Chapter 44: Duying, Princess of the Western Sea

Ling Wu frowned. "Eldest Senior Brother, how sheltered can you be? You've never seen a night-luminous pearl?"

Ji Xunzhi stared fixedly at the object in her hand and asked again, "Duying came to find you?"

Ling Wu had no idea what he meant. "Who's Duying?"

"You don't know?" His eyes narrowed, appraising. "Then where did that pearl come from?"

Ling Wu found him baffling. "Didn't I tell you? Master took me to the Western Sea some days ago for the Dragon King's birthday banquet. This pearl was the Dragon King's gift to me—every fairy attending for the first time got one!"

"Truly?" Ji Xunzhi was only half convinced.

Ling Wu rolled her eyes at him extravagantly. "What would I gain from lying to you?"

It was only a night-luminous pearl. What was there to get worked up about?

Only when he saw that Ling Wu genuinely didn't seem to be lying did his expression return to normal, and he let out an obvious breath of relief.

It truly wasn't his fault for being jumpy. These past days, Duying had frightened him thoroughly.

This Duying was the Sixth Princess of the Western Sea Dragon Palace.

As the only daughter of the house, and the youngest at that, the Dragon King of the Western Sea doted on her to the utmost—afraid to hold her too tight lest she shatter, afraid to hold her too loose lest she melt.

Her several elder brothers, for their part, were sister-doting fools beyond all reason.

One could say that since birth, Duying had gotten whatever she wished, and wherever she went she was the center of attention.

Even the Heavenly Sovereign treated her a touch more gently than others.

Ask what troubles such a life could still hold, and the only answer would be ascension.

Like Ling Wu, this Sixth Princess of the Western Sea was one of the least promising cultivators around.

Born of dragon blood, she had cultivated for years without ascending—and yet she insisted on doing the things one ought to do only after ascending.

Suppressing evil creatures, for instance. Or purging every manner of calamity.

Duying felt that as one destined sooner or later for the immortal ranks, when the people suffered she ought to lend aid without delay.

Ji Xunzhi felt that responsibility should match one's ability.

A little dragon with feeble magic would be lucky not to drag others down; how could she so badly misjudge her own strength, plunging into danger again and again?

The previous few times, all she'd run into were small fry of the Demon Realm and the Ghost Realm—on seeing the dragon-clan mark on her wrist, they had backed off on their own.

This time was different. She insisted on going to explore the border between the Ghost Realm and the Demon Realm on the Ghost Festival, and there, in the mortal realm, she met an old woman. The woman said her only son had been brought to that place, and there had been no word of him since.

The old woman wept every day, until she cried one eye blind.

She said the only wish left to her before dying was to see her son one more time.

She had carried him ten months; he had long since become inseparable from her own flesh.

How could Duying sit still hearing that? Saving a life outweighed building a seven-story pagoda, and the old woman was pitiful besides—she agreed without a second thought.

Alive or dead, she would bring this man back.

The Ghost Realm, of all places—she didn't think much of it.

She little knew that the Ghost Festival was a most inauspicious day.

A hundred ghosts walked the night. On this day, the denizens of the dark had waited a long while, and the Ghost Lord would not interfere much in their goings-on.

Whether they sought substitute souls or went home to visit kin, so long as they harmed no one directly, those in power turned a blind eye.

Duying knew nothing of this rule—nor that this place was also a haunt where remnants of the devil clan gathered.

And so it came to pass that she found herself besieged by a pack of evil ghosts and devil-clan remnants. When Ji Xunzhi found her, she was huddled against the wall with her head in her arms, trembling, the mark on her wrist glowing faintly, black miasma thick upon her.

A little later still, and her immortal essence would have been carved up entirely by the devil clan.

The ghosts nearby were not idle either, having agreed to drain her essence the instant she was reduced to a mortal.

The Sixth Princess of the Western Sea, reduced to such a state—Duying was heartbroken.

But her magic was weak, and these things did not obey her. Every sigil she cast was easily dodged.

Just as despair took her, a man like a banished immortal descended from the sky.

He drew his long sword, pressed two fingers together, and drew them slowly along the blade—wherever his fingertips passed, a silver light kindled.

A few words of incantation slipped from his lips; cold intent flashed in his eyes.

The next instant, he turned his wrist and drove the sword into the ground. A wild wind rose at once, whipping his robes about him.

Ring after ring of force burst from the sword's guard and scattered in every direction.

The evil creatures too slow to flee were shredded into fragments by the sudden sword aura.

Duying looked up, dazed. In eyes brimming with terror, only wonder remained.

A god had come to save her.

As Ji Xunzhi drew closer, she could hear her own heartbeat, thunderous in her ears.

Thud, thud—

"Are you all right?" That one light sentence landed heavily on Duying's heart.

She could not say a single word.

Her injuries were one reason; fear of disturbing him was the other.

Once upon a time, she had believed no man could ever move her heart.

It seemed she simply hadn't met him yet.

Ji Xunzhi was puzzled. If he wasn't mistaken, this woman bore a dragon-clan mark on her wrist. In a hundred years, he had never heard of the dragon clan bearing a mute.

Had this one perhaps had her tongue plucked out?

However you looked at it, their first meeting could hardly be called a beautiful memory.

Duying's little face was smudged black, her breath faint—she looked for all the world like she was dying.

To save her, Ji Xunzhi had transferred immortal essence and fed her immortal medicine until he nearly dropped from exhaustion.

Only for the other party to repay his kindness by clinging to him without end, insisting she would marry him in gratitude.

If heaven granted him one chance to do it all over, he thought, he would never set one foot in the Ghost Realm again.

A cool breeze passed; stars pricked the sky beyond the window.

Ji Xunzhi finished his last word, and bitterness crept over his face again.

Thank goodness he had never told Duying where his sect was. Otherwise, Kunlun would never know peace either.

Ling Wu, meanwhile, was propping her chin in her hands, wearing the look of someone deep in thought.

"So did Duying bring the old woman's son back in the end?"

After holding it in forever, the first thing she asked was the thing Ji Xunzhi least wanted to hear.

"He has already reincarnated. Naturally she couldn't bring him back."

At this, Ji Xunzhi nearly laughed from sheer exasperation.

Duying's last words before fainting had been a request that he go search the Ghost Realm for traces of the old woman's son.

And he—had actually gone!

"Oddly enough, at the old woman's home I sensed Little Junior Sister's aura. Did you meet them?" Ji Xunzhi asked.

"What?" What did this have to do with her?

"That man's name is Zhou Yan."

One stone raised a thousand waves.

Hearing that familiar name, Ling Wu's eyes went wide.

Him? What business did he have in the Ghost Realm of all places? No wonder the old woman had cried herself blind—anyone would, after troubles like that.

"What was he doing in the Ghost Realm?"

"Looking for his beloved."

"Shen Qingyu?"

Ji Xunzhi nodded. "The spell Little Junior Sister placed on him earlier was broken by some creature, and when he remembered the matter of Shen Qingyu, he made a scene about wanting to die. That night, the creature told him he could find Shen Qingyu in the Ghost Realm. And so, just as he wished—he's dead."

How was that not a wish fulfilled?

Pulling her twitching mouth into a smile that reached nowhere near her eyes, Ling Wu said, "Eldest Senior Brother, how humorous you are."

"Not one ten-thousandth as humorous as you."

In the end, their conversation concluded with Ling Wu kicking him out the door.

But Ji Xunzhi refused to give up, shouting at her closed door: "Your senior brother means well! With that three-legged-cat kung fu of yours, if you don't train properly, forget saving others—you'll barely manage to save yourself!"

Ling Wu laughed behind her sleeve. "Then remember to come save me when the time comes, senior brother. Your junior sister will be happy to marry you in gratitude."

Sure enough, at those words he stumbled, shot a sideways, aggrieved glance at Ling Wu leaning by the window, and went off looking sorrowful.

Why poke the sorest spot!