This woman, holding a zither, empowered by the Divine Sword, her strength could no longer be simply described as 'strong'.
In terms of martial arts combat power, she was already on the same level as Simon.
Without using his divine abilities, Simon would also need a fierce battle to defeat her.
The woman still seemed lost in thought, asking blankly, "Have you seen my Chou Hu? Where is he? Did he fly to the Heavenly Palace? Or did he fall into the Underworld?"
Her voice grew colder and colder, "Never mind, you don't have to answer. You all want to deceive me. Only my Chou Hu..."
The woman was furious and heartbroken, and the ignorant strange fires around her blazed wildly. Onlookers only felt waves of heat assaulting them, and the flames transformed into demonic claws, twisting wantonly.
Simon had always adhered to a simple and direct approach to combat: if martial arts cultivation couldn't overwhelm, then he would use divine abilities.
"Lesser Thousand Realms Palm!"
As soon as the move was unleashed, heaven and earth fell silent.
...
The little girl sat on the ground. The palace was vast and dim, with tall pillars and drapes standing in the distance, cold and eerie, like a forest at dusk. The structural parts of these buildings were neatly arranged, giving a sense of order, but there was no warmth at all, only a cold, iron-clad atmosphere.
The palace lanterns were lit, their light sparse and shallow, also huddled in the distance. It wasn't dim, and even looked a bit dazzling, but it truly couldn't illuminate the great hall.
Objects filled with carved patterns created dense and heavy shadows; no matter how the light tried, it couldn't completely dispel the darkness here.
A brazier burned, and a middle-aged man with disheveled hair, his splendid sacrificial robes soaked with sweat, gasped, frantic and focused. He was communicating with some lofty deity or the distant, ethereal natural law with all his heart and soul.
The man threw a dragon bone into the brazier, intensely searing it.
The surface of the brazier was carved with the image of a nine-tailed fox, and the flames were blue, looking cold, yet they were indeed scorching hot.
The man mumbled an unknown incantation, then reached into the embers, pulled out the dragon bone, tossed it onto the ground, picked up a clay pot nearby, took a mouthful of clear water, and spat it onto the intensely hot dragon bone, creating a burst of steam. The bone plate cracked with a dull sound.
The man in the depths of the great hall spoke, so indistinctly that it was impossible to hear clearly, as if he couldn't remember: "All Lord Zhai Fu... how is it..."
The man named Lord Zhai Fu held up the dragon bone, carefully observing the cracks, and also spoke. His lips collided, his eyes bloodshot. His tongue gently tapped against his gums and tooth roots, making a crisp sound, and even spitting out saliva. Strangely, the girl was more sensitive to such minute sounds than to human voices.
"...Its beauty, its beauty, heaven and earth overturned, the four seasons severed, the soldiers of the three directions raise their weapons, the land is stained red, calamities above and below, this is the sign of ultimate defeat..."
The lofty man uttered a few words, "...Destroy his face."
A palace maid came with a knife, its white blade, orange-red in the light of the palace lanterns, became dark and no longer reflective after cutting her cheek and being stained with blood.
The girl was bewildered, covering her face, blood gushing.
...
The wounds on her face healed, only to be cut again, yet they would still heal. The metallic taste of the knife, mixed with the fishy salty taste of blood, flowed into her mouth. Running down her lips and chin, it fell onto the sandalwood floor, shattered drops of blood, like peach blossoms in the sparse daylight.
Since disfigurement was impossible, she wore men's clothing and a veil.
The childhood window was overcast with dark clouds.
Was the sky always so dim here?
Or was it that the Qingqiu Kingdom was not worthy of gazing at the blue sky?
This country had no fire.
Except when divining.
Those flames were the demon fox's strange fires. That group of spirits was on good terms with the Qingqiu Kingdom, but not intimately close.
At nineteen, she should be called a woman.
Yi Yihou, the princess of Qingqiu Kingdom, the seventeenth daughter of Shufang.
Sixteen older sisters had successively married Shuibo Tianwu, the monarch of Shufang.
Only Yi Yihou remained.
She stayed by her father's side.
That cowardly, weak, greedy, lazy, soft waste. A mediocre king, an incompetent father.
Yi Yihou must not be discovered by the world as a woman.
Her beauty would drive the world mad.
Shufang banished her from the country, to live with those foxes.
...
Leaving her own country, leaving that palace.
The oppressive colors suddenly burst forth, and the beautiful scenery of the world rushed in, simply overwhelming.
Living with the foxes, they were smarter than humans, and also simpler than humans.
Looking up, she still couldn't see the sun in the sky, but this place was full of sunshine.
Yi Yihou was accustomed to darkness and feared light.
So she was with that lonely fox, that seven-tailed fox, called Chou Hu by his nine-tailed kin, but to human eyes, he was still very handsome, with pure white, soft fur, and beautiful, clear eyes that conveyed all sorts of emotions, reaching deep into the heart without a word.
The seven-tailed spirit fox took Yi Yihou through everything, everything she had never experienced, everything she had longed for, everything she had never imagined.
A fox with magic was always immensely powerful. Fulfilling every wish of every girl.
Everything, everything, each was the other's everything.
Yi Yihou played the zither, and the seven-tailed fox sat on a branch, watching her.
This was not love.
But this was indeed love.
Regardless of body or appearance.
It was merely the intertwining of spirits.
Entangled in honey-like love and hate, you and I, both unable to extricate ourselves.
I can't recall people's words, but every word of yours, I remember by heart. My solemn vows are also treasured in the jewel box of memories.
"Chou Hu, Chou Hu, be my husband. In spring, pluck peach blossoms, drink sweet nectar together. In summer, gather plums, sometimes close, sometimes distant. In autumn, harvest grain, weave at the loom. In winter, build a fire pit, burn beanstalks. In the morning, cross the Si River, in the evening, pillow on Mount Nan. I am a quiet maiden, you are a good gentleman. Picking duckweed and artemisia, you go, I return. There is a fox, graceful; there is a maiden, beautiful. Let us accomplish good deeds together, and our auspicious marriage will be perfected by heaven."
Yi Yihou fell in love with Chou Hu.
They married.
Now, the general public heard about it.
Yi Yihou was a woman.
A peerless beauty.
The three words, Yi Yihou, held magic. Kings and ministers, commoners, lost themselves upon hearing it, and their souls were captured upon seeing it.
How long could the couple, living peacefully in Qingqiu, remain peaceful?
...
The stream babbled.
I was washing clothes by the water, the pounding mallet striking the coarse-cut garments, making a thudding sound. It was this sound, this simple rhythm, this was my life, my love. If such a melody could echo eternally, then I would willingly accept its monotony.
The reflections in the flowing water were all the image of Chou Hu.
In the woods behind me, withered leaves and broken branches were crushed by unfamiliar footsteps.
Lord Zhai Fu.
He had aged, his once dark, lustrous long hair had become withered and white. There were no bloodshot veins in his eyes, and he looked very sincere.
"...Your husband... ascended to immortality..."
Lord Zhai Fu, his words, were more sudden than ten thousand bolts of lightning on a clear day.
How could Chou Hu abandon Yi Yihou and ascend to immortality alone?
But rushing into their small hut, there was no Chou Hu, only a layer of illusory rainbow mist.
Everything in this house was familiar, built by my own hands. Even the splinters on the doorframe, and the blood from my fingertips on the splinters, were clear. But without him, everything became strange.
So strange!
"...Shuibo has commanded... to marry... the seventeenth daughter..."
Your words, Lord Zhai Fu, and those of the palace maids, my father, the words you speak are too heavy, too much mixed in. Don't you feel tired?
...
Eight hundred li of bridal trousseau.
Only to marry the most beautiful woman in the world.
Yi Yihou gazed at the world beyond the curtains, past the drumming and gong-beating servants, past the sparsely overgrown plains, past the desolate pond, past the mountains, flying over the clouds.
Chou Hu in the sky, are you watching the peach blossoms?
Spring has arrived, and the branches in front of our house are adorned with beautiful, delicate petals. Their falling looks truly like a heavy rain.
People's lives are like a funnel, everyone sliding deeper.
However, childhood is the most lenient time, everything is new, everything can be tried. As one grows older, people fall into a narrow channel, bound to move little by little.
But my life was the exact opposite.
Born and raised in shackles, at the most devoted age, I suddenly broke into an infinitely vast world, into the infinitely vast heart of Chou Hu.
Every moment destiny arranged for us to meet was a blessing to me.
Now that we are separated, it is simply that our fate has run its course.
Lord Zhai Fu and King Shufang rode horses behind the wedding carriage. The wife of Shuibo, even if she was Shufang's daughter, her status was definitely higher than theirs.
"...Ahead is..."
"Well done..."
What were they whispering?
The mountain ahead, I know it. The peach tree in front of our house was moved from this Fenshen Mountain.
The peach blossoms blooming all over the mountain in spring were as fiery as fire, burning gods and immortals.
How beautiful.
Suddenly, that mountain really caught fire!
What a big fire!
Like the Earth Mother's wrath, her anger burning the sky.
Fox fire!
It's Chou Hu!
...
Yi Yihou rushed into the sea of fire, her tears paving the way for her. In the depths of the peach blossoms all over the mountain, a white fox lay on its back, its small body pierced by a large peach wood nail, nailed down among the falling petals.
The great fire raged, roaring, its explosions shaking heaven and earth. The firelight seemed to burn through years of clouds and mist, and the clear sunlight finally arrived late in Yi Yihou's life.
In this frantic roar, the sound of blood tears falling on fur was still clearly discernible.
King Shufang and Lord Zhai Fu pursued into the sea of fire, burned to death by the intense flames.
They wailed, a symphony of death.
It was death.
If death can keep us together, then I will go to the Underworld with you.
...
The fire on Fenshen Mountain extinguished. Strangely, not even a single blade of grass or tree on the mountain was scorched.
All the peach blossoms on the mountain had withered, with only two exceptions.
One tall, one short, relying on each other for survival.
-------------------------------
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