GD Ch. 36

Chapter 36: How to Escape?

Changying remained silent. If Zhuyou could see clearly, she would have noticed the little dragon’s lips trembling slightly—whether from fear or anger was hard to tell. Her expression was cold, her delicate brows tightly furrowed, and the arms wrapped around Zhuyou seemed to be using all their strength.

Perhaps it was because of the divine power she had swallowed earlier—its aftereffects were even stronger than consuming spiritual energy. The arms she held around Zhuyou suddenly began to tremble as well.

Snowflakes, like scattered jade fragments, fell from the sky, covering her hair and shoulders in white. Her thin shoulders shivered like a sieve. Not only that, but her aura was in complete disarray—just as it had been right after swallowing the divine power. If this continued, she might grow taller right on the spot.

Zhuyou no longer expected this dragon to carry her out of Shenhua Mountain. With how weak and fragile she was, she could barely hold her up—how could she possibly carry her out? What she didn’t expect was that not only could the little girl not help her, but she was now dragging her down and might even lose control again.

Changying trembled all over. Though still in human form, a weak dragon’s cry slipped from her slightly open mouth. As she leaned against her soft chest, Zhuyou’s heart sank. Although she had injured Immortal Zhiying, she hadn’t struck hard enough. If Immortal Zhiying caught up and realized that this little dragon was unusual, she would surely try to seize her.

This was truly… losing both the bait and the fish.

As the poison mist clouding her vision worsened, Zhuyou’s spiritual energy became increasingly insufficient. To resist the divine light of the Devil-Suppressing Tower, she had exhausted nearly all her strength. It was questionable whether she could even protect the Devil Lord’s fragmented soul, let alone compete against others.

At least she had destroyed the Devil-Suppressing Tower.

Changying was trembling so violently that her dragon form nearly collapsed against Zhuyou.

Half of Zhuyou’s body was almost frozen stiff. Her vision was blurry, and she couldn’t tell how pale the little dragon’s face had become. There was no way she would let anyone snatch this dragon away, and the Devil Lord’s soul fragment wasn’t something she could easily hand over either.

As Changying trembled and let out those soft dragon cries, Zhuyou quickly used the last traces of her spiritual energy to draw the surrounding space into a secluded realm, preventing the sound from escaping.

Once she set the restriction, she could no longer lift her arms. Apart from the sound of the wind and snow, only Changying’s suppressed whimpers remained.

Changying clung tightly to her back, and it seemed her body was lengthening—growing at an impressive rate.

Outside the restriction, a bird flitted past. Its wings ignited in a flash of bright flame when they brushed against the boundary, but the cold quickly extinguished the fire.

Anyone passing by outside the restriction wouldn’t see what was happening within. Only by approaching closely would they feel the crushing pressure.

Inside the restriction, Changying held the silver-haired, black-clad devil tightly. Her golden eyes were half-lidded. Though her entire body ached, her gaze remained icy and detached, as if she were devoid of feeling.

She pulled Zhuyou closer and closer, her bones creaking under the pressure. The childish softness on her face seemed to fade away in an instant.

The dragon cries were completely trapped within the spiritual barrier, not a sound leaking out. To Zhuyou’s ears, however, the endless wails echoed like a bell striking right beside her, over and over again. Since her vision was obscured, her hearing had become unusually sharp. Every dragon’s cry sounded even clearer and more piercing.

Exhausted as she was, Zhuyou wished she had no ears at all. The sound rattled her mind, and soon, she couldn’t even hear the wind or snow.

For a fleeting moment, she wondered if picking up this dragon had been a mistake—a torment to herself. It certainly felt like torment, especially since the dragon now seemed intent on squeezing her to death.

What puzzled her, though, was that despite Changying being able to roar like a dragon, she still had no trace of dragon aura. This reconstructed body seemed strangely fragile and utterly unimposing.

Changying howled for nearly half an hour, yet her voice remained clear and bright instead of going hoarse. 

Zhuyou felt a wave of weariness and couldn’t help but admire the divine power of the Devil-Suppressing Tower. She wondered which immortal had created the tower—its power was so potent that just one trace of it could transform Changying to this extent.

That trace of power would probably last for half a month.

Suddenly, the arms around Zhuyou vanished, along with the soft chest pressing against her.

No longer supported, Zhuyou tilted and fell back into the snow.

The dragon’s cries ceased, leaving only the howling wind around her.

Blind and with her ears ringing, Zhuyou—too drained to use spiritual senses—began groping around with her hands. For such a large girl to disappear without a trace was baffling. Even if she wanted to fly away, she should have kicked off the ground—but Changying hadn’t even stood up.

Her ears buzzed endlessly, drowning out any other sound or trace of Changying’s presence.

The feared fallen divine offspring now sat helplessly in the snow, her thin wrists nearly buried in it as she clumsily searched. She looked so fragile that it would tempt anyone to take advantage of her.

As she moved her hand, her fingers brushed against something cold.

It was a dragon scale—large enough to surpass her thumbprint, with edges sharp as blades and a surface as hard as steel.

A dragon scale, no doubt. Yet, in her memory, the little black dragon’s scales had never been this large.

Clutching the scale, Zhuyou stretched forward, worried she might grasp only air. Instead, she touched something cold and solid—a form that gently rose and fell with each breath. Beneath her fingers, thin, smooth scales overlapped in perfect order.

It was a dragon—a shivering dragon.

The once-slender creature had grown after swallowing the divine power. Now, Zhuyou would need both arms to encircle its body, and she couldn’t tell how long it had become.

Yet Changying remained silent, offering no complaint even as Zhuyou’s hands roamed over her. It was as if she had lost the ability to speak.

A blind devil and a mute dragon—what a pair.

Zhuyou traced the dragon’s body upward and, unexpectedly, felt a pair of horns. What were once soft and twig-like had become hard and sharp, cold as ice.

Her fingers slid down slowly, carelessly brushing against Changying’s mouth as if the dragon’s dignity meant nothing.

Zhuyou nudged her finger against Changying’s lips, trying to coax her into speaking. But the dragon’s jaws remained tightly shut.

“Speak.” Zhuyou’s voice was low. Where she had once been able to hold Changying’s head between two fingers, now even one hand couldn’t grasp her dragon muzzle. Her wide sleeves slipped down to her elbows, revealing the dark devil markings on her forearm.

Changying finally opened her mouth—but all that came out was a low, weary dragon’s cry.

Zhuyou felt a twinge of regret—seemed like it really couldn’t speak human language.

Changying remained coiled quietly behind her, not daring to move her head, as if afraid that even the slightest motion might accidentally bump against Zhuyou’s slender, pale hand.

The black dragon’s four claws were tightly curled, its sharp talons dark and dull like black iron. If they landed on a human body, they could easily tear it open.

Amidst the vast, snowy plain, Zhuyou wore a black dress, and the dragon was equally pitch black—like a drop of ink spilled on the snowfield. Yet, there was no third person to witness the scene.

Feeling weak, Zhuyou took a long moment to raise her arm and lightly patted the dragon’s cheek. In her mind, if Immortal Zhiying had any sense, she would have already sent word back to the Heavenly Realm. It wouldn’t be long before someone came to capture her.

She gave a faint, wry smile. Her eyes, already innocent-looking, now seemed even more pitiful with their dimmed light.

Changying’s frightening golden pupils remained fixed on her, the massive dragon head lowered slightly. She had seemingly recovered a bit, as her body no longer trembled.

Zhuyou’s hand rested beside Changying’s head. Seeing the dragon had stopped shaking, she guessed that she had regained some strength and spoke softly, “Dragons are supposed to soar through the skies and dive into the seas—why are you just lying here in the snow? Other creatures crawl on four legs, are you trying to be some kind of ground worm?”

Changying, of course, said nothing.

“What, do you want a bird like me to teach you how to fly?” Zhuyou added.

Changying’s eyes shifted slightly, but her dragon face made it impossible to tell whether she was pleased or annoyed. Yet, the subtle darkening of her gaze clearly revealed her displeasure.

She had always been proud by nature and couldn’t stand being belittled.

“Use the strength you had when you first broke out of your shell to smash through Shenhua Mountain’s sky barrier,” Zhuyou said. Her tone was soft and languid, but the words themselves held no trace of weakness or meekness.

She truly wanted to leave—but she couldn’t move on her own. This dragon was her best hope. Dealing with one Immortal Zhiying was already troublesome enough. She had no desire to run into any more familiar faces while stuck here—if a fight broke out, she would be the one at a disadvantage.

Hearing this, Changying raised her head slightly. Her cold golden eyes looked up at the snow-laden sky but still made no attempt to ascend.

Zhuyou felt an ache in her heart—this dragon was truly impossible to tame, utterly disobedient. With a sigh, she sluggishly propped herself up, resigned to her fate, and crossed her legs. At this point, she could only hope Immortal Zhiying would show her a bit of mercy. Just give her half a moment longer—then she could recover a sliver of her spiritual power.

No longer relying on the dragon, Zhuyou closed her eyes and muttered, “You cold-hearted, ungrateful little beast. I was hoping you’d break through the sky barrier, but now I’m thinking it’d be better to throw you back into the East Sea.”

Changying lowered her gaze, her expression icy.

“I feed you, I shelter you—how did I end up raising something like you? Might as well toss you aside,” Zhuyou grumbled in irritation.

The black dragon lowered her head, and her curled claws slowly extended—five talons, sharp as hooks and as lethal as blades.

But Zhuyou couldn’t see them—she only heard the grating sound of the dragon’s claws scraping across the ice and snow.

Before she could regain even a shred of spiritual power, she suddenly felt her body grow light. A chill swept beneath her feet, and in the next instant, her toes could no longer touch the ground—clearly, she had been lifted into the sky.

The northern wind howled fiercely. The closer they drew to the sky barrier, the stronger the wind grew, carrying frozen snowflakes that pelted against them like icy bullets. Changying had taken her into the air. Her sharp dragon claws gripped Zhuyou’s waist tightly, like iron pincers.

The black dragon soared upward against the wind, its serpentine body undulating like twisted roots, piercing through the gray, misty clouds. Its jaws remained shut, golden eyes burning like twin suns. With a swing of its massive tail, it exuded the power to tear the heavens apart.

Yet, for all its ferocity, the dragon remained silent. One claw carefully curled inward, cradling a silver-haired devil in its grasp.

Zhuyou chuckled—when it really came down to it, the dragon was still useful. She tilted her head back, squinting as she gazed at the sky barrier. The world above was a blur of gray, but faint glimmers of light shone through. Icy winds whipped around her, and from above came a crushing pressure—it seemed they were about to break through.

If the dragon could shatter the sky barrier, she would be free from Shenhua Mountain.

But just before they reached it, Changying’s claws suddenly flailed twice in midair, as if her strength had given out. The once-mighty dragon instantly became a limp shadow, her massive body falling straight down like a black streak.

Zhuyou had never expected to fall from the same place twice. Since becoming a devil, she had never been this embarrassed.

She didn’t know whether she had overestimated Changying—or whether Changying had overestimated herself. Either way, as she plummeted, she could only hope that the dragon wouldn’t crush her bones on impact.

The ground shook violently upon their landing. The snowcaps on the distant mountains darkened as avalanches thundered down, and a white mist rose as deep fissures split the frozen earth.

Oddly enough, Zhuyou didn’t feel any pain—because at the last moment, Changying had lifted her up. 

When they hit the ground, the dragon’s five claws slowly loosened, and the silver-haired devil slipped down into the snow.

Zhuyou landed face-first in the snow, though luckily she kept her mouth shut—otherwise, she would have been chewing on a mouthful of ice.

Beside her, the dragon suddenly transformed. The cold, smooth scales were gone—what remained was a slender, human form with delicate limbs.

It was almost unbelievable. That fall had somehow changed Changying back to her human shape—something that had never happened before.

Zhuyou sighed inwardly. Her current miserable state was entirely thanks to this dragon.

Changying stretched out her arms and wrapped them around Zhuyou. Her hands were still thin and cold, but her voice, though no longer childish, was firm. “Can’t break through.”

Zhuyou’s fingers pressed against Changying’s shoulder as she used the dragon to push herself upright, treating her like a walking stick.

After the quake, something felt off. From afar, the faint scent of devilish energy drifted in—a scent that hadn’t been there before.

It was subtle, as if coming from a great distance, but its sudden appearance was strange. Why had it emerged only after they fell?

Changying stood up as well, but Zhuyou’s hand remained on her shoulder.

Zhuyou paused for a moment, pressing down hard on the dragon’s shoulder with her fingers. Only then did she realize that this dragon had grown taller again—now, she was already up to her chest.

“You’ve grown taller again,” she said.

Changying seemed a little confused. Despite her growth, she showed no sign of rebellion and asked in a cold voice, “Is taller better or shorter?”

Hearing this, Zhuyou felt relieved—it was still her silly, dim-witted dragon who hadn’t gotten any smarter. “You’re just right as you are,” she replied.

Why was it “just right”? Because this height made it easier to lean on her shoulder.

As Zhuyou pushed forward, Changying moved along, and Zhuyou leaned on her like she was using a crutch.

After only a few steps, Changying’s foot accidentally kicked a loose stone. The stone rolled forward several feet before tumbling down into a deep ravine.

Zhuyou tilted her head down and stretched out her foot to probe the edge. Her slender ankle, pale as snow, brushed against the precipice. “Where did this chasm come from?”

“I don’t know,” Changying answered. Her voice still carried a trace of childishness—like a young girl who had grown a little but not yet matured.

Zhuyou snorted. “Don’t pretend. This chasm is clearly from your fall.”

Changying shifted slightly under Zhuyou’s elbow pressing into her shoulder, her pale lips drawing into a thin line.

“Let’s go down and take a look,” Zhuyou said. With some of her spiritual energy recovered, she grabbed Changying and leaped into the ravine.

Changying struggled at first, but when she heard Zhuyou’s cold command—“Don’t move”—she immediately calmed down and let herself be held, even if it hurt.

“Good girl,” Zhuyou praised.

The deeper they descended, the stronger the devilish aura became—thick and oppressive, like the depths of a devil’s lair. What had once been a snowy expanse turned into pitch-black darkness as they entered the chasm, as if they had plunged into a moonless, starless night.

Zhuyou raised her finger, and a small flame flickered to life. Though no larger than a pinky, it illuminated most of the chasm.

“What do you see?” she asked.

Changying’s golden eyes swept the jagged black rocks below and spotted a pile of broken bones. Wisps of gray-black devil fire burned like phantom smoke. “Corpses and devil fire,” she replied.

Zhuyou tapped the ground with the tip of her shoe, gathering the surrounding devilish energy with a wave of her hand. The devilish aura, thick as black smoke, swirled around her fingers. Though wild and fierce, she compressed it into a small sphere, which she calmly absorbed into her spiritual core.

Exhaling a breath of impure air, her surroundings became clearer, revealing the jagged stones that formed a peculiar door. Piles of white bones lay scattered in front of it, and devil fire flickered faintly. This was the source of the endless devilish energy.

Changying reached out, seemingly intending to touch the door, but Zhuyou caught her wrist.

“A devil gate,” Zhuyou said, pulling her hand back. “Touch it, and you might die.”

But why was there a devil gate here?

The so-called devil gate was a passage that only devil creatures could traverse. Any other beings—immortals or mortals—who attempted to cross would be reduced to mere bones. It was said that during the ancient battle between gods and devils, the Devil Lord left these gates behind as secret paths to invade the Heavenly Realm or retreat if defeated.

Changying frowned slightly. To Zhuyou’s blinded eyes, she was just a blurry outline.

Zhuyou tilted her head back to glance up at the narrow strip of sky above. She slowly clenched her fingers, and the chasm began to close as if healing like a scar.  Pulling Changying closer, she wrapped the dragon tightly in devilish energy.

Changying lowered her gaze slightly, remaining obedient in Zhuyou’s embrace.

In a soft, coaxing voice, Zhuyou murmured, “Don’t move.”

Changying stayed perfectly still.

Zhuyou chuckled softly, holding the little dragon tightly as she stepped through the devil gate. Just before disappearing, she added—“There’s nothing to be afraid of.”