GD Ch. 30

Chapter 30: Has She Gotten Horns?

Shenhua Mountain was about to open soon, and within just a few days, several small sects had already arrived at Huacheng Sect. A group of outer sect disciples, dressed in vibrant attire, wandered through the mountain, adding a splash of color to the scenery.

The mortal who had been possessed by Changying truly became weaker, unable to withstand the power of her divine soul. The golden core in his spiritual sea showed signs of cracking. While the person still clung to life, Zhuyou instructed Hanzhu to take out the Purifying Elixir and feed it to him.

After swallowing the elixir, the mortal felt slightly better. At least, he no longer frowned constantly in his sleep. However, his entire body remained cold, likely suffering from some lingering symptoms.

Zhuyou lay lazily on a soft couch, her silver hair unbound, cascading messily down her back, with a few strands falling over her chest, nearly reaching the floor. She had never intended to put much effort into looking after these three mortals. However, if their life plaques suddenly shattered, it would cause trouble. She would no longer be able to use this body to move around Huacheng Sect freely.

Hanzhu, naturally perceptive of her mistress’ worries, quickly fed the person more of the Purifying Elixir, ensuring his life was firmly tethered.

The other two were in slightly better condition. Several times over the past few days, they had seemed on the verge of waking up, but with just a flick of Zhuyou’s fingers, they immediately fell unconscious again.

Changying had also been asleep for days. Ever since that day, when she had clung to Zhuyou’s robes, trembling uncontrollably, she had not opened her eyes. She curled up like a black snake, her head tucked beneath her coils, as if trying to smother herself.

Zhuyou, unable to bear the sight, reached out and pulled her head free, then casually straightened the curled-up dragon. What had once been a tightly wound coil was now stretched into a long, straight form. Her eyes remained tightly shut, making her look as if she had been crushed to death.

But no sooner had Zhuyou straightened her out than Changying curled up again, forming a loose semicircle.

Zhuyou stubbornly straightened her once more and gave her slightly raised tail a light tap. “Behave.”

Changying, deeply asleep, did not hear a word.

Watching from the side, Hanzhu grew worried. “She’s been sleeping for so long… Could she be trapped in a nightmare?”

Zhuyou’s tone remained indifferent. “Do you think a mere nightmare could touch my dragon under my watch?”

So, she had truly started treating the dragon as her own. Hanzhu silently noted this.

“Let her sleep. Her body is frail, and she’s only just hatched. It’s not unusual for her to be drowsy,” Zhuyou said, her black eyes half-lowered. The downward tilt of her gaze, combined with the dark hue of her irises, gave her an innocent, harmless appearance.

But those who knew her well understood that this devil had nothing to do with innocence. When she acted, she was far less merciful than the Three Lords.

The devilish patterns that coiled around her body should have been fearsome, yet the creatures of the devil’s domain were all infatuated with appearances. Even the slightest smirk from her was enough to soften their hearts, making them desperate to offer her everything—forgetting entirely that they ought to be afraid.

Someone as radiant as the moon belonged in the heavens above. Yet, she had fallen into the devil’s path. Even if someone were to lay their heart at her feet, she would not spare it a glance. She had learned the temperament of devils well, imitating them to near perfection.

“Do you truly intend to protect this dragon, Mistress?” Hanzhu still held some concern. “Could it be that… you plan to exchange your heart’s blood?”

Zhuyou traced the sharp edges of Changying’s dragon scales. “It would be a shame not to. The egg I took from the Dragon Palace is a treasure.”

“And if, in the future, she—” Hanzhu hesitated.

Zhuyou’s fingers shifted to the spot on Changying’s head where horns would eventually grow. “She just hatched, yet she can already take the form of a four-year-old child. In mere days, her body has grown several inches longer. Even the bronze bells beneath Wuwang Ravine are linked to her. Though she lacks spiritual power, her presence alone is unfathomably oppressive. She has great potential—far beyond what ordinary beings can reach.”

“This dragon is so peculiar… Shouldn’t we avoid getting involved?” Hanzhu asked anxiously.

“But what if she becomes a devil?” Zhuyou lifted her gaze.

Hanzhu was stunned.

Zhuyou’s eyes curved slightly. “She may not necessarily fall to the devil’s path, but she is in the process of reshaping her body. She won’t die so easily.”

Hanzhu still could not understand what her mistress was thinking. All she wished for was her mistress’ safety. In the end, since she had no say in Zhuyou’s decisions, she simply said, “Mistress is wise and farsighted. There is none in the heavens or earth who can compare.”

“Oh? So, you think there is someone in the heavens above who could?” Zhuyou asked with amusement.

Hanzhu’s cheeks flushed, and she hurriedly replied, “Of course not.”

***

Over the past few days, nearly all the small and large sects had arrived. By all accounts, the Second Lord should have taken some action. Yet, the sect remained eerily calm, with not a single devil causing trouble.

Zhuyou, still absentmindedly straightening the dragon, finally lifted her head, deep in thought. “Go out and take a look. See if you can find Jing Kexin. She’s carrying something on her that even I can’t trace.”

Hanzhu was shocked. She had no idea that the Third Lord was in the sect as well. When Zhuyou had last encountered Jing Kexin, Hanzhu had still been in Shangxi City. She quickly asked, “When did the Second Lord arrive?”

“She’s been here for a while. We even ran into her the day we returned from Wendao Peak,” Zhuyou replied calmly.

“What form is she in? Did she recognize us?” Hanzhu, who often acted haughtily in front of outsiders, was still apprehensive before her mistress.

Zhuyou gave a vague description. “Looking proper, at least. The kind of appearance men would like.”

Her fingers idly brushed over Changying’s head. The ridges where her horns would grow had become more pronounced, as if they would soon emerge.

She flicked a claw at the dragon’s firm scales. The dark surface gleamed with a sharp edge, so razor-like that a mere touch would cut human flesh.

But Zhuyou was unbothered. She not only flicked Changying’s head but also rearranged her dragon body as if handling a mere object.

It was fortunate Changying remained asleep. If she had been awake, her gaze would have been dark with killing intent, and her voice icy.

***

Hanzhu, disguised as a mortal, went out as ordered. Though she found no trace of Jing Kexin, she did witness a group of mortals fighting. Judging by their attire, they were from the same sect—outsiders from Huacheng Sect.

Within Huacheng Sect, private duels were forbidden outside the Wendao Peak’s platform. But clearly, this rule did not apply to disciples from other sects.

Rather than a true fight, it looked more like a scuffle. Their cultivation was low, so their blows were more like light scratches. It was a crude fight, with even fists being thrown, and yet one of them was already bloodied.

The devil Hanzhu found the scene rather amusing and couldn’t help but watch a little longer.

Among the group, a thin and short young man stood at the side, constantly rubbing his eyes as if crying. Yet, his face was completely dry, without a single tear shed. The snow on the mountain was thick, covering his shoulders and the top of his head. His downcast eyes held a sinister glint, far from the softness his outward appearance suggested—on the contrary, they were filled with hostility.

He looks like he’d make good material for a devil, Hanzhu thought.

The fight among the group was fierce. They tugged at each other’s clothes, and a large fur cloak had been thrown to the ground, trampled multiple times. Whether through spellwork or some other means, half of it was soaked and the other half was scorched black, completely ruined.

One of the female cultivators shouted, “Just because our shidi’s soul is incomplete doesn’t mean you can bully him!”

Another chimed in, “All along this journey, you’ve never treated him well! He may be slow, but that doesn’t mean he’s yours to torment!”

“Now that Shifu isn’t here, you think you can do whatever you want!”

The male cultivator who was throwing punches reached out to grab this shidi’s arm. The thin young man was easily pulled forward, his body lacking any strength. With just one tug, he collapsed onto his knees in the snow.

Although the snow was thick, beneath it was solid rock. When his knees hit the ground, a heavy thud echoed in the cold air.

The disciples who had been protecting their shidi turned red with fury, immediately yanking the attacker away, their expressions filled with menace.

But in the end, they were mortals—young ones at that. Though they bared their teeth in anger, their threats seemed hollow, more for show than anything. Unlike true devils, if they truly fought, blood would be spilled.

Hanzhu glanced at the thin young man. He remained kneeling, head bowed, his hands plunged into the snow. His exposed wrists were flushed red from the cold, and his shoulders trembled slightly, making him seem as though he really was crying.

“Our shidi was born with an incomplete soul. Yes, he’s slow, but he’s never done anything to hurt you! Why do you treat him like this?”

The disciple who had been restrained let out a cold laugh. “I think you’re the real fools!”

The one kneeling in the snow lifted his head, his expression blank and confused. Perhaps due to his extreme thinness, his features seemed distorted, making it hard to tell if he was good-looking or not.

Hanzhu noticed that in that fleeting moment when he raised his head, a sharp, vicious glint flickered in his eyes. 

It reminded her of Changying. However, while Changying was mostly indifferent, as if nothing in the world could catch her interest, this person’s eyes were filled with pure malice.

She watched for a while longer but ultimately lost interest. Someone with an incomplete soul could never truly cultivate. Even if they managed to progress a few levels, they would never break through, eventually turning to dust and bones. Even if they abandoned the immortal path and sought to become a devil, such a person was of little use.

Just as she was about to leave, she suddenly sensed someone watching from afar. That person’s spiritual sense was carefully restrained, so much so that Hanzhu almost hadn’t noticed it.

It seemed that when the short young man lifted his head, his fierce expression had startled the hidden observer, causing their spiritual presence to momentarily waver.

Hanzhu immediately traced the direction of the retreating spiritual sense—only to lock eyes with an unexpectedly gentle and harmless face.

It was a female cultivator, her expression pure and innocent, her features delicate and charming. When she saw Hanzhu looking her way, she even smiled faintly, pressing her lips together as if suppressing amusement. Her cheeks puffed ever so slightly—she had pressed her tongue against the inside of her cheek.

Hanzhu’s heart skipped a beat. A sudden alertness surged within her, and she narrowed her eyes.

This female cultivator’s cultivation was only at the Golden Core stage. But how could someone at that level release their spiritual sense outside their body?

Could it be… Jing Kexin?

Without hesitation, Hanzhu turned and left. She had a strong feeling that Jing Kexin had recognized her. Not wanting to bring Jing Kexin before her mistress, she deliberately took a detour around the outer peaks.

Braving the wind and snow, she cleared her mind. She couldn’t understand why Jing Kexin would waste her spiritual sense observing those weak, easily bullied mortal disciples. Had she taken an interest in someone?

Flashes of the disciples’ faces crossed Hanzhu’s mind. The only one remotely interesting was that cold, sinister-looking “fool.” But in the end, he had an incomplete soul—useless.

Just as she was about to return, a strange thought suddenly struck her. She hastily pushed open the door—only to nearly vomit blood from the force of the restriction that repelled her.

Zhuyou was reclining on a soft couch, the dragon coiled lazily around her waist still asleep, limp as though it could be tied into a knot.

She lifted her gaze slightly, casually pressing a finger against Changying’s head as she withdrew the restriction.

“So flustered—did you run into Jing Kexin?” she asked leisurely.

Hanzhu quickly shut the door behind her, still shaken, and nodded. “On my way back, I saw some disciples from an unknown sect fighting. I listened in for a while, and apparently, one of them is a fool with an incomplete soul.”

The moment Zhuyou heard the words “incomplete soul,” her interest piqued. She sat up slowly, though she remained slouched against the cushions, her waist relaxed and lazy. She scooped Changying up without much thought and placed her on her stomach.

“And how did you end up seeing Jing Kexin?”

“I sensed a strand of spiritual awareness and followed it. That’s when I saw the Second Lord. It should be her—though she’s taken over a mortal’s body, and her appearance is completely different from before.”

The more Hanzhu thought about it, the more uneasy she became. That female cultivator had smiled so sweetly, but her every movement was like that of a ghoul feeding on human essence. If that wasn’t Jing Kexin, then who else could it be?

“Who was she watching? That fool with the incomplete soul?” Zhuyou’s finger, which had been tapping lightly against Changying’s head, suddenly paused.

Hanzhu wasn’t entirely certain. “Perhaps. That boy is a bit odd—he’s filled with malice, doesn’t seem much like a fool. But when he was being beaten, he didn’t even try to fight back.”

As she spoke, she instinctively moved carefully forward, crouching by the soft couch and leaning in, as if she had done this countless times before.

Zhuyou reached out and pressed a finger against her forehead, reading the memories from her spiritual sea.

A cultivator’s spiritual sea was deeply personal, a sacred place where their wisdom and consciousness resided. It was not something one allowed others to touch.

Yet, Hanzhu didn’t resist at all. She closed her eyes, restraining her spiritual energy entirely, allowing her mistress to see everything more clearly.

Zhuyou found the brightest thread of memory and used Hanzhu’s eyes to see the boy.

Pale-skinned, thin, and not particularly tall, he appeared to be around fourteen in mortal years. He stood dumbly in place, watching as others fought over him, yet he never uttered a single word. His mouth was slightly open—he truly looked like a fool.

Later, when he was violently yanked and fell to his knees in the snow, his face, half-hidden beneath his hair, looked eerily sinister, as if he were suppressing a monstrous rage. His malice was tangible.

Following Hanzhu’s gaze, Zhuyou saw a female cultivator in the distance discreetly withdrawing her spiritual sense. She was pure-looking and beautiful.

Indeed, it was the mortal body Jing Kexin had taken over.

Hanzhu instinctively raised her hand as soon as the warmth of that fingertip was withdrawn, as if trying to trap the lingering heat at her brow.

The dragon lying curled around Zhuyou’s waist shifted slightly, its long body suddenly coiling up again. Its tightly shut eyes quivered faintly.

Hanzhu immediately held her breath, afraid that even the slightest disturbance in her breathing might wake the dragon.

Zhuyou patted Changying’s dragon spine in a soothing motion. In just the span of two days, Changying had grown a bit longer—her tail now dangled off the edge of the couch, and the two scales on her forehead seemed on the verge of shedding.

In the blink of an eye, one of those dark, heavy scales, as solid as a piece of copper, dropped with a crisp ding onto the floor. Its edges gleamed with a chilling light, sharp as a blade.

Zhuyou casually curled a finger, and the fallen black scale floated into her pale palm.

“Is she about to grow horns?” Hanzhu lowered her voice. She had never seen a dragon grow horns in this manner before. It was strange—weren’t dragons supposed to be born with them? Was this an aftereffect of reconstructing her physical body?

Zhuyou pressed her thumb lightly against the freshly shed spot on Changying’s head. At her touch, something nudged against her fingertip, and then, like a sprouting seedling, a dry, branch-like black horn began pushing its way out.

Changying’s golden dragon eyes snapped open—cold, piercing.

In that instant, a terrifying force erupted around her, shaking the air with such intensity that Hanzhu stumbled backward and crashed onto the floor with a dull thud.

Zhuyou was momentarily taken aback, leaning back slightly as she narrowed her eyes at the frail-looking dragon’s horns. She reached out to touch them, but before her fingers could land, the dragon suddenly jerked its head away.

There was no trace of dragon aura.

Even with horns fully grown, there was no presence of a dragon’s power.

Zhuyou withdrew her hand. She was about to tell her to behave, but Changying’s vertical pupils remained cold and indifferent, as though she no longer recognized her.

What an ungrateful little beast.

With a flick of her hand, Zhuyou attempted to swat the dragon off the couch. But just as she was about to push her away, a sharp pain shot through her wrist.

Looking down, she saw Changying had clamped her jaws around her arm. Her tail flicked, as if attempting to coil around her forearm. Despite her cold and detached demeanor—refusing to let anyone touch her horns—she was suddenly clinging to Zhuyou the moment she tried to cast her aside.

Zhuyou lifted her wrist slightly, and Changying’s long tail drooped down, yet her fangs remained firmly embedded.

Hanzhu had assumed that this dragon, who regarded devils with complete indifference, would be thrown off without resistance. But to her surprise, her mistress simply exerted pressure with her thumb and forefinger, forcibly prying the dragon’s jaws open.

Changying’s mouth gaped wide—but she didn’t make a sound.

Zhuyou flexed her wrist, and before she could snap her jaws shut again, she pulled a spirit stone from her storage and stuffed it directly into her open maw.

“Behave yourself. You’re getting out of hand.”