The Seventh Year the Demon King Captured the Holy Monarch

“King… my King…”

 

Someone called him from outside the dream.

 

What remained unchanged from ancient times was the howling wind of the abyss, which blew the felt on the tent and brought the smell of burning.

 

Hun Yao couldn’t tell which year’s wind it was. There also seemed to be flames burning in front of him, but he didn’t know which year’s fire it was.

 

He seemed to see Langmuir again. The young son of god pulled the divine bow from the highest point of the sky, and his clothes fluttered in the wind, just like his beautiful golden hair.

 

Later, his deep golden long hair was corroded into gray by the demon breath, and Langmuir was pressed down to the ground by him, occupying the starlight and wild grass. He conquered this slave like riding his own mount, and the slave never resisted, at most silently shedding tears.

 

“My King…”

 

Langmuir always called him like this, and then called himself a “slave”, what a ridiculous title, as if this person was really conquered.

 

Seven years, they have been entangled for seven years, even the abyss had changed its appearance, except that the wild wind and fire were still the same every night.

 

“My King!”

 

Someone suddenly pressed his shoulder, slightly closer to the clavicle.

 

Hun Yao opened his eyes suddenly, his arm swept out like an iron whip. In the darkness, the figure was overturned to the ground, and let out a subdued groan.

 

The familiar voice instantly awakened Hun Yao, and he was sweating all over, with a sharp ringing in his ears.

 

“Langmuir!?”

 

Langmuir lay on the side, breathing lightly. When Hun Yao raised his arm, he was quick to block it, but he couldn’t resist the brute force of the demon clan, and his forehead still hit the ground.

 

Hun Yao took two steps forward and bent down to hug him, “Are you trying to kill yourself? I told you not to touch me when I’m not conscious… Don’t move, let me take a look, don’t move.”

 

“I’m fine, did you have a nightmare?”

 

Langmuir gently held the Demon King’s hand, “My King has been using demon breath too frequently recently, drink some medicine first.”

 

He stood up with the help of Hun Yao’s arm, skillfully took out a sheepskin wine pouch from the pillow, and pulled out the stopper, “What did you dream about?”

 

“…”

 

Hun Yao suddenly fell into a trance.

 

His Adam’s apple rolled twice, and his gaze darkened.

 

Langmuir noticed the change in the Demon King’s mood and looked at him in confusion.

 

Hun Yao remained silent for a while, lied, and said, “I dreamed that you betrayed me, Langmuir.”

 

Langmuir was stunned for a moment.

 

Then he smiled helplessly at him.

 

“…What to do, it turns out it’s starting again.”

 

He said, “That’s nothing. Drink the medicine quickly, and I’ll sleep with my King again.”

 

Wait a minute, stop.

 

What the hell am I doing, Hun Yao thought to himself.

 

He stiffly took the sheepskin wine pouch and took four or five sips, then said, “Did you hit your head just now?”

 

Stop, stop, Hun Yao, are you crazy?

 

Take a good look at the human in front of you. It was he who took away your right horn, causing you to bear the eternal humiliation and countless sleepless nights.

 

And what about you? You captured his royal city, dragged him into the eternal darkness of the abyss, destroyed his magic power, defiled his body, and trampled on his dignity…

 

What has happened in these years, what have you done, don’t you know?

 

How could he not hate you, how could he not want to kill you with his own hands! Maybe he put poison in the medicine just now, and you drank it without any precautions…

 

“It’s okay.” Langmuir shook his head. He slowly returned to his original position and lay back in the beautiful red fox fur.

 

In the darkness, Hun Yao stared at the human who shared the same bed with him.

 

After Langmuir finished speaking, he really closed his eyes and continued to sleep, as if he really couldn’t feel the Demon King’s strange and cold gaze.

 

But how could he not feel it?

 

What pretending to be obedient, it’s just a trick to deceive oneself… Hun Yao thought, his palm reaching for Langmuir’s fragile neck.

 

What does seven years of endurance count for? This is the former monarch of the human race!

 

How foolish it would be to believe that such a person could willingly become a lamb under the feet of the demon clan!?

 

Hun Yao, ahh Hun Yao, the Demon King murmured to himself, you were raised by the blood and fire of the abyss, don’t you understand the reason behind it? Langmuir is not a lamb, he is a cunning fox stalking in the dense forest. As long as there is a moment of relaxation, the tip of the death blade will…

 

Will…!

 

Hun Yao closed his blood-red eyes and took a deep breath as if he had realized something.

 

The rough palm lifted Langmuir’s neck, and the Demon King softened his voice and coaxed, “Be good, let me take a look.”

 

…Damn it!!

 

****

 

Hun Yao, you’re dead. The Demon King thought painfully to himself, not today, but tomorrow; not this year, but next year!

 

The main tent still had dim candles lit.

 

Hun Yao held Langmuir in his arms and gently rubbed the places where he had hit with a cloth soaked in herbs. One on the forehead, one on the elbow.

 

Langmuir was sleepy and turned his face towards the backlit side, continuing to sleep peacefully. The noble Demon King remained dazed under the lamp.

 

…But if it’s next year.

 

Hun Yao thought in a daze: Next year, there’s still time to crown Langmuir as the queen. The Demon King’s queen, the Demon King and Queen…

 

He suddenly turned pale.

 

No no no no no, Hun Yao, you’re really done for! What do you really want, do you want Langmuir to kill you at the grand ceremony?

 

How could you fall to this point for a mere human! Think about your glory as the King of the Abyss in your past life, can you really accept being killed by a slave? Think about your royal court, your people! If your people fall into Langmuir’s hands…

 

…Oh, it doesn’t seem like it would be that bad either.

 

Hun Yao groaned in despair and covered his head.

 

****

 

Hun Yao couldn’t understand how he had come to this point.

 

He also couldn’t understand why, at this point, Langmuir still hadn’t made a move.

 

The next morning, when he opened his eyes, he found that the slave had already woken up earlier. Langmuir lowered his eyes and put the silver forbidden lock that he had taken off last night back on his neck.

 

He always did everything seriously, and the way he put on the lock was as solemn as if he was crowning himself.

 

Hun Yao just lay there, quietly watching him from behind.

 

This lock had already been changed several times.

 

At first, it was attached to shackles and chains, heavy cold iron with runes of electric shock and mental curses added. It was originally used to deal with demon prisoners. Just a slight pull could make most guys scream in pain.

 

It was unknown how many times Langmuir had been tortured by this thing. Until one time when he almost lost his life, the Demon King never dared to let him wear shackles and iron chains again.

 

Later, those enchanted spells began to vaguely reflect the Demon King’s possessiveness – it was changed to a state where no other demon except Hun Yao himself could touch it.

 

Repeatedly, later on…

 

He couldn’t remember why each time, but in any case, over these seven years, the runes on the lock gradually decreased layer by layer, and finally it became an ordinary neck ornament.

 

At the beginning of last year, he secretly changed the material of the lock to pure silver that could resist miasma without telling Langmuir.

 

The abyss didn’t produce this kind of thing, it was the spoils of war obtained by the Demon King when he conquered the human kingdom before.

 

Hun Yao gave most of them to his generals, a few to tribal leaders, and kept only a small piece for himself, which had now become Langmuir’s forbidden lock.

 

But just half a year later, he was dissatisfied again.

 

Langmuir felt the gaze behind him and knew that Hun Yao was awake. He turned his face and smiled at the Demon King, his fingers still resting on the silver lock he had just put on.

 

“Take it off,” Hun Yao suddenly said.

 

“Hm?” Langmuir was taken aback, and then clenched his collar in horror, looking at him, “No, I really can’t take it anymore, my King…”

 

Hun Yao: “I’m talking about the lock.”

 

Langmuir: “?”

 

“You are in charge of the Wai Tie tribe and cannot wear something that symbolizes slavery.”

 

Hun Yao sat up as if nothing had happened, “It’s not beneficial. You are allowed to not wear it in the future.”

 

“This…isn’t necessary,” Langmuir hesitated, “I wear the lock now, but it doesn’t prevent your people from calling me ‘my lord’ everywhere. Besides, as a slave, I only trained prisoners of war for you, which only takes ten days to half a month. It’s not like I’m really going to be a leader, how can I be in-charge of a tribe?”

 

Pretentious, the Demon King thought to himself.

 

He emphasized, “Obey your master.”

 

Langmuir smiled, “Okay, as my King wishes.”

 

Hun Yao then sat over and personally removed the pure silver forbidden lock from Langmuir’s neck.

 

Did this person notice that the lock’s material had been changed? The Demon King secretly speculated, and after a while, he thought, let’s recast it into a pair of handcuffs and ankle cuffs after going back.

 

When he took off the lock, he felt that he was really not good at this.

 

“Aren’t you curious about the outcome of the dream?”

 

Hun Yao spoke in a low voice, “I tied you to the wooden frame in the royal court and set it on fire. Thirteen witch doctors cast spells on you, so that even until you turned into a charred skeleton, you would still be alive”

 

Langmuir: “Mm.”

 

“If you dare to betray me… Langmuir, I will make you regret coming to the abyss.”

 

But Langmuir just gently raised his eyebrows and looked quietly at this different race who shared the same bed with him.

 

His gaze had a strange calmness and tenderness, not like a slave looking up at his master, nor like the gaze between lovers, and had nothing to do with the hatred of looking at an enemy.

 

If one had to describe it, it might be more like a person who loves flowers, waiting for a flower bud to bloom.

 

“That’s really scary.” He said with a smile, “So, after hearing such a scary nightmare, how could this slave dare to betray my King?”

 

As he spoke, Langmuir put on his white robe and stood up leisurely.

 

He had slender limbs and a well-proportioned figure, which should be considered tall among humans, but unfortunately, in front of the demons, he still looked overly slender.

 

“Oh, that’s right, since it’s rare to be here,” Langmuir turned around before leaving the main tent. “ Before we return to the royal court, I want to go to the boundary cliff to take a look. Can my King accompany me?”