GD Ch. 60 Part 1

Chapter 60: What She Wishes to Obtain

It seemed that even the deepest cold of the Three Realms could not compare to this.

As Zhuyou crushed the herb into juice, her hands had already been frozen beyond recognition. But she had not expected that upon placing it in her mouth, the chill would penetrate even deeper. Though the phoenix blood coursing through her veins burned like fire, it could not dispel even a fraction of the cold.

The moment it slid down her throat, she lost all sensation there—a sheer, biting cold that left her unsure whether she had even swallowed it.

She gulped instinctively, and the chill shot straight to the top of her head. Even her scalp and every strand of her hair seemed to stiffen.

Then, the cold seeped into her chest, as if ice had formed in her stomach. She even suspected that the heart beating within her ribcage had come to a stop.

Unable to bear it, she hunched forward, one hand gripping the table for support. Her fingers curled inward, the knuckles turning pale.

Too cold. Her lips trembled to the point of numbness, and a shudder ran through her entire body. Even the fingers clenched against the table were shaking uncontrollably.

Sunlight streamed in through the window lattice, while outside, the streets were lively and bustling. Drums and music filled the air, performers entertained the crowds, and voices mingled with the neighing of horses. Even the mortals wandering the marketplace felt no trace of lingering spring chill.

Yet Zhuyou found herself utterly frozen. At this moment, she thought, she was likely the only one in all the Three Realms suffering from the cold.

Not even in Shenhua Mountain had she experienced such a frigid sensation. Every breath she exhaled was icy, and her body felt as though it had just been pulled from an abyss of ice—her muscles and bones frozen stiff, unable to move. Her body no longer obeyed her. It felt as if it had been rendered useless.

The flower’s essence had seeped into her stomach, spreading through her organs and saturating her bloodstream. There was no part of her body left untouched by the cold.

She had originally intended to retreat into her spatial refuge and immerse herself in the hot spring she had stolen from Shenhua Mountain, but it was too late…

A surge of immense spiritual power, hidden within the flower’s petals, suddenly erupted. The force crashed through her body, rushing into her head and flooding into her spiritual sea.

The impact nearly made her cough up blood. She swiftly lifted herself into the air, crossing her legs as though being lifted by the wind.

Calm the heart. Focus the mind.

Her eyes remained shut tight as the untamed energy rampaged within her spiritual sea. She had to absorb it quickly, subdue it, and merge it into her own power.

Outside, the daylight gradually faded. The sky was painted with the hues of dusk before night quietly settled in. The marketplace below the inn had been noisy, but with nightfall, it turned eerily quiet. Only the occasional bark of a dog, the wail of a baby, or the intermittent sound of someone cursing broke the silence.

Such was the nature of the mortal world.

Hanzhu stood motionless outside the door, not daring to knock. Her gaze remained sharp, scanning her surroundings as she silently stood guard.

A servant from the inn was delivering food to a guest in the middle of the night. On his way down, he glanced toward this floor, curiosity momentarily overcoming him. He had been drowsy from exhaustion, but when he saw the young woman standing so still outside the door, a jolt ran through him, instantly banishing his sleepiness. Had he seen a ghost? Why was this girl standing so rigidly at the door in the dead of night? Could she have been possessed?

Frightened, he lowered his voice and called out, “Miss?”

The elders in his family used to say that if one was summoning a wandering soul, they should call its name. But he had no idea what this young woman’s name was—he could only take his chances.

Hanzhu turned to look at him. Already anxious, she was now further agitated by the servant’s sudden call. She cast a sharp, impatient glance in his direction. Her gaze was icy. 

The servant thought, I’m doomed. He had failed to summon the girl’s soul back but had instead awakened a vengeful spirit.

Panicked, he turned and bolted, twisting his ankle in the process. He nearly tumbled down the stairs, his eyes brimming with terrified tears.

***

The mortal night stretched on, and within the room, a silver-blue glow swirled like a celestial river.

But it was neither ghostly fire nor the radiance of the stars—it was an extraordinary surge of spiritual energy.

Zhuyou remained seated in the air, steadily absorbing the immense power bestowed by the flower. She was in no hurry. Her brows were smooth, her breath composed, as she meditated midair.

Time passed. Suddenly, the distant cry of a rooster signaled the arrival of dawn.

Moments later, the hand resting on her knee twitched slightly. The power surging through her body had finally merged with her spiritual sea.

Without haste, she examined her spiritual sea. It brimmed with purified energy, gleaming as if freshly cleansed. Suspended at its center was a single scale, drifting with the ebb and flow of spiritual power.

That scale had appeared a hundred years ago after she exchanged heart’s blood with Changying. No matter how she tried, she could never remove it—it had seemingly rooted itself there.

At first, she had been deeply concerned, fearing it might disrupt her spiritual sea. But a century had passed, and it remained inert, like a useless relic.

Yet now, after absorbing a century’s worth of cultivation from the flower’s leaves, the scale had changed—It had become sleeker, sharper, as if carefully polished.

Zhuyou’s eyes snapped open. She suddenly felt an unprecedented sense of clarity, her entire body at ease. A deep breath escaped her lips, and as it did, an unseen force rippled outward, surging in all directions.

The locked windows burst open, and the entire room trembled violently.

Footsteps approached outside—

It was Hanzhu.

Zhuyou flipped her palm over, hastily retracting all the excess energy before she accidentally reduced the inn to rubble.

“Mistress?” Hanzhu’s voice was filled with concern. Afraid of disturbing her, she kept her voice low.

“I’m fine. Do not enter.” Zhuyou parted her lips to speak, only to find her throat tight, as though she had held her breath for too long and had yet to recover.

Her body felt utterly relaxed, as though every joint had been loosened. In that moment, she finally realized—The power granted by the herb was far more than three hundred years’ worth.

If anything, it was much, much more.

The cold that had seeped into her very bones receded like a retreating tide. In an instant, it withdrew from her organs and limbs, then vanished entirely like floodwaters drained away. The stiffness in her body melted. In mere moments, her frozen muscles and bones returned to normal. She felt refreshed, utterly rejuvenated.

Though she had not yet broken through to the next stage, her cultivation was now right on the threshold—just a little more, and she would step through!

Such a sacred artifact—Changying had given it to her for no reason at all?

Zhuyou quickly lowered her gaze to inspect the poisonous mist in her eyes. As expected, the mist that had once clustered there had completely vanished without a trace. Her vision was now crystal clear, no longer hazy or blurred.

The ancient texts had not lied to her—the Cold Eye sacred herb was indeed formidable.

Still, she couldn’t help but wonder—had Changying really opened the Cold Eye solely to help her obtain this herb?

After all, immortals and devils were inherently opposed. Though Changying’s appearance had changed drastically since returning to the Heavenly Realm, she still treated Zhuyou with the same deference. She was more reserved than in her childhood, less talkative—but her every action seemed to be an attempt to please her.

Zhuyou had once thought that if she had the power to request something from the Heavenly Realm, she might ask for a dragon. But now that she had seen Changying again, she no longer had any such desire.

Changying had changed—she had grown, and the change was profound. She was colder, more indifferent. Where was the obedient, docile girl Zhuyou once knew? Changying must have forgotten—Zhuyou only liked those who were obedient.

With a flick of her wrist, Zhuyou sent out a burst of energy. The door swung open with a loud bang, and the restriction placed upon it was lifted.

Hanzhu, who had been standing rigidly outside, snapped to attention and asked in surprise, “Mistress, have you taken the sacred herb?”

Zhuyou gave a slight nod and gestured for her to enter.

Hanzhu hurried inside, the joy in her heart plain on her face. Yet, she did not dare to stare openly. Instead, she carefully glanced at Zhuyou’s beautiful eyes and whispered, “Have your eyes fully recovered, Mistress?”

“The poisonous mist is gone.” Zhuyou lowered her crossed legs and slowly descended to the ground.

Only then did Hanzhu realize that her mistress’ cultivation seemed to have advanced yet again—reaching a realm she herself could never hope to attain. “This sacred herb is truly incredible!” she said with excitement.

Zhuyou gave a slight nod but remained silent. Her thoughts turned to the Turbid Mirror that Changying had mentioned. Without hesitation, she reached out and tore open the void, pulling forth a tarnished bronze mirror from thin air.

It was the Turbid Mirror.

She had not carried it on her person but had hidden it in the Lower Realm, among mortals.

Hanzhu froze for a moment when she saw the mirror, then quickly asked, “Mistress, are you planning to use the mirror?”

Zhuyou held the heavy mirror in her hands, her gaze fixed on it. She was still hesitant. If what Jing Kexin had said was true, then no matter how much her cultivation had improved, she might not be able to trace back to the time before her own birth.

The last time Jing Kexin entered the mirror, she would have been trapped forever had no one been there to pull her out. If it were her—would she also be unable to escape?

Zhuyou indeed wanted to find the remaining soul fragment of the Devil Lord, but not at the cost of her own life.

She wanted the Devil Lord to reincarnate, but not because she desired his position. With her current cultivation, there was no one who could threaten her claim to the throne.

But she didn’t want it—what she sought was far beyond a wretched seat of power like that.

Seeing the serious look in her mistress’ eyes as she stared silently at the sacred artifact, Hanzhu knew that Zhuyou had already made her decision.