GD Ch. 57 Part 1

Chapter 57: Who Are You, Really?

The marsh was muddy all around, and the surroundings were pitch black, with only the occasional flicker of fireflies leaving behind a faint trace of light.

Zhuyou’s heart was pounding. She couldn’t discern the cultivation level of the woman before her, and she didn’t know what her chances of success would be if she were to rashly try to snatch the sacred herb.

Her eyes were fixed on the sacred herb in the woman’s hand. She knew that even if her chances weren’t good, she wouldn’t be able to offer Burning-Heart Wood in exchange.

She truly didn’t have any Burning-Heart Wood. Back then, when she was engulfed in the calamity fire, she hadn’t managed to obtain any. Her vision had been blurred, and everything had appeared hazy.

The calamity fire had been unbearably hot, scorching her entire body until she couldn’t bear the pain and eventually passed out from the agony. When she woke up, the calamity fire had dissipated, and the Burning-Heart Wood within it had naturally vanished as well.

She hadn’t even been able to complete her tribulation, and instead of breaking through to a higher realm, her cultivation had regressed significantly. How could she have had the leisure to retrieve the Burning-Heart Wood?

During that tribulation, she had seen a hand reach into her calamity fire—it seemed to belong to Jingyi. Jingyi had extended her hand into the calamity fire, and who knows what other misdeeds she had committed besides poisoning.

After the fire tribulation, she had been falsely accused, and before she could even determine whether her Burning-Heart Wood had been completely incinerated by the calamity fire, she had been dragged to the Execution Platform.

On the Execution Platform, she had fallen into the Devil Realm. When she broke through her realm again, there was no phoenix tree, and naturally, she couldn’t find any Burning-Heart Wood.

After that, she had heard in the Devil Realm that Jingyi had obtained a Burning-Heart Wood, not only replenishing her three hun and seven po souls but also breaking through to a higher realm, basking in glory.

But who had given Jingyi the Burning-Heart Wood? She had no idea.

Jingyi.

Just the thought of that name filled her with rage. If it weren’t for that wretched bird, she might not have ended up in such a dire situation.

“Do you know what Jingyi said?” Changying, holding the sacred herb, asked calmly.

Zhuyou looked at her. The woman’s face was half-lit by the dim glow of the fireflies, making her features indistinct, but her nose was sharp, and the outline of her cheek was strikingly beautiful.

Zhuyou had just been thinking about that name, and now she heard it from someone else’s mouth. She frowned. “Do you know her?”

“No,” Changying denied firmly and without hesitation.

Zhuyou raised an eyebrow. The way this woman was so quick to distance herself made it seem like she had some grudge against Jingyi.

Since when did the immortals of the Heavenly Realm start playing these games of betrayal and confrontation?

“Jingyi claimed that two hundred years ago, you were the one who gave her the Burning-Heart Wood,” Changying said slowly.

Zhuyou was stunned for a moment, her emotions a tangled mess. She found it almost laughable.

Could it be that Jingyi had actually taken her Burning-Heart Wood back then, waiting for her to descend into the human world and suffer the cycle of reincarnation before using it, all while claiming that Zhuyou had given it to her? Unfortunately, Zhuyou hadn’t endured the punishment of reincarnation. Instead, in front of all the heavens, she had fallen into the Devil Realm.

Was that single piece of Burning-Heart Wood really worth all that?

Zhuyou’s heart was pounding so hard it made it difficult to breathe, and her gaze trembled.

How absurd. If that were truly the case, then two hundred years ago, shouldn’t it have been Jingyi who fell into the Devil Realm?

She had devilish thoughts in her heart—how could she not have fallen?

Zhuyou nearly drowned in these thoughts but quickly pulled herself back. When she looked up, she saw the woman still standing there, holding the sacred herb, unmoving.

She hadn’t left, nor had she made any move to attack.

Zhuyou was indeed wary. In the Three Realms, there were few who could conceal their cultivation level from her.

Back then, she had taken a risk and exchanged heart’s blood with Changying. After that, she didn’t know what the dragon had gone through, but she had seized the opportunity to break through to a higher realm, reaching the Arcane stage. Now, even if the two Divine Lords from a hundred years ago joined forces with the Evil-Punisher Divine Lord, she might not necessarily be at a disadvantage.

But the woman before her was too enigmatic. She had asked for Burning-Heart Wood out of the blue and then brought up Jingyi. What was her intention?

After reaching the Arcane stage, she should have been able to see through others’ true forms at a glance, but now she couldn’t.

The woman’s transformed appearance was unclear to her, as if she were some colossal creature.

Something between a Kun and a Jiao, indistinct and immeasurable.

(T/N: Kun is also known as the Mythical Giant Fish, a colossal fish that dwells in the Northern Ocean. It is so massive that “no one knows how many thousands of miles it stretches.” Kun can transform into a Peng, a gigantic bird with wings like clouds covering the sky. Jiao is known as the Flood Dragon, a serpent-like dragon that dwells in water, sometimes depicted with four legs. It can control rain, storms, and rivers.)

Since when had such a person existed in the Three Realms? Why had she never heard of her?

Seeing that Zhuyou hadn’t spoken, Changying stood calmly, unmoving, still keeping her aura suppressed, like a dragon curling its fierce claws into its palm.

“Did the Heavenly Realm send you to capture me?” Zhuyou asked cautiously.

Changying admitted, “No.”

It was true—no one had sent her. She had come voluntarily, and her purpose wasn’t to capture anyone.

Zhuyou wasn’t sure how much of this was true. If she wasn’t sent by the Heavenly Realm, then what was this woman here for? Was she really after her sacred herb?

There was only one sacred herb, and it was said to grow a single petal every five hundred years and bear fruit only after a thousand years, making it extremely precious.

Fortunately, it wasn’t the fruit of the sacred herb that could cure all poisons, but its root—the crimson, blood-like root was the rare medicine of the Three Realms.

“So you’re here to compete with me for this sacred herb,” Zhuyou said, narrowing her eyes.

Changying, of course, wasn’t here for the sacred herb. She had opened the Cold Eye precisely so that Zhuyou could obtain this medicinal herb to completely dispel the poison in her eyes and nourish her body.

But she wasn’t good with words, and she couldn’t help feeling that Zhuyou should have recognized her.

Could there be another dragon in the Three Realms who resembled her?

That was impossible.

Seeing that Zhuyou’s spirit sword was still drawn and her gaze was sharp, Changying took a half-step back, wondering how to retreat without making it too obvious.

Zhuyou watched her every move closely, afraid that the woman would turn and leave, leaving her unable to catch up. When she saw the woman take that small step back, she tilted her spirit sword slightly and immediately attacked.

Trying to leave? Not a chance.

The tip of her sword aimed straight for the woman’s face, while her other hand flipped over, causing the water in the marsh to surge. The vines buried beneath the surface instantly came under her control, reaching out like ghostly claws.

The vines covered the entire marsh, and when they shot out of the water, they resembled rough chains or writhing water snakes.

But Changying, who had taken that half-step back, stood still, completely unruffled.

In an instant, thorns climbed up her legs, and the spirit sword was at her brow.

Changying merely tilted her head slightly, her black hair billowing back from the spiritual energy, the golden ornament on her forehead swaying gently.

The only light came from the fireflies, flickering like ghostly flames, too dim to illuminate anyone’s face.

Zhuyou had wanted to see if the woman had a small mole on the bridge of her nose, like Changying did, but whether it was because the woman had tilted her head or because the surroundings were too dark, she couldn’t make it out.

In her urgency, she thought of summoning a phoenix flame, but then remembered that phoenix flames couldn’t burn in the Cold Eye.

At a glance, it didn’t seem to be her.

This woman looked nothing like Changying. She was much taller, almost half a head taller than Zhuyou, and though her figure was slender, she couldn’t be described as frail or delicate.

Zhuyou had once wondered what Changying would look like when she grew up. In her imagination, even after a hundred years, Changying wouldn’t grow too tall. She would remain delicate, with a cold, sickly appearance that made her seem easy to bully.

Her face and body would be pale, her shoulders thin, her limbs long and slender, with a soft, supple waist.

As a child, she had been like that, so as an adult, she should have been tender and delicate, even if she remained cold and aloof—just a little girl who could pout and act spoiled.

It was better that this woman didn’t resemble Changying. Zhuyou felt relieved. That way, even if she took the sacred herb, Changying wouldn’t frown and look like she was about to cry.

Although… she had never seen Changying cry.

Changying had never laughed or cried, as if her heart had been carved out the moment she hatched.

In the past hundred years, Zhuyou hadn’t gone looking for Changying. The risk was simply too great.

In the chaos of the conflict a hundred years ago, she had been taken away from the Devil Realm by Hanzhu. When she woke up, Changying was nowhere to be seen. She had wanted to question Hanzhu, but seeing the peafowl demon covered in blood, kneeling beside her and trembling, she couldn’t bring herself to be harsh.

What had Hanzhu said?