The Great King Ordered Me to Marry – Chapter 22
by Little PandaSpeaking of Lan Hui Negotiating Conditions with the Tiger
Emperor Tianji’s intentions were unclear, but he and the Nightmare Tribe had undeniably become interdependent as lips and teeth — sharing glory and ruin; if the lips are gone, the teeth get cold1.
Longming said evenly, “You’ve been in the demon realm for a hundred years. To hesitate this long before proposing an alliance — don’t you think it’s a bit late?”
“I’ve lived in comfort too long. Even the edges of my shell are wearing smooth.” Lan Hui smiled bitterly. “Now Zhuoxue’s safety hangs in the balance. I have no retreat left.”
“How are you so certain I’ll ally with you?” Longming’s voice was low and ghostly. “You’ve laid everything bare. Aren’t you afraid I’ll turn against you?”
“That is my show of sincerity.” Lan Hui’s gaze was steady. “Across both the immortal and demon realms, those who can stand against Emperor Tianji are pitifully few. You happen to have been wronged by him as well — naturally you won’t turn against me.”
“Only at my peak did I have the power to rival him.” Longming gave a cold scoff. “My old wounds haven’t healed. What would I use to fight him?”
“If the Nightmare Tribe hadn’t interfered back then, you wouldn’t have lost,” Lan Hui said.
“Even if you and I join forces, how could we stir up such a storm? We’d need evidence to make all three realms believe.” Longming’s gaze rippled, then settled coldly on Lan Hui. “How can I trust you?”
“Evidence? First, undo the restriction. Second, go to the Yellow Springs Bureau and search for traces left behind all those years ago.” Lan Hui looked steadily at Zhuoxue. “I’ll stake my life on it.”
“I want to see the evidence.” Longming pondered.
Lan Hui’s eyes snapped open. “Naturally there will be.”
“If your words are true, I want Emperor Tianji isolated and helpless before I take his life — and then I’ll exterminate the Nightmare Tribe.” In Longming’s eyes, the countless sufferings of the mortal world were of no concern — the teeming masses were but mayflies. Her ferocity had never been blunted by her fall from power a century ago.
Zhuoxue’s neck went cold. She knew she was adrift in a vast ocean — whether she escaped or not was no longer hers to decide.
Lan Hui’s pupils trembled. She saw the dazzling light in Longming’s crimson eyes and spoke in a hoarse voice, “I’ll help you. But I have conditions too.”
“Name them.” Longming’s voice was flat.
Whether Longming agreed or not, Lan Hui spoke slowly: “Once it’s done, you return to Wugou Stream. Kunlun Jade Capital purges its internal enemies and returns to peace. The two realms no longer war against each other.”
“How would demons and immortals stop warring?” Longming found it amusing.
Lan Hui was neither boastful nor servile. “It depends on human effort. Since the world’s creation, the rules of the Heavenly Dao never prescribed enmity between the two realms. It is desire that upsets the balance.”
A brief while passed. The shadowed hall seemed to sink into the void, so silent it made a fox’s skin crawl.
Zhuoxue felt that Longming would most likely agree. From the moment she’d been captured, she’d known — Longming was different from the Nightmare Tribe. What Longming cared about wasn’t merely Wugou Stream alone.
The restriction on the back of her neck was like a mirror of water — the clearer the water, the truer the reflection it cast.
“Fine. I agree.”
Sure enough, Longming agreed. She hooked one finger, and the demonic power that had formed a cage unfurled and scattered. The oppressive weight subsided completely.
“It would be best if you could swear a Life Oath.” The condensed demonic power, like drifting snow, swirled around Longming’s palm. She closed her fingers, and it dissolved into nothing.
A Life Oath — true to its name, should it be violated, one’s life returns to the Yellow Springs. Witnessed by the Heavenly Dao, once sworn it could not be undone.
“Then I’ll swear it.” The words had barely left Lan Hui’s lips when her hand pressed to her chest. Through living flesh, she endured the pain and drew out a single drop of heart’s blood.
Longming spoke slowly: “You call the Heavenly Dao as witness. You vow to help me find proof of Emperor Tianji’s collusion with the Nightmare Tribe. If a single word is false, your teeth will shatter and your bones will break.”
Lan Hui gathered the heart’s blood in her left palm. Her right hand traced sigils with pinched fingers. She raised her head and said, “The Heavenly Dao as witness — I, Lan Xiang, swear every word is true. I vow to help Longming, Demon Lord of the Cangqiong Mountain Realm, find proof of Emperor Tianji’s collusion with the Nightmare Tribe. Whatever dangers arise, I will not shrink from them.”
“Your heart harbors no second intention. You wish only for Kunlun Jade Capital to purge the traitor Emperor Tianji, and before the deed is done, you will never return to Yaojing,” Longming continued.
Lan Hui clasped her ten fingers tight. Her longing for that jade-pool fairyland became a weight on a scale, pressing her until she swayed for an instant.
Could this truly be done?
How long had it been since she last saw the Immortal Qi drifting through the celestial palaces?
Immortal mountains scattered far and wide, jade flowers and fairy grasses lush and verdant. From a distance, jade pavilions hung suspended among the clouds, their crimson pillars and carved rafters soaring. The dawn sun kindled rosy clouds that unfurled like brocade — magnificent beyond words.
But that bottomless longing was also an axe that could shatter anything.
Lan Hui dug her nails into her palm until it ached. “I harbor no second intention. I wish only for Kunlun Jade Capital to purge Emperor Tianji. Before the deed is done, I will never set foot through the Heavenly Gate — or else celestial lightning will pierce my body and my soul will scatter to the winds.”
Zhuoxue stared blankly. They’d known each other for over a dozen years — how could she not hear the reluctance in Lan Hui’s voice? Lan Hui must be heartbroken, grief-stricken beyond endurance.
The Life Oath was sealed. That drop of heart’s blood spiraled upward and nailed itself into Lan Hui’s brow like a spike, sending a tremor through her entire body.
The last trace of concern in Longming’s eyes was reduced to dust. Even the hand stroking the fox’s fur gentled considerably. Then it was her turn to swear the oath.
Zhuoxue didn’t dare move. She curled up in Longming’s arms, seemingly obedient, resisting the urge to dig wildly.
“You must still have informants in Kunlun Jade Capital.” Longming turned her palm, and a chair woven of vine wood materialized from thin air in the distance.
Lan Hui rose to her feet and sat down. “I did — a fish immortal born in the light outside Emperor Tianji’s bedchamber. Sadly, she perished a few years ago, and since then I’ve had no way to learn news of Yaojing.”
“A pity.” Longming lifted the fox’s chin and teased the tip of her nose. “I’ve heard Kunlun Jade Capital has seen changes recently. I don’t know if the rumors are true.”
“Changes?” Lan Hui was taken aback. “What do you mean?”
“The Jade Lapis Wall permits entry but forbids exit. Such a display is uncommon indeed.” Longming switched to lightly stroking the fox’s silver whiskers.
Zhuoxue couldn’t help sneezing. Spittle splattered onto Longming’s robes. She paused for a moment, then her two legs started digging a hole, as if to bury herself on the spot.
Longming grabbed both her front paws together, stopping her from digging.
Lan Hui’s eyes darkened. “It seems there truly are changes in the palace. I’ll find a chance to investigate.”
“No need.” Longming dismissed the idea. “The pressing matter is a trip down to the Yellow Springs.”
Zhuoxue stopped digging. Her ears shot straight up.
She’d forgotten the pain once the scar healed, and couldn’t help thinking — she knew that place.
“When did the Nightmare Tribe swap the celestial register? And in what year and month did you find this fox?” Longming asked. “So I can look through the Reincarnation Register.”
But Zhuoxue wasn’t familiar after all. She’d never entered the Yellow Springs Bureau — she’d only followed Grandma Qian around the Winding Place for a loop.
She didn’t want to chase after past lives this time either. One flip of the Reincarnation Register and she’d only sink deeper into the mire. How could there be any peace after that?
She probably couldn’t even steal a chicken anymore.
Lan Hui lowered her eyes in recollection. “I suspect that long before the Immortal-Demon War ground on endlessly, Emperor Tianji and the Nightmare Tribe had already made thorough plans to turn Kunlun Jade Capital into a place where only their word carried weight.
“After the war, both sides suffered heavy losses. Kunlun Jade Capital should have tracked the fates of fallen immortals — whether they’d scattered into nothingness or entered the cycle of reincarnation, all should have been recorded. But the Celestial Leader’s seat was empty, and every department was in chaos. The matter was shelved.
“Then Emperor Tianji succeeded as Celestial Leader, but he had no time to fill the gaps in the celestial register. Instead, he abolished numerous celestial posts, leaving a host of immortals and gods holding multiple offices, stretched thinner than ever.
“It wasn’t until the fifth year after the war that Emperor Tianji set about completing the celestial register, for which he had to rush to the Yellow Springs Bureau and investigate the whereabouts of each fallen immortal. I, who had long protected mortal health and longevity, feared discrepancies in the Life-and-Death Register, so I arrived at the Yellow Springs Bureau before Emperor Tianji did and borrowed the register to examine.
“Only when I looked did I discover that a plague had broken out in the Mortal Realm five years prior. I’d been so busy with other affairs that I hadn’t heard the slightest whisper of it!
“Many mortals died in the plague, living three to five years less than their recorded lifespans in the Life-and-Death Register. It was exceedingly suspicious. The plague demons were dismissed from their posts, but it remained unknown how the plague parasites had leaked out.”
“I was still in the Mortal Realm at that time.” Longming’s voice turned abruptly cold, the chill biting.
Five years — wasn’t that exactly the five years Longming had lived in seclusion in the mortal world?
In Zhuoxue’s dreams, the Imperial City of the Mortal Realm had been joyful and peaceful. Who knew what suffering plagued the countryside when the epidemic broke out?
She suddenly thought again — hadn’t Princess Jueguang died in the plague? Jueguang… wasn’t supposed to die.
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