The Seventh Year the Demon King Captured the Holy Monarch

Langmuir was beautiful, and Hun Yao knew this well.

 

There’s no need to avoid anything, merging was one of the most common uses of slaves. When the news came that the Demon King had captured the human race’s Holy Monarch and brought him back to the Abyss, many demons discussed it enthusiastically, imagining the appearance of the beautiful human monarch being conquered by their king.

 

In their subconscious, this had already happened. It should have been on the first night Langmuir came to the Abyss, maybe not even waiting until night…perhaps even before Langmuir came to the Abyss.

 

They would say, the human monarch knelt before their king, serving this robust different race with all his might; and the Demon King, full of blood, eating the marrow to know the taste, and in order to get Langmuir, he withdrew from the human empire. He then locked this peerless beauty in his palace, enjoying day and night…

 

(t/n: Eat the marrow to know the taste-means that after experiencing something once, you still want to try it again.)

 

Many years later, Hun Yao, who was personally conquering distant tribes, was coaxed by his beloved slave to sneak out of the marching tent to “sympathize with the people” one evening, and heard similar rumors from the local tribesmen.

 

The dignified Demon King was shocked and greatly collapsed.

 

“You? Serve me with all your might??” 

 

Hun Yao’s eyesight almost turned black, he pointed at Langmuir. “Make it clear, who serves who!”

 

“…I thought my King would care more about his own debauchery and excessive infamy.”

 

“Langmuir,” Hun Yao sneered coldly on his face, his heart full of grief and indignation, “Haven’t I been scolded enough for you in my life!? By now…”

 

He was used to it, he didn’t care anymore!

 

In fact, the first merge of the Demon King and the Holy Monarch took place on a snowy winter night at the beginning of the second year, stemming from Hun Yao’s whim. And Langmuir’s performance—It’s hard to say.

 

This was normal, Langmuir had been celibate since childhood, although he was a royal, if he really wanted to take a queen to continue the bloodline, the temple would probably turn a blind eye. But perhaps because of his too devout faith, Langmuir had kept away from love since his youth, not only did he not take a queen, but he also arranged the position of the crown prince for his younger brother early on.

 

His attitude was very firm, completely in the manner of “I wish to serve the Goddess of Light for life”. The old Holy Monarch and the old Queen tried to persuade him several times, and a few ministers tried to persuade him several times, but when they found that they really couldn’t persuade him, they had to let him be.

 

So that night, after realizing Hun Yao’s intentions, Langmuir was completely off.

 

He didn’t put on any “prefer death to submission” posture, and even tried to cooperate at one point. But it didn’t work, where was the concept that had been engraved into the bone and blood so easy to subvert?

 

After the robe slipped off, the naked body began to resist violently. He closed his eyes, trembled, sweated, stiffened, breathed rapidly, and curled up tightly on the bed.

 

Hun Yao scolded, and the slave struggled to restrain his instinct, trembling trying to open his body. But when the Demon King moved slightly, this person collapsed and curled up again, just like a clamshell that couldn’t be opened.

 

Hun Yao angrily said, “Langmuir!”

 

The Demon King gritted his teeth and said word by word, “Are you so unwilling?”

 

In the dark, Langmuir dared not open his eyes, his neck burst out with thin tendons, he bit his lip and cried, as if he was going to die. But what he said was, I am willing.

 

Hun Yao took a deep breath and got up to leave.

 

Langmuir grabbed his belt and said through gritted teeth, “My King! As you said, I must be of some use.”

 

The Demon King turned his head, his eyes glowing with the aggressiveness of a cheetah in the dark.

 

His Adam’s apple rolled, and his scaly tail silently swayed half a circle.

 

“…This is your choice,” he said in a low voice.

 

Finally, the Demon King bent down again. His scaly claws passed through the darkness and held Langmuir’s knees— Suddenly, Langmuir whimpered, raised his arm to cover his face in a breakdown, and the clamshell closed again.

 

Hun Yao: “…”

 

Holy Monarch, are you playing with me?

 

Hun Yao was not prepared to come hard. In the common understanding of the demon race, merging represents indulgence, it should be a happy thing. Hun Yao was the king of the royal court, and the beautiful demons who desired to merge with him could circle around the court, he didn’t need and disdained to use force.

 

To put it bluntly, forcing a non-cooperative guy to merge, the Demon King felt wronged.

 

But Langmuir’s appearance made him feel like an arrow on the string, neither firing nor not firing. In the end, worn out of patience, Hun Yao cursed and directly pressed Langmuir’s hands on the head of the bed, and completed the merge reluctantly.

 

The experience…hm… 

 

It’s just a little bit better than “very bad, directly giving the Demon King a psychological shadow”.

 

That “little bit” of good taste came from the pleasure of bullying the enemy to tears, not the merge itself.

 

This was also normal, the Holy Monarch was a clamshell, not at all hopeful. And Hun Yao also had to worry about Langmuir’s body that had just recovered from a serious illness, and couldn’t enjoy it at all.

 

After reluctantly doing it once, Langmuir simply fainted neatly, Hun Yao’s face was extremely bad, and he almost cursed.

 

Yes, he admitted that Langmuir was beautiful, more beautiful than any demon in the abyss!

 

But what’s the point of a roast duck that can’t be eaten and splashes oil on your face?

 

The Demon King was a pragmatist. For a long time, until Langmuir adapted to his rhythm, Hun Yao felt humiliated and burdened, and the merge with Langmuir was completely his own unilateral sacrifice and contribution.

 

So the question was, what made the Demon King prefer to bear such humiliation and insist on going on?

 

——It could only be said that the pleasure of bullying the enemy to tears, indeed had the temptation to eat the marrow to know the taste for the Demon King.

 

****

 

The torment of the first year, especially the nearly two months in the slave shed, almost made Langmuir’s life dry up there, and the foundation was ruined. After the witch doctor Duo Gu saw it, he said that he might not live long.

 

Unfortunately, the Demon King did not have the ability to predict the future. He didn’t know that just two or three years later, he would be so frustrated for this sentence, and in the seventh year, he would suffer that destined severe blow.

 

At that time, Hun Yao was just very annoyed. Tasteless food, it’s a pity to discard it, feeling like he had supplied an ancestor. 

 

But…still felt it’s a pity to discard it.

 

And Langmuir’s mentality was as open-minded as ever. Even though he cried so miserably during the merge, but the next day when he recovered, he still smiled gently at the Demon King.

 

He was still full of strong curiosity and desire to learn about everything in the abyss, and he would ask if he didn’t understand anything.

 

In a blink of an eye, it was the deep winter season. The high priest Tada arranged a hundred bone chips to worship the heavens, calculated the day when the fire vein slept the deepest and the wind and snow blew the coldest, and Hun Yao prepared the sacrifice of the extreme cold festival according to the old customs.

 

He stepped out of the palace every snowy morning and sealed Langmuir’s bone key with the demonic breath. And when the Demon King came back from outside with the cold wind at night and held the bone key in his hand again, he could always see Langmuir standing by the window, trying to look far away.

 

…Like a quiet ornament, Hun Yao thought expressionlessly.

 

“My King.”

 

Langmuir turned his head, his face glowing with agility. “When you were not there, this slave heard singing, that is…”

 

“It’s a sacrificial song.”

 

When Hun Yao spoke, his voice was a bit hoarse, but his face was unusually calm. His messy braids were full of frost and snow, and from a distance, his hair color seemed to have turned gray-white like Langmuir’s, “Tomorrow is the Extreme Cold Festival, the demons commemorate their brethren and ancestors who died in each winter on this day.”

 

“Are you going to sing?”

 

“It’s not me who sings, that’s the priest’s job.”

 

Langmuir was taken aback, “You’re not going to sing?”

 

Nonsense, the leader naturally doesn’t need to sing hymns himself, and I don’t know what this guy is thinking about, probably regretting that he can’t pester me to teach him the songs of the demon race.

 

Hun Yao didn’t bother to think about it, he casually took off the large cloak from his shoulder – it was made of white animal skin, and each side of the shoulder was adorned with a string of bone pieces, strung with thick rope, making a crisp collision sound when the wind blew.

 

He used the large cloak that was still covered with snow to sweep Langmuir’s face, which indeed froze the latter.

 

“The fur is frozen,” Langmuir suddenly grabbed the corner of the cloak, he frowned, and seriously admonished, “You should wear more.”

 

Hun Yao couldn’t help but laugh in surprise.

 

Absurd, he was bullying his enemy, and the enemy was actually trying to care about him. He had known for a long time that Langmuir was somewhat absurd, but to this extent, whether it was sincere or pretense, it had gone too far.

 

“On the day of the sacrifice, the ‘cold sufferer’ needs to fast and not wear thick clothes.”

 

Hun Yao squatted down, held Langmuir’s face with both hands, and laughed, “Your words are a blasphemy against the Extreme Cold Sacrifice. Langmuir, it seems you still can’t learn to be a slave.”

 

“I’m in a good mood today, I won’t punish you. If you talk nonsense again next time, I’ll make you swallow a red-hot fire stone.”

 

“…Forgive me, I don’t know these things.”

 

“If you don’t know, learn to shut up.”

 

Unfortunately, Langmuir couldn’t learn to shut up.

 

That evening, after the attendant brought dinner and left, Hun Yao waved his hand without raising his head, and Langmuir came over and knelt at his feet.

 

There was no way, the delicate human stomach couldn’t digest too coarse food, and the slave officers were all rude guys, they couldn’t serve so delicately.

 

Hun Yao simply ordered the kitchen to add half of his meal, and then he personally picked out the food that Langmuir could barely eat and fed it to the human.

 

Halfway through dinner, Langmuir suddenly said, “My King, can you bind me in another place? I stay in the palace day and night, I can’t know anything.”

 

…As long as this person doesn’t talk nonsense, he is a beautiful and well-behaved ornament. But as soon as he opens his mouth, he always has the ability to make him angry.

 

Hun Yao’s teeth were a bit itchy, he pushed the food in front of him to the side, revealing the hollow copper holder underneath. The bottom of the copper holder was piled with fire stones that were burned red. The winter in the abyss was too cold, without the fire stones to warm it, it would be hard to finish a meal hot.

 

“Open your mouth.” Hun Yao said grimly.

 

Langmuir suddenly looked up at him, his expression somewhat startled.

 

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Hun Yao picked up the spoon he had just used for soup, stirred it in the crackling fire stone, scooped out one, “Close your eyes, open your mouth.”

 

“…”

 

“Langmuir, you are a slave, don’t forget what you exchanged for the peace of your land and people. Obey the command, open your mouth.”

 

Langmuir pursed his lips in silence, really closed his eyes and opened his mouth.

 

Hun Yao threw the fire stone into the copper holder, quickly scooped a spoonful of meat soup into his mouth.

 

“Cough…!?”

 

Langmuir was caught off guard, the soup was hot, he was choked into a violent cough, covering his mouth in astonishment and looking up.

 

The Demon King threw the spoon and laughed heartily, pointing at him with pleasure, “Easy to fool.”

 

The winter wind outside the palace was still howling.

 

After a while, Langmuir slowly laughed too, he said softly, “My King is indeed in a good mood today.”

 

Hun Yao did not comment. His gaze lingered on Langmuir’s eyebrows and eyes for a while, then deliberately moved away, looking at the howling snowflakes outside the window.

 

This winter, he had a human slave. 

 

The Demon King thought quietly.

 

This was a big deal, he was not the only Demon King who had broken the seal, but he was definitely the first Demon King who had raised and successfully kept a human in the palace. Of course, this was not an achievement, but Hun Yao himself was very proud, very…

 

Langmuir: “So, you really aren’t going to sing tomorrow? Can’t sing, or don’t want to sing?”

 

Hun Yao: “.”

 

Annoying, he should really make him swallow a fire stone!

 

****

 

The next day, in the early morning.

 

When the first horn sounded, the Demon King left the sleeping hall.

 

According to the annual custom, Hun Yao braided his long hair into a thick braid, cleansed his body with snow, tied a bone bell to each of his left and right ankles, and then personally held the skull of his ancestor, bare-chested, braving the knife-like severe cold and gale, walking on foot from the royal court towards the direction of the snow mountain.

 

The high priest Tada, shaking the bell with both hands, only wearing a robe, sang the sacrificial song with his old and hoarse voice.

 

Behind him were eighteen young and strong priests following, also singing loudly.

 

They have to walk all the way to Frost Horn Snow Mountain like this, and return the next day. Behind them, apart from a thousand royal guards who were far behind to protect them, no other demons followed.

 

During this period, the priests could drink hot water, eat dry food, and take turns to rest, but the “cold sufferer” who held the bones must not eat or drink. Such a harsh test was not something ordinary people could bear.

 

“King doesn’t always have to preside over the memorial service himself.”

 

At that time, Tianpo had not yet been sealed as a young king, she was just the personal guard leader under the Demon King. The little girl with golden eyes was full of gloom, and muttered, “Apart from my King, I have never heard of any tribal leader who has to personally suffer the cold every winter. Let the old man Tada toss about it.”

 

As she spoke, she looked at Mo Duo next to her with a hint. This inferior demon general followed the Demon King from the very beginning, maybe she’s willing to persuade?

 

Mo Duo saw through this girl’s little mind, lazily hummed, “Oh, don’t look at me, with my King’s temper, if I interrupt, he will only make me swallow a fire stone.”

 

The two female demons rode on wildebeest, leading the personal guards from a distance.

 

Suddenly, Hun Yao, who was walking in front, tilted his head in the snowstorm and looked thoughtfully in the direction of the palace.

 

Tianpo and Mo Duo couldn’t help but look along.

 

A figure in a white robe stood quietly at the palace window, seeming to have a distant eye contact with their king.

 

“Hmph, that human race’s holy monarch…” Tianpo frowned and whispered, “My King seems to like him very much.”

 

“Just a human pig.” Mo Duo sneered and hooked her lips.

 

“But that’s a human who can face my King head-on,” Tianpo snorted, “I have a feeling that he is dangerous, not as docile as he appears. My King just lets him stay by his side, it’s a huge risk.”

 

A risk, who could deny it? Moduo thought, but perhaps for the King, this was an exciting game.

 

In the abyss, there was a lack of amusement, only battle, slaughter, and conquest could stimulate excitement.

 

Moduo looked up at the king. Hun Yao took a long time to withdraw his gaze, his eyes falling back on the mottled snow scene in front of him.

 

Not knowing what he was thinking, the Demon King’s gaze seemed a bit vacant, but the corner of his lips curved slightly, as if he was smiling.

 

Suddenly, Hun Yao began to sing. His loud and melodious sacrificial song echoed across the snowy field.

 

Tianpo couldn’t believe her eyes and ears, she blurted out, “Why is the King…!?”

 

Moduo was equally shocked, “The King can actually sing the sacrificial song, I’ve never heard it before!”

 

Not only could he sing, but he also sang those ancient tunes so exquisitely!

 

Not to mention them, even the old priest Tada behind Hun Yao, and the ten young priests were all stunned, almost singing the wrong tune.

 

The Demon King didn’t care, he continued to sing the sacrificial song on his own, stepping on the snow and moving forward.

 

In the flute-like mournful wind, the Demon King’s voice overshadowed Tada and the young priests, resonating deeply. It seemed as if it would reach the peak of the Frost Horn Snow Mountain, then to the top of the Boundary Cliff, all the way to where the illusory moon was.

 

Tianpo and Moduo couldn’t recover for a long time.

 

After who knows how long, Tianpo lowered her moist eyes, murmuring to herself, “The Extreme Cold Festival, commemorating every winter in the Gasuo Abyss, commemorating every compatriot and ancestor who died in hunger and cold.”

 

“Now, at least within the King’s court, no more clansmen will die of starvation.”