The Seventh Year the Demon King Captured the Holy Monarch

When Hun Yao rode back to the royal court, he was already dry. Apart from being a bit dirty and disheveled, he hardly looked like he had spent a night going mad in the rain.

Along the way, the Demon King encountered several patrols of demon guards, who all came up to salute him in surprise.

Only then did Hun Yao realize that he had disappeared for almost a day after he walked out of the palace in a daze yesterday.

Thanks to his habit of running around aimlessly, and the fact that he had left the army behind on the battlefield more than once or twice, the demons of the royal court were somewhat resistant to this…otherwise, there would have been chaos long ago.

When Hun Yao returned to his palace, he just saw that familiar figure walking out from inside.

Langmuir was wearing his usual white clothes and robe, his normally loose silver hair was simply tied into the wide braid style that the demons liked, and then coiled up at the back of his head.

He looked pale, but seemed to be in good spirits. He was still barefoot, and walked out as if nothing had happened, even waving to the attendant inside before he left.

Hun Yao was dumbfounded, almost doubting whether everything before was a nightmare.

He blurted out, “Langmuir! What are you doing outside!?”

To his surprise, the human was even more astonished when he saw him, and immediately came over – those obviously weak steps seemed to confirm that the previous bad news was not a dream.

Hun Yao took hurried steps, and held him up.

“My King, where on earth did you go, we couldn’t find you for a whole day!”

Langmuir, on the other hand, grabbed the Demon King’s arm, his face full of anxiety and helplessness, and shook it hard twice, “If you don’t come back, the young king might think I’ve eaten you…”

Hun Yao couldn’t answer, he felt that if he told Langmuir truthfully “I ran to the wilderness where I stabbed you back then and was dazed in the rain for a day and a night”, the human would immediately call Duogu to check his brain.

After holding back for a long time, he still said, “What are you standing outside for?”

Langmuir said “Oh”, his expression clear, “The rain stopped in the morning, and I feel much better.”

“Didn’t my King say before that the people of the Watie tribe were to be disciplined by me? It’s been delayed for several days, I thought I should go and see while I can still run…”

Hun Yao: “…”

The Demon King looked at the person in front of him, so angry that he wanted to tremble. This slave was so capable that the emotions in his numb chest were rekindled in an instant.

He suppressed his anger and said gloomily, “Langmuir, don’t you know you’re sick!?”

“Yes,” Langmuir blinked innocently, “but lying down is also being sick, doing things is also being sick. Miasma entering the body, it’s not like moving a bit will immediately worsen and die, it’s better to do something.”

“By the way,” he asked again, “what else does my King want me to do for you?”

“..…”

The humid air after the rain spread around them.

Hun Yao moved a little closer to Langmuir, one hand holding up the human’s cheek.

“Langmuir.” He said with a deep gaze.

“You often make me feel that it’s absolutely reasonable for me to suspect that you have ulterior motives.”

“What are you suspecting again?”

“I suspect that you want my life.”

Oh, isn’t this the same old story. Langmuir couldn’t help but laugh, helplessly patting Hun Yao’s back of the hand.

“Yes, yes, when I’m gone, there won’t be anyone to play this game with you… At that time, will my King miss me?”

“Maybe.”

“Then, I’m going to see our new compatriots, is my King coming too?”

“Of course.”

Langmuir’s eyes brightened. He would be happy to spend more time with Hùn Yào in these last days.

Hun Yao immediately called Liu Sha to prepare a carriage. The attendant’s eyes were a bit red and swollen, as if she had cried a lot yesterday.

She whispered to the Demon King with a hoarse voice, “Lord Duogu said that during this last period, it’s better to let Lord Langmuir do whatever makes him happy…”

Hun yao still felt unreal, he rolled up Langmuir’s beloved firefox fur blanket and held it in his arms, walking out and muttering to himself, “But he looks much better.”

The carriage arrived quickly. The Demon King let the slave rest in the carriage, and he went back and forth between the palace and the carriage, stuffing Langmuir’s things into it one by one.

He told Langmuir to stay in the carriage and not move, and the latter obeyed, just patiently instructing, “We need to stay there for several days, please remember to bring medicine with you. The medicine is at the corner of the bed.”

…Humph, a person who has been declared to have only three months to live, can still hang another guy’s medicine.

Hun Yao was both angry and amused, when he stuffed the wine bag with medicine into Langmuir’s hand, he thought: So there will always be a way, right? His condition, no matter how you look at it, doesn’t seem like he’s already… already…

Besides, in Tada’s bone chip divination, Langmuir will still come to cut his horn. Maybe this cunning human is just pretending to be sick, even Duogu was deceived, and now he is waiting for an opportunity to kill him.

As Hun Yao was thinking wildly, the last time he returned to the carriage, Langmuir was already rolling in the carriage with the firefox blanket. Half-squinting, his silver hair lazily spread out, looking more like a fluffy fox than the original owner of the fur.

Hun Yao’s arm passed under the human’s ribs, holding the front chest of that soft and warm body, and lifted Langmuir up.

He showed what he had brought, “Put it on.”

It was that fine silver lock.

He originally wanted to recast it into a pair of bracelets, but now Langmuir’s condition had deteriorated to this point, he really needed the fine silver that could resist miasma.

There was no time to recast. Hun Yao could only return this lock symbolizing the identity of a slave to him.

Langmuir happily put it on.

Hun Yao randomly rubbed that silver-gray hair, pressed the person into his arms, and didn’t know if it was a psychological effect, he always felt that the weight was lighter than before the royal court.

The coachman came. But Langmuir tugged at Hun yao and whispered, “My King, shall we two go?”

Hun Yao sensitively realized that the human seemed to have become a little bit more willful.

He immediately said to the coachman, “Go down, we don’t need you.”

Then he sat on the front board and took up the reins.

Langmuir laughed, “I’d better do it. If the Demon King is seen driving a carriage for a slave…”

“Stay quiet inside,” Hun Yao glared at him and scolded softly. “Go.”

…….

The people of the Watie tribe were settled on a piece of land on the border of the royal court, and there were soldiers stationed along the way to build temporary shelters for them.

In the past two days, the newcomers had initially settled down, and the register had also been checked.

In the abyss, many inferior demons did not have formal names, it was Langmuir who insisted on the importance of checking the population, and the royal court began to make a register of the tribes.

The land stretched to the horizon.

The demons, dressed in rags, were building their new houses. Some were slower, laying the foundation; some were faster, plastering and building walls.

And some other demons were bending over in the fields, clumsily sowing seeds full of hope into this barren land.

From a distance, their figures seemed to have turned into little seeds.

When the carriage slowly drove up from the winding mountain road, the first to react were the demon soldiers.

They all came up, thumped their spears upright in the ground, and shouted excitedly.

“My King!”

“Lord Langmuir!”

Hun Yao hummed and slowly stopped the carriage. Langmuir inside lifted the curtain of the carriage and laughed, “How did you know it was me?”

The demons looked at each other and smiled. Who else could make the Demon King drive personally, if not Lord Langmuir…

The people of the old Watie tribe straightened up and whispered:

“It’s that human!”

“The human who shot arrows in the valley.”

“The human who was granted demonic breath by the King.”

Langmuir leaned out of the carriage, Hun Yao turned his head back and glared at him, but the human insisted, “Just go and see, otherwise what are we here for?”

Hun Yao had no choice but to let him down from the carriage. Langmuir stepped barefoot on the ground, and his fair toes were immediately stained with mud. He walked towards those demons who were just learning to farm.

Previously, the demons were forced to migrate with the changes in the underground fire veins. Later, due to Langmuir’s more reliable calculation method, the frequency of the royal court’s migration greatly reduced, and they could already cultivate some crops.

Although due to the harsh and changeable climate, the harvest still depended on luck, but it was much better than before when they mainly relied on gathering, hunting, and a small amount of grazing.

Langmuir walked into the middle of these demons who were just starting to try farming, spoke softly to them, or taught them how to distinguish seeds by hand, and then took this opportunity to teach them some rules in the royal court.

Hun Yao followed not far or near, and a familiar question emerged in his heart.

Yes, the Demon King had thought more than once: Is this guy really a normal son of god?

Shouldn’t he be wearing spotless white clothes, playing the harp high above?

Hun Yao asked Langmuir this question, and the latter lowered his eyes and said, “When I was in the human world, I didn’t have many opportunities to be close to the people.”

“The temple and the people both demand the purity of the son of god, and as a Holy Monarch, he must maintain his dignity… This is my biggest regret.”

…I don’t know if he transferred this regret to the demons in the abyss.

Hun Yao was in a daze, suddenly a female demon carrying a child on her back, with a thin face, came over timidly. Perhaps seeing the Demon King, she was too scared, and she tripped on the ridge of the field.

Hun Yao instinctively reached out, and there was also another white-sleeved arm next to him –he and Langmuir, one left and one right, both supported this mother.

Tears suddenly appeared in the eyes of the female demon.

“My King!” She knelt on the ground.

“My merciful King…”

“Tsk.” Hun Yao’s eyes twitched. Merciful, he could actually be crowned with this title!

Langmuir next to him laughed out loud, he helped the female demon up, and actually said seriously, “Yes, my King is merciful.”

“My child…” The female demon recognized Langmuir, she stammered and asked, “In twelve years, will he also grow into a decent young man on this land?”

This was really a question that was difficult to give an answer to, and generally people who ask this kind of question were not seeking an accurate answer or prophecy.

She just wanted the lord in front of her to dispel her initial unease.

So Langmuir smiled and said, “I will bless him.”

Tears suddenly welled up in the eyes of the female demon, she choked and said, “If it can be like this, he should be the most loyal guard by the King’s side.”

Langmuir: “Only the bravest warriors are left by the King’s side. Your young man needs to work hard.”

…..

In this way, they walked and stopped in the fields. Walking for about half an hour, Hun Yao found that Langmuir began to pant.

The Demon King now seemed to have all his nerves stretched to the extreme, that bit of calm on the surface was still teetering, in fact, the whole demon’s state was very wrong.

Langmuir still wanted to go forward, but his shoulder was suddenly held down.

The Demon King stared at him with a somewhat neurotic gaze, saying, “You’ve been walking too long, let’s go back to the carriage.”

Langmuir helplessly said, “What’s wrong with you? I’ve only been walking for a while, I’m fine.”

Hun Yao shook his head forcefully, his voice shaky and tense, “Langmuir, accompany me back to the carriage.”

As soon as he finished speaking, a hint of weakness that should not appear on the Demon King appeared in his eyes, as if pleading.

“I…” Langmuir was stunned, just about to speak, Hun Yao had already bent over and picked him up horizontally, and quickly walked towards the carriage.

His steps were a bit chaotic, as if there was some terrifying shadow chasing behind him.

If at this moment, Langmuir really vomited blood and got sick again, perhaps the Demon King would collapse directly. But fortunately, Hun Yao put Langmuir back in the carriage to rest, and then took a water bag for him to drink.

Langmuir didn’t know whether to laugh or cry due to the Demon King’s state of being on the verge of facing a formidable enemy.

He leaned on the cushion, unscrewed the water bag, and swayed his feet full of mud, saying, “My King, can I wipe my feet first?”

Hun Yao said, “You lie down, I’ll do it.”

He took the water bag and pulled over a towel, poured water and wet it.

On the small road in the field, between wild grass and broken stones, unknown insects began to chirp.

The Demon King knelt down in front of the carriage, held up the human’s feet, and carefully wiped them for him.

Langmuir looked at Hun Yao for a moment, suddenly said, “My King, do you know?”

“The teachings of the Goddess of Light say that if a person walks barefoot across the earth and then wipes off the mud on his feet, it symbolizes that the person’s sins fall from the soul.”

He laughed, “You are wiping away my sins.”

Hun Yao didn’t care, he raised his eyes, flicked the broken hair on his forehead with the back of his hand, “You, this kind of person, also have sins?”

Langmuir nodded repeatedly, insisting, “Yes.”

Hun Yao snorted and asked again, “Does your god’s teaching say that everyone has sins?”

The Demon King’s temper had been much more tolerant now, and he was no longer as hateful to the human’s religious beliefs as when he was young, and he could occasionally chat with Langmuir.

Langmuir smiled without saying a word, he reached out and touched the broken horn on Hun Yao’s head.

It seems more like you forgiving me, Hun Yao thought.

That evening, the Demon King and the Demon King’s human slave stayed here.

They entered the soldiers’ station. At night, it was heard that their new compatriots lit a bonfire to express their loyalty and love for the king.

Hun Yao once told Langmuir that this was how the demons were. They fear fire and yearn for fire.

Whenever a war triumphs or a harvest season, they would pile up tall dead branches and smear precious oil.

When the flames burned, the light far surpassed the Cliff Moon above the head.

All along, whenever a bonfire was lit, the Demon King would go to his people. Just like the cold sufferer in the extreme cold ceremony, Langmuir knew that Hun Yao was always a little persistent in some places.

But tonight was different, the Demon King originally said to go to see the people, and the human would wait for him to come back in the room.

But when Hun Yao stood alone in front of the bonfire, even if the surrounding people were crowded, raising their faces full of longing and calling the king…

He felt empty around him.

Hun Yao suddenly became frightened. The sense of panic that seemed to lose something increased with each breath, and soon overwhelmed the invincible Demon King.

He hurried back, returned to the station. Just anxiously pushed the door open, and saw Langmuir sitting by the window, lighting a bronze lamp, and spreading a scroll on the table, holding a pen and writing seriously.

“My King?” Langmuir was surprised to see him coming back so soon, and said, “Are you, coming back to find something?”

Hun Yao calmed his breath, step by step stepping on the creaking floor to Langmuir’s side.

“It’s already over…what are you writing?”

Langmuir showed a bit of embarrassment, hurriedly closed the scroll, “Ah, it’s some…I’ve been recording before I set off.”

He said, “Although there are no regrets, there are still a few things that I can’t let go of, and I hope to complete them before I die.”

This sentence became a heart-cutting knife again, making the Demon King’s eyes black.

Hun Yao tried not to think, he took a deep breath, suppressed his throat and said, “Langmuir, I have said that you will not die. Haven’t you been seriously ill before, and you are still healed? Don’t say death.”

Langmuir: “Lord Duogu said that my illness is due to staying in the abyss for too long, and the miasma erodes the body causing it to weaken, which is different from the previous ones…there should be no way.”

The rain that had just passed started to fall again in the depths of consciousness, chilling to the bone.

“No.” Hun Yao shook his head and gritted his teeth, “No.”

“What about the demonic breath?” He suddenly grabbed Langmuir’s wrists with both hands, his eyes bright, “Since Mana doesn’t work, use my demonic breath to cure you…”

“And there’s fine silver, the fine silver that was previously rewarded to the tribal leaders, the royal court can exchange it back with other treasures, all for you.”

“In the future, the miasma will become less and less, we will move to the barrier cliff, and build a small house with fine silver…”

“How could there be no way,” Hun yao spoke rapidly, reaching out to grab the thing in Langmuir’s arms, “You are not allowed to write this kind of thing, there are still three months, why say there is no way!”

“My King!”

Langmuir accidentally dropped the scroll, and the long scroll spread out on the wooden floor.

He was not angry, but smiled indulgently, “So my King is so reluctant to let me go?”

Langmuir was confident. As long as he said this, Hun Yao would definitely be stubborn, and the next sentence would be something like “Who can’t let you go”, and he would not make a fuss about whether he wrote a will or not.

Langmuir was waiting for the Demon King to shout out the awkward rebuttal with a funny face, while bending down to pick up the scroll.

But his wrist was suddenly grabbed.

…The lonely scroll fell on the floor, the delicate handwriting was illuminated by the bronze lamp, nowhere to hide.

The first sentence was: [Settle the people of the old Watie tribe well.]

Behind it, a small hook had been picked, representing completion.

The second sentence: [Find out the details of the rebel army ambushing the royal court.]

The third sentence: [Please let the King learn to take medicine on time.]

The fourth sentence: [Please remember the King not to take risks on the battlefield alone.]

And…

The fifth sentence: [Please choose a new merge partner for the King.]

There seemed to be another sentence behind, but it was covered by the stacked scroll paper, and the handwriting was not clear.

Hun Yao stared at the fifth line of the sentence, his Adam’s apple rolled twice, and he squeezed out his voice with difficulty, “What do you mean by this?”

“How…” Langmuir was taken aback, followed Hun yao’s gaze, and saw him staring at the last line of text and laughed.

“My King won’t think I’m interfering in things that shouldn’t be interfered with too much, right?” He said, “I’m just a little worried.”

“These years, only I have been with you. The King is now the King of the royal court and the Lord of the abyss. If you don’t want to leave offspring, it’s fine, but you really don’t even confer a queen?”

Silence.

Suddenly it was quiet in the room, as if something invisible was broken.

Langmuir looked at Hun Yao strangely, and the smile gradually faded.

He frowned and tilted his head softly, “…my King?”

“Langmuir.”

The Demon King suddenly spoke.

His face lost its blood, and his eyes were stiff.

“Haven’t you said before? Merge should be…”

“It’s sacred, pure, restrained.”

“Can only be done with the only…married lover.”

Hun Yao’s voice gradually became stumbling and hard.

Because he found that Langmuir was looking at him with a surprised look. This look seemed to turn into a mountain of ten thousand weights pressing on the Demon King’s chest, forcing him to grit his teeth and lower his head, the sorrow in his eyes was covered by messy hair, too thick to dissolve.

“And marriage requires loyalty, and love.”

He still finished the whole sentence. “Can only be married…with the person who is merged.”

Langmuir shook his head helplessly, “What’s wrong with you tonight?”

“Why does my King learn these human concepts, messing around.”

“What love or not love…”

Langmuir murmured, looking out the window with a very clear look.

The bonfire in the distance was still burning, there was a faint light, as if a match lit up the night sky.

Langmuir’s eyes were illuminated with some golden color, like the tranquil lake water when the sun sets, clear, peaceful, and waveless.

After a moment of emptiness, those eyes turned around and looked at the Demon King with a smile.

“You don’t love me, and I don’t love you.”

When he said this, Langmuir was still gentle, using a kind of persuasive tone:

“Haven’t we been merge partners for so many years?”

In a daze, it was like a god pitying a downcast believer.