GD Ch. 44

Chapter 44: Should I Learn?

The phoenix fire at the center of the muslin-draped ceiling burned steadily, casting a fiery glow upon Jing Kexin’s face. The light bathed “Zhuyou” in a deep flush, as if she were blushing.

Changying, calm and unhurried, flipped through the pages of a book. Her gaze shifted slightly, landing on Jing Kexin’s hand. Her fingers were slender and pale as jade, and even the devil markings on her arms were identical to Zhuyou’s.

At first glance, it was nothing remarkable—but upon closer inspection, Changying’s eyes grew a shade colder.

Jing Kexin, unaware of what the girl was thinking, saw her resting her hand against the soft divan and decided not to sit down after all. Instead, she turned her wrist, reaching for the young girl’s forehead. She truly didn’t believe that if Zhuyou wanted to examine this girl’s spiritual sea, she would first take the trouble to reason with her.

This little girl was growing fast. If she were mortal, how could she have shed her childish features so quickly? There was no denying it—Jing Kexin found her appearance pleasing.

Her face was clean and delicate, with well-defined features. Yet her expression was so cold, so indifferent, that she seemed devoid of a heart.

And that only made Jing Kexin more curious—what would this little girl look like when she cried? Would her tears fall silently, or would she sob and beg?

A flicker of amusement crossed Jing Kexin’s eyes. The thoughts she once harbored for Zhuyou had now shifted onto this young girl. She reached out her hand, itching with anticipation but still mindful of her true purpose.

This girl could not possibly be mortal. And yet, she possessed not a trace of spiritual energy—how strange. She needed to see her spiritual sea to understand why.

Just as Jing Kexin’s fingers were about to touch Changying’s forehead, Changying subtly tilted her head to the side, effortlessly evading the touch.

Her gaze remained steady, void of any flicker, without a trace of panic. She raised her eyes in leisure, and under the light, her pupils appeared extraordinarily dark, like polished glass beads.

Her eyes remained unchanged—round and clear like those of an ordinary mortal, revealing nothing.

Jing Kexin’s hand stiffened in the air. A suffocating pressure spread from the girl’s body like an enormous net, descending directly onto the crown of her head. It bore down so heavily that her knees nearly buckled, her back almost unable to stay upright.

A thought struck her—had she been recognized? But no, her spell was still in effect. She remained in the form of Zhuyou.

Changying’s complexion was pale as mourning silk, clad in dark robes that only made her appear more fragile. This cold, sickly appearance made Jing Kexin’s heart itch all the more.

The first time she saw this girl, she had been short and stubby. Who knew what she had eaten to grow into such a fine figure now?

Jing Kexin was afraid, yes—but she did not withdraw. She stubbornly pressed her finger toward the girl’s forehead.

But just then, Changying’s pale irises shifted ever so slightly. Her icy gaze locked onto Jing Kexin, carrying a chill so piercing it could strip flesh from bone. It was the kind of look that could kill with a mere glance.

Even Luo Qing—who once wielded power over life and death in the Mortal Realm—had never exerted such a terrifying aura. When Luo Qing looked at her, Jing Kexin had never trembled the way she did now.

She had assumed this girl would be easy to handle. But this overwhelming pressure—it reminded her of that day in Songling City.

Back then, amidst the howling blizzard, everything had fallen eerily silent. Her ears rang from the sheer force, her body trembling uncontrollably. She had been utterly frozen in place, unable to move a single step.

Could it be… her?

Had the one who unleashed that crushing presence back then truly not been Zhuyou?

But she clearly remembered—there had been no one else in that wooden house. Aside from Zhuyou, the only other presence had been that snake coiled around his wrist.

Changying met Jing Kexin’s gaze in silence, betraying nothing.

Jing Kexin, however, felt as if she had been struck by lightning. She stumbled half a step back, even retracting her outstretched hand slightly. How had she not considered it before—this girl might be that very snake!

But then… how could she be just an ordinary snake?

Changying’s eyes were sharp as blades. Seeing the devil retreat ever so slightly, she lowered her gaze as if nothing had happened and resumed reading her book, leisurely turning a page. She read at a remarkable speed, seemingly absorbing the entire text with just a glance before flipping to the next page. Even without someone pointing out the words to her, she hadn’t forgotten where she left off. If Zhuyou were here, he would surely recognize the cunning intent of this dragon.

Such a scheming little dragon, feigning innocence and docility.

Jing Kexin thought to herself—since she hadn’t exposed her identity, she might as well keep up the act. She didn’t know if this girl maintained such an icy arrogance in front of Zhuyou as well, but either way, this combination of pride and frailty was utterly irresistible.

She had trembled for quite a while earlier. Now, even her voice had turned hoarse. Feigning nonchalance, she asked, “What, still unwilling to let me see your spiritual sea?”

Changying said nothing, as if she had gone mute. Her eyes remained fixed on the book, not even sparing the person before her a single glance.

Jing Kexin doubted that Zhuyou would tolerate such a stubborn girl for long. Hardening her resolve, she forcibly raised her arm and pressed a finger against Changying’s forehead.

In that instant, Changying’s lowered eyes suddenly transformed—her pupils slit like a dragon’s, gleaming with golden brilliance. The corners of her mouth dipped slightly downward, her expression still pale and frail, but the killing intent in her gaze was like a thousand unsheathed swords.

Cold and razor-sharp, with the unmistakable intent to kill.

Jing Kexin didn’t see it, nor did she dare to. The fear buried deep within her bones felt almost innate. How could she not be afraid? And yet, more than fear, she felt as though she had stumbled upon a rare treasure. She even flicked her tongue against her cheek, her gaze burning with fascination.

Her interests were broad—and this kind of girl, she truly liked.

But just as her finger touched Changying’s forehead, an immense force wrapped around it like a claw. She tried to pull back, but found herself unable to move.

A terrifying wave of pressure crashed down upon her, pinning her in place. She couldn’t even budge an inch, as if her legs had been weighed down by a thousand boulders.

Changying’s eyes remained lowered, still fixed on the book before her. She flipped through the pages even faster now, as if racing to finish before Zhuyou returned.

Jing Kexin’s fear finally took hold—whatever lingering thoughts she had vanished completely. Her very soul trembled. She gasped for breath, mouth gaping, but not a single sound could escape her throat, as if she were being strangled.

Her fingertip remained pressed against Changying’s forehead, while her own spiritual energy drained away in an unstoppable tide.

Jing Kexin’s pupils contracted sharply. She wanted to pull away—but she couldn’t.

She felt as if her spiritual sea was being wrung dry. Cold sweat trickled down her forehead. In the mere blink of an eye, more than half of her spiritual energy had been siphoned away.

She had no idea what kind of being this girl truly was. But if she was going to die, she wanted to die knowing the truth. With a final act of defiance, she reached into Changying’s consciousness.

Changying did not resist. Instead, she pulled Jing Kexin into her mindscape.

And at that moment, she turned another page in her book, wondering if she could finish it before Zhuyou returned.

Jing Kexin caught a glimpse of Changying’s sea of consciousness—a vast expanse of white mist, within which countless spirit threads lay hidden. Just how many years of life would it take to accumulate such an overwhelming number of spirit threads?

Shock and fear surged through her. She wanted to seize one of the spirit threads for a closer look, but before she could, the surrounding white mist suddenly swept toward her.

Sensing something was wrong, she tried to pull back, but it was too late. The icy mist wrapped around her and, following the path of her index finger, poured directly into her own sea of consciousness.

In that instant, the oppressive aura vanished, and her hand was freed—but her spiritual energy had been completely drained.

Jing Kexin blinked in confusion, staring blankly at the pale and frail-looking girl before her. She cast her gaze around the brightly lit Grand Hall, still struggling to grasp what had just happened.

Changying’s killing intent had not yet faded. Sharp dragon scales, as if blooming like flowers, rapidly spread across the back of her hanging hand. Though her gaze was lowered, her mind was crystal clear—she knew she had come to eliminate devils, and now, hadn’t one just delivered itself to her doorstep?

Jing Kexin was utterly bewildered, as if she had lost her memory. Though a lingering fear gnawed at her heart, she still couldn’t speak.

Changying raised her hand and brushed her forehead, as though flicking away something filthy.

At the moment Jing Kexin turned around, Changying suddenly lifted her hand—scales like a dragon’s covered it completely.

Just then, the hall doors swung open, and Hanzhu strolled in, yawning. She lifted her gaze and glared at Jing Kexin, who had taken on Zhuyou’s appearance.

The magic on Jing Kexin’s body faded abruptly, and she returned to her original form. Yet, she remained dazed, as if her mind was shrouded by a heavy fog. She didn’t know why she was here—or even who she was.

It seemed she had completely forgotten the past and couldn’t recall anything.

Hanzhu snapped, “Since when did the Third Lord turn into a thief?”

Jing Kexin turned to look at her, thinking to herself that this devil looked rather attractive—she wondered how she might taste.

Changying slowly lowered her hand, and the dragon scales on the back of it vanished, one by one. Only then did she speak, her voice cold and detached. “She pretended to be Zhuyou to deceive me.”

“Mistress has only been gone a short while, and the Third Lord already can’t hold back?” Hanzhu fumed.

Jing Kexin asked blankly, “Who is the Third Lord?”

For a moment, Hanzhu didn’t know whether the Third Lord had gone stupid—or if she’d misheard.

“Show her out,” Changying said as she flipped the last page of her book.

Hanzhu raised a hand and gestured toward the hall doors. Surprisingly, the Third Lord didn’t cause any trouble. Somehow, that devil actually walked out without protest.

Once Hanzhu closed the doors behind her, it finally dawned on her—had she just been ordered around by this dragon?

***

On Changming Street, Zhuyou followed the direction a street vendor had pointed out, nearly getting pushed into an alley by the bustling devils passing by.

The marketplace was packed with devils, some shouting noisily, and the chaotic noise from all sides made her head ache.

She carefully scanned the crowd, trying to pick out the six spies hiding among them. Yet, even when she extended her spiritual senses, she couldn’t find them. Whatever magic or artifact they were using concealed them perfectly.

Changming Street wasn’t very long—she would soon reach the end. As she walked farther, the canopy of colorful parasols overhead grew sparser, and even the surrounding light dimmed noticeably.

Once she left Changming Street, darkness enveloped her. Only scattered devil fires flickered faintly, their eerie purple glow dancing in the yellow sand. The flames hissed and crackled, like someone laughing quietly—an unsettling sound.

Zhuyou halted, sensing something was wrong. She whipped around and realized—to her shock—that Changming Street was now separated from her by half a sand dune.

Standing in the desert, her hair whipped messily by the wind, she gazed back at the distant street—bright and dazzling, like an unquenchable flame.

How had she gotten so far away, so suddenly?

Narrowing her eyes, Zhuyou realized she had fallen under someone’s illusion back on Changming Street—lured away without noticing.

Fortunately, she had disguised herself as a low-level devil beforehand. If anyone had recognized her true identity, they wouldn’t have just tried to lead her astray.

Without hesitation, she turned and sped back toward Changming Street, cutting through the swirling sand. As she retraced her steps, she thought back carefully—when exactly had she fallen into the illusion? The answer struck her the moment she recalled the noisy clamor of the marketplace.

With a powerful swipe of her palm, she sliced through the storm of yellow sand, parting it on either side. In the blink of an eye, she re-entered the brightly lit street.

Now that she had pierced through the illusion, she saw that the street was far less crowded than before. The deafening noise no longer rang in her ears.

Forming a hand seal, she split her spiritual senses and scoffed quietly—she had already pinpointed the one who cast the illusion the moment they retracted their magic.

Zhuyou moved silently to a street corner. Instead of revealing herself, she transformed into a wisp of gray smoke and merged with the canopy of parasols above.

From that vantage point, every parasol on the street became her eyes.

The flames burning within the parasols illuminated the swirling gray smoke, but no one below seemed to notice.

The six spies had split into three groups, all heading toward the Three Lords’ residences. It seemed they hadn’t managed to find the location of the Heart-Questioning Rock and were now targeting the Three Lords instead.

The Heart-Questioning Rock was hidden in an extremely secret place. If anyone with insufficient cultivation tried to find it, they might stumble into a deadly array and end up with their soul shattered. Because of this danger, most devils knew of its existence but kept quiet about it. No one dared to seek it out—unless, like Hongqu, they were forced to.

As the six spies dispersed, the gray smoke stirred rapidly within the parasols. When they reached the edge of the street, the smoke fell like black rain, vanishing without a trace into the sand.

Zhuyou’s split consciousness followed the spies for a long while, eventually confirming that they had indeed found the Three Lords’ residences.

First Lord Xuanjing was never home. His estate was barren and desolate, resembling a ruin swallowed by the desert. There was nothing useful to be found.

Second Lord Luo Qing had no fixed abode. Sometimes, he meditated directly in the desert when he was tired, or he would sit on a charred, withered tree, gazing toward the Mortal Realm. With no attendants nearby, there was no easy way to approach him.

Only Third Lord Jing Kexin lived in a flower boat by the desert lake. The boat was decked with colorful lanterns, and thinly clad maidservants bustled about. When the wind blew, their sheer garments revealed half of their shoulders.

Laughter rang constantly from the boat. Blindfolded maidservants darted around, their clothes barely covering them—no more reserved than their indulgent master.

Zhuyou, observing the two spies hesitating near the boat, nearly laughed out loud—she hadn’t expected Jing Kexin to frighten Heavenly Realm spies.

Then again, it wasn’t surprising. The Heavenly Realm’s cultivators always followed strict rules of virtue and decorum. Faced with a devil this shameless, it was no wonder they were taken aback.

After exchanging a glance, the two spies swallowed their pride and transformed into maidservants to sneak onto the boat.

Little did they know—they weren’t boarding an ordinary flower boat. It was a pirate ship in disguise. The moment they stepped on, someone blindfolded them from behind.

The blindfolds were soaked in a potent fragrance—so strong that it burned their noses.

One of the spies hurriedly asked, “Is the Third Lord on the boat?”

A she-devil behind him laughed coquettishly and said, “You’ve been here this long and still don’t know the rules? If you can find the Third Lord by touch while blindfolded, then you’ll be able to see her.”

The spy’s expression changed abruptly, and he nearly tore off the silk blindfold in frustration.

A wisp of gray smoke suddenly darted onto the boat, slipping beneath the embroidered carpet and quickly sweeping through every corner of the vessel.

Zhuyou hadn’t expected Jing Kexin to be absent from the boat—who knew where that devil had wandered off to?

A soft, lazy voice from inside the boat asked, “You’ve just returned—why not rest a little longer? What’s the rush?”

“Of course, I’m going to the main hall—can’t you even guess that?”

“Are you calling me stupid?”

“Who said you’re stupid? Isn’t that just your own self-doubt?”

Listening to the two devils bicker back and forth, the gray smoke that Zhuyou had transformed into scattered and faded. Her form reassembled in the desert, where she stood with an unreadable expression. With a flicker of movement, she arrived at the entrance of the Grand Hall.

As soon as she landed, she caught sight of Jing Kexin standing by the hall’s entrance. For some reason, the devil’s face was filled with bewilderment, as if lost in thought.

With a loud bang, the hall doors swung open. Hanzhu quickly turned around, about to scold the Third Lord, when she suddenly saw her mistress.

Zhuyou stood at the doorway, her mood dark and brooding. Her gaze swept into the hall, and only when she saw Changying—sitting unharmed, calmly flipping through a book—did she relax slightly.

Changying quietly lifted her eyes, the golden slit pupils gradually fading back to their usual form.

“What are you doing here?” Zhuyou asked, turning toward Jing Kexin.

Jing Kexin, upon seeing the silver-haired, black-robed devil, froze in place. She stared blankly for a long moment, as if she had lost her wits.

Zhuyou glanced toward Hanzhu, clearly expecting an explanation.

Hanzhu suddenly understood and hurriedly said, “Mistress, the Third Lord disguised herself as you to enter the Grand Hall—she even tried to trick Changying into leaving with her.”

Jing Kexin’s gaze remained fixed on Zhuyou, her expression heated and unwavering. Even with her mind clouded by the white mist, she was still captivated by the falle divine offspring face and alluring figure.

“Why does she look so brainless now?” Zhuyou flicked her wrist, and the dazed Third Lord was immediately flung backward. She rolled across the desert sand several times before coming to a stop.

Yet even after being tossed around, the devil lifted her head—her eyes still full of infatuation.

She might actually be an idiot now, Zhuyou thought.

“I’m not sure. She was already like this when I returned,” Hanzhu quickly added.

Zhuyou shook out her long sleeve, and a black rope slipped from her cuff, slithering toward Jing Kexin like a snake.

Jing Kexin didn’t react in time and was promptly bound. Despite the rope tightening around her neck, she still let out a soft, sultry moan.

Zhuyou’s expression darkened. Without another word, she turned and strode into the Grand Hall, slamming the doors shut with a snap of her fingers.

Hanzhu hesitated for a moment before speaking, “After you left, I… stepped away briefly. I suppose that’s when the Third Lord snuck in.”

Zhuyou turned her gaze toward Changying. The little dragon sat obediently on a brocade rug beside the couch, a thin book resting on her lap. Her cool, detached eyes were as clear as ever—looking delicate, naive, and altogether easy to deceive.

“Mistress?” Hanzhu asked nervously.

“I’ve tied Jing Kexin up outside,” Zhuyou said coldly. “Throw her into the snake pit. There’s no need to light any lamps there.” She leaned down and pulled the book from Changying’s hands, tossing it onto a nearby table.

“Yes, Mistress,” Hanzhu answered immediately and left to carry out the order.

Changying tilted her head up, her voice soft and clear. “Jing Kexin tried to probe my sea of consciousness, but for some reason, she just… ended up like that.”

Zhuyou scoffed internally—Jing Kexin had probably been overwhelmed by the white mist. She settled onto the couch, leaning casually to one side as she asked, “Did she say anything to you?”

“She said reading books is useless,” Changying replied seriously.

Zhuyou lifted her chin. “How could it be useless? This is all knowledge you need to learn. Have you finished reading that volume? If so, recite it to me.”

Changying didn’t immediately agree. Instead, she asked curiously, “I memorized it—but why are you throwing Jing Kexin into the snake pit?”

Zhuyou didn’t feel like explaining too much—this wasn’t something a young girl needed to hear. So she simply said, “She enjoys dark, narrow places like that. It’s her idea of fun.”

Changying frowned slightly. “Why? Is that something I should learn too?”

“No,” Zhuyou almost choked on her words.

As she gazed at the dragon’s innocent, obedient face, she tapped her fingers against the couch’s armrest, pondering whether it might be time to hide the little dragon somewhere safer.