GD Ch. 69 Part 1

Chapter 69: Why Do You Make Things Difficult?

Interlocking fingers felt like this.

Bone against bone, palm pressed to palm, a thin sheen of sweat merging them together.

When Zhuyou saw Changying’s pale lips, an impulse struck her—she wanted to bite them, to torment them until they flushed with color. But she snapped back to her senses and quickly turned her head away, her slender neck stretched to its limit, every sinew visible.

Yet Changying pressed against her, their chests meeting, soft curves colliding. She had no room to retreat.

The powerful heartbeat pulsed through Changying’s chest, transmitting itself to her, making her own heart pound wildly, disrupting her thoughts.

She felt that she should be furious, furious to the point of gnashing her teeth, enraged that this dragon was toying with her yet refused to put an end to it.

And yet, within moments, the drop of heart’s blood—long chilled at the tip of her heart—felt as if it were being soothed, settling without stirring her emotions into turmoil. Her whole body felt like it had been softened by boiling water, her eyes flushed red, her gaze nearly dazed.

For a moment, it felt like all distractions had sunk into the depths of her heart, and all her thoughts were tethered to the dragon before her. She seemed to sense Changying’s emotions—calm, indifferent, as if nothing in the world could move her. Yet, within those eyes, there was only her.

In that instant, Zhuyou let down her guard. She forgot that she still held a fragment of the Devil Lord’s hun soul in her grasp. Even as Changying’s fingers locked around hers, she didn’t remember it. It was as if all worldly thoughts had been hollowed out.

She nearly forgot everything else—almost wanted to simply lie there.

Changying leaned over her, strands of hair dangling by her face, tickling her ear.

Zhuyou snapped back to awareness, her eyes narrowing sharply—only to realize that, at some unknown moment, the fragment of the hun soul had been drawn from her palm!

She turned her head abruptly, trying to snatch it back. She had fought so hard to seize it—how could she just let it slip away? But all around her, the world was a chaotic mess of distorted buildings and perilous cliffs. Everything was in utter disarray. Apart from the dragon before her, she couldn’t see another living soul. Where was she supposed to find that fragment of hun soul?

Zhuyou’s heart clenched. She spoke coldly, “You did that on purpose?”

“Yes,” Changying replied just as coldly.

A chill ran down Zhuyou’s spine, but she quickly realized—fortunately, they were inside the Turbid Mirror. If the hun soul had vanished here, then it had to still be within the Turbid Mirror.

Above them, the inverted buildings twisted and shifted, sinking into the lakeshore one moment, emerging through the water the next. No matter how they changed, the scene remained in its perpetual state of murky illusion.

Zhuyou tried to slip free and shake off Changying’s grip, but she hadn’t expected the dragon to clasp her fingers so tightly, squeezing until her knuckles ached.

Changying remained as indifferent as ever. Her slanted eyes bore no arrogance or disdain, only a cold detachment—like the reflection of the moon on water, impossible to touch, impossible to grasp. It seemed as though no worldly desires had ever tainted her. For a hundred years, she had been the same, ever solitary. Yet, her pupils were too deep, as if all the forbidden thoughts that could not be found on her face were hidden within the darkness of those slit pupils.

Zhuyou’s cheek was nearly pressed to the ground, her breath uneven as she asked, “What did you do just now? Why did I lose focus?”

Changying remained eerily calm, unshaken, gripping Zhuyou’s hand as she replied, “It was you who exchanged heart’s blood with me, and now you ask what I have done.”

Though she phrased it as a question, she spoke languidly, even lowering her voice slightly, carrying an unmistakable hint of grievance.

She was already the Divine Venerable of the Nine Heavens. Even if a hundred or so immortals joined forces, they might not be able to harm her—yet she still managed to look so wronged, as if she had been terribly bullied.

Zhuyou was left speechless. She tried to move, but as soon as she bent her knee, she brushed against Changying’s waist.

That waist was soft.

She had only touched it briefly, yet it seemed to tense.

Changying’s body stiffened slightly, but her expression remained unchanged, as if she had never known how to wear any other expression.

Zhuyou twisted her wrist, shifting her gaze to the chaotic buildings and cliffs around them, suppressing the strange feeling in her heart.

Yes, she thought. It was she who had exchanged heart’s blood with this dragon. She had coaxed and deceived her, claiming that once they exchanged heart’s blood, her body would heal, freed from the torment of illness.

So how could she not have known…

As long as the heart’s blood still carried its original ties, the recipient would be affected by the donor’s emotions. However, this did not always hold true—it required the two to be very close.

At first, Zhuyou had no idea what “very close” truly meant.

But ancient texts recorded that those who exchanged heart’s blood were often cultivation partners. In such cases, cultivation would be twice as effective with half the effort.

At the time, she had thought that this kind of closeness referred to that of dual cultivation.

There was no way she would ever cultivate with a dragon in such a manner, so she had paid the matter little mind. 

She hadn’t expected to be wrong.

Just being this close—just this—was enough to make her hun soul tremble, as if she were on the verge of losing herself.

Unable to find the Devil Lord’s hun soul, Zhuyou narrowed her eyes slightly. “Where did you take my thing?” The words felt strangely familiar—as if something belonging to another had suddenly become hers.

“I lost it,” Changying murmured, briefly distracted. She had meant for Zhuyou to face her, but with both hands occupied, she simply pressed her face closer, forcing Zhuyou to turn back toward her.

Zhuyou’s cheek was suddenly met with an icy touch. Strands of soft black hair brushed against the corner of her eye, making her squint. Lips pursed, she looked at the dragon before her.

Changying, satisfied, gazed into her eyes and asked, “What exactly are you trying to take from the Devil Lord? Is there anything… that I cannot give you?”

“What an audacious claim,” Zhuyou’s once-soft voice turned cold.

Changying knew of sorrow and joy, but she had yet to fully grasp the complexities of the mortal world. She did not understand the meaning behind her own actions, nor did she comprehend how they differed from human affections.

She pressed her fingers into Zhuyou’s waist, one knee wedging between her pale legs, pinning down the silk and gauzy fabric beneath them.

She spoke coldly, “If you don’t try, how would you know if I can or cannot give it?”

Zhuyou felt a rare sense of panic, her lower abdomen tensing. Not even two hundred years ago—nor even after her fall into devilhood—had she ever been this close to anyone.

Close enough for their legs to intertwine like vines.

It was unbearable.

Yet Changying saw nothing amiss, merely staring at her in silence, exerting not a shred less force.

Zhuyou turned her head away, gritting her teeth. “You really went to such lengths just to steal that fragment of hun soul.”

“The Devil Lord is steeped in sin. His hun soul is etched with ancient devilish karma. I feared it would consume you.” Changying’s voice remained calm.

“And what if it does? Do you know how long I’ve been searching for it?” Zhuyou narrowed her eyes, suppressing the disorienting pull on her hun soul as she forced herself upright.

As she sat up, her forehead nearly touched Changying’s.

Changying had no choice but to lift herself slightly, as if sitting on Zhuyou’s waist.

Zhuyou twisted her wrist, attempting to flip the dragon beneath her—but before she could, Changying withdrew her hand and instead… encircled her waist.

Changying’s warm hand rested against her waist, and for a moment, it seemed as though all her senses had gathered at that one spot.

“I know,” she said calmly.

Zhuyou’s eyes widened, but the question and indignation that had risen to the tip of her tongue had to be swallowed down. She turned her head aside in embarrassment, a faint blush creeping up her ears. She bit her lip, wearing a look of silent anger.

Yet, Changying remained composed, as if entirely devoid of the emotions that others should possess. It was as if her heart was meant to be cold.

“If you know, then are you still going to take away that hun soul?” Zhuyou couldn’t afford to hesitate. She feared that once that strand of hun soul returned to a thousand years ago, she would never be able to find it again. She suddenly released her spiritual power—though it appeared as a pure blue, in truth, it burned as fiercely as raging flames.

Changying’s expression shifted. The ends of her black hair, which draped over Zhuyou, caught fire, and with a soft sizzle, a section was burned away. She frowned. “I worry for you.”

She had already reached the highest realm of the Nine Heavens, so even though her hair was reduced to ashes, it quickly grew back, as though it could never be truly destroyed.

“What use is your worry to me?” Zhuyou bit out each word like a blade, her teeth clenched. “A thousand years ago, with only a single po soul, you shattered the Devil Lord’s body, forcing him to disperse his hun soul and reincarnate. Because of that, the devil’s domain fell into disarray. But why didn’t the Heavenly Realm simply erase the devil’s domain? Why did they only sever Shangxi City, the place that linked the heavens and the devils?”

Changying truly did not know. She had been born with an aura of death and had never entertained any thoughts beyond subduing devils.

Zhuyou let out a quiet laugh, her eyes carrying an innocence that lacked even a trace of intimidation. “The Heavenly Realm has already realized why the Devil Lord was willing to risk everything to lead his army in seizing Shangxi City. Because within Shangxi City, there is…”

Changying frowned. “There is what?”

Zhuyou’s lips curved into a faint, elusive smile. “There is a way to survive.” Seeing Changying’s furrowed brows brought her a sense of satisfaction, making her forget her own embarrassment. She thought to herself—of course, there must be a secret hidden beneath the Heavenly Dao.

If she could conceal herself beneath the Heavenly Dao, she could break through realms without suffering the torment of heavenly tribulations.

“If it is truly so profound, then why does the Heavenly Realm still ignore Shangxi City?” Changying asked coldly.

“Then go ask the Heavenly Emperor yourself,” Zhuyou replied.

Changying had intended to restrain Zhuyou once more, but unexpectedly, the person beneath her suddenly revealed their true form. The feathers, which should have been a brilliant crimson, had turned pitch black, yet the flames burning on their body remained scorching hot.

Now in human form, Changying was forced to retreat swiftly to avoid the blaze. A small cluster of fire that had touched her fingertip leaped onto her robe, causing the black garment to crackle as it burned.

That black robe was originally formed from dragon scales. The sound of it burning was, in fact, the sound of those black scales sizzling in the heat.

Changying’s gaze darkened, and in an instant, the flames froze into ice. Within the frost-white ice, streaks of crimson flickered—the very flames of the Vermillion Phoenix, which had leapt from Zhuyou. The ice shattered abruptly, and with it, the fire disintegrated into fine embers.

The Vermillion Phoenix suddenly turned, letting out a sharp cry as it darted into the distance, its long tail feathers trailing across the ground, igniting a winding path of fire.

For every foot she flew, the flames stretched a foot further.