GD Ch. 27 Part 1

Chapter 27: How to Enter the Pool

All those disciples were heading to the morning lesson, but Zhuyou was not.

Upon stepping out of the courtyard gate, Hanzhu nervously glanced around. Though she still stood tall with a straight back, keeping up the appearance of a senior disciple, her eyes darted about uneasily, making her seem suspicious. She asked, “Mistress, are we really going to the morning lesson?”

There was no need—truly, no need. What was so special about the morning lessons of a mortal sect?

“You take her with you.” Zhuyou saw that Changying was about to grab her hand again, so she quickly preempted the move, seizing that now roughened hand herself and shoving it into Hanzhu’s palm. “No need to worry, no one will notice. You just need to keep an eye on her.”

Hanzhu said nothing. Wasn’t her exact fear that this dragon would cause trouble? When she suddenly felt Changying’s hand being thrust into hers, she was startled by the coldness. Though it was no longer the soft and tender hand it once was, it still carried an eerie chill, as if even the blood within this body had frozen over.

Zhuyou assumed she was afraid of these mortals and was momentarily at a loss for words. “You’re a devil, after all, your cultivation is far above these mortal disciples. If she causes trouble, do you really think you can’t handle it?”

Hanzhu thought to herself that, in truth, she really couldn’t. If this dragon suddenly sprouted horns, reverted to her true form, or even just let out a single roar, wouldn’t the entire Huacheng Sect immediately know what she was? And weren’t the celestial beings up above currently searching for this very dragon?

“Her dragon body is stored inside my mustard seed pouch. She won’t be stirring up any storms, so don’t be afraid,” Zhuyou said, glancing down at her own hand—the one now occupying this borrowed body. After a moment’s thought, she conjured a folding fan, shaking it open in a manner no different from a hedonistic nobleman in the mortal world. This way, her disguise seemed more complete.

Knowing she had no choice, Hanzhu reluctantly accepted her task. However, she released Changying’s claws slowly and carefully—dragon claws were not something she dared to grab recklessly.

Changying’s face remained cold. She had not expected her hand to be pushed away. Without even sparing Hanzhu a glance, it was obvious she had no desire to travel alongside her.

“Behave, and I’ll give you some candy when you return,” Zhuyou said. She wasn’t good at coaxing little dragons, but she recalled that the phoenix chicks on Mount Danxue had a fondness for sweet treats when they were young.

Changying, however, was not so easily persuaded. Her expression did not resemble that of someone bargaining, but rather someone demanding a life in return. The ferocity in her gaze only grew stronger as she said, “I don’t want candy. I want something else.” Her voice was deep and muffled, harshly grating on the ears.

If Zhuyou didn’t already know that the soul inside this body belonged to her dragon, she would have immediately thrown out this cold-faced mortal who dared to act spoiled. Taking a slow breath, she forced herself not to focus on Changying’s current appearance and lazily asked, “What do you want?” She truly didn’t believe this dragon could come up with anything too outrageous.

“Give me some spiritual energy.” Changying’s voice was icy, her tone dry as she added, “Yours.”

Hanzhu felt as if she’d been struck over the head. She never imagined that someone could ask for spiritual energy so brazenly—especially from her mistress, of all people.

Zhuyou chuckled, utterly unconcerned. “Granted.”

Only then did Changying’s expression soften. She turned to Hanzhu and said, “Morning lesson.”

Though still shocked, Hanzhu now felt a little sympathy for the young dragon—far too naive. Did she really think a devil’s words could be trusted? Devils were known for going back on their promises.

Zhuyou, however, was quite satisfied. With a flick of her wrist, she snapped open her folding fan. In the end, this was a dragon she had personally nurtured—obedient indeed.

Outside the courtyard gate, a devil and a dragon stood abandoned in the biting wind, their hair tousled as they looked at each other. The endless snowfall continued as if it would never cease.

Hanzhu didn’t dare to speak, and Changying was a woman of few words—especially toward this servant girl, whom she had nothing to say to.

Meanwhile, a third figure, dressed in the robes of a Huacheng Sect disciple, had already flown far into the distance without the slightest hesitation, disappearing without delay.

As she traveled with the wind, Zhuyou turned her head just in time to catch sight of the small dragon, now occupying the body of a male cultivator. Her eyes were cold and indifferent—nothing like those of a naive child.

***

In Huacheng Sect, towering pagodas pierced the clouds, and a white jade bridge hung high above the ground, dusted with drifting snow. The frigid wind howled like a ravenous beast.

A blue-and-white figure suddenly streaked through the storm, swift as lightning.

The frozen lake that concealed the entrance to Shenhua Mountain lay beyond the eight peaks. The ice covering its surface was three feet thick, and not a single soul was in sight. With the protective formation in place, there was no need for guards.

As soon as the figure in disciple robes landed, the borrowed body collapsed onto the ground. A shadow of blazing red fire surged from within it, so intense it was nearly black. Within that dark hue, the shape of a long-tailed, feathered bird was faintly visible.

The crimson flames suddenly coalesced into a humanoid form. As the firelight receded, a silver-haired, black-clad demon stood at the lake’s edge, gazing at the thick ice in contemplation.

Zhuyou was pondering how to break this restriction. She dared not attempt anything rash. If her actions attracted the celestial beings above, it would be more trouble than it was worth. She still wasn’t sure what the Three Lords were planning, but those three devils were certainly strange—especially Jing Kexin. She had claimed she wanted to infiltrate Shenhua Mountain, but whether she actually would was another matter entirely.

She stood motionless for a long time until the sudden sound of heavy, chaotic footsteps reached her ears—

Someone was approaching.

Her eyes narrowed, and she quickly collected the fallen male cultivator’s body before shrinking down and transforming into a mere blade of grass.

“Will Shenhua Mountain’s gate really open early? I hope nothing goes wrong.”

“The sect master holds the Heaven-Observing Mirror. That mirror is a treasure—it allows communication with the celestials. If the immortals say the gate will open early, then it will. Do you doubt the heavens?” another voice responded.

“But why are only disciples with great fortune allowed to enter this time? If some low-level cultivators get in, won’t they be trapped forever if they encounter powerful demonic beasts?”

“These rules weren’t made by the sect master—he merely conveyed the words of the immortals. What use is your worrying?”

Zhuyou listened carefully. So, the Heaven-Observing Mirror was an immortal artifact, not a source of great power—at most, it could transmit messages, serving as the ears and mouth of the Heavenly Realm.

“Yet, those with great fortune may not necessarily glimpse the immortal path. If they fail to grasp it, what good is entering Shenhua Mountain?” the skeptic continued.

“With such an opportunity, how could they not glimpse the path? Or do you mean to doubt the fortune bestowed by the heavens?”

The two lingered at the lakeside, seemingly examining something.

Zhuyou, in her grass form, was too low to see much beyond the hems of their robes and a faint glimpse of their chins—she had no idea what they looked like.

After a while, one of them asked, “What do you think?”

“The restriction remains perfectly intact, untouched. We can report back to the sect master.”

The other sighed. “The sect master worries too much—always fearing infiltration. With a restriction set by an immortal, how could an ordinary mortal possibly break through? I really don’t know what he’s so concerned about. But—I’ve heard he recently obtained some kind of artifact. Have you managed to find out what it is? Which immortal left it behind?”

“I don’t know. The sect master hasn’t revealed it, but he looked grim today. I wonder if there’s something wrong with the artifact.”

“If it truly is an artifact, then why would the sect master still struggle to break through his bottleneck?”

The two continued their idle chatter before eventually walking away.

The lone blade of grass by the frozen lake suddenly vanished, replaced in an instant by a slender and ethereal devil. Dressed in black, her silver hair cascaded down, adorned with ink-colored beaded ornaments that swayed with a soft, eerie chime—strange, yet not without allure.

Zhuyou’s silk dress trailed over the snow, revealing glimpses of her slender, delicate ankle bones as she walked. She moved a little closer to the frozen lake, pondering the conversation she had just overheard. In an instant, she understood—the sect master’s grim expression must have been because that immortal-imbued artifact had shattered.

When the artifact broke, a surge of immense spiritual power erupted, far stronger than the copper bells of Wuwang Ravine. The deafening dragon’s roar had even made her ears uncomfortable—let alone a mere cultivator at the Great Ascension stage.

The poor sect master of Huacheng Sect had not only lost a divine artifact but had also gotten injured in the process. Truly unfortunate.

Zhuyou wasn’t sure if the artifact had any connection to Shenhua Mountain, but if it shattered the moment it encountered her, it was certainly no good thing for devils. The area around the frozen lake was eerily silent. The thick, three-foot layer of ice stretched in a vast, white expanse, obscuring whatever lay beneath.

Zhuyou extended a thread of spiritual energy, cautiously directing it toward the restriction on the lake’s surface, ready to withdraw if anything unexpected occurred.

Sure enough, the restriction was formidable. Before her energy could even make contact, a mist-like force surged up from the ice, and streaks of light flickered across the frozen surface. For a brief instant, densely packed runes materialized before vanishing just as quickly.

This was unmistakably a formation set by the Heavenly Realm. A mere glance at the runes told her that much.

The restriction wasn’t the work of a single individual—it required multiple people to lay down, making it far from easy to break. Otherwise, with her cultivation, a simple frozen lake wouldn’t be able to keep her out.

Beneath the three-foot ice, who knew how deep the entrance to Shenhua Mountain was buried? The lake itself wasn’t wide, but it still covered about an acre. If the entrance was no larger than a doghole, searching for it would be quite the hassle.

A mountain gate sealed beneath such thick ice, untouched by rain, unscathed by frost, impervious even to dust—it was nothing short of an enormous cage.

Zhuyou withdrew her spiritual energy and crouched down, her gauzy robes pooling on the snow like a layer of misty gray smoke. Her pale, slender hand slowly reached toward the frozen surface, fingers even whiter than the ice itself.

She suppressed her devilish aura, reined in her spiritual energy, and made herself indistinguishable from an ordinary mortal—even holding her breath entirely, as if she were lifeless. She feared the restriction might react to her presence as a devil.

Her fingertip touched the ice. After a pause, she pressed her palm flat against the surface. It was icy cold.

This time, no mist-like force surged up, and no runes flickered to life. However, without using spiritual energy, she had no way of breaking through the thick ice or probing beneath it with her divine sense.

Zhuyou withdrew her hand. Forget it. She would have to wait until the sect’s mountain-opening day to investigate further—though that would mean inevitably running into Jing Kexin again.