GD Ch. 47

Chapter 47: How the Spiritual Thread Was Destroyed

“This is difficult to explain.”

Zhuyou pondered for a while, unable to understand how this dragon could be so sour. Even when Jing Kexin transformed into her likeness, she still harbored silent resentment. Left with no choice, she said, “I wear plenty of clothes on a daily basis. What she could see and what you could see—what difference is there?”

Changying remained silent.

Zhuyou continued, “Unless… when she took my form, you actually stripped her clothes off to check if the devil markings underneath were exactly the same?”

Changying’s eyes trembled slightly before she finally, slowly, looked away.

After all, she was already a girl who reached her shoulders in height. No matter how indifferent her expression, she ought to know a thing or two about shame.

Seeing her fall silent, Zhuyou couldn’t help but tease, “In the future, whoever gets close to you will probably end up just like me—half-dead from frustration.”

“You’re angry?” Changying tilted her head up, expressionless as she studied Zhuyou’s face.

Zhuyou smirked. “Not exactly. Just feels like I’ve got a jar of vinegar sitting beside me, soaking me in sourness for no reason.”

Changying’s lips pulled down slightly. Her expression was calm, her delicate features pale. “Don’t be angry. She didn’t deceive me.”

Zhuyou felt utterly helpless. If anything, it was clear that the one sulking all this time had been Changying herself.

“If she didn’t deceive you, why are you still so sullen?” Zhuyou carefully wrapped the Heaven-Observing Mirror in layers of cloth, ensuring not even an edge was exposed—lest the immortals above notice that an object they gifted to the Mortal Realm had fallen into the hands of a devil.

Changying lowered her gaze and followed along in silence for a while before finally murmuring, “I’m mad because she turned into you.”

So in the end, it was still about how Jing Kexin’s transformation had been too convincing.

“But she didn’t deceive you, did she?” Zhuyou asked, rubbing her temples, feeling a headache coming on.

Changying actually found that reasoning somewhat sound. She nodded obediently, convinced just like that.

***

The farther north they traveled, the colder it became. Snow nearly reached their knees.

Zhuyou rarely ventured into the Mortal Realm. Now that she had a dragon with her, she wondered if she should show Changying around.

She took out a thin cord, tying it securely around the Heaven-Observing Mirror to prevent the heavy black silk draped over it from slipping off. Only then did she tuck it away inside a mustard seed pouch.

The last time Changying had come to the human world, her spirit was still incomplete. Everything had felt dull—neither joyful nor sorrowful. Now that she returned, even the sight of refugees seeking warmth seemed strangely interesting.

The refugees huddled in the biting wind, their faces gaunt from hunger. And yet, when they received porridge, they did not gulp it down in desperation but sipped it slowly, cherishing every mouthful.

From time to time, they cast glances their way, their expressions a mix of confusion and shock—perhaps unable to fathom how the two of them could withstand the cold in such thin clothing.

Changying stared straight ahead. Ever since she had replaced the blood in her heart, she no longer felt cold. The drop of phoenix blood nestled within burned like a searing flame, warming her entire body as it coursed through her veins.

As they headed south, the snowfall dwindled, and the howling winds seemed to halt at the northern border. Ice and snow melted, and tender green shoots sprouted faintly across the barren land. Even the streets saw more people venturing out.

The city was bustling with noise and excitement. Lanterns hung high, and red silk banners stretched across buildings, spanning dozens of feet.

The Devil Realm was much smaller than the human world—desolate in comparison. Standing in this thriving city, it felt as if the Devil Realm was nothing more than a remote, impoverished town.

As they stepped into the crowded streets, they found people craning their necks, standing on tiptoe, packed together tightly, all eager to witness something. The clamor was overwhelming.

Rumor had it that the mortal emperor was making his customary inspection of the counties and had issued a grand amnesty, which explained the jubilant atmosphere.

Zhuyou tightened her grip on Changying’s hand, ensuring the little dragon wouldn’t get lost in the crowd. If she suddenly couldn’t find her, who knew how panicked she’d become?

Since arriving in the Mortal Realm, Zhuyou had dyed her silver hair black with a spell and cast an enchantment over her face. Even if an old acquaintance passed by, they wouldn’t necessarily recognize her.

Changying had always carried herself with composure. Usually, she would only move her eyes slightly when looking at people. But now, she was glancing around frequently, as if deeply intrigued by the human world.

Zhuyou bent down in the crowd, speaking softly by her ear, “Interesting, isn’t it?”

Changying nodded slightly, her gaze flitting about. For the first time, her expression held a touch of youthful curiosity and liveliness. “So this is the Mortal Realm?”

Zhuyou nodded. “This isn’t your first time here. Why ask as if it’s something new? Do the people here look like demons to you?”

Not exactly demons, but… they aren’t particularly good-looking either, Changying thought.

The little girl tilted her head up slightly, staring at Zhuyou’s face as if trying to see through the enchantment concealing her true appearance.

Zhuyou let her stare. A few extra glances wouldn’t bore a hole through her.

Suddenly, Changying asked, “Can we come back to the Mortal Realm again someday?” Her light-colored eyes didn’t blink, not so much asking a question as seeking a promise.

But promises—what business did a devil have making those?

Zhuyou lowered her gaze, her innocent, lovely eyes curving into a crescent moon shape. “We’ll talk about the future when it comes.”

Changying’s expression darkened, her pale lips pressing into a thin line. Clearly, she was displeased.

Zhuyou had the urge to coax her, but she held back. If she spoiled this dragon any further, who knew how brazen she’d become?

***

The Mortal Realm was truly lively. Compared to it, the Devil Realm was far too desolate.

Those spies who had infiltrated the Devil Realm would never guess that the Devil Lord’s two souls had long been taken away to the human world—tucked into a mustard seed pouch, rather than being carefully safeguarded as they imagined.

Hanzhu hadn’t sent word yet, which likely meant that even the Three Lords hadn’t realized the restrictions on the Heart-Questioning Rock had been tampered with.

Zhuyou led Changying toward an inn. The further they walked from the city center, the fewer people they encountered. Most had flocked to the main streets, eager to catch a glimpse of the emperor’s procession. Faces were alight with joy, hands filled with flowers and fruits, all scrambling to offer them to the passing entourage.

Inside the inn, a diligent attendant was wiping down tables. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a pair of embroidered black shoes stepping over the threshold. He immediately straightened up and bowed, asking if they were here for a meal or a room.

Then he looked up—and was instantly struck dumb.

Where had he ever seen such a figure, such a face? He stood there, stunned, unable to utter another word.

Zhuyou loosened her grip on Changying’s wrist. With a turn of her pale palm, a jade stone appeared in her hand. The jade was exquisite—something rarely seen in the Mortal Realm and one of the few valuable things in Zhuyou’s mustard seed pouch.

“Lodging,” she said.

The innkeeper’s assistant was perceptive. His gaze immediately dropped to the jade stone in her palm, and he swallowed discreetly. 

Good heavens—he had lived for so many years yet had never seen such a fine white jade bead. Inside it was a streak of deep crimson, as if blood had been sealed within.

He quickly said, “This jade is too valuable. Even for the finest room, it’s more than enough—”

“If you don’t want it, forget it.” Zhuyou’s slender, pale fingers curled, enclosing the jade bead in her palm.

The assistant was momentarily stunned. He had never encountered someone so unpredictable. Hastily, he led her toward the innkeeper, bowing as he said, “This way, honored guest.”

Zhuyou held the jade bead between two fingers, letting it hover before the innkeeper’s eyes, as if about to release it.

The innkeeper’s breath caught. He hurriedly reached out, just in time to catch the bead as it slipped from her fingers. His face immediately lit up with a wide grin. Casting a sidelong glare at the assistant, he bent at the waist and personally escorted Zhuyou upstairs.

Changying followed beside Zhuyou, glancing around for a while. Once inside the room, she finally murmured, “This place is far inferior to the Grand Hall.”

Zhuyou set the Heaven-Observing Mirror down on the table. Through the heavy black silk covering it, her pale hand pressed lightly but firmly against the mirror’s surface.

“Mortal palaces aren’t places just anyone can stay in. How could every building be adorned with vermilion walls, jade tiles, and golden beams?” she remarked inwardly, amused. This dragon was growing more and more like those extravagant ones from the heavens or the depths of the sea—only caring for things that were beautiful.

She slowly untied the thin cord securing the Heaven-Observing Mirror but did not lift the black silk draped over it.

Changying sat to the side. Though her body was much warmer now, she still had the urge to lean against Zhuyou.

Zhuyou noticed her inching closer, even shifting the drum stool under her as if determined to sit right beside her. If she were in her dragon form, she might have coiled her entire body around Zhuyou by now.

Taking advantage of her small stature and still-youthful face, Changying rested her chin directly on Zhuyou’s arm. Her sharp little chin pressed into Zhuyou’s arm, prompting Zhuyou to bend her elbow, grasp Changying’s chin, and move her head aside.

“Why did you take this mirror?” Changying asked, unfazed by being pushed away, her face calm as ever.

Zhuyou cast her a glance but did not answer.

She had taken the Heaven-Observing Mirror to see what the immortals were up to. Since she had destroyed the Devil-Suppressing Tower on Shenhua Mountain, the Heavenly Realm would undoubtedly be scrambling to rebuild it.

Outside, the inn was filled with noise—some children had even started crying.

Zhuyou lifted her hand, and with a bang, the wide-open window shut. She took out a lamp with a devil child figurine holding the sun. With a slight hook of her slender fingers, the surrounding light seemed to be drawn in, forming a small glowing orb the size of a thumb.

Though the sun was blazing outside, the light in the room had been gathered into that single tiny cluster, which she let drift onto the lamp.

In an instant, it was as if night had fallen. If the lamp were extinguished, the room would be plunged into total darkness.

Zhuyou moved her index finger slightly. The devil child on the lamp immediately closed its eyes and clasped its hands together.

As its golden hands came together, the light in its palms was instantly concealed, leaving the room in utter darkness.

The surroundings turned pitch-black, and Changying could no longer see Zhuyou’s face. Fortunately, the devil’s presence was still there, calming her wildly beating heart.

Following the warmth of that presence, she reached out and touched Zhuyou’s shoulder, pressing her small face against it.

Zhuyou was just about to lift the black silk covering the Heaven-Observing Mirror when she suddenly felt the dragon sticking to her shoulder. She wasn’t sure why this dragon was so clingy—almost as if she were afraid of the dark. In fact, her body even trembled slightly.

Zhuyou reached out to push her away but found she couldn’t move her.

Changying wasn’t actually afraid of the dark. She simply thought the devil was about to discard her and instinctively clung closer.

Zhuyou understood. This dragon had become this clingy only because she had spoiled her too much. She sighed inwardly but relented. Raising a slender finger, she lightly pressed it against Changying’s forehead.

“Hold your breath. Don’t disturb me.”

Changying obediently held her breath.

Satisfied with her compliance, Zhuyou applied a little more force and pushed her away slightly.

Changying let go without protest and sat properly again, but in the complete darkness, she couldn’t see a thing—it was as if she had gone blind.

Zhuyou, however, was used to being blind. Normally, her vision was shrouded in white mist. Now, it was simply pitch black. Suppressing her devilish aura, she lifted the black silk cloth, placing her palm against the cold mirror’s surface. The celestial energy emanating from it pricked her palm like needles.

But it was just needles—nothing more.

Ordinary mortals did not know how to use the Heaven-Observing Mirror and could only receive heavenly decrees through it.

Zhuyou’s consciousness passed through the mirror, her body now cloaked in the faint celestial energy lingering on its surface.

She had never imagined that the next time she entered the celestial gate, it would be through this method.

The towering white jade gate was just as she remembered, though the celestial guards had changed. Beyond the gate, a cold pond came into view, filled with blooming red lotuses and white cranes preening their feathers like carved jade.

The celestial guards, unaware that a devil had infiltrated, remained motionless at their posts.

Zhuyou had already suppressed her devilish aura, and as she passed through the Heaven-Observing Mirror, she had been wrapped in its lingering celestial energy.

She had never expected that she would step into the celestial gate again in this manner.

With the destruction of the Devil-Suppressing Tower, the immortal Zhiying—who had previously overseen it—would undoubtedly be held accountable. Immortals who committed offenses were typically imprisoned in the Falling Star Spring.

Her wisp of divine sense drifted through the winding, hovering corridors and skimmed past the celestial nectar on the pavilion’s terrace. There, she spotted several immortals in gauzy robes brewing celestial wine, each one looking preoccupied as they chattered incessantly.

Her divine sense paused and settled onto a hairpin worn by one of the immortals.

“Immortal Zhiying has been trapped in the Falling Star Spring for several days now. I heard they haven’t been able to get anything out of her.”

“How could they not?” another asked in surprise.

“No matter what the interrogators ask, she refuses to speak. In the end, they had no choice but to enter her sea of consciousness, but who would have thought—”

“What happened?”

“Who would have thought that after she entered Shenhua Mountain, not even a trace of her spiritual thread remained? That’s why she can’t remember anything—it’s clear her spiritual thread was forcibly removed.”

“It must’ve been the great devil who destroyed the Devil-Suppressing Tower. Who else would have the motive to strip her spiritual thread?”

“That devil is truly insidious—destroying the Devil-Suppressing Tower wasn’t enough, they even had to erase Immortal Zhiying’s spiritual thread.”

“If that’s the case, why not release Immortal Zhiying? She didn’t remove her own spiritual thread—she’s not intentionally hiding anything.”

“But the Devil-Suppressing Tower was ruined under her watch. If they don’t punish her, how will the others be satisfied?”

Zhuyou listened for a while but soon lost interest. She knew perfectly well what she had done—it was indeed her who destroyed the Devil-Suppressing Tower—but she wasn’t the one who extracted Immortal Zhiying’s spiritual thread.

It wasn’t an easy matter to explain, though. That day at Shenhua Mountain, besides herself, no one else seemed capable of invading Immortal Zhiying’s sea of consciousness.

The Three Lords likely hadn’t entered Shenhua Mountain. Even if they had, they wouldn’t bother to intervene—especially not Jing Kexin. From the beginning, Jing Kexin had tried to lure her into Shenhua Mountain, clearly hoping the Devil-Suppressing Tower would claim her life. Why would she bother to clean up the mess afterward?

The Falling Star Spring lay within an underground palace, where countless fireflies glowed, clustering around the spring’s waters. The scattered lights resembled a sky full of stars, hence its name.

The spring was usually left unguarded, and rarely did it imprison any wrongdoers. After all, the laws of the Heavenly Palace were strict—most immortals either possessed innate immortal bones or had cultivated painstakingly for centuries to achieve immortality. Who would be foolish enough to break the heavenly rules?

Thus, the spring was eerily quiet. Apart from the stationed celestial soldiers, only Immortal Zhiying remained, trapped within the spring’s eye.

She floated in the water, her colorful robes clinging to her soaked body. Her hair was disheveled, her face pale as paper, and her frail form trembled uncontrollably from the pain.

Her gaze was hollow, and her breath was much weaker than when Zhuyou had last seen her in Shenhua Mountain.

Zhuyou’s wisp of divine sense slipped into the spring’s eye, pierced through Immortal Zhiying’s brow, and sank into her sea of consciousness.

Inside the sea of consciousness, spiritual threads wove densely together—each strand resembling wild grass scattered across a barren plain. Though they seemed identical at a glance, each thread was unique, holding memories of different times.

The finer the thread, the more recent the memory.

Zhuyou sifted through the delicate, newly-grown threads, yet found no trace of the events that transpired at Shenhua Mountain. As she combed through the vast sea of threads, she suddenly discovered a place where something had been forcefully removed.

The scar was small—like a hole dug into the earth that hadn’t yet been filled.

The thread had indeed been extracted—cleanly and thoroughly, leaving nothing behind.

When a spiritual thread is removed, the sea of consciousness aches for days, leaving the afflicted disoriented and confused, as if they had lost part of their soul.

Immortal Zhiying’s vacant expression was the exact look of someone who had their spiritual thread forcibly taken.

Zhuyou withdrew her divine sense and was about to leave when she saw a single tear roll down Immortal Zhiying’s face. Since she had been cultivated from auspicious grass, even her tears resembled floral dew, though they quickly vanished into the spring’s currents.

What is she crying for? Zhuyou was puzzled.

When her immortal bones were stripped away, she hadn’t shed a single tear—what was the big deal about losing one spiritual thread?

Immortal Zhiying’s eyes suddenly closed, and her lips, pale and trembling, parted slightly as if she were speaking.

But within the Falling Star Spring, the only sound was the gentle murmur of flowing water. Any words she spoke were drowned out, leaving Zhuyou unable to hear a thing.

Zhuyou departed from the spring, her suspicions confirmed—Immortal Zhiying truly remembered nothing about that day, which explained why the Heavenly Realm couldn’t extract any information from her.

Yet the image of her mouth opening and closing lingered in Zhuyou’s mind. Upon careful thought…

Wasn’t that the word “go”? Who was she telling to leave?

For some reason, an absurd thought crossed Zhuyou’s mind—what if Immortal Zhiying removed her own spiritual thread?

A hundred years had passed since she became a devil, and yet Immortal Zhiying remained… as foolish as ever.

Leaving the Falling Star Spring, she felt an unusual fatigue. She had intended to search for the remains of the Devil-Suppressing Tower but found herself too exhausted.

The Heavenly Palace glowed with divine light everywhere, and though the Heaven-Observing Mirror concealed her presence, it did little to ease the constant resistance she faced. After a mere visit to the Falling Star Spring, she was already drained.

Zhuyou withdrew her divine sense from the Heaven-Observing Mirror and swiftly draped the black silk back over it, concealing the mirror’s surface completely.

Raising her hand, she gently brushed the golden statue of the devil child on the lamp. At her touch, the child’s tightly clasped hands opened, releasing the captured light. The small orb of brightness trembled faintly in the statue’s palms.

From her seat, Changying abruptly lifted her head, frowning in concern.

Zhuyou flicked her finger, sending the orb of light scattering across the room. Instantly, the once-dark space brightened as if nothing had changed.

Frowning, Changying asked in a serious tone, “Why do you need to look into the mirror in the dark?”

Zhuyou, weariness lacing her voice, replied, “Obviously, to avoid being seen by outsiders.”

A flicker of delight flashed through Changying’s cold eyes—wasn’t that as good as admitting she wasn’t an outsider? She rested her hand lightly on Zhuyou’s arm, tilting her head in an obedient posture. “Why not let me take a look?”

“If you look into it, trouble will follow,” Zhuyou sighed, already resigned. This dragon, it seemed, still had no idea that the immortals were searching for her.