The Seventh Year the Demon King Captured the Holy Monarch

The next day, Langmuir did not wake up.

Hun Yao had brought a basin of water and a towel from the morning, sitting by the bed waiting to take care of the patient who would wake up.

But he waited until the cliff gradually brightened, and then waited until the sky gradually darkened, Langmuir still did not wake up.

The summoned Duogu shook his head, saying that this was caused by excessive physical weakness, and there was no good strategy.

Hun Yao waited until the next day, and then began to condense healing incantations with demonic breath, constantly sending them into Langmuir’s body.

In the deep night of the second day, the patient woke up and quickly realized what the Demon King had done.

Langmuir lay silently on the bed. His eyes were slightly closed, as if he was enduring pain, fine cold sweat appeared on his forehead, and his pale lips were unconsciously bitten deeply.

After a long time, he squeezed out a heavy voice from his mouth. “You promised me not to do this again…”

Hun Yao: “Who told you that no matter how you call, you can’t wake up?”

Langmuir really got angry. His cheeks were flushed with a sickly red, and he suddenly opened his eyes. “I said that the day the barrier is opened requires the use of your demonic breath, does my King not take care of himself?”

“Is it more important in your heart to wake me up than the fate of the demon race!?”

After he finished a sentence, he opened his mouth and gasped violently, his neck was strained as if it was about to break. Those beautiful eyes closed painfully again.

“Langmuir, you really are…”

Hun Yao shook his head stubbornly, gritted his teeth and said, “You really are a hateful thing…you…”

“Whether I am hateful or not is not important. My King, there is not much time left, can you still not make up your mind?”

How to make up his mind? Hun Yao thought almost desperately.

If he allowed Langmuir to open the barrier with demonic breath, what would be the difference from killing Langmuir himself?

If he didn’t allow it, what would be the difference from trampling on Langmuir’s heart and making this person die with his eyes open?

At that moment, Hun Yao felt a burning hatred again.

He thought, how dare Langmuir do this, how dare he put himself and the demon race on the two ends of the scale, forcing him to make such a cruel choice?

At the same time, the Demon King realized with sorrow that he no longer doubted the Holy Monarch. His worries no longer included “What if Langmuir is deceiving the demon race?”

Perhaps he was no longer a qualified Demon King, but Langmuir, who tried to release the miasma and demons from the abyss, was even less of a qualified Holy Monarch.

In that case, they were well-matched, and they should go to hell together.

If only he had believed earlier.

If he had believed in Langmuir when he first learned the magic array in the fifth year, if he had believed in Langmuir on the barrier cliff in the third year, if he had believed in Langmuir on that plain in the first year…

Instead of stabbing the blade into that chest, he would hold his beloved Holy Monarch tightly.

To unlock his shackles for him, to heal his old wounds.

To wash the blood stains between that soft golden hair, to kiss the tail of the eye that did not grow scales.

Then their seventh year would not be like this.

But how could it be?

Even this sad moment was their fearful detour around the fangs of hatred and suspicion, carrying the weight of two hundred years, like a blind man groping forward in the jungle.

So Hun Yao gave a bitter smile and said, “…Okay.”

“As agreed, I have a few questions to ask you. If you can answer them seamlessly, I will give you my decision.”

Langmuir’s expression immediately softened, as if relieved that everything was back on track.

“That’s great…I also have a lot of things I want to confess to the King.”

He coughed twice, looked at the hazy sky outside the window, and murmured, “…It’s almost dawn.”

“Let’s go out and talk, to a place with sunlight and flowers.”

……

Langmuir could no longer walk.

When he wanted to get out of bed, he knelt down as soon as he touched the ground.

Hun Yao hugged him around the waist, first draped him with that fox fur blanket, then picked up the human and weighed him by supporting his legs.

So light, he thought. The human body laid on the back of the tall demon, so light that it almost had no weight.

Langmuir lightly “uh” a sound, two arms around Hun Yao’s neck, fingertips like flower buds weakly hanging down.

Hun Yao pushed the door open and walked out of the small wooden house.

The barrier cliff was still very dark, only a faint light was cast from above, indicating that dawn was near. All the flowers closed their petals, and the stems and leaves danced in the breeze.

“During this time, I was occasionally afraid…” Langmuir said tiredly, “I said I didn’t care, but I was actually worried that the flowers I planted wouldn’t bloom…”

“My King, were you also afraid at the moment of making a choice?”

Hun Yao put Langmuir down in the densest place of flowers and re-wrapped him tightly in that fiery red blanket. “Of course, I’m also afraid.”

After saying that, he looked deeply at the barrier above his head, his mouth closed and he didn’t speak for a long time.

So Langmuir thought: He is indeed afraid.

“Let’s play a game.” Langmuir suddenly cleared his throat.

“I also have things I want to ask the King, we…take turns asking each other questions, the answers must be truthful, and the questioner must believe.”

“Whoever dares not answer first, or whoever dares not believe first, loses.”

“Okay,” Hun Yao’s finger twitched, he hadn’t competed with Langmuir for a long time, “I’ll let you, you go first.”

“Cough,” Langmuir tried to sit up straight, staring solemnly at Hun Yao, “Then I’m going to ask.”

“You ask.”

“My King, you…”

Langmuir’s eyes flashed. “You, um…”

The patient suddenly stammered, which made the Demon King slowly frown.

Is it so hard to speak? Hun Yao’s heart couldn’t help but lift. At this point, eternal separation is near, what will Langmuir ask him at the end…

“I want to ask.”

Langmuir lowered his head in embarrassment, “Do you still have…birth…”

Hun Yao quickly leaned over, supporting his back. “I can’t hear clearly, what?”

“…ability…”

“Ability? You mean reputation?”

“…ability…”

…

…?

Langmuir closed his eyes in shame, a faint blush appeared on his pale sick face—

Sorry, but he really cares about this!

“Do you still have the ability to reproduce?”

—???

Hun Yao’s face froze.

“You…”

He was dumbfounded, “You ask again!?”

“Just…you birth…”

Hun Yao shuddered, his scalp numb. “Stop! No need to ask again!”

The clenched fingers made a creaking sound, the Demon King sneered coldly. “How… you, want, me, to, reproduce!?”

Langmuir: “You can’t ask yet.”

Langmuir: “Also, cough… tell the truth!”

Hun Yao was so angry that his vision went black, his temples bulged, but due to the “game rules”, he had to grit his teeth and answer.

“The witch doctor checks the king’s body every year, I never knew I had…that kind of problem!”

Langmuir breathed a sigh of relief.

Hun Yao was about to collapse. “Langmuir, you’d better explain to me, where did this question come from…!”

“Is this your question?”

“You!.. Forget it.”

The Demon King took a few deep breaths, after all, he didn’t continue this weird topic, and instead asked, “What is the last line on your scroll?”

Langmuir was taken aback, then helplessly said, “You wasted a good opportunity, actually there is nothing special.”

He said, “It is… ‘Finally accompany the King to see the sun and flowers on the barrier cliff, and confess the past stories’.”

“So, even if you don’t force me to move over, this slave will beg the King to accompany me to the barrier cliff once more.”

It wasn’t something like “open the barrier”, Hun Yao was a bit surprised.

“Past stories?”

Langmuir shook his head and said, “It’s my turn. My King, why don’t you hate me anymore?”

Hun Yao: “Tsk, who said I don’t—”

Langmuir: “Truth.”

“…” The Demon King’s face darkened.

Damn it, such a trivial game, it’s so difficult.

“There are not so many whys!” He shook his head irritably, “The revenge that should have been avenged has been avenged, and the one that should be squeezed has been squeezed. Besides, you, originally…”

He wasn’t a particularly hateful guy to begin with.

So Hun Yao was often puzzled, wondering what kind of mistake Langmuir had made back then, or how stupid the human race had to be to force such a Holy Monarch to kneel and repent for three days.

Hun Yao didn’t say it out loud, but Langmuir seemed to read something from his expression.

“…I’m not as good as you think.” He said, “My King should always hate me.”

Hun Yao was used to Langmuir always saying such things, and didn’t take it seriously.

“It’s my turn. If you return to the human world, will your illness get better?”

He mimicked his tone. “Tell the truth.”

Langmuir’s eyebrows twitched.

“I don’t know. The temple does have a secret method to clear the demonic breath and miasma, but…with my current body, even if I don’t die after opening the barrier, I won’t live for a few days. My King, don’t worry about this anymore.”

Langmuir answered tiredly, wrapped in a fluffy blanket, coughed twice, and felt a bit tired.

He didn’t know what Hun Yao was still hesitating about, there were so many questions he could ask.

His past, his experiences, his arrangements for opening the barrier, in short, anything that could possibly reduce the doubts of the demon race to the lowest.

For example, the “past” he just mentioned, shouldn’t he ask about it? For example, that night…

Langmuir, suppressing a vague unease, asked as calmly as possible. “What were you going to tell me that night?”

“What night?”

“The night I played the harp.”

Hun Yao suddenly fell into a strange silence.

The corners of his mouth tightened sharply, his eyes were slightly red, and his pupils flickered with a sorrowful color.

“My King?”

Langmuir frowned. “Didn’t you have something to say to me the night I played the harp?”

Hun Yao couldn’t say anything.

“Can’t answer?” Langmuir felt a strong sense of anxiety in his heart, as if something was getting out of control.

What’s going on, his original intention was just to hint at the Demon King to remember that unknown harp divine song. As long as he casually answered this question, in the next round Hun Yao would inevitably ask about the reason for his playing that song, then he could…

“What is my King struggling with, isn’t that something you were originally going to tell me?”

At this time, the darkness around them began to fade, and the flowers that were originally submerged in the mountains began to reveal their outlines, and the edges of the grass seemed to glow.

The sunrise in the abyss was not as magnificent as in the human world, but a quiet transition.

Shadows gradually appeared under them, two faint gray lines fell on the cliff stones, overlapping in one place.

Langmuir wanted to urge him, but suddenly felt dizzy, and his throat was burning.

“Cough…”

“Langmuir!” Hun Yao suddenly got up and held him in his arms.

“Let it be, I lost.” The Demon King said almost desperately, “I admit defeat, I lost to you, can we go back to the house?”

Langmuir was panting, controlling the desire to continue coughing, and swallowed the blood that had surged to his mouth.

He thought irritably: He shouldn’t have played such a boring game.

It was cowardice, the guilt that had been buried deep in his bones for fourteen years, that made him dare not take the initiative to confess his past and secrets to the Demon King.

So he longed for Hun Yao to question him, just like a sinner longing for judgment. But this was undoubtedly a wishful thinking, it shouldn’t be.

“Forget it,” Langmuir murmured with his eyes downcast, feeling a pain starting in his bones again, “Forget it…”

Hun Yao had already reached out to pick him up, but suddenly stopped.

When Langmuir looked up, he saw the Demon King’s lips trembling slightly.

“…That night,” Hun Yao spoke with difficulty, “Langmuir, do you remember the honey-gold dagger from that night?”

He stroked Langmuir’s back of the head with his sharp scales and claws and whispered, “The reason I was carrying it close to me was because I was considering giving it back to you.”

“The reason I wanted to give it back to you was because I hoped you could regain your Mana from that year.”

Langmuir’s expression blanked for a second.

His heart suddenly started to beat in panic, because he saw Hun Yao laugh as if in extreme pain, and as if in extreme relief. “That night, I originally wanted to ask you…”

“If I give your Mana back to you, would you be willing to…be the queen of the abyss for me?”

Langmuir froze in place like a puppet.

The surroundings brightened in silence.

“It’s my turn.” Hun Yao said to himself, “Langmuir, in these seven years, have you… have you…”

But the Demon King sighed again, shook his head and muttered to himself. “Forget it, I know you don’t love me. Won’t ask, you ask.”

Langmuir’s lips, which had lost their color, trembled for a long time. He didn’t ask a question, but suddenly choked out a mouthful of blood.

The Demon King was startled and held his shoulder, but the human’s blood-stained fingers clung to the demon, as if he wished he could twist his arm off.

“You…”

Tears suddenly fell from Langmuir’s eyes.

He cried and choked, “You said you don’t love me, were you lying to me?”

The sky was completely bright, and when the soft golden light illuminated the tiny floating dust and fell on the lonely barrier cliff, every wild flower slowly opened its petals.

The Demon King leaned over and kissed the forehead of the golden-haired son of god in the brilliant daylight.

“Don’t cry, don’t cry.” Hun Yao’s voice was hoarse, “You told me, Langmuir.”

“If a human falls in love with someone, they should marry them, from then on, only kiss them, only merge with them, only have offspring with them. Even if they can’t have offspring, they can’t find someone else.”

At some point, the Demon King’s eyes were all red. “I don’t love you.”

“I just want to live with you for many more years. Let you be the queen of the abyss, only kiss you, only merge with you. Since we can’t have offspring, then we don’t need offspring, just the two of us is good…”

“If the premise of these is that I must admit to loving you, then that’s fine too.”

“…”

Langmuir closed his eyes and took a trembling breath, then suddenly clenched his fists and hit Hun Yao twice.

He cried and shook his head, “Why…lie to me!”

Hun Yao grabbed his wrist and pressed his palm to his own heart.

Langmuir forcefully pulled out his hand, shaking all over with pain. He thought with a heart like being twisted with a knife, how could there be such a bad demon.

Saying that he no longer hated him, why did he lie to him? Since he lied to him, why did he fall in love with him?

Langmuir knew that he didn’t understand these feelings of love and hate very well, but if he realized it earlier…he would definitely try to find a way to make Hun Yao not fall in love with his former enemy.

Or, he could also try to learn to “love” Hun Yao.

In the seven years of the abyss, he learned to make bone ornaments, sing sacrificial songs, learned to tear and bite the bloody innards of wild beasts, and also learned to merge between heaven and earth–learning to love his Demon King, what’s wrong with that?

But it’s already now. There’s no road behind them, they can only rush to a farewell of death.

Hun Yao said, “Even if you don’t love, Langmuir, be my queen. The royal court will hold a grand ceremony for you, and the abyss will light a bonfire for you.”

Langmuir squeezed out a voice from his throat, “…It’s too late.”

Hun Yao: “It’s not late. A month is fine, a day is fine.”

“No.” Langmuir shook his head. His face was so pale that it was frightening, and there were tears in his eyes, but under that rippling layer of sorrowful water, a piece of ice was clearly frozen. “No, it’s really too late.”

“You also told me: in the abyss, love is to be cut off.”

“My King Hun Yao, please cut me off.”

In the next moment, an explosive noise came from afar, and the barrier cliff suddenly shook violently.