Under the watchful eyes of all, the imposing new Demon King howled as he broke two large trees, bounced back after hitting the third tree trunk, and finally fell face-first onto the ground.
A silver-haired young man sat cross-legged in his original position, his eyelashes drooping, his demeanor calm. His right palm was extended flat, and three overlapping giant arrays were slowly rotating in front of the human, emitting dazzling golden light and pressure.
He was sick and lacked strength.
He couldn’t pick up a weapon, and even standing up was difficult.
Langmuir slowly opened his eyes, his violet pupils exuding a serene glow.
–But to deal with the little Demon King in front of him, there was no need for too many flashy things.
Yinsha crawled up from the ground, his pupils constricting.
“Golden…demonic breath…”
He muttered in a daze, his eyes suddenly filled with bloodshot. “No, it’s Mana! Human Mana!!”
Behind him, the fearful roar of Guleilong came. “Damn, he is the human’s son of god!!”
Before his words fell, Yinsha had already charged up again. He finally stopped underestimating his opponent, and black flames enveloped the entire body of this demon. With each step, the power that erupted shattered the ground, and rocks and soil flew around.
Langmuir’s pupils were tinged with a faint golden light, and his ten fingers grasped in the void. The array in front of him moved forward, and it collided head-on with the fiercely burning black flames!
Two streams of energy, pure to the extreme, collided, giving birth to a force that spread out in all directions. The snowflakes in mid-air melted before they hit the ground, countless trees were split in two in an instant, crows and sparrows cried out, fluttering towards the horizon.
The soldiers of the Guleilong tribe were thrown off balance, and the wildebeests and walking lizards all fell on their backs, creating a scene of utter chaos!
“…Cough.”
Langmuir frowned and coughed up another mouthful of blood.
He held his chest and breathed heavily, his eyebrows tightly furrowed.
Yinsha’s face swelled to a purplish-red, and he grunted with effort from his throat, but he was still pushed back by the Light Array.
His claws were wrapped in demonic breath, repeatedly striking the golden light in front of him, but he was terrified to feel the burning sensation in his fists growing stronger.
He looked up, staring incredulously at the half-dead human in front of him.
Yinsha blurted out, “You…you monster!!”
Langmuir: “Demon King Yinsha, lend me your demonic breath, and I won’t kill you.”
Yinsha roared in anger, pulling out the knife from his waist, and swung it forward with his demonic breath.
Langmuir remained calm, a golden dagger slid out from his sleeve. The two weapons collided fiercely in mid-air once, twice, ten times, even dozens of times, finally resulting in a harsh “clang” sound–
Yinsha’s knife was knocked away, the blade stuck into the ground more than ten meters away!
“Impossible…” Geleilong’s thick beard trembled, staring hard at the short knife in front of him, his face had turned pale.
The demon soldiers were also retreating in fear, how could they believe that the Demon King’s bloodline–this supreme power of the abyss, would be suppressed by human mana to such an extent!
“Kill…kill him,” Geleilong roared, “Kill him! Shoot! Shoot this human!”
The archers drew their bows in unison.
“The duel of the abyss has always been sacred. The outcome is not yet decided, others must not interfere.”
Langmuir coldly uttered a verdict-like tone. He pressed his left hand on the ground, and instantly, the fourth array floated up, covering this area.
In an instant, countless arrows rained down, clanging together, but they couldn’t pierce the golden array.
Only the snowflakes falling non-stop from the sky passed through the array, falling piece by piece on the human’s shoulders.
“…”
Langmuir gasped, his eyes gradually dilating, his condition was getting worse and worse, blood kept sliding from his lips, and his white robe was dyed a large patch of red.
He stretched out his arm with difficulty, his slender fingers like broken white buds.
However, when the five fingers of the Holy Monarch slightly bent, what erupted was a power as immovable as a mountain–
Bang!
Yinsha was smashed head-first into the ground. Then, a force from the void grabbed his neck and yanked him forward–
Yinsha’s head was bloody, and he was firmly suppressed by the power of the array in front of Langmuir. His eyes were bloodshot, and he spat out a string of unspeakable curses from his mouth, but the restraint was immovable!
A weak voice, interspersed with low panting, came from above.
“Swear with your blood and soul, submit to my King, Hun Yao.”
–Yinsha wanted to cry but had no tears, struggling frantically like a fish on a chopping board. This hateful, evil human, wasn’t it agreed to only borrow the demonic breath!?
Langmuir seemed to be unable to see clearly anymore. He lowered his eyelashes, reached out and fumbled a bit, his fingertips first pressed on Yinsha’s horn, applying a little force, slowly probing from the tip to the root.
Then, the human’s fingertips touched the back of the Demon King’s head, sliding to the back of his neck.
Langmuir pressed on Yinsha’s life gate. “Swear.”
Yinsha was horrified.
Geleilong was equally horrified.
But no matter how much struggle, roar, or threat, none could interrupt the calm actions of the Holy Monarch.
Langmuir’s left hand was pressing down on Yinsha, and his right hand was holding the honey-gold dagger, gently stabbing it into the back of the Demon King’s neck.
“Ah ah ah ah!!!”
“I, I swear!! I swear–”
Yinsha screamed, his demonic breath was rapidly drained, like a flood rolling away. Under the double blow of pain and humiliation, the burly Demon King burst into tears.
What made him collapse even more was that Langmuir tilted his head and listened for a while, seemingly slow to realize that he was in pain. The next moment, he actually waved his hand and cast a pain-relieving Light spell on him!
Yinsha was utterly humiliated. “You! You might as well kill me!!”
Langmuir ignored him. He thought to himself, why do they want to live or die so much, he himself was so eager to live a few more years but couldn’t, those who could live were seeking death.
Thinking this way, the Holy Monarch got a little angry. He took back the pain-relieving spell and let Yinsha howl on the ground.
Finally, when the turbulent demonic breath calmed down, Langmuir calmly stood up, holding the blood-dripping honey-gold dagger in his hand.
“If I can’t personally return the demonic breath to you.” He said, “Please go to my King to ask for it later. Cough…be a little sweet, he will return the demonic breath to you. You are not that powerful, you can’t threaten him.”
Langmuir turned around, he saw the Geleilong tribe army ready for battle in front of him. Those demons were holding spears, driving bows and arrows, still couldn’t suppress the fear on their faces.
“What are you afraid of, cowards! Can’t you see this human is almost done!?”
Geleilong hid behind, screaming heartbreakingly, “Kill, kill him, your leader’s son is still the Demon King! Otherwise, when Hun Yao’s army flattens this place, you won’t even have bones left–”
The demons still shrank back. They knew that the Broken Horn Demon King had once accepted the enemy Watie’s tribesmen, and the one who ordered the massacre of those innocents was clearly their own leader.
Langmuir took a step forward.
The army began to retreat involuntarily.
Langmuir walked towards the way he came, like a god parting the dark tide.
But he was too weak after all. He had only walked a dozen steps when his legs softened and he fell to the ground.
Langmuir coughed hard, his fingers propped on the snow, lifting his blurry gaze to the distance–
Hasn’t come yet. That demon who would definitely come to pick him up.
Sometimes, fate was so coincidental. He just thought about it, and he heard familiar footsteps in his ears. The sound was very faint, it came from the distant wild forest, but Langmuir miraculously heard it, and recognized it all at once.
Langmuir first felt joy, he instinctively reached out to the invisible front, but suddenly retracted it.
Damn, he frowned and thought, he forgot that he was now a runaway slave, if Hun Yao got angry and snatched the dagger, and didn’t allow him to open the barrier with it, what would he do then?
The footsteps were getting more and more urgent, getting closer and closer.
Langmuir panicked in his heart, holding the honey-gold dagger, quickly drew a line in his palm.
When the messenger soldier galloped in, it had just been half a day since Hun Yao returned to the palace.
A fierce discussion was taking place in the Great Stone Hall.
Surprisingly, even Tianpo only symbolically opposed a few sentences about allowing Langmuir to touch the barrier, soon put on a resentful look of being outnumbered, and said no more.
More discussions revolved around the birth of the new Demon King.
The young king and the high priest both advocated dragging as much as possible, trying every means to drag the duel until after the barrier was opened.
The reason is simple: as long as Gasuo’s barrier is opened, the situation in the abyss will inevitably change drastically. Under the merit of saving the whole race, the newly awakened Demon King will also become insignificant, perhaps there is no need for a duel at all.
The recently returned General Asayin also insisted that Geleilong was not a powerful tribe, the new Demon King was unsupported, and could not threaten the palace in the short term.
For some reason, Hun Yao was extremely determined.
He said, “Deal with the new Demon King first.”
The young king was young, and if he couldn’t stop it, he’d be extremely anxious. The high priest, however, seemed to have a vague sense of something, sighed deeply, and shook his head without saying anything.
It was at this time that the young demon broke in. This unlucky child’s wildebeest was ridden away by Langmuir, and by the time he ran down the barrier cliff, found the nearby patrol in a panic, borrowed a horse and rushed back to the palace, it had been delayed for a long time.
Rushing into the Great Stone Hall, he didn’t care about the rules, and shouted, “He–Langmuir, he’s gone!!”
In an instant, Hun Yao’s vision went black, and he quickly grabbed the armrest, barely avoiding falling from the beast bone throne!
The young king and the high priest were equally scared by this shout. Tianpo rushed up, grabbed the messenger soldier, “Speak clearly, who left, what do you mean by ‘left’!?”
The young demon cried and talked, babbling about how he was threatened, how he watched Langmuir go down the mountain and lead away the wildebeest.
Everyone then breathed a sigh of relief.
Oh, it really meant “left” in the literal sense, not…
The cold sweat on Hun Yao’s back hadn’t gone down yet, and he stood up with a gloomy face.
“Very good, very good,” the Demon King muttered to himself, striding out, “Even the slave had learned to run away, I knew his good behavior was all fake…”
Of course, the slave who dared to run away had to be caught, he thought. Take a trip, since Langmuir cares so much about the new Demon King of the Geleilong tribe, simply solve it in front of the slave…
Suddenly, the Demon King’s expression changed dramatically.
Hun Yao suddenly turned around, “Did he take anything!?”
The young messenger soldier was startled. The Demon King’s claw grabbed his collar, almost lifting him up, and roared, “Did he or didn’t he!”
The young man stammered, “It seems, it seems… he took a dark gold object…”
Hun Yao staggered a step.
He pushed the young man away and turned to walk out.
Urgent calls came from behind, but Hun Yao could no longer hear them. He led his wildebeest away, and saw the snow-silver leaf harp hanging next to the saddle.
He was finally deceived by the human once, wasn’t it agreed that he would take the harp back? The Demon King mounted his horse and shouted, “Go!”
“My King!” Tianpo rushed over, reaching out to grab the reins, “Wait, don’t go–”
In the dark, an uneasy thought gripped the young king’s heart: she actually felt that if she let Hun Yao leave like this, neither the Demon King nor that annoying human would ever come back.
Even if they come back, they won’t be the same as they were now.
But she missed, and fell to the ground with a thud.
The wildebeest neighed and ran out like an arrow off the string.
……
Hun Yao had never felt that the speed of the wildebeest was so slow.
The cold wind froze his body, and fear squeezed all his senses, until the world in front of him twisted into mottled gray in the heavy snow.
He seemed to hear the sound of rain, he seemed to see the withered branches of the bushes trembling in the rain, and his face seemed to be wet.
Hun Yao suddenly realized that this was the memory of that rainy day.
That day, Langmuir put his hand into his palm and told him in a soft voice: the Light’s son of god seven years ago could no longer accept Mana, and forcibly entering the body would only accelerate the process of death.
–And at this moment, in the flying snow and the endless road ahead, the Demon King recalled the despair of that moment in deeper despair.
He clearly remembered how he collapsed bit by bit, riding a horse just the same, with boundless cold falling from the sky, like millions of ice needles piercing his bones. He was also crying, but he couldn’t make a sound.
Langmuir, his Langmuir.
He obsessively remembered the sun that he had been thinking about for fourteen years was drowned by heavy rain, and the human turned into droplets of water that he couldn’t hold in his palm.
Langmuir was getting farther and farther away from him, at a time when he could no longer let go.
The road was too long, so much so that Hun Yao had to let his mind wander.
Would there be a miracle, such as everything could be saved when he arrived? Langmuir had told the story of the Goddess, redemption would come to the virtuous and devout.
They should have at least one more month.
Hun Yao thought resentfully.
The wildebeest galloped across the plain, through the forest.
He didn’t know how long it had been.
The rain in his memory stopped, and the snow fell in front of him.
The night faded away, and a brilliant light rose at the end of the distant mountains.
Hun Yao stopped his horse in a daze, the warm light of white gold was shining on him through the layers of branches. On the snow, the lone rider was cast a magnificent long shadow.
That was the golden sun that the Broken Horn Demon King had looked up to in countless midnight dreams.
He involuntarily dismounted, walking forward as if sleepwalking.
He walked faster and faster, eventually running, sprinting. One by one, the broken tree stumps after the fierce battle were thrown behind him, and the scenery in front of him suddenly opened up–
Countless demon soldiers in armor, riding wildebeest and lizards, surrounded a frail figure in the middle.
Langmuir sat on the ground, his white robe stained with blood, his silver-gray long hair mixed with the color of the falling snow.
Seemingly sensing his arrival, the human raised his face and smiled, reaching out to him.
All of Hun Yao’s senses were blurred. He walked forward, and no demon dared to stop him.
Just when he was only ten steps, or less than ten steps away from Langmuir.
Langmuir withdrew his pale hand and cut open his palm with the honey-gold dagger.
The demonic breath rose up to the sky, and in just an instant, it swallowed the human figure.
…..
Liar.
There is no redeeming god in the world.
A demon like him will only be pushed into the abyss.
Perhaps because he is neither devout nor good.
But even Langmuir didn’t save him.
Nor did he love him.
