must possess extraordinary power—how could she be some craven creature?
“Well? If I add another layer of power, will you still not fight back?” Longming said coolly. “Why not let me see more of the spell you just used?”
Lan Hui held off the demonic power above with one arm. Sweat poured down her face like rain, and her lips were white as paper.
“Take it out on me! Auntie Lan is innocent.” Zhuoxue desperately wanted to go help, but she was still bound in midair—let alone assisting, she could barely even protect herself.
The crushing demonic power slowly bore down. The hall trembled and boomed. The stone slabs beneath Lan Hui’s feet collapsed completely, and half her body was already buried in the ground.
Even like this, Lan Hui neither cried for mercy nor fought back.
Did she not want to fight back, or was she unable to?
“If you want this fox pelt, strip it off me! Just stop hurting her!” Zhuoxue watched helplessly as Lan Hui was buried in the ground.
At that moment, a surge of energy spread outward. It was unlike demonic aura—it was so pale and cool, like a solitary orchid planted in an empty valley by one who dwells among mountains and streams.
It walled off the dust of the mortal world, lofty and unattainable.
Though the fox had never met an Immortal in her life, she recognized the scent at once. This was…Immortal Qi1.
She stared blankly at the elder buried in rubble and earth, unable to believe that the Mountain Lord of Qiufeng Ridge—who had been by her side day and night for over ten years—was truly not a demon.
They said immortals and demons were sworn enemies, yet Lan Hui had never hurt her, never harmed the little demons in the mountains. Lan Hui was so fair and magnanimous, as though she embraced a hundred rivers.
If she was an Immortal, why would she willingly stay in Qiufeng Ridge? Why would she content herself with dwelling in a lightless crevice? Why would she spend her days among demons, kindly raising a fox demon to adulthood?
But Lan Hui was, beyond any doubt, an Immortal.
The author has something to say:
The fox has a backer!
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