GD Ch. 56 Part 2

Chapter 56: Does She Recognize Me?

The sea had been calm, but now white waves coiled like silver dragons.

Yet, no one else had arrived. Perhaps they hadn’t found the way. From this perspective, it seemed as if Cold Eye had opened specifically for her.

Zhuyou pondered for a long time before finally leaping into Cold Eye. The moment she entered, the seawater clinging to her felt not like water but like sharp blades cutting into her flesh.

Countless water blades, dense as a downpour of arrows, assailed her. She focused her spiritual energy, pushing the blades aside.

This was no heaven-sent opportunity—it was a death trap.

If an ordinary mortal were to force their way into Cold Eye, they would suffer excruciating pain, likely leading them to take their own life. Such agony was unbearable, and this place was not meant for ordinary people.

This was no blessing to the Mortal Realm—it was more like a death sentence.

At this thought, Zhuyou shuddered. Perhaps the Heavenly Realm hadn’t opened Cold Eye to bless the Mortal Realm, as they claimed. Mortals would find it extremely difficult to enter, something the Heavenly Realm couldn’t possibly be unaware of.

If not to bless the world, then it must have another purpose.

But Cold Eye’s appearance was a one-time event, unlikely to occur again. Now that she had been swept deep into the whirlpool, there was no way out!

Zhuyou’s eyes darkened. She thought, Forget it. Since I’m already here, I’ll see what tricks the Heavenly Realm is playing.

In the pitch-black whirlpool, she could see nothing. She tried to summon a phoenix flame, but not even a spark appeared.

She fell through the water, landing on solid ground. The surroundings were lush and green, with no trace of water or mist. There were no fish, no coral, no seaweed.

Zhuyou quickly stood up and looked upward, astonished to see the shimmering waves above, with schools of fish and shrimp swimming past.

The cold, azure seawater was separated above her. As she looked up, she could faintly see the twilight in the sky.

So, this was it. Beneath Cold Eye lay a hidden world.

Now that she was here, she had to focus.

Zhuyou surveyed her surroundings, unsure where the antidote herb might grow. She had no choice but to search blindly. Walking on the soft grass felt like treading on thin ice. She moved cautiously, wary of a celestial suddenly appearing and catching her off guard.

The area beneath Cold Eye was lush and not particularly cold. There were no birds or beasts, nor any other sounds. Not even a small path could be seen.

She tried to extend her spiritual sense but found her spiritual energy suppressed. She could barely cast any spells. In this state, if someone were to suddenly appear and try to kill her, she would be like a turtle in a jar—nowhere to escape.

She had never thought the Heavenly Realm knew she was searching for Cold Eye. After all, in the past two hundred years, only Hanzhu and Wu Buzhi knew for sure that she was seeking this place.

Perhaps Jingyi, who had poisoned her calamity fire, also knew. And then there was Changying, who had overheard her and Hanzhu discussing it.

Changying.

Zhuyou didn’t want it to be her. Though she wasn’t related to that dragon by blood, she had raised her herself. If that once obedient and lovable girl had truly become so heartless, then Zhuyou could only…

Consider her spiritual energy wasted on a dog.

Come to think of it, she had never killed a dog before.

Zhuyou wandered aimlessly. All she saw were trees and grass. After walking for half an hour, she still found nothing, as if she had encountered a ghost wall. But she detected no restrictions or spells here. If it wasn’t a ghost wall, then this place was simply too vast.

She tried to rise into the air to get a better view of the realm, but as soon as she ascended, the shimmering seawater above blocked her path. The sparkling seawater above was like an impenetrable wall. Even if she wanted to leave, she couldn’t.

She was truly trapped like a turtle in a jar.

Zhuyou’s eyes darkened. She had no choice but to return to the ground and follow the firefly-lit grass.

Time seemed endless, and the path had no boundaries.

But through the seawater, she saw the twilight gradually setting, the sky turning crimson. A day had passed.

As the twilight disappeared, even the area beneath Cold Eye grew dark.

Zhuyou wasn’t in a hurry. She didn’t want to waste her spiritual energy, wondering if a celestial was watching from the shadows—and how long they could endure.

When the twilight rose and set once more, Cold Eye was again plunged into darkness, as if drenched in ink.

Suddenly, she spotted a marshy area. The water in the marsh was deep, and fireflies floated above it like stars. Dead branches stood tall, resembling the menacing shadows of ghosts. In the center of it all was a splash of unusual color. She squinted and saw a indigo-blue flower.

It was more like a blade of grass than a flower.

After all, the thing had only a single indigo petal, round and small, no larger than a pinky finger. Inside was a delicate stamen, seemingly filled with light. The stem and leaves below were also blue, with only the tips of the leaves tinged with a hint of crimson.

Zhuyou narrowed her eyes, unsure if this was the spiritual herb she was searching for. But looking around, it was the only thing that stood out.

A surge of joy welled up in her heart. Just as she was about to leap forward to take it, she suddenly noticed a figure standing in the marsh.

The darkness after sunset and the dense thicket of dead branches had lulled her into carelessness, making her miss the presence of this person.

The figure had concealed its aura so well that, at first glance, it seemed like an inanimate object.

Zhuyou quickly halted her steps, carefully examining the silhouette.

Black hair, black robes, a tightly cinched waist, and something jingling on the belt—likely a woman.

The woman in black suddenly bent down, her slender fingers reaching toward the spiritual herb.

Seeing this, Zhuyou held her breath and, without a moment’s hesitation, rushed forward with the speed of the wind.

Two hundred years. She had finally found Cold Eye. How could she let someone else take it? Zhuyou narrowed her eyes, not even bothering to see what the person looked like, focusing solely on the hand reaching for the sacred herb.

Almost there!

Zhuyou frowned and unleashed a sharp gust of wind, striking the person’s hand squarely. She held nothing back—this wind blade could have sliced the skin clean off.

The woman retrieving the herb suddenly retracted her fingers, but her hand showed no signs of injury.

Her hand was pale as silk under the firefly light, her wrist slender but not frail.

She only paused for a moment before reaching out again, firmly pulling the herb out by its roots.

Once removed from the marsh, the herb’s roots were revealed. Though its leaves and flower were indigo, its roots were a deep crimson, as if soaked in blood. The abundant spiritual energy within could no longer be concealed, and even a whiff of it made one feel invigorated.

It really was the herb!

Zhuyou’s heart pounded like a drum. Seeing the woman about to tuck it into her sleeve, she rushed closer. Her mist-like sleeves billowed as a sword formed from spiritual energy materialized in her hand. She gripped the hilt tightly and thrust the blade into the ground.

Instantly, the turf was torn apart, water from the marsh splashed everywhere, and a terrifying wave of spiritual energy surged toward the woman.

The woman straightened up leisurely, raising her hand calmly to block the fierce wind.

Zhuyou was shocked. She couldn’t discern this person’s cultivation level, but the spiritual herb was in her hands. How could she not seize it? 

She pressed forward relentlessly, but the woman didn’t fight back, instead evading her attacks with ease.

As Zhuyou flipped into the air, preparing to deliver a fatal blow to the woman’s head, the woman suddenly spoke in a calm voice, “Bring me a Burning-Heart Wood, and I’ll trade it to you.”

Burning-Heart Wood?

The voice sounded familiar, as if she had heard it somewhere before.

But Zhuyou’s killing move was already in motion, the cold blade of her sword aimed at the speaker’s head.

Zhuyou thrust her sword forward, the icy blade grazing the woman’s wind-tossed hair, only to be deflected in an instant.

As the sword’s energy descended, the woman suddenly looked up. Under the flickering sword light, Zhuyou saw a pair of cold, emotionless eyes.

The upward curve of her brows and the slight lift at the corners of her eyes gave her a striking, almost seductive appearance. Yet her lips were pale, and her complexion was ashen.

When Zhuyou saw those eyes, she couldn’t help but think of Changying.

But after only a glance, she was forced to retreat.

Unexpectedly, this person had effortlessly neutralized her spiritual energy.

In that brief moment, she had only caught a glimpse of the woman’s features, which bore some resemblance to Changying’s. But she hadn’t had time to see if there was a small mole on the bridge of her nose.

Zhuyou’s expression darkened, her mind in turmoil.

Just because their features were somewhat similar didn’t mean it was Changying.

Besides, this person’s cultivation level was beyond her comprehension. How could she be the frail, weak little dragon from a hundred years ago?

Zhuyou said coldly, “I don’t have a Burning-Heart Wood.”

“A  phoenix is bestowed with a Burning-Heart Wood when they undergo their rebirth through fire. How could you not have any?” The woman’s voice was icy, almost accusatory.

Zhuyou’s heart skipped a beat. She hadn’t expected the other party to see through her true form. Could she really not be Changying?

“I’ve never taken any Burning-Heart Wood.”

A hundred years ago, Changying had also seen through her true form at a glance.

“When a phoenix undergoes rebirth, a parasol tree withers, and a Burning-Heart Wood is formed. Why didn’t you take it?” The cold voice pressed.

Zhuyou frowned and scoffed, “What do you need Burning-Heart Wood for?”

“That’s none of your concern,” the woman replied indifferently.

“If you’re from the Heavenly Realm, you should know who I am,” Zhuyou said slowly.

It wasn’t arrogance. In the past two hundred years, she was the only member of the Phoenix Clan to have fallen into devilry.

“Back then, I failed to transcend the heavenly tribulation because something went wrong during the process. I couldn’t see, and my mind was clouded, so I couldn’t break through the barrier,” Zhuyou explained calmly.

The woman remained silent.

“I was barely holding myself together at the time. How could I have had the leisure to take my Burning-Heart Wood? That piece of wood was taken by someone else long ago,” Zhuyou said, her eyes fixed on the spiritual herb in the woman’s hand. “If you want it, go ask the Phoenix Clan for it.”

“If you couldn’t see, why didn’t you say so at the time?” the woman asked again.

Zhuyou tilted her sword slightly, her eyes lowering as her gaze grew obscure. She said mockingly, “At the time… I thought I had been blinded by the flames.”

In the marsh, Changying’s suspended heart slowly settled. So, Jingyi’s Burning-Heart Wood hadn’t come from her. That was… a relief.

But in the distance, Zhuyou’s killing intent hadn’t faded. Changying sensed the murderous aura surrounding her and, expressionless, took half a step back, still clutching the spiritual herb.
She really doesn’t recognize me, Changying thought.