Hun Yao immediately jumped up.
Langmuir’s body tilted weakly, about to fall off the bed.
Hun Yao rushed up to hold him in his arms, turned his head and yelled outside, “Call Duogu to roll back here!!”
Attendant Liu Sha was waiting not far away to be summoned to serve, and she was also frightened and lost her composure. She turned her head and ran out, not caring that she almost knocked over a hot stone stove halfway, and plunged into the drizzle.
Langmuir was panting slightly, whispering, “I…”
“Don’t talk…don’t talk.”
Hun Yao’s face was pale, and both hands were shaking. How could this happen, how could this happen… The last moment was still talking and laughing, just now he was still acting like a baby with him, how could he suddenly not even drink the medicine?
He didn’t dare to think about it at all, he could only say dumbly, “I fed too hastily. Don’t be afraid, you rest first, and let the witch doctor feed you medicine later…”
Langmuir obediently nodded, and at the same time lifted his hand with difficulty. Hun Yao subconsciously wanted to hold it, but a hard object was stuffed into his palm.
That honey gold dagger was returned to the Demon King’s hand.
……
Soon, Duogu rushed back in the rain, looking panicked and frightened.
He first took out an emergency pill for Langmuir to eat, and then quickly changed the prescription and let the attendant go to re-boil the medicine.
The old witch doctor was wiping his sweat while muttering, his face full of unease. “If you can’t drink it this time, it’s really bad…”
From beginning to end, Hun Yao stood by the bed, silent. The sky became darker, making his silent figure look like a wronged ghost in the rain.
Langmuir refused to accept the Mana.
When it came to life and death, the reason for the slave’s refusal was so simple and absurd: he suspects that the demon king is suspecting him.
“……”
Hun Yao held the dagger in his hand, gripping it tighter and tighter until his sharp nails pierced his palm.
In fact, at the very beginning, his suspicion of Langmuir was indeed just a precaution.
In the third year, the grace of the Holy Monarch was bestowed upon the abyss, and Hun Yao, under unimaginable pressure, became the only gate between Langmuir and the demons.
During that time, the Demon King even felt that he had become a “barrier array”.
Both front and back were waves crashing towards him, one wave higher than the other. And he must always be hard, always cold, always standing there correctly.
With him there, the human could not possibly set up a real conspiracy that would harm the demons.
With him there, the demons would not rush up to tear his slave to pieces and swallow them.
But as the days went by, as Hun Yao gave Langmuir more and more power, the waves of hidden risks also grew larger and larger.
Hun Yao had to doubt his slave more and more frequently.
So the Demon King became a paranoid madman, doing many ridiculous and embarrassing things.
What about pretending to be drunk and dropping his sword, pretending to accidentally lose the bone ornament on his chest… and then secretly spying on the slave’s reaction.
In retrospect, it was not only that he dared not believe in Langmuir, but perhaps more that he dared not believe in himself.
The slave made a mistake, and there was the king of the slave to teach him a lesson. But if the heart of the Demon King began to deviate, and also make a mistake, the front was a hell of no return.
So, when he began to lose control and become biased, he became guilty.
How can there be such a relationship in the world? The more trust there is, the more suspicion there is; the more love there is, the more one cannot forget hatred.
Fortunately, Langmuir understood him. The part of the king that began to waver, the part of the king that began to soften, were all made up by the slave.
He sheathed the weapon that had fallen out, went to pick up the bone key that had fallen under the cliff, refused all inappropriate rewards, and endured all slanderous words.
He responded to every test and threat, making a silent comfort with his actions:
It’s okay, it’s okay, you see, I’m good today, and I’ll be good tomorrow.
Even once, Langmuir was forced to have no choice but to take the initiative to hide in the slave shed to avoid suspicion.
Sure enough, the disease was there. Hun Yao lit a candle in the middle of the night to look at him, grinding his teeth, and said viciously, “You better not be pretending to be sick to soften my heart.”
In fact, the Demon King rushed over overnight when he heard the news, of course, to take the slave back.
But because of this sentence, Langmuir refused to live or die. Hun Yao forcibly came in to catch him, but he smashed the bowl and held the porcelain piece against his throat, kneeling and begging the king to go back…Hun Yao had no choice but to leave the witch doctor to treat him, and he walked away in frustration.
In the end, Langmuir really dragged on until the matter that needed to be avoided was resolved before he was willing to return to the palace.
After that time, Hun Yao restrained a lot, but Langmuir became more and more like walking on thin ice.
They just pushed away the wild grass along the way and trekked step by step from the years. But when they walked to the seventh year, the slave was going to die.
Following the old habit, the slave gently said: My King need not worry, this time I will also die obediently.
My death will put a perfect end to this seven years full of entanglements and contradictions, as evidence that I have always been innocent and upright, and have a clear conscience.
…….
“My King.”
It was Langmuir who called him back to reality. The palace was very quiet, Duogu and Liu Sha had retreated at some point, only Langmuir was sitting on the bed, looking at him with a worried face.
Langmuir: “You…you’re bleeding.”
Hun Yao looked down, his right hand was already bloody from the grip.
A sour feeling surged up his throat and was swallowed back, he hoarsely replied, “Whose fault is it?”
“Don’t be like this, my King doesn’t need to be sad for me.” Langmuir shook his head, “Birth, old age, sickness, and death are the common sense of the world, I can get to today, I have no regrets, rather, I am already quite satisfied.”
Hun Yao walked over. He stood looking down at Langmuir, his eyes seeping with a dark light, like a devil about to choose someone to devour.
“Langmuir, have I spoiled you to forget that you are a slave?”
Hun Yao suddenly slammed the honey gold dagger on the small table at the head of the bed.
The freshly boiled medicine soup jumped, and a few drops splashed out.
“Who cares if you have regrets.”
“Who cares if you are satisfied.”
He suppressed his voice and said, “Who was it that didn’t know anything at first, and always bothered me to teach…Langmuir, seven years, I finally raised you to be pleasing to the eye, you actually fantasize about saying death is death?”
Sure enough, this was a more “effective” way of communication.
A wavering appeared on Langmuir’s face, and he said guiltily in a low voice, “I’m sorry.”
Hun Yao immediately leaned in to kiss him, whispering, “That’s right. Be obedient, this time it’s not a test for you, it’s an order, you have to get better, satisfying me is your duty.”
“The abyss is already stable, and the affairs of the demons no longer need you to be busy, you just like at the beginning, being a slave used for the night is just right.”
“After your Mana recovers, I will put the prohibition lock on you again, and match the bone key. From now on, you will stay in the palace, don’t go out and wander around, do you know?”
Langmuir lowered his eyes. “But…”
He hesitated for a while, pushed the quilt away with both hands, and then opened his robe.
The human body was white and thin, very good-looking, but there were patches of pale purple scales on the waist, lower abdomen, chest and other places. The color was beautiful and strange, glittering, and it had already occupied one-third of the body surface.
Hun Yao’s first reaction was that he was afraid of him catching a cold, so he quickly grabbed the quilt and shouted, “What are you doing!”
Langmuir turned around again, revealing his neck to the back.
He said, “My King, look, I have so many scales on my body.”
Hun Yao was stunned for a moment. He was covering the quilt on the human body, and accidentally touched the cool scales with his fingertips.
Langmuir put his robe back on his shoulders, and stuffed his right hand into Hun Yao’s palm. “You look at my nails again, they have also hardened.”
Hun Yao held Langmuir’s hand in a daze.
He lowered his head and stared at the hand in his palm. The human nails were not like this when they first entered the abyss, they should be softer, with a light pink color.
But now, Langmuir’s nails were clearly hard. It’s just that because he often trimmed them round, instead of leaving them sharp like the demons, it’s not so obvious.
An ominous premonition suddenly pressed Hun Yao so that he couldn’t breathe, as if he had fallen into a lightless deep sea.
He heard Langmuir say regretfully, “It’s a pity that horns and scales should not grow out.”
Hun Yao’s throat was stuck, and he felt an ominous chill rushing up along his spine. He suddenly didn’t want to hear what Langmuir was going to say next, but he lost his voice when he opened his mouth.
“Langmuir,” he said helplessly, letting his two nails gently collide, making a crisp sound.
“Seven years have passed, my bones and blood have become accustomed to this land, how can it still accept the pure light of Mana?”
“I am now at most half-human and half-demon, my body has been soaked in pure demonic breath for so long, maybe the demonic part is even more.”
“My King, I am no longer the Child of Light from seven years ago. Mana can no longer prolong my life, forcibly entering the body, it will only make me die faster.”
Finally, Langmuir looked up with violet-like eyes, his voice was ethereal like a spring breeze blowing outside the abyss.
He said, “In these three months, you can use me more, so that I can compensate a little bit.”
The Demon King’s pupils silently enlarged.
He moved his lips, but did not make a sound. The world was spinning before his eyes.
Accompanied by a sharp ringing in his ears, the lightless deep sea swallowed him.
……
Drip.
Drip drip.
……
Raindrops fell from the hair in front of his eyes.
The Demon King slowly raised his head. Before his eyes was a vast wilderness after the rain, the black clouds were being torn apart by the wind bit by bit, revealing the gray sky.
He thought blankly: Where is this, why am I here?
I don’t remember, I don’t remember anything.
Hun Yao knelt blankly in this strange wilderness, not knowing how long he had been drenched in the rain, he was soaked from head to toe, dripping with cold water.
It seemed that he had fallen into a bewildering nightmare.
He had felt this way once before, fourteen years ago, when he sat numbly in his own pool of blood, looking up to see the honey gold arrow disappear beyond the mountain.
Hun Yao suddenly shuddered, scrambling to get up–right, how is Langmuir!? He couldn’t even remember if Langmuir had drunk that bowl of medicine in the end, or if he had vomited it out again.
Trying to stand up, his knees were almost numb. The Demon King only felt a splitting headache, he closed his eyes and shook his head forcefully. Damn it, how long has he been kneeling…
Suddenly, he heard the neighing of a horse.
Hun Yao turned his head and found his beloved horse not far away, lowering its head to chew on the withered grass on the ground.
Having a mount means that he should have come all the way on horseback, but where is this place?
It’s not even a place under the jurisdiction of the royal court, there are no traces of demons living in all directions.
It doesn’t matter. Anyway, he must go back immediately. Back to the royal court, back to Langmuir’s side…
Fortunately, there were still traces of the burnt marks left by the running of the wildebeest on the ground. The Demon King moved step by step, struggling to ride the horse, looking for the direction he came from.
Just as the horse was raising its hoof, Hun Yao suddenly felt a gentle tug in his heart, he turned his head and looked at the wilderness that was gradually moving away.
In a flash, his red pupils shrank sharply, and a shudder ran through him.
He understood why he was kneeling here before.
This was just an ordinary wilderness.
Seven years ago, the army of the demons triumphantly returned from the human world. The warriors of various tribes parted ways under the barrier cliff, and the royal court army led by Hun Yao once rested in a wilderness.
The night was deep, the warriors of the demons lit bonfires, set up camps, and brutally dragged that blonde captive to the king.
Here, the Demon King accepted the allegiance of the Holy Monarch.
Here, he stabbed that honey gold dagger into Langmuir’s heart.
Stripped of Mana, infused with demonic breath, and attached with a malicious curse and joyful mockery.
Here, he completed that unforgettable revenge with great pleasure, and also took away Langmuir’s life path after seven years.
Hun Yao suddenly wanted to laugh bitterly. But he couldn’t even cry, let alone laugh.
Now, he couldn’t even feel the pain in his empty chest. So he could only raise his face, look at the eternal darkness in the sky in the howling wind, and think to himself–
Yes, so seven years later, he deserved to kneel here.
