The Great King Ordered Me to Marry – Chapter 26

Speaking of the Reason Why Her Hair Turned White

She had studied and practiced, yet after all that fuss, her hair showed no improvement—still looking half-dead.

Zhuoxue’s hand shook, and her voice trembled with it: “The Mortal Realm often says that pulling sprouts to help them grow¹ goes against the natural law of growth. Did I… outsmart myself?”

            

“You still had the energy to toss the gauze curtains and bedding about like a flower blooming—your vitality seems plenty robust to me.” Longming looked at that lock of hair, further confirming the guess in her heart.

The restriction truly could not be broken by force, and the fox’s demonic core held secrets of its own.

Zhuoxue conjured a pair of fox ears, the tips twitching slightly.

            

During the day, she had barely woken up before someone plucked a handful of her fox fur, and then the Nightmare Tribe’s envoy had suddenly arrived. Startled as she was, she had no mind to notice anything else.

Now, hearing Longming speak again, she felt, inexplicably, that she seemed to…

Hear more clearly?

            

Or perhaps it was because she had cultivated a round, her demonic power had increased, and she could now better withstand the restriction’s grip on her ears.

Zhuoxue muttered, “I’m worried sick—how robust could my vitality be?”

“Where did you get that conclusion that you’re dying soon?” Longming asked at her leisure.

            

Zhuoxue looked up, bewildered, and after a long moment, let out an, “Ah?”

It wasn’t that she couldn’t hear—rather, she was hearing too clearly.

Though it was only slightly better than before, every word was distinct, every syllable clear and distinguishable, without the slightest trace of her former muddiness.

            

It was as though a clear spring had poured into her ears, washing them clean, inside and out.

Aside from the sounds still feeling somewhat faint and distant—distant as though separated by mountains and seas—nothing else could trouble her.

Zhuoxue puzzled it through. So her deafness was actually caused by the restriction—this restriction had done the fox no small harm.

            

Come to think of it, this must be what Emperor Tianji and the Nightmare Tribe hoped for. If she remained in this weak, easily bullied state, how could they fail to kill her?

Zhuoxue’s heart fluttered with glee. Fortunately, she had come to Lingkong Mountain, thwarting Emperor Tianji and the Nightmare Tribe’s designs.

Longming thought the fox hadn’t heard clearly, so she repeated herself: “I said, where did you get that conclusion that you’re dying soon?”

            

Zhuoxue hurriedly brushed the hair aside, picked out a single silver-white strand, and pinched it between her fingers. “My hair went white overnight. In the Mortal Realm, that’s a sign of premature aging.”

Longming leaned forward, five fingers threading into the fox’s hair, gently scooping up a tuft beside her ear.

Her fingertips grazed the roots, sparking a dense itch. That faint, elusive prickle coursed through her in an instant, following the flow of blood to spread across her entire body.

            

Zhuoxue pressed her lips together and said nothing. Her toes curled against the brocade quilt, and she couldn’t help but hold her breath.

This was terrible. She simply stopped holding her breath, flopped forward, and buried her entire face in the bedding, biting down on her fingernails.

This season was truly awful. She wondered if soaking in the spring might make it better.

            

The dark hair at the crown of the fox’s head was lightly brushed aside. Longming scrutinized it carefully—her posture was as if she meant to count every single strand.

Zhuoxue had sharp teeth to begin with, and she gnawed on her own fingers relentlessly. When she bit too hard, the taste of blood rushed into her throat, making her unable to spit it out or swallow it down.

She quickly released her teeth. She might have been a bit greedy on ordinary days, but she wasn’t so greedy as to eat herself—she couldn’t have Longming misunderstand and actually take her for a pig demon.

            

Longming didn’t notice, and even felt her way to the roots for a closer look, heaven knew what she was pondering.

The fox had gone half-limp, just short of writhing on the mattress. After a while, she truly couldn’t hold her breath any longer, and poked half her face out to ask, “Are there that many? What number have you counted to?”

“Not many.” Longming brusquely plucked one out.

            

“Ah!” Zhuoxue winced at the sting and hurriedly clutched the back of her head.

The pain, however, overrode the strange itch from before.

“Look—the hair hasn’t lost its luster, but it’s half black and half white.” Longming pinched two fingers together, and the severed strand drifted down from her fingertips.

            

Zhuoxue’s eyes reddened and welled with tears. It took her a good while to make out that single, slender strand.

It did indeed seem half black and half white, but what was so strange about that? If it had truly turned white overnight, then she must be… incurably ill.

Longming released her grip. The strand drifted down like a willow seed, landing lightly on the couch.

            

She continued parting and examining the hair for a long while, the strands spilling through her palm like a flowing stream, and said coolly, “I had wondered before—your beast form is a white fox, so why does your human form have a head of black hair?”

Zhuoxue said sheepishly, “I thought I was simply born extraordinary, one of a kind.”

When she was young, she had even asked Lan Hui if she was some heaven-chosen fox. Lan Hui hadn’t denied it.

            

“Not so.” Longming shook her head. “It’s the restriction that bound you. That’s why I said before—your current true body is not your true body, and the same goes for your demonic core. Have you noticed?”

Zhuoxue pursed her lips. She had never seen anyone else’s demonic core, so how could she tell what was ordinary and what was extraordinary?

She immediately wrapped her arms around her midsection, hemming and hawing, “I thought it was because I hadn’t broken through a cultivation realm yet, so it looked like it was covered in dust.”

            

“Sacred Immortal Lan Xiang raised you for over a decade, and she never examined it for you.” Longming found this both amusing and rather astonishing.

“Who goes around peeking at other people’s demonic cores? It’s not like gambling on stones in the Mortal Realm, treating demonic cores like uncut jade to bet on.” A flash of insight struck Zhuoxue, and she gasped. “Did you use your demonic power to gamble on jade in the Mortal Realm? Is that how you caught this rule-breaking bad habit?”

“Why don’t you ask when I examined your lingtai and demonic core?” Longming let her leap to the wrong conclusion.

            

Zhuoxue’s shoulders and neck went taut, and she asked warily, “Could it have been last night?”

Longming nodded. “You were in the spring, struggling to break through your realm. I brushed away a little of the pain and itch for you.”

Zhuoxue had already lost the details of last night, but Longming’s mention brought every scene rushing back into her mind, filling her thoughts until there was no room to breathe.

            

Why had she gone and grabbed Longming’s hand? What had she been mumbling about? And why had Longming… indulged her?

Absurd. Utterly absurd.

Zhuoxue couldn’t resist scratching and clawing at the bedding. Her ears flushed red in an instant, and she mumbled, “Next time, just let me drown in the spring.”

            

“I also use that spring occasionally,” Longming said mildly.

Zhuoxue fell silent for a moment, then asked in a small voice, “I was bawling my eyes out in the water last night—are you still going to use it?”

Longming also fell silent for a moment. She truly didn’t want to discuss this with the fox. She picked up the silver strand she had snapped and said with a faint smirk, “Dying soon? You don’t seem all that afraid. I’d say your spirits are high enough to chat the day away.”

            

Zhuoxue caught sight of the silver strand being twirled into a curl, and said haltingly, “So you’re saying my hair color should originally be like my beast form—silver-white?”

“You’ll know once the restriction is fully undone.” Longming didn’t give a direct answer.

Zhuoxue wasn’t worried that her true body might have three heads and six arms. If she truly had three heads, she ought to have three tails as well—and that would be far too gorgeous.

            

She let out a breath, murmuring to herself, “So it’s not that my lamp is running out of oil. You really scared me.”

“The restriction cannot dictate your lifespan.” Longming retrieved a wooden box from her sleeve.

Seeing the dark cast to Longming’s eyes, the breath Zhuoxue had just released caught in her throat again. She asked tremulously, “Has the Nightmare Tribe’s demon envoy gone far?”

            

“Gone far.” Longming set the wooden box at the edge of the bed. With a flick of her wrist, the gauze curtains were lifted by demonic power, and she added, “This is from the Nightmare Tribe—for you.”

As the gauze curtains rose, even the bedding wrapped around the fox seemed to have gained sentience, pulling away from her body in one relentless motion.

Zhuoxue was forced to roll over. To steady herself, she kicked the brocade quilt at the foot of the bed into an even greater mess.

            

She didn’t believe it for a second. She looked up, apprehensive. “Did the Nightmare Tribe call me out by name? Can I refuse it?”

“They didn’t call you out by name.” Longming gave a cold laugh. “But whatever the Nightmare King is plotting, I knew the moment I asked.”

Zhuoxue glanced around, fearful of eavesdroppers, and lowered her voice. “What did you find out? Let me hear it too.”

            

“You open the wooden box,” Longming said, her expression unperturbed.

Zhuoxue’s hair stood on end. She first picked up the box and gave it a random shake, then pressed her ear against it, curling a finger to tap it a few times, listening to the sounds inside.

There was something inside, but she couldn’t tell what it was.

            

“It’s not going to shoot out a poison dart the moment I open it, is it?” Zhuoxue had run through every possibility.

“Qiu Ruo was the one who placed it in the box,” Longming said flatly.

Zhuoxue held her breath and craned her neck back further and further, extending both hands straight out.

            

With a crook of Longming’s finger, the clasp on the wooden box clicked open of its own accord.

Zhuoxue quickly turned her head away, terrified of a hidden attack.

The box was dead silent. Nothing flew out.

            

After a long while, Zhuoxue rolled her eyes and sneaked a glance. She had expected to find some severed limb or bloody stump inside, but instead it was…

An exceedingly elegant scroll?

She asked in bewilderment, “What is this?”

            

“The Moon Melting Record².” Longming used a spell to suspend the scroll in midair.

The rolled-up scroll suddenly unfurled. It was spotless, a few sparse strokes outlining a moon disk.

No star clouds—only the moon disk.

            

A wash of flowing light flickered across the moon’s surface, like moonlight spilling down in the night, casting shimmering radiance over the sea.

Zhuoxue had never heard of the Moon Melting Record. Seeing it for the first time, she could only think that such a treasure belonged in the heavens alone.

“The Nightmare King specifically dispatched a demon envoy to deliver this item.” Longming tilted her head back slightly, admiring it with a calm expression. “Sleep with this scroll beneath your pillow, and you can witness the wonders of the Nine Heavens. The sleeper thinks it a dream, but in truth, it is the soul projecting from the body, soaring straight into the clouds.”

            

Hearing this, Zhuoxue felt as if she could truly see, beyond that moon disk, the jade branches and gemstone trees of the heavens leaning against one another, and the rosy clouds weaving auspicious light.

“So it’s actually a good thing?” Zhuoxue stared, entranced. “Then how did you conclude it was meant for me?”

Longming smiled thinly, her eyes harboring a startling coldness—she had become that predator lurking in the shadows once more, watching with sinister intent.

            

“This scroll circulates in the demon realm. When demons project their souls, braving the divine light to trespass into the Nine Heavens—if they’re caught, the body left behind in the lower realm becomes nothing but a lifeless husk.” Longming’s voice was low and unhurried.

Zhuoxue hastily withdrew her gaze, no longer staring at the Moon Melting Record.

“This item is often used for cultivation. If one can absorb the spiritual power of the Nine Heavens, a realm can advance by leaps and bounds overnight.” Longming took her time. “It’s just that most demons don’t have the fate to survive it.”

            

“How treacherous the Nightmare King is—to try and make you walk right into a trap!” Zhuoxue’s pupils quivered.

“Not me—I naturally have no use for this.” Longming scoffed. “Tell me, on my Lingkong Mountain, who needs it the most?”

Zhuoxue’s expression went blank. “Could it be… me?”

            

“You just broke through a realm last night, and today the Nightmare Tribe delivers this item. This is no heaven-sent fortune—it’s plainly meant to lure you into a cage.” Longming flipped her palm and crooked her fingers. The Moon Melting Record rolled up of its own accord and dropped into her hand.

“Good thing the Great King saw through the Nightmare Tribe’s scheme at a glance!” Zhuoxue’s heart still pounded. Earlier, when she looked at the Moon Melting Record, it had seemed like a peerless treasure. Now that the treasure had revealed its blood-soaked fangs, she found it terrifying to even glance at.

Longming walked to the writing desk, propped her chin on her hand, and said, “The Nightmare Tribe has guessed correctly—right now, I am the one protecting you. But since they haven’t seen it with their own eyes, they won’t easily make a move against me.”

            

“What should we do?” Zhuoxue had no ideas. After all, on the other side was not only the Nightmare King, but also the Celestial Leader of the Heavenly Realm.

Unless, as Longming had said before, they first pushed Emperor Tianji into the eye of the storm and blunted his edge.

“It seems the matter of going to the Yellow Springs Bureau must be put on the agenda.” Longming moved the paperweight aside and picked up a long brush from the brush rack.

            

Zhuoxue scrambled up, barefoot and disheveled, and leaned in to see what Longming was writing.

If she could look openly, she would. If she couldn’t, she’d look secretly.

Fortunately, Longming didn’t stop her. Zhuoxue rose on her tiptoes and looked over without hesitation.

            

Longming gave the brush a light flick, and the snow-white rabbit-hair tip was instantly steeped in ink.

The brush tip descended. Every word was driven through the paper with force and sharp brilliance—more beautiful than any handwriting Zhuoxue had ever seen.

The Mortal Realm says that handwriting reflects character³—there seems to be some truth to it.

            

But no sooner had Longming finished a stroke than the previous character began to vanish bit by bit, the ink seeping into the paper, seeping away completely.

This letter was written to the demon lord of Jueming Ridge, Kunyu, to inquire about the current state of the Yellow Springs Bureau and seize the opportunity to infiltrate.

When the last stroke fell, Longming gave the brush another light flick, and the ink on the rabbit-hair tip vanished without a trace.

            

“That’s it?” Zhuoxue had never seen such a magical artifact. She had assumed the tiger demon had caught a case of mortal bookishness, setting up a writing desk in her bedchamber to doodle in her free time.

“It’s done.” Longming dragged the paperweight back over and pressed it down on the paper.

Zhuoxue grew a little timid. She whispered in Longming’s ear, “Can I take leave the night we infiltrate the Yellow Springs Bureau?”

            

“Absolutely not.” Longming turned to look at her.

Last time, Zhuoxue hadn’t even made it through the gates of the Yellow Springs Bureau before the King of Hell⁴‘s oppressive aura had terrified her half to death. She tried to negotiate. “That place is cold to the bone, and the King of Hell’s presence is freezing and severe. The moment I get there, I’ll be stiff and constrained, ill at ease—I’ll definitely be in the way.”

“That’s because your cultivation is too shallow and your realm is insufficient to withstand it. Which is precisely why you must practice diligently.” Longming rose, her index finger hovering before Zhuoxue’s forehead.

            

Zhuoxue froze, too afraid to move.

The fingertip didn’t touch her, but as it slowly descended, it seemed to press tight against her skin, scraping down inch by inch.

From the space between her brows to her throat, from her neck to her chest and abdomen, and down to three inches below her navel—that was where the demon meridians⁵ passed, connecting to the lingtai.

            

“Let me see whether you’ve been practicing in earnest.” Longming’s voice was slow.

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