The Great King Ordered Me to Marry – Chapter 54
by Little PandaSpeaking of Two Demons Ascending the Mountain to Seek a Spiritual Herb
The fox spoke wild words, yet her expression was so certain, as though she had solid grounds.
Kunyu hadn’t believed it at first. Something that roiled all three realms couldn’t be trifled with — she’d rather assume she’d misheard.
The fire in her eyes burned brighter. She parted her lips: “When did they collude?”
“During the great war a century ago,” Longming said.
Kunyu had long loathed the Nightmare Tribe’s habit of usurping another’s home1. Now the hatred sank to her marrow. She ground her fangs and sawed her teeth: “Rats and sparrows, the lot of them — utterly despicable. I only wonder what they stood to gain from it.”
“Beyond counting,” Longming scoffed.
“Shall we march?” Kunyu’s eyes looked ready to burst from their sockets.
“Stay calm. Don’t be rash.” Longming saw Kunyu’s demonic energy churning thick around her — clearly she was already incensed beyond reason. She flicked out a thread of spiritual power and pressed it between Kunyu’s brows.
Kunyu jolted as though struck by lightning, snapping awake with a shudder and exhaling a heavy breath.
Longming said, “I haven’t recovered to my full strength. If I clashed with Tianji, I’d have only a four-in-ten chance. And with Tianji allied to the Nightmare Tribe, if we attacked Kunlun Jade Capital without provocation, the Nightmare King would certainly step in to stop us.”
“Could the way through truly lie with her?” Kunyu looked at the fox, utterly baffled.
Zhuoxue simply assumed the great demon had lost her wits to anger and cast her a pitying glance. “If you won’t believe me, fine — but you won’t believe Longming either?”
Kunyu was so stunned she couldn’t close her mouth, but seeing that Longming showed no intention of refuting it — even seemed to be letting it stand — she was finally half-convinced.
She still couldn’t fathom how this fox with such meager demonic power could break the deadlock. Surely not by sitting down to play a round of Leaf Cards with Tianji and the Nightmare King.
“How?” Kunyu knew Longming would never treat this as a joke; she only wanted even a half-inkling of an answer.
Zhuoxue, perfectly composed, said, “This hermit has a brilliant plan.2“
Kunyu saw that Longming remained silent and knew she wouldn’t pry the answer loose today.
She lowered her gaze to the hairpin in her hand, then turned, her mind made up. Black sand flew beneath her feet as she walked, every word landing like a stone: “Take care on your journey. I’ll go ahead to Wugou Stream and investigate. Liangmeng has always been clever — she may have left other traces.”
Longming only cautioned: “Remember — don’t act impulsively.”
Kunyu dissolved into a shadow and departed, while the ghosts drifted back to Jueming Ridge to guard the mountain gates.
Only Zhuoxue and Longming remained where they stood. The two demons had long planned for this and were in no hurry.
“Shall we go?” Zhuoxue’s eyes shifted, bright as sunlight on a long river, spring light rippling.
Longming gazed into the distance. “It’s a long road. Don’t go beating the retreat drum3.”
“What’s a retreat drum? I don’t know how to play one.” Zhuoxue’s gaze drifted away, entirely forgetting that she’d already beaten that drum several times in secret.
Nearly battered the drumhead to pieces.
No matter — patch it up and it’ll last another three years.
They were no longer in the Mortal Realm. Longming didn’t bother with a carriage. She shook herself into the White Tiger, and one beat of her wings sent gales rolling the black sand across the ridge in towering clouds that blotted the sky.
Some ghosts who’d been skulking about to hide their tracks seized the chance to burrow under the black sand and fell asleep.
When the White Tiger churned the sand into chaos, those ghosts startled awake and fled headlong back to Jueming Ridge, thinking the Demon Lord of Cangqiong Mountain Realm had suddenly gone on a killing spree.
Quite the spectacle!
Little did they know the White Tiger was merely giving a fox a ride. The tiger’s heart did pound a few times — but not with bloodlust.
Zhuoxue climbed onto the tiger’s back, pressing herself flat and gripping both tiger ears with her hands, lest she lose her grip and plummet from the sky.
She was plainly using the ears as reins, riding the great demon like a mount.
When had Longming ever received such treatment? In over three hundred years, which demon in the Demon Realm hadn’t shown her reverence — even if only with obsequious flattery?
Even during those five years in the Mortal Realm, the hunter who whipped her did so out of fear of her tiger’s size and ferocity.
The fox had feared her too — and that fear hadn’t been feigned. But it flowed away like river water rushing east, gone in an instant.
Just like the flashes of inspiration that occasionally crossed her mind — fleeting, staying only a moment.
Longming said nothing. She rose on the wind, surging over a hundred zhang into the sky — like a wisp of thistledown in a gale, racing forward with masterful ease4.
This was far higher than she’d ever flown in the Mortal Realm.
Zhuoxue had never been this high. The view was splendid, but the wind slammed into her face like a blade, scraping her cheeks raw.
She yelped and ducked her head, pressing her lips tight, swallowing every word she’d been about to say.
The Demon Realm had few dwellings. As far as the eye could see, mountains and rivers stretched in every hue.
The black expanse like the Yellow Springs Bureau was Kunyu’s mountain realm. Beyond it, a burning hellscape of fire and blades — a sea of fire where demon shadows were sparse. Past the blaze, green-clad peaks rose like carpets of grass.
One mountain seemed to have a great scoop carved out of its summit, brimming with crystal-clear water from the heavens, mirroring the azure sky like polished glass…
This was where demons dwelled — touching the heavens above, leaning against the earth below, drawing in the essence of sun and moon to achieve longevity.
The White Tiger beat her wings in silence, her massive form threading through clouds and mist like a shooting star.
Night faded. The sun rose slowly, climbed to three poles high, then descended again, and night returned.
Zhuoxue had scarcely left Cangqiong Mountain Realm a few times. It was her first time learning that those three short words from Lan Hui’s mouth — a distance spoken so casually — would take a full day’s journey.
She used to think Lan Hui was worldly and well-traveled, that she’d seen so much she’d grown tired of it, which was why she stayed at Qiufeng Ridge and refused to leave. She’d never imagined that her Auntie Lan — whose bearing and poise seemed immortal — actually was an Immortal.
Lan Hui had spoken not only of Kunlun Jade Capital but also of the East Sea and South Mountain. She’d even mentioned Penglai and Qingqiu in passing, not to mention Buzhou Mountain, which adjoined Kunlun Jade Capital.
Buzhou Mountain was covered in year-round snow. Lan Hui had only been twice, and even at the outer edges, she’d shivered uncontrollably.
Zhuoxue dozed and woke on the tiger’s back, until suddenly she noticed the light blinding her. She pried her eyelids open lazily — and found that the world before her had become nothing but a vast expanse of white.
She sat up. Bitter wind lashed her fox tail back and forth, and she thought her tail was acting on its own — until a violent shudder told her she was simply freezing.
“We’re here?” Zhuoxue’s teeth chattered, her words barely coherent. “Wasn’t it just night? How did it get so bright all of a sudden?”
“With the Auspicious Radiance, Buzhou Mountain has no night.” The White Tiger descended slowly onto the snow, but the moment she lowered herself, more than half her body was buried in the drift. She was practically pushing through the snow to move forward.
Zhuoxue’s bare feet curled at the toes from the cold. She didn’t dare dismount, afraid she wouldn’t be able to take a single step.
On Buzhou Mountain, even an ice worm from the extremest cold would complain bitterly.
Walking here required circulating spiritual power throughout the body to ward off the cold.
Zhuoxue had no spiritual power of her own — she relied entirely on Longming’s provision, though the one being shielded hadn’t yet noticed.
Longming finally spoke, her voice still steady: “This is the foot of Buzhou Mountain. We climb from here.”
Zhuoxue tilted her head back to look. From farther away, she’d only seen a vast blur of white. Now that they were closer, she could faintly make out a gray shadow through the white mist.
The gray shadow towered to the heavens, vast and boundless, making her heart pound with dread, reducing her to the feeling of an ant.
That must be the body of Buzhou Mountain — though she didn’t understand why, with snow pouring down to such a degree, it would be gray.
The Auspicious Radiance from above was blinding. If a mortal stumbled in, a single glance would likely blind them on the spot.
Zhuoxue squinted. Perhaps because she was bathed in the Auspicious Radiance, her bones and muscles felt dull and achy — but her soul was like moistened sand, so comfortable she felt she might float away to immortality.
Was it because beneath her demon sinews and bones lay an Immortal Soul and Spirit?
Longming had never been talkative, and after setting foot on Buzhou Mountain she grew even more silent — likely uncomfortable all over, conserving her strength through fewer words.
Zhuoxue leaned close to the tiger’s ear so the wind wouldn’t swallow her voice. “Where exactly is this spiritual herb? It can’t be at the edge of the sky.”
Frost and snow clung to Longming’s brow and even her lashes, nearly blocking her view. “It isn’t at the edge of the sky.”
Zhuoxue looked refreshed and spirited, her eyes bright. “You’re struggling to walk — why don’t I go fetch it?”
The White Tiger shook her head, scattering the frost from her face, and said evenly: “Buzhou Mountain is extremely dangerous.”
That meant no.
Zhuoxue was itching to try. “I set foot here and feel wonderful — refreshed and clear-headed. Whatever dangers there are won’t stop me.”
“Your demon sinews and bones are less than half a jiazi old. Your soul can withstand the Auspicious Radiance, but what about your bones and muscles?” Longming’s voice was heavy, as though she’d chewed ice, the cold still lingering on her tongue.
Zhuoxue asked in confusion: “Then why are you leading me up the mountain?”
“I’m shielding your bones with my spiritual power. I want to see what effect bathing in the Auspicious Radiance will have on you,” Longming said slowly.
Zhuoxue paused, looked down, and only then noticed the thin layer of spiritual power draped over her. She’d assumed she could withstand the Auspicious Radiance and cold on her own — that was why it wasn’t so unbearable.
As for miraculous effects — there didn’t seem to be any. Just a comfortable ease of spirit.
Zhuoxue’s heart lurched. “If you withdraw your spiritual power, will this body of mine dissolve right under the Auspicious Radiance?”
“Everything contrary to the Auspicious Radiance has already turned to nothingness.” Longming delivered those terrifying words with perfect calm.
Turned to nothingness?
Zhuoxue pressed herself flush against the tiger’s back, terrified she’d melt into snow water at any moment, too frightened to waste words.
The Nightmare Dream was better. In the Nightmare Dream, even when the villagers sent her to die, they at least told her in advance.
Zhuoxue whispered: “The spiritual herb we’re looking for — it isn’t buried under the snow, is it? How would we even find it?”
“Not only under the snow, but in the permafrost beneath.” With one sentence, Longming drained Zhuoxue of every stratagem and ounce of strength.
Under the ground?
The cold already cloaked her body, making even walking difficult. How was she supposed to shovel snow and dig earth?
Not to mention Buzhou Mountain was boundless and impossibly high. Who knew how long they’d have to dig before finding a single herb.
And the one they dug up might not even be the one they needed.
Zhuoxue started beating the retreat drum again, near tears — though she didn’t dare actually cry. On this mountain, the moment tears welled up, they’d probably freeze into frost.
“Scared?” The White Tiger plodded forward. “If you’d rather not, I can leave you at the foot of the mountain. Wait for me a moment.”
“I wouldn’t bet on finding that spiritual herb in a moment,” Zhuoxue muttered. “You didn’t say the herb was buried under snow when we set out. If I’d known, I’d rather have gone back to soak in a spiritual spring for half a year.”
To dig up the spiritual herb, they’d probably need half a year too.
“That spiritual herb blooms once every fifty years and withers in a single morning. After another fifty years, it blooms anew. Each time the herb returns to the mortal world, countless demons brave the bitter cold to climb the mountain.” The White Tiger carved a winding path through the snow, visible from afar as a pale trench across the white mountainside.
Good thing her tiger body had black stripes — otherwise she’d have blended right into the snow.
“And now there isn’t a single demon in sight.” Zhuoxue felt uneasy. “This couldn’t be one of those fifty-year gaps when it’s withered, could it?”
“No matter. Even its surviving roots would be enough for your breakthrough.” Longming paused. “It’s just that the roots won’t be easy to extract.”
Zhuoxue scooped up a handful of snow, packed it into a ball, and tossed it lightly into the distance.
The snowball rolled down the slope and vanished from sight.
Zhuoxue put on a sheepish look — she hadn’t even found the herb yet, but she already felt like the villain. She said in a small voice: “Cutting grass and pulling up roots5 — isn’t that a bit heartless?”
“No matter. There’s more than one on the mountain. They’re just somewhat hard to find.” Longming didn’t think much of it.
They’d walked for so long, yet they were still at the foot of the mountain. In the distance, nothing but vast white mist, the mountain’s shadow blurred and indistinct.
“You still haven’t said how we’re supposed to find it.” Zhuoxue straightened up and looked around, the Auspicious Radiance making her golden eyes blink.
“Its flower has a distinctive fragrance — like delicate orchid from afar, like scorched sandalwood up close. Just as its name ‘Blazing Heart Orchid’ suggests.” Longming stopped, her crimson gaze fixed on the heights. “Up close, the scent is acrid — you can judge the distance by the strength of the fragrance.”
“But it isn’t the flowering season now,” Zhuoxue said in surprise.
Longming lowered her head, burying her tiger nose into the snow, coming up with a face full of frost. “Even the roots give off a very faint scent.”
Zhuoxue suddenly swung herself off the tiger’s back, sinking half her body into the snow. Even with Longming’s protection, she was still shivering.
Her slender frame, clad in a white dress with only a few strands of dark silk in her hair, all but merged with the mountain snow.
“What are you doing!” The White Tiger whipped her head around, thrusting her snout forward as if to scoop the fox back onto her back.
Zhuoxue leaned back and pushed against the tiger’s broad face, giving a soft “shh” and saying: “Don’t disturb me while I’m sorting out the scents. A tiger’s nose can’t match a fox’s. With me here, you should count yourself lucky.”
The White Tiger let out a low growl, and snow cascaded down the mountainside. She stiffened all over, then simply said nothing more.
Zhuoxue’s fox ears twitched, her silver hair flying, as she scooped up a handful of snow and sniffed it carefully.
The white snow was scentless — the spiritual herb wasn’t nearby.
Unfortunately, her human form wasn’t as nimble as the White Tiger’s. Zhuoxue strained to lift her legs, each step sinking soft and deep into the snow. After all that effort, she’d covered less than a hundred chi.
Her hands were red from the cold, and from leaning in to sniff so closely, even the tip of her nose had turned pink — like a cat with a pink nose.
Still no scent after a while. She plunged headfirst into the snow like diving into water, sniffed, then popped her head out and shook her silver hair, sending snowflakes flying everywhere.
“Get on my back. I’ll lead the way, and when you want to sniff, just scoop up some snow,” Longming said.
Zhuoxue refused, shaking her head. “I can’t smell it properly that way.”
“Then I’ll go ahead. Tell me which direction to go.” Longming’s spiritual power was abundant, and with her tiger hide, she was naturally cold-resistant.
“When I can’t walk anymore, then you can carry me.” For once, Zhuoxue was considerate of the White Tiger.
Pressing forward, they plunged into thick mist. The fog was cold and damp, and everything before them was veiled as though behind gossamer, nothing visible clearly.
Zhuoxue squinted at the gray mountain shape, her fear rising again. She patted the tiger’s back and said: “I can’t walk well. You go ahead and lead the way. Wherever I tell you to go, you go.”
In truth, she was making Longming go first to shield her, in case some demon, god, or ghost sprang out from the mountain.
The White Tiger obliged and walked ahead, chuckling dryly: “Now you’re bossing me around?”
Through the gossamer veil, even the White Tiger’s pair of crimson eyes looked remarkably soft.
Zhuoxue didn’t answer, just kept patting the White Tiger’s back, urging her not to dawdle — while she herself followed at an unhurried pace, sniffing here, sniffing there.
Turned out it wasn’t just wine that gave you courage — even mountain cold could do it. She was bold enough to boss Longming around now.
The white mist clung only to the lower slopes. Breaking through it, a gray mountain wall came into view.
It wasn’t that the heights were uncovered by snow — the snow itself was gray-black. Melted into it was demonic and ghostly qi that the Auspicious Radiance hadn’t yet fully dissolved.
Zhuoxue froze. After a long moment, she plunged into the snow to search carefully. When she surfaced, she was panting, and said softly: “I think I can smell it.”
Footnotes
- 鸠占鹊巢 | jiu zhan que chao | Literally 'a dove occupying a magpie's nest' — from the Book of Odes (Shijing), where the cuckoo lays its eggs in another bird's nest; a classical metaphor for usurping another's home or territory.
- 山人自有妙计 | shan ren zi you miao ji | A stock catchphrase from Chinese vernacular fiction, literally 'this mountain hermit has a brilliant plan' — typically spoken by strategists or clever characters to deflect questions about their schemes while implying they've already thought everything through.
- 退堂鼓 | tuitang gu | Literally 'the drum to withdraw from court' — in traditional Chinese magistrates' courts, a drum was beaten to dismiss a session; metaphorically, giving up or retreating in the face of daunting odds.
- 运斤成风 | yun jin cheng feng | Literally 'wielding an axe until wind rises' — from Zhuangzi's tale of an artisan who swung his axe to chip a speck of mortar from a man's nose without causing harm; describes movement of supreme, effortless skill.
- 斩草除根 | zhan cao chu gen | Literally 'cut the grass and pull up the roots' — a classical idiom from the Zuo Zhuan advocating total eradication of a threat; Zhuoxue puns on the literal sense of digging up an orchid's entire root system.
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