GD Ch. 37 Part 2

Chapter 37: Why Let Yourself Be Bullied?

The Grand Hall was brightly lit, and the gray-white spirit stones that once littered the ground had already been cleared away.

The wall-mounted lamps crackled softly, and the moment Zhuyou stepped inside, the phoenix fire at the center of the hanging gauze canopy flared to life, burning so brightly it was almost blinding.

Hanzhu turned, intending to close the hall doors so she could quietly discuss Wu Buzhi with her mistress. But before she could touch them, she heard her mistress say, “Leave the doors open for the Three Lords.”

She paused, surprised. “Aren’t the Three Lords still in the human world? How do you know they will come?”

Zhuyou picked up a small mustard seed, her unfocused gaze slightly dazed as she leaned lazily against the soft couch. “If they want to keep whatever is inside this seed, they’ll have to come.”

Hanzhu hadn’t entered Shenhua Mountain, so she had no idea what was inside the mustard seed. She simply nodded, not daring to ask further.

Changying sat down on the other end of the couch, acting as if it was the most natural thing in the world, as though she were still that egg from before—taking up space without the slightest hesitation.

Zhuyou didn’t bother to drive her away. After all, the dragon was still small, so she wasn’t likely to roll onto her in her sleep. She fiddled with the mustard seed between her fingers, narrowing her eyes slightly, though she still couldn’t see it clearly. Eventually, she gave up on looking.

The dragon sitting beside her was clearly weak, her face so pale it lacked any trace of blood, yet her thin waist and back remained stubbornly straight.

For some reason, Changying, who usually disliked making noise, had coughed twice since they left the devil gate.

In the vast and empty Grand Hall, the coughs sounded particularly clear, so much so that even Hanzhu, who had reached the doorway, heard them perfectly.

Hanzhu glanced back, only to be met with the sharp, icy gaze of Changying’s golden eyes—so piercing it felt as if she wanted to tear her to pieces. Hastily, Hanzhu looked away, pretending to focus on the lotus flower in the pot by the door. 

That lotus, too, seemed to be wilting again. It had been too long since Hongqu had retrieved her true body—she looked so dispirited she seemed ready to give up on life.

Changying coughed once more. Her voice was no longer soft and sweet, but it still carried a youthful tenderness.

Zhuyou initially had no intention of paying attention to her, but this dragon’s coughing was far too exaggerated. Left with no choice, she lifted her gaze and glanced at her.

Changying’s face remained expressionless, and even though her shoulders trembled slightly with each cough, she still exuded an aura of cold detachment. Only when she coughed did her face flush with an unusual tinge of red.

“Why are you coughing? Give me your hand,” Zhuyou said, extending her palm as a signal.

Changying lifted her hand. Her palm was ice-cold, but at least it was still soft. Zhuyou wondered—when she recovered, would her body finally feel warm?

How strange. How could there be a dragon in this world who had never been warm, not even once since breaking out of her shell?

Zhuyou firmly grasped her wrist bone, genuinely liking her obedient and well-behaved demeanor. Though her expression wasn’t particularly pleasant, at least she was sensible.

After Zhuyou’s spiritual power entered her body, Changying didn’t resist in the slightest, as if she had handed over her life, truly naive and innocent.

Only then did Zhuyou realize that the dragon’s once decayed and feeble internal organs had already changed. While not fully healed, they were no longer in the near-death state they had been before.

It seemed that this dragon had indeed used some technique to reconstruct her body—except she herself hadn’t noticed it. Or perhaps…

She had forgotten.

Zhuyou withdrew her hand with a somber expression, curling her fingers to dispel the lingering coldness in her palm. She deliberately asked, “Where do you feel unwell?”

“I don’t know,” Changying replied, her gaze lowering.

Zhuyou asked again, “Could it be that you’re hungry?”

Changying’s golden eyes drooped obediently, completely devoid of the intensity she had when glaring at Hanzhu. She calmly lied, “Not hungry.” Her hands, which had been neatly resting on her lap, suddenly clasped together as she awkwardly asked, “You mentioned earlier—there’s a way to save me?”

Zhuyou studied her for a while before slowly speaking, “A heart-blood exchange.”

At these words, Hanzhu couldn’t help but turn her head.

Changying furrowed her still-youthful brows. “But if the heart blood is exchanged, what will happen to the other person?”

Zhuyou answered leisurely, “Nothing serious will happen.”

Changying lifted her chin slightly, tilting her head up to look at her. “What if that person’s body is also weak?”

“Weak in what way?” Zhuyou asked.

“Their eyes,” Changying said flatly.

Only then did Zhuyou realize that this dragon was trying to pry information from her. But she was so clumsy about it that she had practically sold herself out. Zhuyou smirked and replied, “Their eyesight may not improve, but they could still gain some benefits.”

“When can we do it?” Changying asked again, her small face expressionless, yet her urgency was undeniable.

“Why are you in such a rush? Afraid of dying?” Zhuyou chuckled in surprise, crossing her arms as she gazed outside the hall doors. “We’ll wait for the Three Lords to arrive first.”

Changying nodded slightly. Though her lungs were nearly healed, she deliberately coughed again, as if she would die immediately without the heart-blood exchange.

She really played the part well—looking pitiful and desperate.

The grand hall doors stood wide open, allowing sand and dust to rush in. However, they were immediately repelled by an invisible force—the restriction placed on the entrance.

Outside, the wind howled, whipping up the sand, yet inside the hall, not a speck of dust settled. Even the flames on the wall sconces remained undisturbed.

When the Three Lords finally arrived, the mustard seed Zhuyou had been playing with was already heated close to burning. If this continued, the wisp of soul inside would be steamed alive.

The three devils stood respectfully outside, with the one in the lead being none other than Xuanjing, who had long remained unseen.

Zhuyou recognized this devil—Xuanjing had ascended from being a demon of an object.

Typically, such demons could not cultivate to high realms, yet somehow, this devil had not only attained a formidable level of power but had even become one of the Three Lords, surpassing the other two in strength.

Xuanjing’s true form seemed to be a sword, but who had forged it? Who had wielded it? Zhuyou had no way of knowing. She only knew that once this sword turned into a demon and then a devil, it had remained in the Devil Realm for ages.

If the rumors were true, he… had been there even before the Devil Lord himself.

No one in the Devil Realm knew the origin of this sword, only that it had once had a master. However, Xuanjing had never spoken of this former master.

Zhuyou glanced at Xuanjing twice, intrigued by him. She wondered what kind of person it took to tame such a devil sword. Turning her head, she unexpectedly saw Changying staring at the sword as well, her golden eyes no longer cold, but filled with a flicker of surprise and confusion.

Yet Xuanjing did not seem to recognize Changying. He stood stiffly outside the hall doors, his expression cold. While the other two devils had already knelt on one knee, Xuanjing remained standing, showing no intention of kneeling—a stubborn one, indeed.

Zhuyou asked, “Who are you looking at?”

“The taller one,” Changying replied, shaking her head slightly. Her delicate lips pressed together, her gaze filled with uncertainty. “It feels like I should recognize him.”

Zhuyou had heard such things many times before and dismissed it as the dragon boasting. She turned back toward the three devils outside the door, still playing with the mustard seed in her hand. “I thought you lot planned to stay in the Mortal Realm forever.”

Jing Kexin, though kneeling, did not lower her gaze. In fact, she stared directly at Zhuyou, her eyes brazenly sharp, as if she wanted to devour her alive.

She was about to speak when the usually silent Luo Qing suddenly said, “We ask that Your Grace return the Devil Lord’s soul fragment.”

Zhuyou had originally intended to return it, but seeing their poor attitudes, she suddenly didn’t feel like doing so. “I went through great trouble to obtain this. Why should I just hand it over to you?”

Luo Qing’s face darkened, his hands slowly clenching into fists at his sides. “If Your Grace refines the Devil Lord’s soul using such methods, are you not afraid of incurring his wrath?”

Outside, the three devils stood amidst the swirling sand, while inside, Zhuyou lounged leisurely on a soft divan. She wasn’t the least bit angry. In fact, she chuckled. “If I didn’t do this, how else would I draw out the Devil-Suppressing Tower? How else would I destroy it? Besides, do you really think that corpse in a coffin has the right to blame me?”

Luo Qing said nothing, but Jing Kexin was not one for patience. She immediately retracted her gaze and spoke, “I hope Your Grace knows what’s best. Your eyes are already weak—you wouldn’t want to waste such a beautiful pair.”

That was an open threat. 

Even if Zhuyou didn’t take it to heart, the cold-blooded dragon beside her was enraged.

A terrifying pressure erupted like a tidal wave. Zhuyou, already depleted of spiritual energy and in a weakened state, nearly went deaf from the roar that followed.

How wonderful. As if being half-blind wasn’t bad enough, now she had a dragon who might deafen her, too.

Outside, the three devils’ expressions changed drastically. Xuanjing merely stepped back slightly, but the weaker Jing Kexin bled from her ears. She had been kneeling on one knee, but the force of the pressure sent her toppling sideways into the sand. Hastily, she raised her hands to cover her ears. Her heart pounded wildly, her ears buzzing nonstop. She knew something had roared, but in that instant, she couldn’t hear clearly enough to identify it. It sounded similar to the beast cries she had heard in Songling City, yet this one was even sharper, more piercing, and the pressure far more terrifying.

She quickly lifted her gaze to the sickly-looking girl beside Zhuyou, thinking, Impossible. That frail little thing had no trace of spiritual power—there was no way it was her.

Zhuyou clutched her ears, still hearing the ringing, and threw the mustard seed out of the hall doors. Then, she turned and clamped a hand over Changying’s mouth.

Hanzhu, on the verge of collapsing into the underworld, used the last bit of her strength to slam the hall doors shut before promptly keeling over.

Zhuyou’s pale, delicate palm pressed against Changying’s lips. Changying’s face was bloodless, but her golden eyes were filled with murderous intent.

“Are you done yelling?”

The moment she finished speaking, Zhuyou felt the sharp prick of dragon teeth against her fingers. Seeing that the dragon had stopped howling, she finally withdrew her hand.

Changying arched her brow, her eyes tilted upward at the corners. If she grew a bit more, she would have a sharp, decisive look.

She grasped Zhuyou’s hand before she could pull away—ice meeting fire. Despite her soft and small palm, the dragon’s grip was surprisingly strong.

“Just three devils, and they dare bully you?” Changying asked, her cold little face unwavering.
Zhuyou rubbed her ears, still buzzing, and thought, Who’s bullying who here?