The sky gradually darkened, and before long, fine scattered snowflakes began falling on the lion’s back. Zhi Xi raised her head in astonishment—it wasn’t even noon yet, was it? Why had the sky already turned black?

And why was it so cold? Even though it was now late winter, the further they flew forward, the more bone-chillingly cold it became—this was definitely not due to the season. A thick layer of frost had already formed on Jiutou Shi’s face, and Zhi Xi couldn’t help but shiver. Beside her, Gu Ting’s expression looked equally grim.

After another moment, Jiutou Shi finally shuddered and dared not fly forward any longer. Zhi Xi covered her head and face with her sleeve. Ahead lay profound darkness so thick nothing could be seen within five fingers’ distance, and snowflakes as large as bowls came crashing down densely, making it almost impossible to open one’s eyes. Even with their celestial bodies, they couldn’t withstand this piercing cold—was this Princess Xuan Yi’s home? They hadn’t even reached Zhongshan yet and it was already like this?

Gu Ting shouted loudly amid the tremendous wind and snow: “We can’t go any further! Otherwise we’ll all get injured! What should we do?”

Fucang looked down at Xuan Yi. She had fallen asleep again, and the lion fur beneath her had been soaked by divine blood, freezing into patches of crimson ice.

Once the Zhuyin Clan was injured, they couldn’t control their divine power from leaking out. The more severe the injury, the more severe the divine power leakage. Looking at the distant scene of raging wind and snow with ice sealed for thousands of miles, he recalled the rumors from thousands of years ago that Zhongshan Dijun had annihilated the Tongshan Clan, and since then, the Dijun had never left Zhongshan’s Changsheng Hall—this Dijun likely suffered grave injuries.

He bent down and gathered Xuan Yi into his arms, then said: “I’ll have Xiao Jiu take you back.”

With that, he leaped forward with a bound and disappeared into the pitch-black and savage wind and snow.

Xiao Jiu? Who was that? Zhi Xi was confused, but then she heard the nine-headed azure lion beneath her roar “Ao,” and only then did she exclaim in shock: “This mount is called Xiao Jiu?”

Such a… undignified name.

Gu Ting held the reins and flew back: “He’s raised Xiao Jiu since he was young—what good name could a little kid come up with? He’s a descendant of the Huaxu Clan, naturally impervious to severe cold and scorching heat. Let him escort the princess. We probably can’t go to Zhongshan.”

Zhi Xi stared blankly at the rolling snowflakes. She hadn’t really heard what Gu Ting said.

In her heart, the sword-dancing divine lord who had bewildered her for nearly ten thousand years was pure and noble, lofty and transcendent, unparalleled under heaven. But this real Fucang Shenjun seemed completely different from the one in her heart.

He was sparing with words, but not for the reasons she had imagined. He could also use various cunning tricks, inexplicably bicker with Xuan Yi, and disregard propriety to directly lift a goddess’s skirt hem.

She could no longer distinguish whether what she had been yearning for day and night was the purity of that sword-dancing divine lord’s snow-white flowing sleeves, or Fucang Shenjun who had already become her fellow disciple.

—

Fucang rushed swiftly through the wind and snow, and the dragon princess in his arms gradually became heavy and cold.

Just as he thought she was about to manifest her dragon form again, she suddenly moved, opened her eyes, and looked at him with a kind of distant sharpness. After a moment, she proudly raised her pale chin and said softly: “Fucang shixiong, I’m waiting for your apology.”

He narrowed his eyes: “Why?”

“You’ve done many discourteous things to me. The Huaxu Clan’s reputation for valuing propriety and nobility has been completely ruined by a single brute.”

Fucang said flatly: “The Zhuyin Clan’s reputation for being brave and skilled in battle has also been completely ruined by someone without the strength to truss a chicken.”

Xuan Yi said gently: “Fucang shixiong, right now I only want you to help me with one thing.”

“Speak.”

“Could you please put me down, and then smoothly leave this place?”

Fucang glanced down at her. This dragon princess was so weak her face was pale and her voice hoarse, yet she still tilted her head back to put on an air of supreme arrogance. Everyone who approached her would feel anxious inside, not knowing whether she would give them mockery as sharp as a blade, or conversation as gentle as water.

He used his hand to unceremoniously press her raised head back down, seeming not to hear her pained cry as her nose bridge collided with his chest, and said slowly: “Say one more word, and I’ll throw you back to the lower realm.”

She trembled with anger but had no way to deal with him. This situation genuinely gave him a strange and indescribable sense of pleasure that could only be described as thoroughly satisfying.

As for what the little princess of the famous Zhuyin dragon deity lineage should be like, he had never given it deep thought. When Tian Di arranged the meeting, he had gone without any emotional ripples. Over thirty thousand years, most of those he associated with were deities of noble status. That princess should also be similarly gentle and refined, pure-hearted, easy to chat with amiably to complete the obligation.

That’s what he had thought, so he was greatly mistaken.

The smooth trajectory began to twist from Huahuang’s immortal island, and now it was completely out of control. Even he was somewhat shocked by the malice hidden deep in his heart. Sometimes he really wanted to crush her to pieces, but when she transformed into a loach, she became extremely endearing.

Fucang suddenly wanted to sigh. His thumb unconsciously rubbed her head twice. Right now there were no small dragon horns there, and though she was grinding her teeth in anger, she didn’t make the squeaking mouse sounds. He actually missed that cold yet soft little loach somewhat.

The wind and snow grew increasingly fierce. Suddenly, a towering and majestic high mountain appeared before his eyes, spanning heaven and earth, profound and silent. Zhongshan had arrived.

The divine servant guards at the mountain gate saw their little princess from afar, covered in blood and being carried by a young divine lord. They were frightened into immediate chaos. By the time Qi Nan hurriedly arrived with a large group of servants and female immortals, only a white-robed divine lord stood at the mountain gate. His clothes were disheveled, with many bloodstains here and there on his body. His collar was open, exposing most of his collarbone—he looked quite improper.

Seeing Qi Nan, a trace of obscure embarrassment flashed across this elegant divine lord’s face. He covered his open collar, his voice enchanting and soft: “Divine Official Qi Nan, Fucang of the Huaxu Clan offers greetings. I have escorted your princess back.”

Qi Nan was already shocked into stunned paralysis—Fucang Shenjun?! Where was the princess?

Then, he watched helplessly as Fucang Shenjun pulled out a pitch-black tiny loach from inside his clothes. Qi Nan’s vision went dark and he almost fainted from the shock.

His little princess! Had actually manifested her dragon form!

The situation afterward was simply chaotic. After the servants carefully carried the princess back to Zifu on a rattan bed, Qi Nan finally remembered he should attend to Fucang Shenjun. When he hurried back to the mountain gate, the divine lord had already left. He beat his chest and stamped his feet again, but in the end he was still more worried about the princess’s severe injuries. He ordered the guards to seal the mountain gate before hurrying toward Changsheng Hall with an iron-gray face.

—

Xuan Yi awoke in a stretch of profound darkness. The comforting dimness surrounded her on all sides, with only a faint candlelight gently flickering in the distance.

She slowly exhaled. Her injuries were too severe—she had fallen asleep directly without time to instruct Qi Nan not to alarm her father.

Sure enough, Zhongshan Dijun’s hoarse voice soon rang out: “A’Yi, your injuries are very severe. Demon poison barbs remain in the wounds that cannot be extracted… How do you feel now?”

She wanted to turn over and sit up, but her injured body wouldn’t allow her to perform this most ordinary action. She said quietly: “Father, I’m fine.”

Zhongshan Dijun stared fixedly at his daughter’s slender body. Because her injuries were too severe, she had even manifested her dragon form earlier—this was the second time she had been injured to this extent. Hatefully, that catfish demon from the lower realm was already dead, otherwise he had countless methods to make her beg for life but unable to obtain it, beg for death but unable to achieve it.

What made him even more helpless was that the demon poison barbs in Xuan Yi’s wounds could only be extracted with Wangshu Shennu’s essence of lunar radiance. But this goddess had once been of the Taiyin Mountain dragon deity lineage, and had always been suppressed by the Zhuyin Clan for countless generations. The invitation he sent out was like a clay ox entering the sea—she gave him not half a reply.

He would have to use some methods.

Thinking of this, Zhongshan Dijun continued: “I heard Feilian Shenjun had conflict with you. A’Yi, how do you want him to apologize?”

The Zhuyin Clan never begged others. They had various thunderous methods to make others submit.

Xuan Yi shook her head: “I don’t need an apology… Father, please don’t tell Qing Yan about this matter.”

Zhongshan Dijun smiled bitterly: “Afraid of affecting him?”

Xuan Yi closed her eyes and said quietly: “The Darkness of Zhuyin consumes too much divine power. Father, please withdraw it. This small injury doesn’t require such a major mobilization.”

He couldn’t help but freeze, not knowing whether it was bitterness or joy in his heart. After all these years of maintaining superficial cordiality with him, his daughter still knew to feel sorry for him. He had countless emotions welling up inside. Over all these years—A’Cui’s death, the divine power he exhausted in his mad rage, Qing Yan’s resentment, Xuan Yi’s indifference… He thought about these things every day, but it had been a long time since they made his eye sockets sting this intensely.

This boundless, heaven-destroying, earth-obliterating regret gained some measure of redemption from her single sentence.