Chapter 7: Could the Dragon Demon King Possibly Be a Woman?

Cao Kong had not expected the ink-scaled dragon to agree so readily; suspicion immediately stirred in his heart—was this a trick?

Then the ink-scaled dragon spoke, irritation in its voice: “I’ve already agreed. Why haven’t you withdrawn your magic from my body?”

Cao Kong pondered that subduing the ink-scaled dragon was not difficult for him, so he wasn’t afraid; at worst, the ink dragon might seize the chance to escape.

He raised his palm, golden threads emerging and drifting in the air. With a crackling sound, he withdrew all traces of his magic from the ink dragon’s body, reconnecting its bones as well.

Unexpectedly, the ink dragon’s gaze grew more furious and embarrassed: “I only wanted you to remove your power—who asked you to fix my bones?”

Cao Kong found himself at a loss with this ink dragon, but he disliked being passive. He said, “I’ve withdrawn my power. Now it’s your turn to fulfill your promise.”

“Of course, if you wish not to keep your word and want to leave, I won’t stop you.”

“Hmph, I always act with integrity. Having said it, why wouldn’t I teach you?”

With that, the ink dragon truly accompanied Cao Kong up the mountain. Along the way, the lesser spirits cried out in surprise and awe.

Among all creatures, the qilin was king of beasts, the phoenix the sovereign of birds, and dragons the supreme among scaled creatures. The ink dragon, a jiao, was closest to true dragons; if it successfully crossed the waters and endured its tribulation, it could shed its jiao form and become a true dragon, inspiring awe among the mountain’s spirits.

The ink dragon sensed this, and feeling that its jiao form drew too much attention, transformed with a shake of its body into a woman clad in black palace robes.

Her garments were as dark as ink, starkly contrasting her icy skin. Her figure was slender, her face exquisitely beautiful—like a flower on a high mountain, cold and solitary, discouraging approach.

The yellow lion spirit, seeing she was a woman, kept his eyes on her. He was a lover of beauty, but upon recalling he was no match for this dragon, he sulkily looked away.

He preferred gentle, clinging women to those who threatened his life, so he returned to his own residence, refusing to look at the ink dragon again.

As for the so-called arts and supernatural abilities, he decided to serve his ancestor when he descended in the future, surely more powerful than a captured jiao dragon.

Cao Kong was surprised; no wonder the ink dragon had reacted so strongly when he fixed her bones—she was evidently of a more reserved disposition.

He didn’t rush to ask about cultivation, instead treating her to delicious food and drink.

The cooked food tasted far better than the raw fare the ink dragon had eaten in recent days.

Her expression remained frosty, her eating graceful but swift; before long, she had devoured several pigs and sheep.

While she feasted, Cao Kong observed her. The ink dragon possessed an uncommon bearing, and as a jiao, her actions were elegant, clearly not of humble origin. Yet she seemed disdainful of the dragon clan.

Cao Kong recalled stories from Journey to the West, searching for any counterpart. Only one came to mind: the Sea-Overturning Saint, Jiao Demon King, second among the Seven Great Demon Saints, sworn brother to Sun Wukong.

But then he shook his head—how could that be?

Jiao Demon King was addressed as second brother by Sun Wukong, and with “demon” in his name, clearly not accepted by the orthodox, how could this be the woman before him?

Still, he realized the original tale never specified Jiao Demon King’s gender, and this woman’s disdain for dragons was a curious coincidence.

Cao Kong kept his doubts to himself. Regardless, the advantage was his for now, so he asked, “As the saying goes, fighting breeds respect. I am Cao Kong; may I ask how I should address you?”

Her gaze was icy, her voice crisp and cold as shattered jade: “Ao You.”

Cao Kong smiled,

“Miss Ao You, I apologize for my earlier offense. My heart is set on the Dao, and I have many questions. If you would be so kind, I hope you might enlighten me.”

Ao You sneered, a trace of anger in her voice: “You still claim to have doubts? How hypocritical.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“The path you cultivate is the highest method. Without a proper lineage, it would be impossible to succeed, yet you tell me you have questions about cultivation. Isn’t that hypocrisy?”

Cao Kong laughed bitterly, understanding the source of Ao You’s words.

He thought for a moment and replied, “Miss Ao You, you are mistaken. I have no lineage; I have cultivated in the deep mountains for many years, and my current power is merely the result of a chance enlightenment from scripture.”

Ao You looked at Cao Kong, incredulous. The way of the Dao was most mysterious and difficult—having a master by one’s side made it hard enough to achieve high-level magic, let alone mastering it through self-study to such a degree.

She was a jiao dragon, half her blood that of a true dragon, with inherited skills and hundreds of years of cultivation, yet from their earlier encounter, she knew she was inferior to Cao Kong in terms of her very life force.

Seeing Cao Kong’s sincere expression, she could not fathom a reason for him to lie, so she asked calmly, “How many years have you cultivated?”

Cao Kong recalled his years of practice. In the Misty Mountain, an apricot tree had ripened over fifty springs and autumns, so it must be over fifty years.

He answered solemnly, “I have cultivated in the mountains for more than five hundred years.”

Ao You’s pupils contracted; five hundred years to achieve such power, even greater than hers—a talent rivaling that of true dragons.

She was always cold and reserved, so though surprised, her expression remained unchanged. She merely said,

“Not bad, your practice is decent. Though you’ve spent two hundred years more than I, your talent is respectable.”

Cao Kong chuckled and bowed, praising, “Miss, your gifts are remarkable. If you had a few more decades, surely I would have been defeated instead.”

Ao You maintained her frosty demeanor but felt a pang of insecurity.

Three hundred years? ×

Seven hundred years. √

‘In the world, identity is what you claim for yourself.’ Ao You forced herself to remain composed, presenting herself as a prodigy.

“Hmph, I simply lacked the will to fight at first and didn’t use my true skills. Otherwise, who knows who would have won?”

Cao Kong nodded, “Yes, yes, you’re right.”

Ao You: [○･｀Д´･○]

She continued, “I have a fine inheritance. If you have questions, you may ask me. Your power is already exceptional, so there’s no need to change it. I can only teach you a few Daoist arts and supernatural skills. If I truly pass them on, should disaster come, don’t blame me.”

Ao You had intended to trick Cao Kong to avenge today’s humiliation, but thinking further, she realized she had been the first to steal from him, which was improper. So when the moment of teaching arrived, she felt reluctant.

Cao Kong paused, noting the surname Ao—not a common name. Combined with Ao You’s words, he began to speculate.

‘Better to learn now; at worst, I won’t use it in the future. Nine-Spirit Saint’s descent is still far off.’

He nodded, “Teach me!”

Ao You, seeing his resolve, said, “Fine. I possess Daoist arts and supernatural skills, but passing them to you may truly bring you harm. I’ll teach you just one Daoist spell.”

“Watch closely.”

She recited the secret incantation, her hands forming corresponding seals. Suddenly, wind rose and rain fell.

It was the technique for summoning wind and rain.

After demonstrating, Ao You said, “Did you understand? If not, it doesn’t matter. I spent an hour learning it myself.”

Inwardly, Ao You smiled.

An hour? Impossible. No Daoist spell was so simple—she had struggled for a whole month. Claiming it took an hour was just to pressure Cao Kong.

“Is that all?”

Cao Kong’s voice came, and immediately, wind began to rise and rain to fall.

Ao You: ???