The Great King Ordered Me to Marry – Chapter 46
by Little PandaSpeaking of the Fox Unable to Restrain Her Passions
The fox didn’t know whose flesh she had bitten, but she bit with great vigor.
She bit until her teeth ached and her tongue went numb, yet refused to let go. Two soft whimpers escaped her lips, while her other hand hung at her side, scratching miserably at the ground.
She scratched until her fingernails were packed with mud and sand. At this rate, she would claw herself bloody before long.
Fortunately, once the barrier was raised, no flying insects or running beasts could enter this place, and neither birdsong nor chirping could travel out.
All was silent. The only thing still in turmoil was the heart beneath her chest.
The fox’s heart was in chaos, and Longming’s heart was not entirely at peace either.
Longming seized the fox’s hand that was clawing at the ground, blew the dirt from between her fingers, and gave a faint scoff — as if mocking, yet perhaps not.
“You still had the sense to grab my hand when you were biting, yet lost all sense when you started digging at the ground.”
Her voice was cold, but not cold to the bone — like thin ice on a river, ready to shatter at a single step.
What was she saying?
The fox could no longer hear. That unbearable mating heat swept through her with the force of engulfing the eight wastes1, scattering her senses.
The fox was drenched in hot sweat, biting down on Longming’s hand without releasing. She had already drawn blood, yet Longming seemed utterly oblivious, as though she would let her bite until the flesh split open.
“What? What did you say?” Zhuoxue’s words were slurred. Her eyes, moments ago hazy and unfocused, now gleamed like polished gold and jade.
Her irises shimmered with a radiance untethered to the seven emotions and six desires2 — pure as an undyed bolt of white silk.
Though troubled by mating heat, she was not ensnared by lust. She did not understand desire; she simply sought coolness and pressed closer.
Comfortable, yet insufficient — like a small boat on the sea, unable to reach shore no matter what.
Having drawn the taste of blood, Zhuoxue licked the wound like a beast, lapping up every trace of sweetness before baring her teeth to bite again.
How sharp her teeth were.
Longming did not move. Her hand was already streaked with blood, yet she didn’t even glance down.
The barrier was too narrow, the air stagnant. The space had grown stifling, and the fox’s heat was slowly smothering the coolness of Longming’s body.
She too seemed to have fallen into a boiling pot, sweat dampening the hair at her temples.
“Zhuoxue, do not move,” Longming called.
Zhuoxue had bitten for a long while and still felt no relief from the heat. She simply released Longming’s hand and went limp, sinking downward.
The boat was capsizing — why could she still not reach shore?
Zhuoxue felt wronged. She clutched tightly at Longming’s sleeve and looked up without a word, thinking: Save me. Why won’t you save me?
Longming, pulled close, sat down on the ground. Her black hair faded, gradually returning to her original form — silver hair cascading to her waist.
Those crimson eyes, so cold and still. The two black markings beneath them swept diagonally toward her temples, like a blood moon hanging high as dark clouds churned through it.
Fortunately, the barrier was in place. If anyone had wandered into the deep forest at night, they would see nothing amiss — only feel the surrounding wind turning chilly.
Longming had barely sat down when a damp arm draped across her front. The fox seemed to have taken her for a bed of ice, wrapping tight around her and lying down.
She was pillowed perfectly. That crown of hair — nearly as white as her fox form’s fur — nudged against the side of her neck, now and then.
“What? What did you just say?” Zhuoxue still couldn’t hear. She pressed her cheek to Longming’s face and slowly turned her ear toward her.
Longming saw that the ear had flushed crimson too, like peach flesh — half white, half red.
“I told you not to move anymore,” she said.
Zhuoxue looked bewildered, still not understanding at all. She knew nothing of relief — she only pressed closer, only breathed out soft, hitching sighs.
But the more she rubbed against her, the more uncomfortable she became — like a ripened peach wearing a thin, tender skin that would burst and spill juice at the slightest scrape.
From amid the silver-and-black mixed hair, a pair of fox ears suddenly sprouted. A tail whipped out as well, sweeping across Longming’s lap.
Longming was briefly startled. Shifting forms required demonic power. She probed Zhuoxue’s lingtai once more — and sure enough, not a trace of spiritual power remained.
The lingtai was empty, utterly and completely clean.
This time, no matter what the demonic core did, it could not draw in any spiritual power. Zhuoxue had no spiritual power left to use.
Zhuoxue suddenly choked out a sob, tears falling against Longming’s collarbone. She was so miserable she didn’t know what to do. She gripped Longming’s sleeve tightly, her whole body trembling as she cried.
Longming raised a hand to wipe her shoulder, narrowing her eyes as she lifted her arm. The glistening moisture on her fingertips seemed to shimmer like moonlit gauze.
“It hurts so much, Longming,” Zhuoxue said.
“Do not cry,” Longming looked down.
Zhuoxue stopped crying. She buried her face and said muffledly, “I’m going to die, and you’re just watching.”
This was nowhere near “dying,” but no matter how Longming explained it now, Zhuoxue wouldn’t hear a word of it.
The tear on Longming’s fingertip was already trembling, ready to fall.
After a long while, Longming said, “Look at me.”
This time, she actually heard.
Zhuoxue tilted her head up, her gaze falling on Longming’s face. Her eyes were brimming, on the verge of rain — even the light in her irises was wet.
Longming lightly brought the tear on her fingertip forward and pressed it to the center of Zhuoxue’s brow, leaving a faint gleam of water.
Even a single point of contact was unbearable. Even a single point of contact could set off tidal waves and crumbling mountains.
Zhuoxue gave a sudden shiver. The corners of her eyes grew damp, and even the tears sliding down carried an endless, tingling warmth.
She darted out her tongue, catching a falling tear and tasting salt.
Longming’s index finger remained pressed to the fox’s brow. In that posture, she slowly channeled spiritual power through it.
That stream of spiritual power flowed unhurriedly through the fox’s body. It did not pour into the spiritual meridians, lest the demonic core devour it.
Nor did it charge recklessly about. Instead, it followed the flow of qi and blood, coursing through the fox’s entire body.
Wherever the spiritual power reached, it sent tremors through her.
“What’s happening inside?” Zhuoxue’s voice was light as willow catkins.
She struggled to prop herself up, her other hand trailing down her own body. Where the spiritual power shifted half an inch, her fingertips followed half an inch.
She touched herself, and a soft moan slipped past her lips unbidden. The drifting boat had finally found a direction — it wandered east and west, searching for a way to survive.
Her collar slipped from her shoulder, the beaded sash at her waist knocked askew. She followed that current of spiritual power, slowly tracing downward, her fingertips reaching her lower abdomen — and she drew a sharp breath.
Longming abruptly withdrew the spiritual power. She… could only help this far.
In that instant, Zhuoxue became a vine that couldn’t support itself again, sinking heavily back against Longming.
The boat lurched, crashing into thick fog — and in a flash, lost all direction again.
How to reach shore? How to reach shore?
Zhuoxue’s golden eyes had finally taken on the tint of desire — but her understanding was incomplete, hazy and muddled, not knowing what lay beneath.
With no more spiritual power to guide her, she felt a hollow loss. Her spiritual meridians were empty; a hundred ravines could not be filled.
The hand resting below her navel slowly lifted the hem of her skirt. But even when her fingertips pressed against bare skin, something was still missing.
The boat had to cross the vast sea of fog before it could see the way forward.
Not enough — she needed to go deeper, to be more intimately close, just as that wisp of spiritual power had been moments ago.
Zhuoxue found a wet, slick place. Her fingertips dipped into the hidden cleft, and she couldn’t help but breathe out soft, hitching sighs.
“What is this?” Zhuoxue looked up at Longming. One light touch, and her breathing fractured into fragments.
Longming did not answer.
Zhuoxue tried once more. Even her shoulder blades went weak. She buried her face and could not raise it again.
The silver moon hung high. Thin clouds shuttled back and forth — who knows how many times they had crossed.
In the dark forest, the wind murmured low. Shadows of trees danced all around, like overlapping silhouettes of people.
After a long time, sensing that Zhuoxue’s breathing had returned to calm, Longming finally raised her arm and pressed her finger to the fox’s brow once more — this time, to erase the memory of what had just passed from the fox’s lingtai.
She peered into Zhuoxue’s lingtai again. The demonic core had already clouded over once more, as though it had rewrapped itself in the shell it had shed earlier.
Longming had never seen such a spectacle. She moved her hand to the back of Zhuoxue’s neck — and to her surprise, no matter how she probed the restriction, the runes did not illuminate.
The restriction sat dormant and still. Had she not seen it clearly before, she would have assumed the restriction had already been broken.
That restriction had indeed been half burned away — but half still remained.
Longming reasoned that the demonic core now stood in exact equilibrium with the restriction. If Zhuoxue were fortunate enough to break through her realm, the restriction would inevitably shatter.
Therefore, the demonic core was desperate to break through, ravenous to claim all spiritual power as its own.
It was likely only after a successful breakthrough that the devoured spiritual power would pour forth from that bottomless pit and return to the lingtai and spiritual meridians.
Longming had released her spiritual power for two reasons: first, to test the demonic core; second, to give Zhuoxue some power for self-defense.
As she expected, no matter how much spiritual power she channeled, the demonic core swallowed it all — not a trace remained.
With no other option, Longming could only form a hand seal to suppress the discomfort in Zhuoxue’s body.
This was not a long-term solution. Prolonged suppression would inevitably lead to consequences beyond control.
The next day, the carriage jolted along. They did not enter Yunjing again, but followed a winding mountain road3, heading toward a mountain city.
When Zhuoxue woke, her head ached terribly. She slowly opened her eyes and sat up, only to find herself surrounded by soft cushions. Her head hadn’t been aching from the carriage’s jolting.
Why were they on the road again? Had she been knocked unconscious by the restriction at the back of her neck once more?
She lifted the curtain and caught sight of Longming driving the horses.
Beneath the bamboo hat, Longming’s black hair swayed gently — not a single strand of silver visible. She must have taken mortal form again.
After one glance, Zhuoxue yanked the curtain shut, grabbed a fistful of her own hair, and said in a trembling voice, “Longming, only half my hair is still black.”
She used to resent her beast form’s pure, flawless white — so conspicuous that, faced with a great enemy, she couldn’t even hide properly.
Now even her human form’s hair was turning entirely white. How bleak.
Beyond the curtain, Longming said unhurriedly, “If you had broken through your realm, it would likely already be all white.”
Zhuoxue froze. “I didn’t break through?” she said sheepishly.
“You broke through once,” Longming said. “Ordinary Demon Kings cannot achieve consecutive breakthroughs, yet you could. Unfortunately, the second time your spiritual power was insufficient — you didn’t break through completely.”
Zhuoxue checked herself and realized she couldn’t summon even a wisp of spiritual power. How was this different from when she had first taken human form? Only this body was sturdier than a mortal’s.
“How did this happen? Where is my spiritual power?” Zhuoxue’s voice shook. “Even if the tribulation failed, it shouldn’t have come to this.”
Longming said evenly, “Your demonic core is no ordinary thing. Right now, the spiritual power within it happens to counterbalance the restriction. The core is eager to break through. Your options are to maintain the status quo — or to seek more spiritual power and fill it to bursting.”
“What an appetite,” Zhuoxue marveled.
So the object took after its master — no wonder, when she was usually so gluttonous herself.
“Right now, no matter how much spiritual power you absorb, the demonic core will drain it dry,” Longming added.
Zhuoxue fell silent for a moment, then abruptly felt the top of her head — and found a pair of fox ears. She reached behind her and, unsurprisingly, found a fox tail as well.
She wanted to cry but had no tears left. “Then how am I supposed to change my appearance? Before, I could act without a care. Now my hair is half white and I’m sporting a pair of furry ears.”
The wind caught the curtain. Longming turned her head, meeting the fox’s brilliant golden eyes, and smiled with calm composure. “I’ve cast a spell on you. Aside from the two of us, no one can see through your true form. It’s no hindrance.”
Zhuoxue felt mostly reassured. “I only remember those three bolts of lightning last night. Did I pass out from the restriction’s pain, or did the heavenly lightning knock me out?”
“The lightning,” Longming replied flatly.
Zhuoxue was puzzled again. “Wasn’t it said that only great demons breaking through their realms must endure lightning tribulations? Why did this lightning strike me without rhyme or reason?”
“I suspect it was Tianji’s doing,” Longming said. “Last night the restriction fluctuated — he detected it.”
“I thought the heavenly lightning held me in such high regard. Turns out I was being manipulated.” Zhuoxue’s tone carried a note of disappointment.
She scooted to the carriage door. “And then you conjured this carriage and took me on the road?”
“Mm.” Longming offered not a syllable more.
Zhuoxue pressed a hand to her midsection. “Will my spiritual power come back?”
“Naturally,” Longming said. “Once you break through your realm, the demonic core will release all the spiritual power it holds.”
Zhuoxue stopped fretting, though she had no idea how much more spiritual power the demonic core needed to devour before it was full.
She sighed softly and changed the subject. “Last night we left in a hurry — I didn’t get to ask. When we were in the Nightmare Dream, if we had broken the dream’s rules, would we have died, or what?”
Longming answered, “Disrupting the natural order and laws of all things will inevitably result in the Nightmare Dream eroding your soul. Even the Nightmare King himself cannot act with impunity within the dream.”
“But that Nightmare King clearly had countless methods — he could have simply seized the silk pouch directly in the dream,” Zhuoxue reasoned.
Longming scoffed. “I cast a spell on the silk pouch. Unless I give it away of my own accord, no one can take it. And he would never dare step beyond the Nightmare Dream’s edge — once his mind is deranged, even he would struggle to free himself.”
Zhuoxue still had lingering fear. “Good thing he didn’t come to Yunjing in person to strike us down from outside the Nightmare Dream while we were ensnared.”
Longming gave a cold laugh. “There are far too many celestials in Yunjing — and not every one of them answers to Tianji. How would he dare use Tianji’s influence to wreak havoc in Yunjing?”
Zhuoxue nodded slightly. She had only been awake a short while and was already tired again — surely because her lingtai was so barren, her whole body drained of strength.
She lay back down and squeezed every soft cushion at her side. She truly couldn’t fathom why Longming had suddenly become so considerate, even protecting her head.
Could it be that last night’s three bolts of heavenly lightning hadn’t just struck her, but had also scrambled Longming’s mind?
No — that didn’t make sense. Longming had spoken clearly and logically just now, not at all like someone whose mind was addled.
Why, then?
Her demeanor didn’t seem like she had recognized her as Jueguang, either. If she had, wouldn’t she be weeping and transforming into a white tiger to curl at her feet?
Zhuoxue couldn’t figure it out. She simply attributed it to Longming being afraid of her “two big gourds.”
Footnotes
- 席卷八荒 | xíjuǎn bāhuāng | Classical idiom meaning 'to sweep across the eight wastes,' i.e., to engulf everything in all directions with overwhelming force.
- 七情六欲 | qīqíng liùyù | Buddhist and Daoist concept: the seven emotions (joy, anger, sorrow, fear, love, hatred, desire) and six sensory cravings, collectively denoting all worldly passions.
- 羊肠九曲 | yángcháng jiǔqū | Classical idiom meaning 'nine bends of a sheep's intestine,' describing a path that twists and turns endlessly.
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