GD Ch. 25 Part 1

Chapter 25: Where the Immortal Energy Comes From

Changying stood by the door, her small face deathly pale as she fixed her gaze on the silver-haired figure seated at the wooden table. Only after a moment did she relax her slightly furrowed brows. Her bloodless lips remained pressed together. Despite looking frail and sickly, with a body as delicate as porcelain, her imposing aura remained undiminished—like a little ancestor.

Hanzhu dared not utter a word, wishing she could disappear into thin air. She had truly come to understand one thing: this dragon was not to be trifled with.

The sky darkened slightly as the winter twilight quickly faded. In the blink of an eye, the world outside the window turned pitch black. The candle flame flickered, swaying under the draft that seeped through the window crevices, on the verge of being extinguished.

Zhuyou still had some things to say to Hanzhu, but now that Changying had arrived, those words could no longer be spoken.

Yet Changying, leaning against the doorframe, made no move to enter. Her expression was indifferent, completely devoid of the emotions a child should have. Her legs trembled slightly, struggling to support her weight, and her slender fingers rested weakly on the wooden door.

“I never said I was going to throw you away.” Zhuyou had never coaxed a child before, but she was genuinely curious about this dragon. It wouldn’t do to drive away such an intriguing find so soon.

She herself had been abandoned once—how could she not understand what that felt like?

Even while standing still, Changying’s breathing was slightly labored, as if she could lose her breath at any moment. She stood motionless for a while before taking a few steps forward, completely ignoring the green-clad maid as she walked straight to Zhuyou. With a slight furrow of her brows, she said, “How is it that your servant is still gossiping behind people’s backs?”

Hanzhu was at a loss for words. Wasn’t she only thinking of her mistress’ well-being? If her mistress were harmed by this dragon, no amount of crying could absolve her of guilt.

For some reason, Zhuyou felt that Changying was particularly hostile toward her maid, even more so than toward Jing Kexin. She couldn’t fathom why.

Zhuyou observed her weary expression, her half-lidded eyes heavy with drowsiness. Instead of answering, she asked, “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“It’s too cold. I can’t sleep,” Changying replied, her young voice precise and deliberate.

Zhuyou could only pat the other side of the long bench. “Come here.”

Changying walked over, kicking her short legs slightly before slowly climbing onto the somewhat high bench. She placed her hands neatly on the table, sitting upright with perfect posture.

The little dragon was ice-cold all over. The moment she sat down, Zhuyou could feel the biting chill emanating from her. She had never seen a dragon so afraid of the cold, unable to suppress the chill within its own body.

With a flick of Zhuyou’s finger, several bursts of phoenix fire ignited in the room, filling the space with warmth. “Once we return to the Grand Hall, I’ll treat this cold intolerance of yours. It’ll make your body more comfortable.”

Hanzhu, who had remained silent, widened her eyes in disbelief, her mouth slightly agape. She wanted to say something, but upon meeting her mistress’ sidelong glance, she quickly lowered her gaze and swallowed her words.

Changying nodded and obediently responded, “Okay.”

Under the flickering firelight, Zhuyou studied her expression and slowly said, “Replacing your heart’s blood will be very painful.”

“I…” Changying hesitated, her usually indifferent eyes turning slightly dazed. “I suppose I’m not afraid of pain.” Her voice was so soft and childlike that it was almost endearing.

Zhuyou reached out and ruffled the child’s messy hair, her tone carrying a deeper meaning. “That’s good. In the future… there will be plenty of chances for pain.”

“But didn’t you say that once my heart’s blood is replaced, I won’t feel unwell anymore?” Changying lifted her gaze, questioning her. It should have been a skeptical remark, yet coming from her lips, it sounded oddly like a plea for reassurance.

“Oh, your weak bones and internal ailments will indeed be cured, but that doesn’t mean you won’t suffer in other ways. No one lives a life free of worries forever,” Zhuyou chuckled, casually spouting philosophy.

Changying let out an indifferent “Oh.”

The room was now warm and well-lit, but Zhuyou’s spiritual energy had yet to recover. The energy she had just absorbed from the spirit stone had been depleted so quickly that her vision blurred again.

The candle flame seemed to flicker and split into phantom images. When she looked again, even people’s faces blurred—Hanzhu, sitting across from her, suddenly seemed featureless.

She had to admit, people do look better with faces.

The fire’s warmth made Changying grow drowsy. Her body relaxed unconsciously, her eyelids slowly closing as her straight posture started to wobble. Sleepiness crept over her once more.

Children were naturally prone to drowsiness—sleep was necessary for growth. Zhuyou, unable to see clearly, reached toward the shadowy figure, fumbling slightly before pressing Changying’s swaying head onto the table. Just like that, the little dragon fell asleep.

Hanzhu was dumbfounded. Asleep, the little dragon was soft and delicate, finally resembling a child. “Mistress, I—”

“You don’t need to do anything. Just stay here and keep watch over her.” Zhuyou flicked her finger, summoning another small flame at her fingertips. She replaced the candle flame, stabilizing the light so it would no longer waver and strain her eyes.

Then, she retrieved a spirit stone from her spatial storage, draining its energy completely. As clarity returned to her vision, the once-luminous stone turned gray and lifeless.

With a simple motion of her palm, the spirit stone crumbled into ash, dissipating like smoke. She stood up, her warm fingertips lightly brushing the back of Changying’s ear, leaving behind a dark phoenix-shaped mark.

The mark quickly seeped into Changying’s delicate skin, dispersing like ink in water before fading away.

She turned to Hanzhu and said, “I placed a silencing spell behind her ear. She won’t wake from noise. If anyone knocks on the door, just deal with them however you like—don’t let her wake up, or you won’t be able to control her.”

“Mistress, must we really keep this dragon?” Hanzhu stood up as well.

Zhuyou nodded slightly, hands clasped behind her back. “Of course. She still has other uses. Besides, where else could you find another divine offspring willing to let me replace her heart’s blood?”

“But—how can a heart’s blood replacement be taken so lightly? Aren’t you afraid this dragon might suddenly die?” Hanzhu asked hastily.

Zhuyou showed no concern. She smiled and said, “She won’t die so easily. Do you think it’s a coincidence that she’s so weak, or that she has no spiritual energy at all?”

“I don’t know,” Hanzhu admitted. The more she failed to understand, the more she felt that keeping this dragon was a mistake.

Zhuyou turned her gaze to the little dragon sleeping on the wooden table, her expression unfathomable.

Hanzhu thought she must be imagining things, but she swore she saw satisfaction—and even a hint of fondness—on her mistress’ face.

“She’s growing too fast. When she first hatched from her egg, she was only this long,” Zhuyou said, making a gesture to indicate the size of a newly hatched black snake. “It hasn’t even been that long, and she only absorbed a little more of my spiritual energy, yet she’s grown this much.” She gestured with her hands again.

Hanzhu stared blankly and stammered, “Shouldn’t that be even more reason to throw her away?”

“Her spiritual energy must have all been used for growth. I’ve never heard of a divine offspring like this before—it seems more like some ancient dark sorcery, something buried in the past. Taking others’ lives to advance one’s own cultivation, transforming instantly, reaching the peak in one step. And yet, she has not the slightest trace of demonic aura.”

Zhuyou waved her hand, and the mortal cultivator lying on the ground was pulled toward her.

The disciple’s neck landed in her pale, slender fingers, his body limp like a corpse that had just lost its soul.

“Do you believe she used some ancient secret art, Mistress? But she only just hatched from the egg—how could she cast such a technique? Besides, I saw her struggle just to walk, she can’t read, doesn’t understand the world… she hardly seems like someone who has seized another’s body.” Hanzhu frowned and spoke in a low voice.

Lying on the wooden table, Changying’s fingers twitched slightly, as if startled in her sleep.

Zhuyou swiftly brushed a wisp of wind over her, calming her down.

Changying did not open her eyes and soon drifted into deep sleep again. Her messy hair covered her entire face. Her face was already small, and with her hair obscuring it, her features were completely hidden.

Zhuyou finally said, “That’s precisely what’s strange. If it’s not some sinister sorcery, then it seems very much like a physical reconstruction.”

“Reconstructing the body?” Hanzhu didn’t know how such a technique was performed, but it certainly didn’t sound easy. “Wouldn’t one have to die first? Otherwise, how could it be called a reconstruction?”

Zhuyou nodded, her gaze sharp as she examined the child slumped over the table. “Does she act like a newborn dragon to you?”

That was hard to say—Hanzhu had never seen a freshly hatched dragon before.

Zhuyou didn’t explain further. Instead, she shot Hanzhu a sidelong glance and said, “Close your eyes.”

Hanzhu obeyed without hesitation. Through her closed eyelids, she seemed to see a sudden burst of flames, engulfing her entire body as if she were on fire. The heat was unbearable, her hair sizzled, as if being scorched.

In the blink of an eye, the fire was extinguished, and when everything returned to normal, she cautiously opened her eyes.

The white-haired mistress who had been standing beside her was gone. The disciple who had just been gripped by the throat, however, was now standing perfectly fine, even raising a hand to rub his neck.

He turned around and muttered, “Almost had my neck snapped.”

Hanzhu understood—her mistress had once again possessed this mortal’s body.

“I’m heading out. Once things are settled, I’ll leave this place. You should find an opportunity to visit Shangxi City and ask Wu Buzhi—who in this world understands the art of body reconstruction?” Zhuyou glanced back at the dragon child slumped on the table, a trace of unease in her voice. “Make sure nothing happens to her.”

Hanzhu nodded hurriedly. “I won’t let a single hair on her head be harmed.”

Zhuyou’s figure melded into the wall in an instant. Through the thin window, a faint silhouette could be seen emerging and slowly moving away.

The barrier over the house remained intact, yet she left just like that.

Hanzhu stayed inside, swallowing nervously as she watched the sleeping dragon. Then, unwilling to accept it, she reached out to touch the restriction her mistress had set up. 

The moment her fingers made contact, they burned as if scalded. She yelped and immediately stuck her hand into her mouth.

Her eyes unfocused as she sat down, thinking to herself that this dragon hardly seemed like someone who needed her protection. She had nearly burned her own fingers just by touching the barrier, yet the dragon had passed through it without a scratch.

Ridiculous. Completely ridiculous.