The Seventh Year the Demon King Captured the Holy Monarch

Unlike the gentle Mana, the demonic breath was born between the miasma and the earth fire deep underground, originally a violent and burning energy.

The horns of the demons symbolize the nobility of their bloodline for a reason, they control the demonic breath through their horns.

Hun Yao lost his right horn, so his control over the demonic breath was naturally weakened. After being severely injured and burned by the demonic breath of other great demons, and then not getting proper treatment, it’s no wonder he ended up with an incurable disease.

Hun Yao smacked his lips. “Speaking of which, I fought with you for three days back then, and I almost died when I got back…”

Suddenly, he frowned, “——Langmuir, why are you shaking?”

He lifted Langmuir’s chin, the slave’s face was almost transparently pale, his teeth biting on his lips, indeed trembling slightly.

Hun Yao laughed in surprise. “What’s wrong, did I scare you?”

“You’ve been in the abyss for six years, and you still cry and shiver at the drop of a hat…Tell me, have I protected you too well?”

Langmuir lightly hummed in agreement, burying his head into Hun Yao’s chest.

Hun Yao was charmed again, and patted him in the half-hugging position. “Be good.”

The Demon King continued. “Later, the demons I met were more sinister than the last, but I didn’t lose to them. Those who wanted to slaughter me were slaughtered by me in the end, those who wanted to harm me ended up kneeling before me begging for mercy…On a land where gods will not descend, this is the law of survival.”

“But you haven’t taken revenge on that inferior demon that disappeared, you don’t even know where he went.”

“Is an inferior demon worthy of my attention?”

“I thought you were the type to hold grudges.”

“Not at all.” Hun Yao chuckled, “The only enemy I really care about is you.”

“But I have indeed hated before, not hating that inferior demon, but hating myself for being careless and stupid. If I died in such a place, it would be too unworthy…”

Hun Yao sighed, and casually slipped out a sentence. “I haven’t had the chance to meet you yet.”

Langmuir was taken aback, and the Demon King reacted immediately. He was angry at his own slip of the tongue, and quickly made up for it. “I mean——I haven’t had the chance to take revenge on you yet.”

This was not nonsense, Hun Yao thought. Many times when he was close to death, what he really thought was: I can’t die, I haven’t found that blond boy who shot the arrow yet…

That night, they found a stone on the barrier cliff where they didn’t have to worry about the earth fire coming up, and they slept hastily. The next morning, they rode the wildebeest back.

The demons in the royal court were used to seeing their king riding around with Lord Langmuir. When they met on the road, they would salute. The king rarely responded, but Lord Langmuir would always nod and smile at them.

At this year’s grand ceremony, there was still a human figure next to the Demon King.

An unprecedented event happened, there was no bloodshed at this year’s grand ceremony. The leaders of all tribes pledged allegiance to their common king, and then received the grace of sharing food. They still fought in the noise of their tribesmen, but before it was life-threatening, the silver-haired human in the white robe would always shout to stop, saying, “The victory or defeat is already decided.”

After nightfall, the leaders from all over started to dance their hometown dances.

Langmuir also went to dance. He tied up his long hair, took off his robe, and learned from the demon dancers. He meticulously painted his body with blue and red plant juice, and only tied a dazzling bone ornament around his waist to cover his private parts.

At last, he walked almost naked into the firelight, revealing his smooth, snow-white, tight limbs and chest.

All the demons were stunned. They opened their mouths in astonishment, and they all looked at their king—

Crack! Hun Yao crushed the wooden cup in his hand, his entire face twisted.

He stood up ominously, walked through the reveling demon dancers, and pulled Langmuir out.

“Why did you take off your clothes!”

Langmuir was confused. “Don’t all demons dance like this?”

Hun Yao’s face turned pale. “Get lost! We have scales to cover our bodies, do you!?”

Langmuir: “I do too!”

Hun Yao: “Only so little, you can count them all, can that be considered having?”

As he spoke, the Demon King went to scratch the places on the human where scales hadn’t grown. Langmuir laughed and dodged a few steps, but before he knew it, he was scooped up by Hun Yao and held in his arms, his feet off the ground——

Hun Yao carried him to the bath behind the palace.

What a familiar scene. Just like many years ago, the Demon King used a cloth soaked in water to wash the color off the human’s body.

When Langmuir was clean, Hun Yao was still touching the newly grown scales on the human’s back in a daze.

“It would be nice if I could grow scales all over too.” Langmuir said.

“What’s so good about scales.” Hun Yao scooped up a handful of water and poured it on his head, gloomily saying, “Ugly, hideous.”

“Besides, rarity is precious, you are the only human slave in the abyss, I need you. If you become a demon, I won’t want you.”

Langmuir just turned his head and smiled at the Demon King. From his hair and eyelashes to his nose and lips, all were dripping with water, looking more like a sea monster.

“Ah, what should I do then?” he asked.

Hun Yao thought for a moment, and said in a decisive tone. “You will be thrown into the slave shed, eating poisonous grass and bugs every day.”

…..

That charming smile gradually faded in memory.

The demonic breath stirred up the snow on the ground like a hurricane, Langmuir sat in the center, his skin constantly cracking and bleeding, new scales grew at a strange speed, and in the blink of an eye, they had climbed over half of his face.

“No!” The high priest of the Guleilong tribe staggered two steps.

In the eyes of the old demon, there seemed to be a struggle between despair and hope, his lips trembling, “Could it be, the real… the real Demon King in the prophecy…!!”

“What!” The leader Guleilong turned around in a rage, kicked up a foot, and knocked the old priest to the ground, “Old thing, what are you talking about!?”

Could it be that the so-called real Demon King in the prophecy is actually a human!?

Impossible, how could such a thing happen…

Yinsha struggled to get up from the ground, feeling incredulous at the empty feeling in his bloodline.

He suddenly looked at Hun Yao. What about the Broken Horn Demon King? What does he think now?

No Demon King would willingly watch another Demon King be born under his own eyelids, Yinsha was sure of this. Not to mention that was once the Demon King’s slave, once the enemy…

Countless gazes were cast on the Broken Horn Demon King, the demons were waiting for an outcome.

But Hun Yao did not move for a long time. Snowflakes kept falling on his hair, until the broken surface of his right horn was covered with a thin layer of white, he still stood there.

The first to move was that human.

“My King…”

Blood kept falling from Langmuir’s lips. He reached out in Hun Yao’s direction, blinked his scattered eyes, and said weakly. “Cough…hold me…I can’t stand up.”

Footsteps echoed in the snow.

They grew closer and closer until they stopped in front of him.

Hun Yao bent down and knelt, his eyes moist and red, silently lifting Langmuir into his arms.

The human wrapped his arms around the demon’s neck, burying his face in the latter’s chest, murmuring, “I’m sorry. But I really…really want you to live…I’m sorry.”

“..…”

Hun Yao’s lips moved as if he wanted to laugh bitterly, but he couldn’t.

In the end, facing a lover who was no longer an enemy, he still showed a hateful expression.

“Langmuir,” he said, “you love everything in the world, yet you are so willful towards me?”

Langmuir closed his eyes—

Finally, he had received enough, enough pure demonic breath.

He didn’t need to borrow power from Hun Yao, nor did the latter need to duel another demon king to the death. And he…

He wasn’t unaware of what his choice meant. Mana and demonic breath entered his body one after another. These were two completely opposite energies. Even the honey-gold dagger couldn’t contain them at the same time, let alone the flesh of a living being?

But anyway… Langmuir thought sadly, he was already destined not to survive, it was just a matter of a few days earlier or later.

There were no more demons speaking around.

When Hun Yao held the dying Langmuir and walked back the way he came, even Guleilong and Yinsha could only stare with their eyes wide open.

The Demon King’s figure walked into the wild forest and found the wildebeest he had driven here. Hun Yao held Langmuir and straddled the saddle, his left hand around the human’s cold neck and shoulders, his right hand picking up the reins.

“My harp…” Langmuir asked softly, “Did you get it for me?”

“I got it, it’s right here.”

“Then…please take me.”

“Okay.”

There was no need to say where to go, they both knew.

Langmuir had already drawn the last time limit for his life, and before saying goodbye, there was one last thing that had to be done.

The wildebeest ran in the falling snow, leaving all the disputes behind. They headed towards the barrier cliff, rushing to the end of this battle that had spanned two hundred years.

Langmuir fell into a coma not long after being held by Hun Yao on the horse, and after about half an hour, he slowly woke up and struggled to lift his head.

“My King…”

Hun Yao tightened his arm, letting Langmuir rest on his shoulder. “I’m here.”

Snow fell on the human’s cheek, and Hun Yao wiped it off with his palm.

In just half an hour, almost half of Langmuir’s face was covered with scales, and Yinsha’s demonic breath was still eroding him.

“There is…” Langmuir seemed extremely tired, his eyes half-open and half-closed, he murmured softly, “There is a…secret…”

“I’ve always…been afraid to tell you…”

Hun Yao shook his head with difficulty. At this moment, it seemed like everything didn’t matter.

The Demon King even felt that his heart had become a void, he didn’t care about any secrets, he just wanted to hear Langmuir say a few more words.

“So,” he said, “you can tell me now, it’s not too late.”

But Langmuir cried again. This human had a tenacious spirit that the Demon King had only seen in his life, but he always cried, always cried.

Tears wetted the scale at the corner of his eye, making it incredibly shiny.

Langmuir raised his hand and touched Hun Yao’s face. “…Fourteen years ago, I saw you…”

Hun Yao subconsciously held that hand, wrapping it with the rough reins in his palm. “Of course you’ve seen me.”

Langmuir shook his head forcefully and said, “No.”

In the distance, the end of the earth presented a lonely darkness, as boundless and endless as the Goddess had once complained in the old teachings.

“Not outside the barrier. It’s in…in this abyss.”

He said, “In the mountains, in the ice lake, in the cave, in the wilderness.”

“Our palms have been connected, just like…”

Langmuir’s gaze slowly fell, he held Hun Yao’s hand back, even if the strength was weak, “Yes, just like now.”

Hun Yao was stunned.

He was half surprised and half confused. “You…”

Suddenly, the Demon King’s heart began to shake rapidly, and his body felt numb as if he had been electrocuted!

His pupils dilated belatedly, and he exhaled a mist from his mouth. He reached out again, quickly wiping away the snowflakes that had fallen on Langmuir’s face—

Hun Yao suddenly took a breath.

In a daze, Langmuir’s face, covered with scales, vaguely overlapped with a face deep in his memory that he had almost forgotten!

Those light purple eyes, full of melancholy…

“Is…it you!?”

Hun Yao made an indescribable sound, like a mournful laugh, or a joyful cry. He held the human in his arms in confusion, “How could it be you!? How could you be—”

No, no. He almost madly pushed away the fragments of thoughts stirring in his mind. It didn’t matter, none of it mattered.

Could Langmuir actually be that inferior demon who disappeared years ago? It didn’t matter at all, at this moment, what was it that made his long-cold heart start to beat violently again? The real important key…

“That song, cough cough…” Langmuir reached out with difficulty, leaning to the side to take down the silver leaf harp from the saddle.

“I haven’t explained to you why I played the ‘Curse of the Demons’ that night.”

Langmuir propped himself up with difficulty, and Hun Yao quickly helped him, letting him lean on his chest. His sleeve accidentally brushed the strings, making a distant sound.

It was such a sound that wonderfully calmed Hun Yao’s heart.

The Demon King suddenly grasped the key that rekindled his soul.

—His human had once completely transformed into a demon, then back into a human, and then lived for seven years, without leaving any trace of having entered the abyss.

Before, Langmuir had admitted that the temple had a secret method to clear demonic breath and miasma, indeed, indeed…!

“My King Hun Yao, before I tell you the origin of everything, please listen to me sing that song again.”

Langmuir held the harp at an angle and plucked the strings.

He started to play, singing weakly but clearly—

“My all-knowing and omnipotent Goddess…

My bright golden sun;

Whenever a soul wanders in sin—

There is He who rises in rays of light.”