When the intense entanglement ended in the night, Langmuir felt like he had been pulled out of the water, with no strength left to even move his fingers.
The demons were always rough in such matters, especially after a victorious battle, when the warriors were still excited and should be enjoying wine, roasted meat, and pleasure, venting their vigorous energy in various forms around the night fire.
But in recent years, the Demon King no longer participated in the revelry among his people, preferring to hide in his tent and play with his beautiful human slave. At first, there were some rumors, until those who gossiped were silenced by the Demon King’s bare hands tearing off their tails. The topic finally died down.
The howling wind blew, leaving only one lamp in the depths of the main tent.
Langmuir lay in bed with Hun Yao. Hun Yao was satisfiedly kissing the slave’s sweaty temples. It was called a bed, but when they were away on a campaign, it was nothing more than a mat woven from soft wooden strips, covered with a layer of cloth. Hun Yao lay on his side, with the slave leaning against his arm.
Langmuir’s eyes were unfocused, with a hint of redness at the corners, his mouth slightly open as he breathed shallowly, his chest rising and falling as if he had not yet recovered from the lingering entanglement just now.
Just outside the tent, Hun Yao’s tail scales had cut his ankle a little, but now it had been carefully treated with herbs, even though the wound was not even bleeding.
“Taste average.” Hun Yao inserted his sharp-nailed fingers into the silver mist-like long hair, and said hoarsely, “But, for the sake of your hard work.”
This meant that he agreed to hand over the captives outside the tent to the human for disposal.
The Demon King squinted, waiting for his slave to show a look of joy and take the initiative to kiss him, but the person in his arms remained motionless for a long time.
“Langmuir?” Hun Yao called out to him.
Without waiting for an answer, the Demon King forcefully lifted Langmuir’s face, but he still didn’t move, his half-closed eyes staring blankly without any light, as if he had lost consciousness.
Hun Yao’s heart suddenly skipped a beat, and a sense of panic inexplicably seized him for no reason.
Without thinking, the Demon King sat up abruptly, holding the soft human body in his arms and sternly said, “Langmuir!”
Langmuir trembled for a moment, as if he had been awakened. When he looked up, a soft smile appeared on his face, and he gasped softly, “My King.”
Hun Yao breathed a sigh of relief and hugged the slave’s body, rubbing his chest absentmindedly. “What’s wrong? Feeling unwell?”
Langmuir shook his head, and his silver-gray long hair rubbed against the Demon King’s arm. “No, I just felt a little dizzy earlier…”
He didn’t hear the Demon King’s implied sentence just now, and struggled to sit up. “I’m fine. Does my king want to continue?”
Hun Yao snorted, feeling uncomfortable in his heart. “Forget it, I’ve lost interest.”
“Langmuir,” his fingers casually wiped the corners of the human’s eyes, eyebrows, lips and the bridge of his nose, “you shouldn’t slack off. Tomorrow night, I’ll find other demons to merge with.”
“Merge,” in the language of the demons, meant to integrate.
After speaking, Hun Yao stole a glance at Langmuir’s expression, but he just shook his head and smiled. After thinking for a moment, he flicked his tail and said with emphasis, “Find several.”
Langmuir didn’t take the bait at all. He closed his eyes and turned his head, weakly kissing the Demon King’s fingertips when his fingers carelessly brushed his cheek. His voice sounded soft and tired, “That’s great, I could use a break.”
Snap. Hun Yao’s face turned black, and his tail twitched at the head of the bed.
He hadn’t touched anyone else for many years, and the slave in front of him knew it best.
But Langmuir had already closed his eyes and ignored him. Hun Yao gritted his teeth for a while, as if punching cotton, and finally resigned himself to picking up the human and walking towards the direction of the bathtub.
Langmuir didn’t open his eyes until the end of the cleaning. An hour later, Hun Yao came back holding him, and the attendants had already taken care of everything.
Hun Yao pulled the fire fox fur blanket over and laid it on the bed, then put Langmuir on it. He blew out the lamp and sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the human slave in a daze.
It had been seven years, Hun Yao suddenly realized.
He had owned this human slave for exactly seven years.
Langmuir moved, his eyelashes trembling slowly, and a faint sound came from his throat.
He was afraid of the cold, so he instinctively buried himself in the warmth. But perhaps he was really exhausted, and his movements were very small, more like snuggling against an edge to keep warm, looking a bit pitiful.
Hun Yao stared at him for a moment, then reached out his paw and pressed it against the human’s thin back, pushing him deeper into the fire fox fur.
Until most of the pale face was submerged in the fiery red fur, Langmuir finally stopped rubbing around in a half asleep and half awake state, settled down, and fell deep asleep.
Hun yao’s heart was stirred at the sight, and his tail couldn’t help but circle on the ground. He gritted his teeth, wishing he could immediately pull this slave who had seduced him in every way and do it again.
But his hands didn’t listen, and he gently pulled the other end of the thick fire fox fur, covering Langmuir’s body, letting the human sleep in a fiery red roll.
Then Hun Yao lay down too. Holding Langmuir through the fur blanket, and closed his eyes.
In fact, like every powerful demon, Humiao didn’t like gentle melodies. He preferred intense nights, torturing Langmuir until he was almost drowned, and finally fainting in his arms.
Just like a few years ago, when his prey passed out from exhaustion, it was always wet and dripping with warm water. The Demon King would greedily wring him out and then enjoy him leisurely.
But now, there was no such thing anymore. His slave was weak and sickly, and even tonight was a bit too much. He closed his eyes and thought about sending something to please him tomorrow…what should he send…..
The sound of the abyss wind whistled.
Like a flute, like a cry.
Blowing into the dream, turning into the sounds of the past.
****
Clang, the sound of chains again.
It was an endless wilderness, with campfires and tents.
The captive was dragged in, and the demon warriors brought him roughly in front of the king. The cold iron chains pressed heavily on the human body, making him hunch over. The kneeling captive had deep golden soft long hair, slender and fair hands and feet, and his linen robe was covered in bloodstains.
“My King.” A servant handed over a riding crop.
“No.” Hun Yao sneered and shook it off. He never used this to train his slaves. It was too light, too petty, and not as good as a scabbard, spear shaft, or even his own scales.
So at this moment, the young Demon King reached out his hand and clamped the slave’s face, lifting it up mercilessly.
“Why aren’t you praying now?”
When he saw that face, a fierce and excited light burst into his eyes. “Could it be that you also know that the grace of the God of Light cannot reach the depths of the Gasuo Abyss–”
“Humanity’s Holy Monarch, Langmuir?”
The captive’s slightly blurred violet eyes reflected the tall figure of the Demon King. “I am no longer…the Holy Monarch.”
Langmuir was heavily injured and very weak, even speaking was difficult, and he had to take a breath after saying half a sentence. “Demon King Hun Yao, as you wish, I am now…your prisoner and slave.”
“Then call me your king.” Hun Yao whispered, “Kiss my scales, offer your blood, life, and soul’s loyalty.”
Langmuir trembled and slowly leaned down in pain. Behind him was a heavy lock used for demon warrior captives, which clanged as he moved. “…My King.” He kissed the tail that hung down on the ground.
However, exhaustion, injuries, and weight made the former holy monarch unable to straighten his back again. He could only bow in a humiliating posture in front of his “new master.”
“I heard that before entering the abyss, your subjects let you kneel and recite the penitential text for three days and three nights in front of the temple.” Hun Yao stared at him and slowly said, “Tell me, is this true?”
Langmuir gasped for a long time in a cold before barely uttering an answer. “……Yes.”
His hunched figure swaying, his face becoming increasingly pale, as if he could faint at any moment.
An old man’s voice sneered, “The Holy Monarch entered the abyss, just for such an ungrateful group of rats.”
Then a proud girl’s voice sneered, “The temple claims that the protection of the God of Light is invincible, but the Holy Monarch was defeated by the Demon King? Ha, those humans all say that he must not be devout enough, not pure enough!”
Langmuir lowered his eyes and didn’t answer.
Suddenly, a shadow flashed in front of him. Hun Yao squatted in front of him, pulled out a small golden dagger from his waist, and lifted his face, asking, “Do you recognize this?”
“….What?” Langmuir blinked slowly, his vision blurred and his nose smelled the blood on the Demon King, but his vision was hazy and he couldn’t see clearly. “Sorry, I can’t see clearly…”
“Then guess.” Hun Yao said.
Langmuir was silent for a moment. “…Is it that arrow?”
“You’re very smart.”
Hun Yao stood up. “I tempered that arrow with demon breath, and now it has become a dagger. Langmuir, in these seven years, I have never dared to forget you and everything you have given me.”
Langmuir had no strength to give any response anymore. Hun Yao let go of his hand, and his head quietly drooped, his eyes gradually becoming unfocused.
“Is that so…I, too,” but he smiled weakly, and said self-mockingly, “never dared to forget…you.”
After he finished speaking, it was as if he had used up his last bit of strength. He closed his eyes and didn’t move anymore. But captives were not allowed to faint during interrogation. A demon soldier stepped forward and tightly grasped the chain around Langmuir’s neck.
The enchanted runes took effect, and Langmuir straightened his back and let out a pitiful cry. But just a few breaths later, as the effect of the runes faded, he convulsed and spat out two mouthfuls of blood, and fainted again.
The pain was so intense that even a moment of stimulation couldn’t keep him awake. Hun Yao frowned, “What’s going on?”
Beside him, an old demon shook his head and said, “Humans can’t tolerate the miasma of the abyss, my King.”
“Besides, this poor guy is heavily injured and knelt for three days…coming to the abyss in this ghostly state, he should have choked to death by now.”
“He’s not that easy to die.” Hun Yao shook his head, then glanced at the honey-gold dagger in his hand, “Duo Gu, keep my slave awake.”
****
“As my King wishes, I have cursed him enough to keep him awake all night.”
“As for whether he will become insane and stupid tomorrow morning, that’s hard to say.”
After a moment, the old witch doctor finished the curse and respectfully stepped aside. Langmuir had already woken up, curled up on the ground trembling, biting his own arm tightly, trying hard not to scream.
Hun Yao’s eyes were fierce, and the scales covering his face were illuminated by the campfire, making him look even more rigid. He grabbed Langmuir’s chain and lifted him up, the honey-gold dagger just an inch away from the human’s heart.
There was a mighty power flowing there, and when this power was fully released, it was enough to resist the demonic breath of the Demon King.
“After tonight, Holy Monarch.” Hun Yao said. “You will never be able to pull a bow or hold a spear again.”
The surrounding demons shouted strangely and excitedly. Soon it turned into deafening roars. “Maim him! Kill him!” They shouted, cursing this enemy who had once caused them endless fear with vicious words. “Human, lowly pig, poor creature!”
Soon the curses turned into cheers, and the demons danced around the flames, shouting, “My King! The Supreme King!” They were witnessing the conquest of the human monarch by the demon king.
Langmuir closed his eyes. In the next moment, the dagger pierced into his chest with a thud.
Suddenly, blood gushed out rapidly!
Honey gold was the only known metal on this continent that could absorb power. Seven years ago, the son of god Langmuir used honey gold to make an arrow, which broke the Demon King Hun Yao’s right horn and deprived him of half of his demon breath.
Just like at this moment, the power in Langmuir’s body was quickly drawn away, and the light on the golden dagger became brighter and brighter.
The demons’ cheers around him were like a boiling pot of water.
Hun Yao was a little absent-minded.
He looked at Langmuir’s pale face and thought to himself: After tonight, there will be no human who can match me in the world…perhaps not just humans.
“You shouldn’t have come to the abyss, Langmuir. You clearly know better than anyone else…”
Hun Yao muttered to himself, holding the golden dagger and pushing it deeper into the human’s chest. “…I want you for revenge.”
Langmuir bit his lip, unable to speak from the pain. He looked up at the demon king in front of him and at the ugly broken horn——
Hun Yao sensed his gaze and grabbed Langmuir’s hand, pressing it against his broken horn, and cruelly laughed, “Yes…you see, you clearly know very well.”
Langmuir closed his eyes, tears falling silently.
“After tonight, you will no longer be the holy Son of God, and the impure demon breath will forever reside in you.”
“Next time, when the people you sacrificed yourself to see your appearance, do you know what they will call you?”
Langmuir began to cough up blood heavily. Soon, his eyes and ears began to bleed as well.
“Heretic,” the Demon King said.
The small golden dagger could not contain both Mana and demon breath at the same time. As the Mana flowed into it, the remaining demon breath within the honey gold was forced out and rushed into Langmuir’s body through the bleeding wounds.
But how could a human body withstand the demon breath?
It was like molten lava scorching the earth, leaving behind only charred remains.
“Filthy.”
Under the demon breath, the deep golden color of Langmuir’s hair faded away, replaced by the silver-gray color of an elderly person on the brink of death. He trembled in pain and tears streamed down his face, but with the curse upon him, even passing out was a luxury.
“Cruel, evil, even the God of Light you believe in would despise you…….”
Langmuir choked and painfully tilted his neck. Suddenly, the flesh under his eyes burst, and something seemed to be coagulating within the blood and flesh.
The Demon King smiled with satisfaction and wiped the blood off Langmuir’s face with his palm. Now, all the demons could see that a strange scale had grown on the once pure and flawless skin.
“——Demon.”
Ahhhjhj, the angst came too faaast