The Great King Ordered Me to Marry – Chapter 27
by Little PandaSpeaking of the Fox and Tiger Exchanging Blows
Zhuoxue was glad Longming hadn’t intended to kill—otherwise, that single finger to her forehead would have been enough to finish her.
Strangely, though Longming hadn’t even touched her, a fine chill seeped through her skin.
It was oppressive pressure.
The oppressive pressure common to Great Demons had been carefully concealed by Longming; it followed her demonic energy, seeping into Zhuoxue’s flesh like pervasive spring rain, cool and fine.
“Don’t move,” Longming said.
Shaken by the oppressive pressure, Zhuoxue’s Lingtai trembled.
The tiny Demonic Core atop her Lingtai bounced about like a glass bead, churning her qi and blood into chaos, stirring up a storm from nowhere.
Zhuoxue shivered uncontrollably and suddenly gripped Longming’s slender fingers, her lips stammering: “The oppressive pressure of demons and immortals are completely different—and the King of Hell, who’s half god and half ghost, is even more different. You can’t possibly be trying to make me adapt this way, can you?”
How could anyone adapt to this? Unless her soul went entirely numb, the fox grumbled inwardly.
“You’ve practiced for half a shichen1; your demonic power should have improved somewhat. I’m inspecting your demonic power.” Longming didn’t pull her hand back, letting Zhuoxue hold on.
Zhuoxue broke out in cold sweat: “I thought your inspection method was to have me demonstrate them one by one.”
“By the time you finish demonstrating them one by one, it’d take forever.” Longming gave a faint smile.
What could Zhuoxue say to that? If she had to perform spell after spell, it would indeed take longer.
Fortunately, Longming’s demonic energy wasn’t too piercing at the moment. After that initial chill passed, it became like a hammer that some kind soul had warmed up, thudding against her body now and then.
She had become soft mud soaked by spring rain all night—a limp, sodden puddle.
That demonic energy traced along her meridians, burrowing into her dantian2 like an elusive wisp of smoke, drifting swiftly.
It was also like a mountain tiger parading through the streets, inspecting everywhere, leaving no corner unchecked.
Zhuoxue gripped tighter and tighter. Fortunately, Longming’s hand wasn’t a crisp pear—otherwise it would have been unrecognizable by now.
She vaguely sensed that Longming’s cold, sharp aura had already patrolled to the edge of her Demonic Core, now surging recklessly.
Her Lingtai, along with her Demonic Core, had been tainted by that aura. For a moment, she couldn’t tell whether the pool of spiritual energy within her, connected to her very being, still belonged to her.
Things had truly gone wrong—she couldn’t resist, and inexplicably wanted to be tainted even more. It was clearly the season and her demonic nature at work!
Zhuoxue pressed her lips together, pretending not to care, but her grip didn’t loosen, and the spiritual energy inside her was like a fish playing among lotus, lightly drifting to cling to Longming’s aura.
Only now did the fox understand what Lan Hui’s ‘hating iron for not becoming steel’3 truly felt like.
“Let go a little.” Longming’s brow furrowed slightly.
Zhuoxue released her grip and accidentally pitched forward. Fortunately, she didn’t tumble head over heels—she fell right onto Longming instead.
It was just that Longming hadn’t pulled her hand back in time, and her fingertip poked right into Zhuoxue’s ticklish spot.
The girl with fox ears couldn’t hold back—she doubled over, giggling, laughing until tears wet her lashes.
Longming was caught off guard by the collision. Her demonic energy paused briefly, and she simply explained: “It’s your spiritual energy. Move it aside.”
How was Zhuoxue supposed to know how to move it aside? She took a half step back and said: “Why don’t we spar? If I can put what I’ve learned to use, then I’ve truly learned it.”
Wasn’t this far more useful than probing her Lingtai? This way, she wouldn’t have to endure so much.
Longming looked skeptical: “Spar with me using those two or three spells?”
Zhuoxue nodded with forced confidence: “When experts spar, the rule is to stop at the touch. I’m no expert, but you are—so you stop at the touch, and I go all out. You see the truth in sparring. What if I can actually use everything I just learned?”
Longming lowered her eyes with a faint smile, and happened to find a few more silver strands among the fox’s black hair. Those few wisps of silver were quite similar to her own hair color, but finer and softer.
She imagined that if the fox could break through her cultivation realm and her demonic power surged, her hair would surely turn entirely white—like silver-woven silk, like a melting snow waterfall, like a rainbow piercing the moon.
It wouldn’t hurt to try.
So Longming looked straight into Zhuoxue’s eyes, no jest or playfulness in her gaze, and said in a low voice: “I’ll give you one stick of incense. Within that time, use everything you’ve ever learned.”
Zhuoxue took a deep breath, thinking: She’s playing for real?
But it was only one stick of incense—she couldn’t possibly use up everything she’d ever learned in that time. Truly a case of tiger eyes looking down on a fox4.
Zhuoxue was raring to go. She rubbed her palms together and said: “So how do I win?”
“If you force me to counterattack, you win.” Longming opened the floodgates.
With that, Longming withdrew her hand, crossed her legs as she rose into the air, and settled back onto the wooden chair with casual grace.
Zhuoxue didn’t believe it. Counterattack? She had plenty of ways to manage that.
Longming leaned against the desk and flicked her wrist. A stick of incense materialized on the mountain-shaped incense holder.
White smoke curled up from the incense—the match had begun.
Starting from the first technique, Zhuoxue went through the motions unhurriedly, not caring whether the spells beneath her palms were actually working.
She flipped her palm and sent a stream of clear water spinning toward Longming—but it didn’t even wet Longming’s sleeve before evaporating into mist.
Longming watched the water light that vanished in a flash and said calmly: “Again.”
Zhuoxue proceeded methodically, pinching her fingers and turning her wrist to cast the second technique with apparent unsteadiness—though this time, it was more formidable.
The window lattice was struck hard by a gust of wind, creaking once. The White Deer Paper beneath the paperweight lifted slightly.
The wind brushed toward Longming’s face, barely lifting a strand of her silver hair.
How could Longming have expected that the fox’s sparring would be like fooling around? What difference was this from demonstrating spells one by one?
She fell silent for a moment, then her thin lips parted slightly: “What are you doing.”
“Using all my strength,” Zhuoxue said without changing expression.
If Longming hadn’t only given her one stick of incense, she really could have gone from the first technique to the last, progressing from easy to difficult, step by step.
Longming hadn’t expected this fox to force her to counterattack at all. She never imagined that every single spell in the fox’s hands would actually look decent.
A bit unpolished, yet entirely without error.
To learn so many spells to this level in one go was truly impressive. If not for the restriction binding her, the fox’s cultivation would surely be even higher.
“What kind of battle strategy is this?” Longming didn’t move a muscle, watching the fox drive thunder and lightning one moment, then summon stones and fire the next.
“When I listened to storytellers in the Mortal Realm, I heard that when two nations clash, one side divides its forces and attacks in rotating waves, making the other side exhausted and unable to respond,” Zhuoxue continued forming hand seals.
Longming flicked away the water droplets flying at her face. “They’d still need to actually deplete something to end up unable to respond.”
Zhuoxue formed seals for a good while until her hands grew tired. She focused her eyes—the tiger demon before her still looked utterly unscathed. Panting, she said: “You’re right.”
And so, the little wind stopped blowing, and the little water stopped crashing.
After resting a bit, watching the incense stick burn down to its end, Zhuoxue flipped her palm again. Demonic power surged between her palms—half clear, half murky, just like her Lingtai.
Though it couldn’t make heaven and earth change color, it could still send surging river water crashing through a jade gorge, could still shatter stone fragments across the sky.
In an instant, the thin curtains in the sleeping hall fluttered wildly, the bed and wooden chairs clanked and shifted, churned by demonic energy into great disquiet.
Longming gave a faint scoff and tapped the desk with a bent finger, suppressing every object in the hall.
Zhuoxue grew somewhat dazed. Her lowered gaze suddenly lifted, and her amber eyes flashed into golden beast pupils.
In that moment, it was as if frost and snow had suddenly fallen—her full head of black hair whitened a little more.
She couldn’t even perceive it—she was still gathering power, focusing her mind.
A surge of arrogant yet pure demonic power poured toward the silver-haired Great Demon like a tidal wave.
Longming had underestimated this fox—she had to raise her arm to defend.
At that moment, the incoming demonic power suddenly dissipated. The slender girl before Longming abruptly transformed into a white-furred fox, her golden beast pupils reverting to normal.
Longming paused and instinctively released her force.
The fox leapt forward and clamped her jaws around Longming’s arm, the whole fox dangling in midair, tail swaying.
Through the sleeve, fox teeth couldn’t pierce the robe. Longming naturally felt no pain—she simply scooped the fox up by instinct and pressed her onto the desk.
Zhuoxue released her fangs and rolled onto her back, four paws in the air, looking utterly harmless as she chirped happily: “You counterattacked!”
Longming gave a soft scoff and lifted her sleeve to examine it carefully, finding the spot where fox drool had left a mark.
“Admit it?” Zhuoxue wagged her tail rather smugly. “How did I do?”
She’d barely finished speaking when Longming’s slender fingers pressed against her lips and teeth.
Longming felt her fangs and said: “Quite impressive. And sharp enough teeth, too.”
Zhuoxue helplessly kept her mouth open, mumbling indistinctly: “Fox teeth can’t ward off evil—don’t pull my teeth!”
Longming withdrew her hand and looked at the white fluffy ball before her. She couldn’t resist reaching out with all five fingers and giving her a rub—not too hard, not too soft.
The fox lying on the desk twisted from side to side. That ticklish feeling rose from her very bones again, and her big tail swished restlessly, scattering white fur everywhere.
At that moment, the back of the fox suddenly burned hot. She leapt into the Great Demon’s arms like a fully drawn arrow.
By now Zhuoxue couldn’t care about embarrassment. For a moment she thought she was in human form, frantically scratching at the fur on her head—when she couldn’t find any, she started scratching at her tail fur instead.
She thought: Could it be that after performing those few spells, the restriction had loosened again?
This time it had loosened considerably—a whole large patch burned hot at once. Her hair might have turned even whiter.
“What are you squirming about?” Longming couldn’t sit straight, troubled by the restless fox in her arms. Countless white hairs stuck to her face, tickling her.
“So hot!” Zhuoxue stopped moving. Looking down at herself—she was all paws and fur, definitely not in human form. What hair was there to speak of?
She thought again—wait, it wasn’t hot anymore. It had only burned for that one moment.
“It’s Kunyu’s reply.” Longming brushed the fox fur from her face. “For the next while, don’t transform back into your beast form unless necessary.”
The fox’s form suddenly stretched out. White fur transformed into snow-pale skin, and she sat straddling Longming’s lap, slightly hunched, face to face.
“You—” The silver-haired Great Demon leaned back in surprise, words unspoken on her lips.
Zhuoxue, blissfully oblivious, rubbed her stinging back and mumbled: “You’re the one who told me to change back to human form.”
She turned her head to look at the desk. On the paper, ink marks were slowly appearing—but just like when Longming wrote, one character would appear as another faded.
“There really are characters! Look, it’s fading!” Zhuoxue exclaimed.
After speaking, she flinched at the cold floor against her toes. Before she could climb off Longming’s lap, she was wrapped in an embrace.
Longming couldn’t worry about anything else. She quickly moved the paperweight and lifted the White Deer Paper from the desk.
She’d read it just in time—a moment later and it would have been incomplete.
On the paper were several lines of somewhat crooked characters, varying in size—some so small you couldn’t make them out without looking carefully.
Zhuoxue twisted to look and couldn’t believe the gap between Great Demons could be this vast. Even if Longming didn’t use a rabbit-hair brush, she’d never write like this.
“The Soul Flowers have reached the end of their bloom. No celestial guests have arrived from above. Yellow Springs Bureau has not hosted a banquet. The King of Hell has closed his doors. Kunlun Jade Capital may be in upheaval.”
Upheaval?
Longming looked thoughtful. She withdrew her hand and gently pushed Zhuoxue’s shoulder.
Zhuoxue had been wanting to leave anyway. She hopped away like a rabbit, bracing her arms on the desk edge, and asked hesitantly: “Are we really going flower-viewing?”
To be honest, she didn’t think Yellow Springs Bureau could produce any beautiful flowers. Even if the flowers were gorgeous, it really wasn’t a good place for flower-viewing.
It was full of ghostly energy, gloomy and terrifying. If a ghost lunged at you while you were viewing flowers, you wouldn’t know if you were admiring flowers or admiring ghosts.
“We’re just using flower-viewing as a pretext to ask Kunyu about Yellow Springs Bureau,” Longming said evenly.
“So we’re not viewing flowers—we’re heading straight for the registers.” Zhuoxue understood.
“Correct,” Longming said.
Zhuoxue grew apprehensive, but the great tiger wouldn’t let her beg off. She could only summon her courage and ask: “So when are we going?”
“After the All-Demons Banquet.” Longming picked up a brush and casually wrote a few characters. “Are you afraid?”
The fox’s earlier bravado and anticipation had been false. With her current level of cultivation, she wasn’t even qualified to trim Longming’s nails—how could she dare enter a dragon’s pool or a tiger’s den5?
“Why don’t we discuss this further?” Zhuoxue suggested.
“Don’t be afraid.” Longming stopped writing. “This matter is of great importance. I’ve thought it through thoroughly. On the way, I’ll ensure your safety without fail.”
Footnotes
- A traditional Chinese time unit equal to approximately two hours; half a shichen is about one hour.
- The lower abdomen energy center in Chinese cultivation theory, considered the reservoir of vital essence and spiritual energy.
- A Chinese idiom expressing frustration at someone's failure to improve—literally 'hating iron for not becoming steel.'
- A playful twist on the Chinese idiom 'dog eyes look down on people,' meaning to look down on someone—here adapted with 'tiger' and 'fox.'
- A Chinese idiom meaning an extremely dangerous place—literally 'a dragon's pool and a tiger's den.'
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