GD Ch. 24 Part 2

Chapter 24: To Abandon or Not?

“What took you so long?” Zhuyou asked Hanzhu absentmindedly, her gaze dull and unfocused—only able to perceive vague silhouettes. Her eyes were dim, unable to gather light, and clearly sightless.

Hanzhu was dumbfounded. How had her mistress gone blind in the short time she had been away? Hastily, she answered, “I searched for a long time but found no shelter from the snow. However, I did spot the Huacheng Sect.” She hesitated, then lowered her voice to ask, “Mistress, your eyes…”

Zhuyou scoffed coldly. “Ask her.”

Only then did Hanzhu notice that the child had golden pupils—unusual, snake-like, if one looked closely enough.

Not only were her eyes peculiar, but her black attire was also anything but ordinary. Though it appeared to be plain black at a glance, when the cold wind lifted her robes, faint golden patterns shimmered beneath. The cuffs and hems were embroidered with gold thread, and a black-and-gold sash cinched her waist, from which hung a white jade pendant.

The outfit wasn’t particularly showy, but upon closer examination, it was undeniably luxurious—far beyond the means of any ordinary person.

“Mistress, where did this little girl come from?” Hanzhu asked, trying to mask her unease.

Zhuyou pondered briefly. She couldn’t very well say the child had fallen out of her palm.

Hanzhu narrowed her eyes slightly. She couldn’t detect any trace of spiritual energy on the child, though her delicate features were striking. Yet, her pallor and cold expression gave her the appearance of someone who wouldn’t live long.

“She hatched from an egg,” Zhuyou said, which, technically, wasn’t a lie.

Hanzhu’s eyes widened in shock. “Ch-Changying?”

Zhuyou nodded approvingly. “Correct.”

“Your servant doesn’t even know how to speak respectfully,” Changying remarked coolly, despite her sickly appearance. Her face betrayed no pain, only calm indifference.

Hanzhu clamped her mouth shut. She never expected this newly hatched dragon to be so sharp-tongued.

“You’re not very good at training your servants,” Changying added, exhaling a faint breath of white mist. She leaned weakly against Zhuyou.

Zhuyou hadn’t anticipated this dragon to be so blunt and matter-of-fact. There wasn’t a hint of flattery in her words. She sighed inwardly. Whether the dragon was genuinely naïve or just pretending, a dragon raised under her care was bound to be useful someday.

Hanzhu was still on edge. A newly hatched demon transforming into human form so quickly wasn’t exactly normal. But since her mistress remained silent on the matter, she held her tongue. She forced herself to stop staring at the frail girl and asked, “Mistress, where are we heading?”

“To the Huacheng Sect,” Zhuyou said, retrieving a spirit stone from her storage.

As soon as it left her hand, the once radiant stone turned ashen gray, crumbling into dust and scattering in the wind.

After absorbing the stone’s energy, Zhuyou’s vision grew slightly clearer. She blinked a few times—her sight had improved, but it still felt as though she were peering through a fog.

The poison clouding her vision had grown heavier since emerging from seclusion, as if it intensified with her cultivation.

Adjusting her hold, Zhuyou lifted Changying slightly and took a good look at her human form. The dragon girl was indeed well-formed. Without further delay, Zhuyou soared into the air, cutting through the bone-chilling wind toward the Huacheng Sect.

***

The drifting snow resembled shattered scales, casting the barren wasteland below into an icy desolation. The frozen rivers gleamed like polished glass, and the towering mountains stood like clusters of white pear blossoms.

Behind them lay Songling City. Ahead, nestled among the snowy peaks, stood the Huacheng Sect.

The sect’s towering white spires pierced the sky, with a dozen grand halls perched atop their respective peaks. The architecture gleamed like a heavenly palace, with upturned eaves and dazzling light.

Changying, devoid of spiritual power, could only cling to Zhuyou as they ascended. Her pale face showed no trace of fear—calm and self-possessed—though the cold made her tremble slightly.

Zhuyou, fearing the dragon might slip and fall to her death, held her tighter. In all these centuries, no one had ever been this close to her. This dragon was certainly lucky.

Hanzhu followed closely behind, scanning their surroundings anxiously for any pursuers. “Mistress, the Huacheng Sect won’t be easy to enter,” she warned softly. “I’ve heard their gates are protected by powerful restrictions. You need a disciple’s token to get through.”

Zhuyou glanced down. Below them was a sea of clouds—no sign of any bridges or halls.

“I could sneak in and find two tokens,” Hanzhu offered. “If we barge in directly, we might alert them.”

Zhuyou, still holding Changying securely, deliberated for a moment before forming a hand seal. With a smirk, she began her descent.

Hanzhu hastened after her, too rushed to ask questions.

Three miles from the Huacheng Sect lay an abyss—an unfathomably deep chasm shrouded in white mist. The faint aura of demon beasts wafted from within.

Zhuyou landed at the edge, the freezing wind whipping around her, disrupting the spell that concealed her black hair.

Changying gazed into the depths without flinching, her face devoid of emotion, though a slight frown creased her brow—a look far too serious for her youthful appearance.

“Mistress, what are we doing here?” Hanzhu shivered, struggling to stay upright as if an invisible force were pushing her back.

“You mentioned needing a token,” Zhuyou said, narrowing her eyes. “There are three people on the verge of death down there. Perhaps they’re Huacheng Sect disciples.”

She sent a strand of spiritual consciousness into the chasm, but as it touched the restriction, a piercing hum rang through her ears—deafening and bone-shaking.

For a brief moment, her entire being trembled.

The roar, like a demon beast’s long cry, shook Zhuyou so hard she nearly lost her footing. Even Changying, whom she held in her arms, was almost thrown out.

When Zhuyou came back to her senses, her face was slightly pale, and her eyes were filled with astonishment. She had never expected that such a demon creature would exist at the bottom of this mortal world’s ice ravine.

Perhaps due to the terrifying pressure, she couldn’t clearly identify what kind of creature made that sound. Upon careful thought, it somewhat resembled a dragon’s roar. But she had never heard of any dragon being sealed at the bottom of an ice ravine in the lower realms.

Changying was completely unaffected. Her face remained pale as paper, and her expression was calm.

“Did you hear that sound?” Zhuyou turned back to ask. If it was one of her own kind, Changying should be able to recognize the voice.

Changying’s gaze seemed to waver for a moment before she replied, “It sounded like something calling out.”

Only then did Hanzhu, standing behind them, snap out of her daze. She had nearly bitten her tongue in shock and fell to her knees with a thud, her legs too weak to hold her up.

Zhuyou’s expression darkened as she slowly raised one arm and continued to probe the restriction with a strand of her spiritual sense. 

However, this time, the roar did not sound again. It was as if that one cry had been its last—a final burst before silence fell.

Hanzhu sat trembling on the snow, peering down with fear. But the restriction struck her with such force that it made her nose bleed, leaving blood smeared all over her face.

Zhuyou glanced at her briefly before driving that wisp of spiritual sense deeper into the bottomless ice ravine.

Hanzhu hastily used a spell to wipe the blood from her face, lest it offend her mistress. She shot a glance at the little dragon—unexpectedly, the newborn dragon still looked composed, without the slightest hint of distress.

A wisp of smoke drifted through the restriction, sinking slowly to the ravine’s bottom along with the swirling snowflakes.

Below, it resembled a massive ice cellar—everywhere the eye could see was ice. Some flowers and plants were frozen into the ice walls, still maintaining their original forms. Strangely, although the demon energy down there was dense, it still felt too weak to match the power of the roar they had just heard.

The wisp of spiritual sense floated along the frozen riverbed, drifting past several demon beasts. Within a pine forest encrusted with ice shards, it found three dying disciples from an immortal sect. Even more curiously, Zhuyou caught the faint scent of immortal energy on them.

How could a few mortals carry immortal energy?

Their attire was similar to that of the female disciple Jing Kexin had possessed. Judging by the wooden tokens hanging from their belts, they appeared to be disciples of the Huacheng Sect.

In the blink of an eye, the three blood-soaked figures vanished from the ice ravine, reappearing on the ice cliff above.

When Zhuyou’s spiritual sense returned to her body, she signaled to Hanzhu, “These three are dying.”

Hanzhu hesitated for a moment, unsure of her mistress’ intentions. “Should we save them… or kill them and take over their bodies?”

Body possession was as ordinary to devils as eating and drinking.

In the past, Zhuyou would have said, “Why bother saving them?” After all, everything they encountered was their destined tribulation, and meeting her was merely another calamity.

Hanzhu mused that these three were already on the brink of death—sending them off would at least ease their suffering.

But to her surprise, Zhuyou said, “Save them. Why not?”

“Huh?” Hanzhu, puzzled, withdrew the feathered blade she had just conjured.

Zhuyou smiled faintly. “If we don’t save them, their life tokens at Huacheng Sect will shatter. Without those, how will we use their identity tokens to enter Huacheng Sect?”

Realizing the plan, Hanzhu immediately flattered her. “Truly, your wisdom is unmatched, my mistress. This lowly servant cannot hope to compare.”

For the first time, a crack appeared in Changying’s calm demeanor—her small face showed clear confusion.

Still sitting weakly on the ground, Hanzhu shot the little dragon a glance, hinting—Learn from me!

Changying only grew more perplexed.

The three disciples lying on the snow were grievously wounded, their robes torn by demon beast claws, revealing hideous injuries. The bright red blood stained the snow in large patches, like fallen red plum blossoms.

Their spiritual power was draining fast. With eyes barely open and their breath hanging by a thread, they likely wouldn’t survive more than a moment in the icy mountains.

Zhuyou had no desire to waste spiritual energy suppressing the poisonous mist clouding her vision, so she couldn’t clearly see their faces—but the vast pool of blood was unmistakable.

“How… how should we save them?” Hanzhu asked, still dazed. It felt like stealing from the hands of the King of Hell.

“Take out the Purifying Elixir,” Zhuyou ordered, her gaze indifferent as she examined the dying disciples.

The more she looked, the stranger it seemed. These three only had Golden Core cultivation, yet their cores were already cracked from the severe injuries—barely holding together. Where had the immortal energy come from?

With only Golden Core cultivation, how had they broken through the restriction to enter the ice ravine? Unless someone had opened a backdoor for them.

Sending them in like this was practically feeding them to the demon beasts—what use could they possibly have?

Zhuyou suddenly regretted not leaving her spiritual sense below a little longer—perhaps there was some hidden treasure that had lured these three to risk their lives.

“Bring it here,” she instructed Hanzhu without turning her head.

With a reluctant heart, Hanzhu took out the elixir. Her hands trembled as she held the slender bottle, unwilling to waste such a precious medicine on mortals.

The elixir could stabilize cultivation and heal wounds—a priceless treasure. Using it on mere mortals felt like overkill.

“Feed it to them,” Zhuyou ordered.

Heart aching, Hanzhu tilted the bottle and let the powder fall into their mouths.

Changying, meanwhile, stared unblinkingly at the three figures on the ground. Her soft, delicate arms clung tightly to Zhuyou’s neck as if fearing for her life, her breath quick and urgent.

Zhuyou pushed her arms away. When she tried to cling again, Zhuyou cast her a sidelong glance. “I wonder how these little hands would taste in a soup.”

Changying’s half-raised hands slowly dropped back down. Though her expression remained cold, she obediently refrained from touching her again.

Hanzhu stowed the remaining elixir back into her spatial pouch, nervously observing one disciple’s torn sleeve and the wound beneath it. The Purifying Elixir worked quickly—within moments, the bleeding had stopped, and the torn flesh began to knit back together.

Changying tilted her head to glance once more into the depths of the ice ravine, her pale face still as expressionless as an ice sculpture—neither sorrowful nor joyful.

Zhuyou’s doubts remained unresolved, so she asked deliberately, “Do you want to go down and take a look?”

Changying shook her head. “It just feels familiar.”

“I’ve never brought you here before. Did you wander here while you were still in the egg?” Zhuyou sneered.

In a soft yet distinctly cold voice, Changying replied, “The demon’s roar just now… it felt familiar.”

Zhuyou wasn’t surprised—dragons all roared like that, after all.

Changying lifted her eyes before withdrawing her gaze. “I feel like I’ve heard it somewhere before.”

Zhuyou laughed. “Wasn’t that the same sound you made when you howled at Jing Kexin?”

Changying remained silent for a while before letting out a soft hum, as obedient as ever.

The three mortal cultivators lying in the snow, who had been fed the elixir, started breathing rapidly as though they were about to regain consciousness. They trembled uncontrollably, their torn robes barely covering them after being clawed at by the demon beast. The bleeding on their exposed wounds had stopped, but the flesh would start to heal, only to stop again.

Hanzhu was rather stingy, giving them just enough medicine to keep them alive—no more, no less. She let out two dry chuckles, cautiously lifting her head to glance at her mistress, afraid of being reprimanded.

Zhuyou didn’t blame her. Instead, she set Changying down from her arms and raised a hand, making a motion as if to pat Changying’s small back.

Hanzhu’s smile froze instantly. Judging by the force of that movement, it looked like she was about to beat the dragon to death.

But when Zhuyou’s pale hand finally landed on Changying’s back, Hanzhu realized it wasn’t the dragon’s life that was being taken—it was a human’s.

Changying’s spirit was forcibly struck out of her body. Like a wisp of white mist, it flickered unsteadily for a moment before suddenly darting into one of the unconscious men’s bodies.

There was no denying it—this divine offspring’s soul was utterly pure, as if it were an endless expanse of white, untainted by the slightest speck of filth. It was so immaculate that one wouldn’t dare to stain it.

A devil’s soul, on the other hand, was always tainted by demonic energy, appearing in shades of gray and black. The higher the realm, the darker it became, spreading like ink dissolving in water.

This was indeed a move meant to take a life. Though these men wouldn’t die immediately from being possessed, their souls would be forcibly crammed together. Over time, their already damaged souls would become so fragile and thin that the slightest trauma could cause them to shatter.

This was the very definition of a devil’s methods—saving lives only to harm them again, unpredictable and utterly cruel.