The Seventh Year the Demon King Captured the Holy Monarch

On the same night, when the ghost nightingale began to chirp from the branches outside the palace window, Langmuir finished bathing and dressing, barefoot stepping on the thick carpet on the floor, heading towards the soft bed that he hadn’t been able to lie on for nearly four months.

“Lord Langmuir!”

Attendant Liu Sha, with Langmuir’s old clothes draped over her arm, quickly caught up from behind and exclaimed, “My God, where is your lock?”

“Ah,” Langmuir turned back, showing a bit of a bitter smile, and said, “It was taken by my Ling.”

Liu Sha immediately showed a knowing expression.

She wasn’t very surprised. Since the king began to hang the bone key on the lord’s chest, the so-called lock had completely lost its original function. Now that it had been removed, it was just a formal change.

Six or seven years have passed, and this female demon, who once briefly served as the demon king’s merge partner, was still beautiful, even more lively and charming than before.

Perhaps the days had gotten better, and she had become more spirited. Liu Sha ordered the attendant to take the old clothes down for washing, then swayed her honey-colored tail, twisted her body and coquettishly said to Langmuir, “Liu Sha hasn’t seen the lord for a long time…”

“Lady Attendant, behave yourself,” Langmuir patted Liu Sha to signal her to move away, but his expression was very gentle, “If my King sees, are you going to kneel on the ground and cry again? How many times have you done this?”

Liu Sha just laughed sweetly, saying something like “the lord will always save me”.

A human and a demon passed through the hanging bed curtains. Liu Sha helped Langmuir sit comfortably on the bed, while she knelt on the ground, massaging Langmuir’s feet while curiously asking the human about the interesting things about the expedition to the north.

Langmuir also picked some memorable fragments to tell her. He said that the army stepped over the Frost Horn Mountains, startling the crows to fly, nearly ten thousand in total; he said that the wildebeest ran wildly across the frozen river, the Demon King wrapped him tightly from behind with a large cloak, and when he laughed, the white fog would blow in his ear; he also said that the two armies fought on the plains in the north, the crisscrossing demonic breath was too dense, it actually stimulated the earth fire to break out of the ground…

“…The battle was in chaos, Watie’s son saw the situation was not good, led the remnants to sneak away from the rear. My King saw with sharp eyes, led a few hundred soldiers and chased after them on horseback. By evening, when the army retreated and counted, they found that the King was missing. It is said that General Moduo and General Asayin were so scared that their faces turned white, and they hurriedly came to report to me…”

When it came to the thrilling part, Langmuir couldn’t help but chuckle, “Report to me, what can I do? I’m still terrified, but I have to pretend to be calm on the surface and soothe the two generals…In fact, my legs were soft.”

Attendant Liu Sha was also amused and laughed non-stop, saying, “I don’t believe it, would the lord also have moments of panic?”

If the Demon King were here, she would never dare to be so unruly, but in front of Lord Langmuir, she could be spoiled no matter how she acted up.

“I’m not worried about other things,” Langmuir sighed lightly, “It’s just the King’s old injury…These years of medication and recuperation, but there is still no significant improvement, it’s really life-threatening.”

Speaking of this, Liu Sha immediately stopped laughing.

“Attendant Liu Sha.” Lanmiel said, “My King is used to being strong, and the young king is young, the two generals are busy with affairs, and Lord Duogu can’t always serve… I really can’t rest assured. If I’m not by the King’s side in the future, please, Attendant Liu Sha, keep an eye on him for me.”

Attendant Liu Sha was stunned for a moment, vaguely feeling that there was something strange about this statement.
In these two years, Lord Langmuir and the King have been inseparable, and their feelings have been getting better and better, so why would he suddenly think of “not being by the King’s side”?

But before she had time to think about it, there was a noise outside.

A demon guard stepped into the palace, holding a gold plate that was only used when the Demon King bestowed treasures, and knelt outside the bed curtain.

“May you have a good night, Lord Langmuir. My King asks you to accept this.”

On the gold plate was a layer of soft white satin, which was one of the rarest fabrics in the abyss.

But when the guard respectfully lifted it, the silver snow light that came out from inside instantly made everything around it look dim.

“My god…” Liu Sha covered her mouth and exclaimed in a very low voice.

A snow-silver leaf harp, polished as smooth as a pearl, laid quietly in the white silk.

“This is…”

Langmuirl stood up in surprise. He lifted the bed curtain and walked out, reached out to pick up the harp, and a soft light appeared in his eyes.

“My King instructed that he still has some things to do, and he won’t come back to accompany the lord tonight. Please accept the gift, rest early, and my King will definitely return tomorrow night.”

“Thank you, is my King still in the main hall?”

“Replying to the lord, my King is interrogating the attacking rebels in the dungeon.”

Langmuir looked up at the sky and thought: It’s so late and he’s still interrogating, Hun Yao probably really won’t be back tonight.

However, the royal court was different from the past, the Demon King being attacked on the way back from conquering a tribe, it was indeed strange. If the mastermind behind it could be tried out as soon as possible, it would also be a good thing.

Langmuir looked around, casually took a few jade shells from the head of the bed as a reward and gave them to the guard, letting him go back. The latter was grateful, quickly knelt down and kissed the human’s toes, as a substitute for the ceremony of kissing the scale tail.

As soon as the attendant left, the eyes of Liu Sha began to shine uncontrollably.

“My god, my god,” she said, “Lord Langmuir, you must be about to be crowned queen, you must be!”

Langmuir was both annoyed and amused, subconsciously refuting as usual, “Liu Sha, don’t talk nonsense, I’m just a slave of my King…”

“But,” Liu Sha interrupted confidently, “Lord, you clearly don’t wear the lock anymore.”

Langmuirl was suddenly taken aback.

He subconsciously touched his neck, not saying a word.

After a while, he composed himself and repeated, “Don’t talk nonsense.”

****

Of course, Langmuir didn’t think Hun Yao would make him queen.

The Demon King’s marriage involved too much, their past and the history between the races, which added too much hatred to this relationship.

But the arrival of this harp did bring some confusion to his heart.

Langmuir almost forgot that he still had a musical instrument he loved in the past that was kept by Hun Yao. In these years in the abyss, his mood seemed to had been polished to be more and more calm, his emotions rarely fluctuated violently, no wonder Hun Yao always worried about giving him gifts.

He just found it strange–since it was such a big surprise, according to the King’s temperament, he should wag his tail and proudly give it to him personally.

Something doesn’t seem right, Langmuir thought.

Perhaps because the final time was gradually approaching, he had been restless lately.

Liu Sha left, but Langmuir did not sleep.

He blew out the bronze lamp, walked two steps in the dark, and sat down alone on the soft chair by the window.

Langmuir had liked this position for many years, he had seen the Cliff Moon on the horizon through this window, and also watched Hun Yao holding bones in the wind and snow from here.

Later, Hun Yao specially put a soft chair under the window for him, which was made according to the body shape of the demon race, and Langmuir could use it as a bed by curling up.

So he liked it even more, he could nest by the window all day when he was free, and sometimes, he would be despised by the King for being like a sculpture.

King…

Langmuir touched the place on his neck where the lock should have been again, thinking: After he left, would Hun Yao occasionally think of him?

He is about to leave the world forever, while his Demon King still has a long way to go.

In the future, how would the King think of him?

He began to feel a bit of tinnitus vaguely, and he couldn’t hear the sound of the attendant walking and talking outside very clearly.

Langmuir frowned and touched his forehead. He looked down at the harp in his arms in a daze for a long time, wanted to try to pluck the strings, but accidentally dropped the instrument on the ground.

A dense stabbing pain crawled up his internal organs, Langmuir coughed twice, and suddenly felt a little dizzy.

He originally wanted to bend over to pick up the harp, but now he dared not move rashly. The pain in his body became more and more severe, he held the armrest of the soft chair and breathed in carefully, his palms kept sweating cold sweat.

…How would the King think of him?

This thought just came up, and was suppressed again.

Langmuir closed his eyes for a moment, trying to relieve the continuous dizziness.

But when he opened his eyes again, his vision gradually became blurred.

The light of the Cliff Moon seemed to spread like it was melting in the water waves.

Perception slipped away from his quietly sitting body. Langmuir’s eyes became more and more dizzy, heavy eyelids began to struggle to fall, until he could not see any color, the world was spinning.

Gradually, he forgot where it hurt, and also forgot where he was, only feeling like he was about to shatter.

Langmuir tried hard to open his eyes, but there seemed to be a brilliant wind blowing in front of him.

The Cliff Moon, the moon he had looked up to for seven years, was cruelly wiping his pupils with light.

In a daze, he was running, with the scenery quickly retreating on both sides in front of him. The sound of the wind and his own heavy breathing were in his ears.

The long grass cut through his skin, scales peeled off from his body, and tears kept pouring out of his eyes. He had once run lost in an unknown wilderness, panting almost to the point of crying.

Goddess, if he was given another chance, he would definitely turn back.

On the soft chair, Langmuir’s body silently slid down a bit.

He was too quiet. He was clearly sick, clearly struggling on the edge of consciousness and fainting, but he didn’t make a sound.
The attendants were coming and going at a distance of a layer of curtain and dozens of steps, none of them noticed his abnormality. After a while, Attendant Liu Sha came to see, thinking that he was asleep on the soft chair, so she carefully carried him to the bed and closed the curtain.

The movement woke Langmuir up in palpitations. The night color covered his pale face well, he silently took a deep breath, then smiled apologetically and said, “Sorry, the Cliff Moon tonight is too gentle, it lulled me to sleep.”

Liu Sha had no idea that this person had just fainted once, and said softly, “Lord, you should rest soon.”

So Langmuir closed his eyes peacefully.

He wanted to return to the wilderness where he had run in his dreams, but time was unwilling to give him a chance to turn back. Langmuir suffered from insomnia, he could only sink into the depths of the dark bed, wrapped in a soft quilt, letting his thoughts wander between that question.

How would the King think of him?

When he confessed his remaining life and the secret he had hidden for too long.