GD Ch. 48 Part 1

Chapter 48: Why Are We Listening to Stories?

“What could possibly happen?” Changying’s expression was cold and indifferent, her face full of confusion.

Zhuyou swiftly tied the Heaven-Observing Mirror and the black silk cloth together again, this time wrapping it several more times, binding it tightly. The knot was so twisted it resembled a braided rope—clearly, she was worried Changying might suddenly want to look into the mirror.

Changying hesitated, looking as if she wanted to ask something else, but Zhuyou had no intention of answering. Instead, she simply bundled Changying up like rolling up bedding, picked her up, and tossed her onto the bed.

This little girl was quite a bit heavier now—no longer the tiny child she had once been. Back then, Zhuyou could lift her with one arm as if she were nothing more than a speck of dust.

Changying ended up wrapped tightly in the cold quilt, resembling a cicada, with only her head sticking out. She remained silent, momentarily forgetting what she had wanted to ask after being wrapped up and carried so suddenly.

The quilts in this mortal inn were nothing like the luxurious brocade blankets in the Grand Hall. Wrapped around her, they felt uncomfortably rough. The fabric was coarse to the touch, and though it was stuffed thickly and had considerable weight, it provided no warmth at all—it was stiff and unyielding.

Changying twisted her neck uncomfortably and frowned. “I don’t want to sleep.” She wasn’t tired at all and felt no drowsiness.

Zhuyou sat at the edge of the bed, looking down at her with a meaningful gaze. “Do you know why mortal children must sleep every day?”

“Why?” Changying asked, following along with the question.

“If they don’t sleep enough, they’ll stay short forever and never grow tall,” Zhuyou narrowed her eyes slightly, clearly making a threat.

“But I’m not—” Changying’s delicate brows furrowed. She had wanted to say she wasn’t a mortal, but before she could finish, Zhuyou interrupted her.

“Do you want to grow taller or not? Right now, you can’t even reach my chin. If this continues, you might stay this height forever.” Zhuyou lied effortlessly, deceiving even a dragon without the slightest hesitation.

Changying immediately fell silent. Her pale lips pressed together, and her half-lowered eyes flickered as if she wanted to argue but didn’t know where to start.

Zhuyou simply watched her quietly, as if ready to outwait her.

The little girl suddenly lifted her eyes, staring straight at Zhuyou. Then, she stretched her arms out from the quilt, her slender fingers gripping the edge of the blanket, delicate and weak.

“Close your eyes,” Zhuyou said. She was genuinely exhausted. Though the poisonous mist in her eyes was no longer running rampant, it still blurred her vision. Fortunately, it wasn’t as dense as before—her sight was only mildly obscured, as if looking through a layer of gauze.

She had long since grown used to this mist clouding her vision. Even when her sight suddenly failed, her expression remained unchanged, without the slightest ripple.

She still remembered the time long ago when she had first been afflicted by this poison. She had been immersed in the tribulation fire, trembling uncontrollably, her eyes tightly shut, too afraid to open them—terrified that if she did, all she would see was a vast, endless white.

She had feared that she had gone blind. With her head lowered, she endured the searing pain as the flames burned her body, not daring to move an inch.

The fire had engulfed her completely, scorching every part of her until it burned unbearably hot. The only sound in her ears had been the crackling and roaring of the flames.

Clenching her teeth, she had finally opened her eyes. As expected, everything was veiled in a thick white mist. She could barely make out vague shapes and flickering lights. Even the raging flames seemed to be wrapped in a layer of white gauze, no longer as brilliant.

Once she could no longer see clearly, the sounds in her ears grew inexplicably sharper.

But the clearer the sounds became, the more fear crept into her heart.

The only thing she could hear was the fire raging around her. No one responded to her cries. It was as if she were trapped in a desolate, empty place.

Her eyes were wide open, yet she still couldn’t see. Then, a sharp pain stabbed through her chest, as if her very soul was being slashed by a blade. Panic overtook her, disrupting her focus on the tribulation. She had nearly been burned beyond recognition.

For days, she had remained trapped in the flames, with no one offering aid. Nearly losing all hope, she could only endure until the fire finally subsided.

She never imagined that after more than a hundred years, she would have grown so accustomed to the mist covering her eyes. Now, even if she couldn’t see clearly, she no longer trembled in fear.

Changying’s fingers still peeked out from the quilt. Her gaze was calm and indifferent, her expression unwavering, yet her body slowly shifted inward as she asked, “Then why aren’t you sleeping too?”

Zhuyou’s eyes darkened slightly before she scoffed. “I’m not a child. I don’t need to grow anymore.”

Changying frowned, muttering drowsily, “If I end up taller than you in the future, you’ll regret it.”

“Bold words from a mere brat,” Zhuyou said dismissively. She remained seated beside the bed, closing her eyes to rest.

Changying’s body was still frail. She stared at Zhuyou’s lean back for a long while before finally closing her eyes and drifting off to sleep.

Outside, in broad daylight, the sound of drums and gongs rang through the streets as mortals bustled about noisily.

Zhuyou’s fingers twitched slightly where they rested on her knee. Instantly, all the clamor was sealed away, leaving only the faint rustling of the quilt as Changying shifted.

Daylight in the Mortal Realm passed swiftly. Before long, a faint glow appeared on the thin paper window, soon deepening into a crimson hue, as if someone had smeared rouge across it.

As night fell, a crescent moon climbed onto the treetops, thin and curved, like a silver ornament left behind in the clouds by a celestial being.

Late into the night, Zhuyou suddenly opened her eyes. She glanced down and saw that Changying was still asleep. Quietly, she cast a spell over her before rising from the bed without a sound.

After resting for a short while, the clarity returned to her eyes, and the fatigue in her body faded completely.

From within her dimensional storage, she retrieved the Heaven-Observing Mirror once more. The heavy mirror still had the black silk cloth draped over it.

The glow of lanterns from outside filtered into the room, casting colorful patterns—truly a beautiful sight.

Zhuyou also took out the devil child’s sun-holding lamp, absorbing all the light in the room into its wick. Once the glow was sealed away, darkness engulfed the space completely.

This time, passing through the Heaven-Observing Mirror and traversing the celestial gate was much easier than before.

The celestial guards at the gate stood still, clad in armor adorned with tiger emblems, gripping long halberds. Their expressions remained unchanged, as if they were mere statues.

Zhuyou slipped past the gate, but instead of heading toward the Falling Star Spring, she remained where she was, waiting patiently like a hunter lying in ambush.

After a while, she concealed herself in the hair of a celestial attendant carrying a tray and followed her into the main hall where the celestial assembly was taking place.

The great hall lay atop the clouds, its golden doors wide open. Towering purple-gold pillars were engraved with supreme divine runes, and a multitude of celestials had gathered there—though the Heavenly Emperor and Queen Mother were absent.

On the right side sat an elderly man with a flowing white beard, looking particularly familiar. Zhuyou recognized him immediately—wasn’t he the one in charge of the Falling Star Spring? But for the life of her, she couldn’t recall his name. For a hundred years, she had forgotten many of the immortals in the Heavenly Realm. When she thought back to her days in the heavens, it felt like a lifetime ago.

“That devil not only destroyed the Devil-Suppressing Tower but also extracted Immortal Zhiying’s soul threads—truly ruthless beyond measure. Now, it remains unaccounted for. I wonder what insights the esteemed immortals have on this matter?” an immortal asked.

“The Devil-Suppressing Tower has been destroyed. Our top priority should be to restore it as quickly as possible. If we wait until the devil’s domain gathers all three souls of the Devil Lord before attempting to reconstruct the Devil-Suppressing Tower, we will inevitably face a great battle. However, does anyone know the whereabouts of the tower’s remains?”

“The remains have been sent to the Buddhist Hall. This time, the Immovable Venerable will personally inscribe the runes.”

“Excellent. When will the Evil-Punisher Divine Lord set out?”

“The Divine Lord has already dispatched heavenly soldiers to infiltrate the devil’s domain. I expect they will soon locate the Devil Lord’s physical body and the second soul,” an immortal replied.

“You’re not well-informed. Just now, heavenly soldiers have returned from the devil’s domain. They likely bring news.”

“Then why not send forces immediately to destroy the second soul? The sooner it is eradicated, the sooner we can put our minds at ease.”

“Troops will certainly be dispatched, but if we take action now, we may encounter that person…”

Zhuyou, hidden among the strands of a celestial maiden’s hair, remained still. The moment those words were spoken, the surrounding immortals abruptly fell silent.

“That person has already entered the devil path. So why… why show any pity?”

Zhuyou abruptly withdrew. Her wisp of divine sense darted out of the Heaven-Observing Mirror like a swift fish and merged into the body of a silver-haired, black-robed figure. 

Her beautiful eyes snapped open, yet there was not a ripple of emotion within them.

She slowly pulled the black silk cloth from the table, draping it over the Heaven-Observing Mirror, then bound it tightly with a thin cord.

To think, she had already been in the devil’s domain for a hundred years, yet those immortals in the heavens still spoke of her often.

If they had truly cared for her, then why had none of them extended a hand to help when she had needed it? Why had no one spoken a single word of protest when her celestial tendons were ripped out and her immortal bones shattered upon the Immortal Execution Platform?

She lowered her gaze, the corners of her lips curling ever so slightly. But there was no laughter in her eyes—only mockery.

What surprised her even more was that the Heavenly Realm had sought the help of the Immovable Venerable. It seemed inevitable now that the Devil-Suppressing Tower would be restored. Once the runes were inscribed, the tower would no longer be as easy to destroy as before.

The spies sent into the devil’s domain had moved quickly—they had already returned to the Heavenly Realm. Perhaps they had even discovered the location of the Heart-Questioning Rock. If the Three Lords had any sense, they should already be aware that something had changed.

If the Heavenly Realm sent people to investigate, the Three Lords would certainly enter the Heart-Questioning Rock. Once inside, they would soon realize that the Crystal of Law inside the wooden box was missing. Their only option would be to take the remaining Devil Lord’s coffin and flee under the cover of night.

Zhuyou turned her palm over, and a tiny mustard seed appeared in her grasp. Though minuscule, it contained the Devil Lord’s second soul.

She frowned, and in the next moment, a brush made from a phoenix’s tail feather appeared in her hand. Though the soft feather had not been dipped in ink, as she moved the brush, several mysterious black characters slowly emerged in midair.

The strange strokes seemed to shift and swim, and the moment she lifted her brush, the strokes rearranged themselves into what appeared to be a rune.

A stream of light flowed over the rune, and the hovering characters suddenly shrank to the size of a fingertip. In a blink, they shot downward like a diving bird, burrowing into the mustard seed.

With this, the Devil Lord’s second soul inside the seed would not be easily detected.

She pinched the tiny mustard seed between her fingers and flicked her wrist. The brush flew into the air, dissolving into gray smoke and vanishing without a trace.