GD Ch. 26

Chapter 26: Not Recorded?

Snow fell softly outside, while the phoenix fire cast the shadows of three figures onto the wall. The childlike one seemed surprisingly bold—despite her sickly pallor and icy expression, she frowned impatiently, as if eager to act.

Hanzhu’s heart pounded wildly, nearly leaping into her throat. The restriction’s impact had almost made her bleed from her seven orifices. Now, weak and collapsed on the ground, she was powerless to stop Changying from approaching Zhuyou. She was absolutely certain—there was something strange about this dragon. As frail as she seemed, as though she might die at any moment, she still carried herself fearlessly, as if nothing in the heavens or earth could faze her.

But clearly, Changying had the confidence to back it up. Being a divine offspring by birth, she was mysterious and unpredictable, breaking through the terrifying restriction with ease. Unlike Hanzhu—who was now lying on the ground just from a collision with it.

Zhuyou silently watched Changying for a long moment. Perhaps the dragon’s roar from the main peak had left her ears ringing, leaving her mind foggy and disoriented. She found herself wondering—did this dragon truly want her back, or was it just her spiritual power she desired?

“What did you say?” Zhuyou lowered her head to look at the child standing before her, her gaze lingering on Changying’s short legs.

Those little legs weren’t trembling anymore.

“I want—” Changying began to speak, only to be interrupted by Hanzhu.

Hanzhu, visibly tense, said with great solemnity, “She wants you to come back.”

Zhuyou thought to herself—if Changying were ever taken back to the Heavenly Realm and remembered saying she wanted nothing else but a devil, she’d probably die of shame.

Yet for now, there was no trace of embarrassment in Changying’s expression. She kept her face cold as she approached, extending her delicate fingers to grasp Zhuyou’s hand hanging by her side. A long sigh of relief escaped her lips.

One hand wasn’t enough—her other hand joined in, tightly clutching Zhuyou’s pale fingers as if holding a hand warmer.

And indeed, Zhuyou’s hand was like a warmer. The moment Changying’s soft, boneless hands touched her, a chill pierced through her. Even with the protection of phoenix fire, she couldn’t help but shiver slightly.

It was far too cold—colder than any living thing should be, colder even than a corpse buried in ice.

Changying clutched her hand tightly and pursed her lips, clearly displeased by Hanzhu’s additional words. With an icy indifference, she repeated, “I want you.”

As she spoke, her frail body leaned against Zhuyou. She wasn’t even tall enough to reach Zhuyou’s waist and had to lift her arm high just to hold her hand.

“You really are fearless,” Zhuyou remarked, stepping sideways to sit on a drum stool beside the wooden table. She couldn’t understand how a divine offspring could be so weak—her words were domineering, yet her voice was soft, almost like she was acting spoiled.

Even after Zhuyou sat down, Changying continued holding her hand. It didn’t seem like she truly understood what she wanted—she just craved the warmth of the phoenix fire.

The crimson phoenix flames Zhuyou had left burning in the room flickered steadily, unaffected by the icy wind seeping through the window cracks.

The room was heated like a furnace, yet Changying’s body remained impossibly cold.

And somehow, as Zhuyou’s hand was held tightly, she sensed that Changying’s body was even colder than when she had left. The dragon’s tiny hands, though soft and smooth, clung to her with surprising strength—like freshly kneaded dough.

“What happened earlier? Why did she suddenly lose control?” Zhuyou didn’t pull her hand away. She flicked her sleeve toward Hanzhu, and the bloodstains on her face disappeared instantly.

Hanzhu scrambled to her feet, clutching her aching back while cautiously observing her mistress’ expression. She answered carefully, “She was trembling all over, then suddenly opened her eyes. The moment she did, I was terrified—her eyes were wide open, glowing gold, and her gaze was so cold it seemed like she wanted to kill someone.”

Changying, still holding Zhuyou’s hand, showed no reaction to Hanzhu’s words—as if they weren’t about her at all. Her eyes, once golden and fierce, were now dull, with round pupils instead of dragon-like slits.

“Let go,” Zhuyou tugged her hand slightly. Though she didn’t use much force, she couldn’t pull free. Somehow, this frail girl possessed an unexpected strength.

Changying didn’t release her grip. Instead, she held on tighter, leaning weakly against Zhuyou. Her posture was delicate, almost coquettish, but her expression remained cold and distant.

“Let go,” Zhuyou repeated, trying not to use brute force for fear of accidentally harming the dragon.

Only then did Changying part her lips slightly and begrudgingly mutter, “I’m cold.”

Zhuyou, with this frail child clinging to her, felt a rare moment of helplessness. Doubt crept into her mind, but she allowed Changying to keep holding one hand while she raised the other, placing a slender finger against Changying’s forehead.

The forehead was where the spiritual sea resided—the core of the soul and consciousness. No cultivator would let anyone touch it lightly.

Zhuyou wanted to investigate—to find out what exactly this dragon had been through.

Changying remained still, allowing the finger to press against her forehead. She even tilted her head slightly upward, meeting the touch obediently. She was too obedient—her head tilted back, and her eyes half-closed instinctively, their cold light dimming.

A stream of spiritual energy flowed from Zhuyou’s fingertip, gliding like a silver fish into Changying’s spiritual sea.

At that moment, Zhuyou’s expression grew strange, as if she had seen something unbelievable.

Hanzhu held her breath, sneaking another glance at Changying. She seemed docile now, but who knew if she might suddenly lose control again and erupt with murderous intent?

Yet Changying showed no resistance, nor did she try to hide anything—she laid her spiritual sea completely bare before Zhuyou.

It was an expanse of pure white mist, as if a heavy fog veiled everything from view. Nothing else was visible—an empty void.

The mist resembled the snowfields outside Huacheng Sect, blinding and barren, leaving no trace of anything behind.

How could a spiritual sea be like this? Even those who lost their memories would still retain traces of their experiences. Yet Changying’s sea was nothing but cold, dense fog—so thick that it trembled the soul of anyone who entered. No threads of spiritual memory could be found. It was as if any trace of memory was swallowed whole by the mist, leaving nothing behind.

Zhuyou withdrew her spiritual energy and lowered her hand from Changying’s forehead.

“How is it?” Changying asked, tilting her head up.

Zhuyou’s expression grew even more complicated. Even if someone had lost their past, new experiences should leave traces behind. But in Changying’s spiritual sea… there was nothing. It was as if any newly-formed memory was instantly devoured by the mist, leaving no evidence behind.

Could that white mist be some kind of spell? she wondered.

Hanzhu’s gaze flickered. Seeing her mistress’ expression, she knew Changying’s spiritual sea was unusual. Carefully, she asked, “Mistress?”

Zhuyou lifted her eyes with an unreadable expression and said to Changying, “Nothing unusual. Do you remember what happened when you first hatched?”

“Of course I remember. I saw you the moment I broke out of my shell.” Her words were oddly mature, but her face was soft and delicate, as though it could be pinched to release water. Still, her complexion was far too pale, giving her a sickly appearance.

Zhuyou withdrew her hand from Changying’s grasp, the lingering cold on her fingertips prompting her to rub them together. “Then why did you crawl up to the roof beam? Were you frightened?” Her face was full of disdain—she hardly believed this dragon would be afraid of anything. How could she be, when she wasn’t even afraid of the fierce restriction Zhuyou had placed?

Changying fell silent for a moment, her brow slightly furrowed, and her gaze shifted aside. “I saw that your body was covered in devil markings, so I climbed up the beam.”

“You recognize devil markings?” Zhuyou’s eyes narrowed as she watched Changying’s hands move again, quickly placing her own arms on the table before her.

Changying didn’t try to grab her again. Instead, she slowly withdrew her delicate arms and shook her head. “I didn’t know before.”

“If you’re so scared, why not just fly to the heavens?” Zhuyou sneered.

The child’s expression remained calm as she lifted her gaze and replied earnestly, “If I could fly to the heavens, I would have done so already.”

Dragons ascending to the heavens was only natural. Zhuyou finally sensed something strange—why couldn’t Changying fly? She seemed only capable of crawling in the snow. Was it because her body was too frail, or because no one had taught her?

If it came to teaching, Zhuyou certainly wouldn’t be the one to do it. After all, she was born with wings, unlike this four-legged creature covered in black scales.

“You remember everything after you hatched?”

Changying’s face showed a hint of confusion. “I remember.”

Zhuyou grew even more puzzled. If she remembered everything, why was her spiritual sea devoid of even a single strand of spiritual essence? Had that mysterious white mist devoured it? 

She rubbed her fingers together, still skeptical. “Let me take another look.”

Changying lifted her chin, and with a soft hand emerging from her oversized sleeve, she brushed aside the messy hair at her temples, fully revealing her forehead.

She was so straightforward—remarkably open and honest.

Zhuyou once again sent her spiritual power into Changying’s spiritual sea. This time, she didn’t just observe—she tried to part the thick mist. If she could clear it away, perhaps she could finally see the true expanse of this spiritual sea.

But as soon as her power touched the mist, a sharp pain pierced her mind. The mist in Changying’s spiritual sea crept into her own, attempting to consume her spiritual essence.

Zhuyou’s eyes narrowed as she immediately repelled the invasive mist before it could take hold. It swiftly withdrew, slipping back into Changying’s forehead.

This mist could not even be dispersed—it was as though it had taken root deep within her spiritual sea.

Changying lowered her head slightly, appearing a bit uncomfortable. Within her spiritual sea, the mist surged and rolled like crashing waves—

Something seemed to have been disturbed.

Noticing the change in her expression, Zhuyou quickly withdrew her hand and flicked her finger against Changying’s forehead. Though the force was light, a red mark instantly appeared on her pale skin, making it seem as though she had been mistreated.

Changying gasped softly, her pupils trembling slightly as she murmured, “I don’t know why, but my head hurts a little.”

Zhuyou decided to leave the dragon alone for now. At this point, she was sure that Changying’s origins were anything but ordinary. Just how extraordinary, though, remained to be seen.

Hanzhu, who had been holding her breath, finally exhaled in relief when her mistress withdrew her hand.

The red mark on Changying’s forehead remained, standing out vividly like a crimson blossom.

Zhuyou suddenly asked, “Why is it that I’ve returned, and you no longer seem sleepy?”

“I’m still sleepy,” Changying replied honestly, raising a hand to touch her forehead.

“If you’re sleepy, then go to bed,” Zhuyou said, gesturing toward the wooden bed.

“This wooden bed isn’t as soft as the couch in the Grand Hall,” Changying muttered, her expression reluctant.

Zhuyou sighed helplessly. “You were still an egg when you were in the Grand Hall—how do you even know if it’s soft?”

Changying immediately retorted, her voice soft but firm, “I could remember things while I was still in the egg, even if I couldn’t see.”

That was unexpected. Zhuyou had never imagined that this little dragon could retain memories from inside her egg. If anyone else had said it, she would have scoffed. But coming from Changying, it was hard not to believe.

Hanzhu nearly gasped in shock. “If that’s the case, wouldn’t you know a great deal of other things as well?”

“You talk too much,” Zhuyou interrupted with a frown, casting Hanzhu a meaningful glance.

Hanzhu immediately shut her mouth, lowering her head. A moment later, she realized her mistress wasn’t reprimanding her—there was a different message hidden in her gaze. With a sudden realization, she understood. She would need to head to Shangxi City to find Wu Buzhi.

“What do you mean by that?” Changying furrowed her soft brows, her expression unusually serious for someone her age.

Hanzhu glanced cautiously at her mistress. Seeing no objection, she hesitated before asking, “When you were inside the egg, did you ever hear anything? Do you know who your mother is?”

Changying pouted slightly, clearly displeased. “No. I suppose I don’t have a mother.”

Hanzhu quickly grasped the implications—the dragon egg had perhaps been born by the head.

(T/N: In some myths, certain gods are believed to have been born from the head. A well-known example is the Greek goddess Athena, who was said to have emerged fully grown from the forehead of her father, Zeus.)

A flicker of confusion crossed Changying’s otherwise indifferent gaze. “I shouldn’t have a mother. I don’t know anything else.”

“Are you sure you don’t know?” Zhuyou tapped the table twice with her finger.

Changying’s expression remained indifferent, as if she didn’t care whether others believed her or not. “It was quiet when I was still in the sea—I couldn’t hear much. Later, things became much noisier.”

Hanzhu muttered from the side, “Is she calling us noisy?” But as soon as she spoke, her mistress shot her a glance.

“Noisy?” Zhuyou’s lips curled slightly, and the phoenix flames around the room dimmed, casting the space into a sudden chill.

“How could Mistress’ voice ever be called noisy? It is clearly the sound of heavenly music—melodious and soothing. I could listen to it every day and never grow tired of it,” Hanzhu blurted out hastily, racking her brain for flattery.

Only then did Zhuyou nod in satisfaction.

Dragons freshly hatched from their eggs were indeed prone to exhaustion. Before long, Changying was once again unsteady on her feet, grabbing onto the hem of Zhuyou’s skirt to keep from falling.

Zhuyou pulled the fabric out of her grasp without a hint of pity. When it seemed that Changying would collapse onto the ground, she finally flicked out a strand of spiritual energy, lifting her onto the hard wooden bed.

Fortunately, Changying didn’t stir much—her sleeping posture was surprisingly well-behaved. With her eyes closed, not a trace of the ferocity she’d shown earlier remained.

Zhuyou glanced at her pale complexion and, for once, felt the faintest twinge of pity—just a sliver, no more than the size of a pinky finger.

Hanzhu stood silently by the side, unsure if the dragon was truly asleep. She remained motionless, watching in disbelief as her mistress tucked the small dragon girl in under the blanket.

Changying shifted restlessly, curling up slightly as if she were cold.

With a sigh, Zhuyou sat down at the bedside. No sooner had she done so than Changying instinctively sought out the warmth, wrapping her arms around Zhuyou’s waist.

“Mistress, about Shenhua Mountain…” Hanzhu lowered her voice.

Zhuyou’s expression darkened as she shook her head. “It’s inaccessible. Even the Huacheng Sect’s leader only sent his disciples to explore the Wuwang Ravine under someone else’s orders—to retrieve the bronze bell from the belly of the demon beast. But as for who gave the command, that remains unknown.”

“That bronze bell must be connected to the Huacheng Sect somehow,” Hanzhu speculated.

Zhuyou nodded slightly. “Interestingly, when I reached the top of the main peak, I caught the scent of immortal energy. Not long after, I heard the sound of something shattering, and a wave of spiritual energy spread out. In the midst of it, there was also a dragon’s roar.”

“Could it be another bronze bell?” Hanzhu mused.

“But why would it shatter at the sight of me?” Zhuyou pried Changying’s arms away from her waist as she spoke.

“Perhaps because Mistress’ cultivation is unmatched—no one in the devil’s domain can rival you. The copper bell, sensing its inferiority, broke out of sheer unwillingness,” Hanzhu suggested, spinning a tale from thin air.

Zhuyou laughed softly, amused.

On the bed, Changying, still half-buried under the thin blanket, reached out again and clung to the edge of Zhuyou’s robe.

Hanzhu glanced at the small hand and hesitated.

Yet instead of pushing it away, Zhuyou surprised her by grasping Changying’s slender wrist. At first, she intended to tuck the dragon’s hand back under the blanket—but after some thought, she relented, deciding to indulge her just this once.

***

By dawn, the disciples of Huacheng Sect were already awake and practicing their morning lessons. Footsteps echoed in the courtyard outside, mingled with the sound of voices.

As soon as Zhuyou heard the noise, she opened her eyes—realizing with some disbelief that she had remained seated on the wooden bed the entire night.

Even more surprising was that Changying’s arm was still tightly wrapped around her waist, as though unwilling to let go.

Her lower back felt icy cold—thanks to the little dragon clinging to her all night.

To prevent any visiting disciples from being injured by the protective barriers, Zhuyou had already weakened the restriction on the door. Slowly, she pried Changying’s hand away and sent her spirit into a mortal’s body.

Hanzhu, fearful of being tossed around again, took the initiative and switched to her human form without being prompted.

As Changying’s spirit left her dragon body, the physical form reverted to its original shape and lay curled up on the wooden bed. The dragon’s frame seemed slightly larger, and faint bulges had appeared on her head—signs that her horns were beginning to grow.

Zhuyou brushed her hand over the dragon’s head and murmured, “If you grow horns, make sure they’re a good-looking pair.”

A shadow fell across the door, and someone outside raised a hand to knock. With a flick of her fingers, Zhuyou stowed Changying’s dragon form away into her storage space.

The knock came, accompanied by a voice calling out, “Shixiong, are you attending morning lessons today? I heard from Shidi Fang that you were injured while out yesterday. How are your wounds?”

(T/N: Shidi =  Younger martial brother. For junior male members of one’s own sect.)

Zhuyou rose and opened the door, her smile warm and natural. “How could I miss morning lessons? Thank you for your concern—the injuries were minor and have already healed.”

Just as she finished speaking, she felt a tug on her hand.

Changying—now occupying a human form—was clutching her hand with a languid, slightly annoyed expression. She looked as though she had not slept enough, her pale features exuding a cold aloofness. Even after changing forms, her hands remained as icy as ever.

The disciple at the door blinked in confusion. Why on earth would they need to hold hands just to attend a lesson? Scratching his head, he waved awkwardly. “I’ll be going ahead, shixiongs.”

Zhuyou nodded slightly, and only after he walked away did she begin to peel Changying’s fingers off her hand, one by one.

Changying scowled, her words curt. “Cold.”

Zhuyou thought to herself, No way. This body you’re using is far too unsightly; I’m not holding hands with you.