GD Ch. 68 Part 2

Chapter 68: You’ll Give It to Me?

The fire crawled down her horns, clinging to her black scales, nearly reaching her eyes.

Suddenly, frost formed over the flames, freezing them into glittering crystals that shattered into dust before they could even touch the ground.

After channeling her spiritual energy, the burns on her horns and scales healed rapidly, leaving no trace of injury.

Changying surged forward again, her massive body coiling around the phoenix in an instant.

The phoenix let out a piercing cry, her voice as commanding as that of a celestial dragon. Her wings were pinned tightly to her sides, unable to spread, leaving her to writhe and struggle in vain.

But the Obsidian Dragon only coiled tighter, wrapping around her completely, layer upon layer.

Zhuyou had known she couldn’t escape the dragon’s grasp, but she hadn’t expected that even in her true form, she would be caught so quickly. She struggled weakly, her strength nearly spent, and pecked at the dragon’s scales. Yet, despite her fierce appearance, her heart ached, and her pecks were as feeble as a bird nibbling at grains.

Her long beak struck Changying’s black scales, and she even nudged the dragon with her head, her three crown feathers now disheveled and pitiful.

Changying felt no pain from the pecks—if anything, they felt like gentle scratches. She let out a low rumble, her dragon’s roar soft and almost affectionate. She thought of how, just the night before, Zhuyou had been so concerned about the injuries to her horns, yet now she was pecking at her. The dragon lowered her massive head, nuzzling gently against the phoenix’s neck feathers.

Though she was a celestial dragon capable of destroying heavens and earth, at this moment, she was careful and gentle, as if tamed, her movements light and tender against Zhuyou’s neck.

Zhuyou’s heart raced, the dragon’s blood within her surging uncontrollably. She tilted her head back, her beak pointing skyward, and let out a sharp cry.

Changying, hearing her cry, lost all restraint. Though her nuzzling was gentle, her coils grew tighter and tighter.

In this secluded realm beneath the sea, the dragon and phoenix seemed to intertwine like lovers.

Zhuyou had no choice but to shift back into her human form, nearly slipping through the gaps in the dragon’s coils. But just as she began to fall, the dragon tightened her grip.

The dragon had her wrapped so tightly that not even a sliver of space remained.

Her arms braced against the dragon’s body, and as she returned to human form, her eyes were red-rimmed, her lips pressed tightly together. She felt a gentle nudge against the top of her head and looked up to see the dragon still nuzzling her.

Her feet dangled in the air, leaving her no choice but to cling to the dragon’s coiled body. As her hands moved, they brushed against several scales that had been torn loose, the flesh beneath damp and warm with blood.

She hadn’t pecked hard enough to cause such damage—it must have happened during the dragon’s reckless pursuit.

The once neatly overlapping scales were now either torn or completely shattered, rough and jagged to the touch.

Zhuyou couldn’t understand how the dragon could endure such pain so effortlessly, even more so than herself. Yesterday, she had borne the agony of her soul being torn apart without a word, and today, despite her injuries, she showed no sign of discomfort. It was as if the dragon was born without fear of pain or death.

Such a dragon was truly worthy of being an ancient Slayer God.

Zhuyou’s waist and abdomen ached from the tight coils, and as the dragon ascended, pressing her back against the barrier above, the marsh grew farther and farther away. Her stomach churned, and her arms nearly gave out, leaving her pale limbs limp against the dragon’s scales.

The dragon’s body around her waist felt as though it might crush her. She tilted her head back, gasping for breath, while the dragon continued to nuzzle her, tousling her silver hair until it was a tangled mess. Her head swayed with the dragon’s movements, leaving her dizzy and disoriented.

She tried to turn away, intending to scold the dragon, but all that escaped her lips was a faint, trembling moan, her breath shaky and fragile, like a thread on the verge of snapping.

“Chang… ying,” she finally managed to whisper, her voice strained, as if she had melted into the dragon’s embrace.

Sweat dripped from her temples, trailing down her neck and disappearing into her collar. Her arms rested weakly on the dragon’s back, and with a tilt of her head, she leaned against the massive dragon’s head, gasping for breath.

But Changying’s grip showed no sign of loosening. Zhuyou’s ribs ached to the point of numbness, and she weakly murmured, “I… have no strength left.”

“Changying? Changying?” Her eyes were rimmed with red, half-lidded and glistening with unshed tears, giving her an innocent, almost pitiful appearance.

Changying looked down at her, her expression unreadable.

“Why must you do this?” Zhuyou asked weakly. But as soon as the words left her lips, she realized that this was a question Changying could just as easily ask her.

Why must she do this?

But there was no turning back for her now. Even if Changying didn’t kill her, the Heavenly Dao would no longer tolerate her existence. If she wanted to break through her limits and reach the pinnacle, her phoenix bloodline would inevitably draw down the heavenly thunder and earthly fire. Before she had fallen into devilhood, the heavenly thunder and earthly fire couldn’t harm her, but now… she was a devil.

To endure that tribulation now would be a near-certain death.

Changying didn’t respond, her golden eyes fixed on Zhuyou, cold and unyielding, though her heart raced uncontrollably. She felt as though she were savoring something sweet, her entire being suffused with a strange, intoxicating warmth, so much so that she could barely hear Zhuyou’s words.

Zhuyou tilted her head back, meeting Changying’s icy gaze. When she saw the massive dragon head suddenly dip toward her again, she instinctively tried to turn away.

But the dragon’s head was already too close, its enormous form filling her vision entirely. She couldn’t help but close her eyes, her silver hair swaying as the dragon nuzzled her. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her lips trembling slightly as she pressed them together.

“What is yours, I will take for you. Don’t rush,” the Obsidian Dragon suddenly spoke.

Changying’s voice was calm and detached, as if she were discussing something trivial.

Zhuyou let out a bitter laugh. She wasn’t rushing—she just wanted to survive.

“There’s nothing in this world that should be mine,” she said slowly, her voice still weak.

What others had taken from her belonged to them now. Until she could seize what she desired with her own hands, none of it was truly hers.

Had she not learned this in the two hundred years since she had fallen into devilhood?

“If I say it’s yours, then it’s yours,” Changying insisted, her tone stubborn. Even in her childlike form, she had always been rigid and unyielding, and now, fully restored, that stubbornness had only intensified.

Zhuyou’s arms were weak, but her fingers remained tightly clenched around the wisp of the Devil Lord’s soul. If she let go, she feared it might slip away and find a way to reincarnate.

Devils were cunning by nature, and the Devil Lord was no exception.

The dragon’s head continued to nuzzle her, its movements gentle but persistent. Strands of her silver hair brushed against her cheeks, and she closed her eyes, her eyelids fluttering faintly, lost in thought.

Changying loved seeing her like this—so docile, so vulnerable, as if she were offering herself up to be devoured.

Suddenly, Zhuyou opened her eyes, tilting her head slightly. The phoenix markings at the corners of her eyes came into view, striking and beautiful.

Seeing her struggle to catch her breath, Changying loosened her grip slightly. “I don’t know why you’re so determined to awaken the Devil Lord, but if he rises, it will bring nothing but disaster,” she said.

Zhuyou remained silent for a long time, her expression blank, as if her soul had left her body. Her silver hair clung to her damp temples. Finally, she spoke, her words slow and deliberate. “Alright… if you say so, I suppose I should believe you.”

Changying suddenly shifted back into her human form. As Zhuyou began to fall, Changying quickly wrapped her arms around her, catching her effortlessly.

Zhuyou was caught off guard, her arms hanging limply at her sides, her back arching slightly as her pupils contracted.

Just before they hit the ground, an invisible force of spiritual energy cushioned their fall, gently lowering them onto the grass.

Changying withdrew her hands, her gaze fixed intently on the devil beneath her.

Zhuyou turned her head away, her eyes downcast, as if she had truly melted into a pool of spring water, softening Changying’s heart. “Let me go,” she said slowly. “Fine, I’ll give up this wisp of soul.”

Changying bent one knee, leaning closer. “Are you sure?”

The fireflies danced around Zhuyou’s face, their faint light casting a pale glow on her features. Her hair, spread out around her, shimmered like moonlight.

Changying’s left hand rested lightly on Zhuyou’s waist, while her right hand slowly closed around her wrist.

Zhuyou didn’t resist, her eyes lowered as she murmured, “You should return to where we were before. We’ve lingered here too long. What if we can’t get out?”

Changying’s fingers traced the slight protrusion of bone on Zhuyou’s wrist, considering whether her words were genuine or not. After a moment, she said quietly, “Alright.”

Suddenly, the ground shook violently, as if the heavens and earth were convulsing. Not only did the Cold Eye tremble, but the sea above it surged with towering waves.

In the blink of an eye, they were back in their original location, surrounded by toppled houses, towering mountains, a river flowing backward, and a waterfall that seemed to connect with the moon.

Everything was disorienting, chaotic, and unsettling.

Zhuyou’s hand, still clutching the wisp of soul, remained tightly closed, while Changying’s grip on her wrist didn’t loosen. Zhuyou silently calculated—five days were almost up. By then, Hanzhu and Luo Qing would surely pull her out of the Turbid Mirror. As long as she didn’t let go, the soul couldn’t escape.

But as the saying goes, there’s always a higher mountain.

Changying suddenly leaned down, her torso pressing against Zhuyou’s, her face—stunning yet expressionless—coming dangerously close.

Zhuyou froze for a moment, feeling the softness of Changying’s body against hers. With just a slight movement of her eyes, she could see the delicate curve of Changying’s nose.

As their chests pressed together, the exchanged drops of heart’s blood within them stirred, sending a sharp itch through Zhuyou’s chest.

Thump. She thought she heard the erratic beat of her own heart.

In that moment, her soul felt as though it were being caressed, suffused with a sudden surge of spiritual energy that left her momentarily dazed.

And in that moment of distraction, her clenched hand was pried open, Changying’s fingers interlacing with hers.