The Seventh Year the Demon King Captured the Holy Monarch

“No… it’s impossible.”

Langmuir’s vision was blurred by the chaotic light, the sunlight, the demonic breath.

He had exhausted his strength in the process of opening the barrier, and now he couldn’t even turn around to look at the Demon King, let alone resist. He could only gasp intermittently, “I… I can’t go back… Hun Yao, you can’t win this gamble, you’ll only lose your life in vain!”

“Stop talking nonsense, bad luck!”

Hun Yao took another step forward, his scaly claws struggling to tear a gap in the magic array, “You say I can’t win the gamble, so I shouldn’t gamble? You say there’s no way out, so I shouldn’t try? If I were that unambitious, I would have died fourteen years ago!!”

Langmuir’s heart contracted violently.

He opened his mouth in a daze, not knowing how to persuade him further. He only felt the heat coming from behind him, burning hot enough to make one despair.

…It was his fault.

He shouldn’t have let Hun Yao accompany him to the barrier cliff, and when telling stories, he shouldn’t have hidden the fact that he had been rejected by his people;

He shouldn’t have failed to discover earlier that Hun Yao loved him, he shouldn’t have believed the Demon King’s words of “can give up”.

They had talked about love and giving up, more than once.

In the later years, the relationship between the Demon King and his slave had eased, and there was basically nothing they couldn’t talk about. The concepts of humans and demons were vastly different, and it was interesting to debate.

“So, Langmuir, why does the Holy Monarch of your temple have to be celibate?”

The cool night was refreshing, Langmuir closed his eyes and lay back on the field, the grass beneath him was wet and cool, he used his bare back to feel the pulse of the earth.

After the merge, it seemed that there was still the heat left by Hun Yao in his body cavity, which was also fading in the wind.

“It must be your human prejudice, thinking that doing this is unclean.”

Hun Yao grabbed the robe next to him, casually draped it over him, and squinted his eyes, “Langmuir, do you also think I’m dirty?”

Langmuir failed to notice the subtle emotions hidden beneath the Demon King’s sarcastic tone, and he casually turned over on the grass.

“You’re starting again.” He nestled half of his face into Hun Yao’s embrace, “If that’s the case, this slave has also become as dirty as you… Ah!”

Before he could finish his sentence, the Demon King’s face darkened, and he turned his head to bite him on the shoulder.

At that time, Langmuir was bitten by this suddenly enraged beast and was completely confused, wondering: Why did he get angry? Wasn’t it okay to follow his words?

He helplessly stroked Hun Yao’s hair, kneading the roots of his horns with his fingers, “I was wrong, my fault, don’t bite me…”

The soothing trick quickly took effect. Hun Yao reluctantly ground his teeth on him for a while, then let go, leaving a mark on his smooth and fair shoulder.

Langmuir: “It’s not about being dirty or not, didn’t we say before, our doctrine values restraint as a virtue.”

Hun Yao: “Ridiculous, the demons are in the abyss, longing for possession but have to give up. You humans have everything, but you regard giving up as a good thing. Isn’t that a waste, ‘giving up’ yourself?”

Langmuir: “Hasn’t my king heard of the phrase ‘self-sacrifice for others’? Self-sacrifice for an individual is a small love, self-sacrifice for the masses is a great love.”

“Hmph, I think that’s called being foolish.”

“How can it be foolish?”

“Just take you for example, should I give up just because you don’t like to merge with me? Should I lose my slave at night just to hear you praise me as noble?”

Langmuir didn’t know whether to laugh and cry, “That’s different, my King doesn’t have to love me… Ah! Why are you biting me again? …”

…….

Memories were all melted into the roaring wind.

Tears from Langmuir’s eyes, mixed with the blood at the corners of his lips, kept falling.

He took a shallow breath, his weak voice obviously trembling, “My King Hun Yao, please listen to me…”

It was his fault, Langmuir thought.

He taught Hun Yao to “give up himself”, he had tamed the freely soaring eagle with seven years of time, yet he was completely unaware.

And now, he couldn’t stop Hun Yao from risking his life for him.

“My body is already broken, my kingdom will not accept me… Even if I return to the human world, it will be hard to find a way to survive… And if you let me go, there will certainly be demons who are dissatisfied.”

Langmuir closed his eyes, pleading in a mournful voice, “I don’t want… to see the abyss stirring up war and suspicion again, and I don’t want to bet with your life…”

“Now, I have fulfilled all my wishes, I am happy, I die without regret… It’s me who doesn’t want to live, I don’t want to live…My king, please pity me, satisfy me…okay?”

He didn’t know if it was because his plea was too pitiful. Hearing this, the force that had been suppressing him at the edge of the barrier suddenly loosened for a moment.

Langmuir’s expression changed, and he took the opportunity to turn around abruptly—

He finally saw Hun Yao’s appearance at this moment face to face.

The Demon King stood there, all the scales on his body were cracked, his limbs and torso were like they had been cut apart by cracked patterns, dripping with blood, there was not a single intact place—black flames were uncontrollably spreading from where his heart was, as if to burn him alive.

But Hun Yao’s eyes were surprisingly calm, he no longer violently pressed his human, but instead used his bloody, hot fingers to brush away Langmuir’s silver hair.

“…Langmuir,” he tilted his head to look at the Holy Monarch’s face, speaking slowly, “I ask you.”

“In your life, have you ever wanted something for yourself?”

“Regardless of responsibility, good or evil, right or wrong… Have you ever pursued something for your own selfish desires?”

“If so, what is it?”

“If you can name one, I will stop.”

Langmuir began to breathe rapidly, his brows furrowed in thought, wasn’t this simple?

But as he flipped through page after page of memories, like the snowflakes melting before his eyes, he found no answer that could satisfy the Demon King.

His life for the first fifteen years was noble and abundant, lacking nothing.

He followed the rules of the Holy Teachings, sought goodness and truth, and loved the millions of people within his kingdom.

In the fourteen years that followed, burdened with sin and seeking desperately, how could he dare to pursue any personal desires?

Hun Yao, his eyes red, swallowed the blood in his throat forcefully, “Langmuir, ask yourself again, do you really not want to live? Is there nothing left in this world that you cherish!?”

At the same time, his demonic breath surged wildly once more—

Boom!!

The spatial constraints of the Gasuo barrier, the invisible rules of the magic array, finally succumbed to such intense flames and suddenly cracked open!

“Hun Yao!! Wait…”

Langmuir suddenly looked up, reaching out to grab the Demon King. At that moment, he met a pair of unwilling eyes.

There seemed to be a thousand words in that gaze, like a rain of rebuking arrows, stirring his heart—

Langmuir, my Langmuir, do you really want to give up on life? Don’t you want to go home? Don’t you want to see your brothers, your people, and your kingdom one more time?

Don’t you want to witness the disappearance of the miasma, the truth of two hundred years ago revealed to the world, and the moment when all hatred comes to an end?

Don’t you want to see the scene that the harp song longs for, the reunion of your brethren on the bright spring land?

You’ve told me countless times about the four seasons of the human world, about your royal city and temple. There’s also the sweet afternoon tea, the lilies with dewdrops, the newly composed harp music, the playful children in the choir, the birds and people returning home with the sunset…

Holy Monarch Langmuir Bret, you were born of flesh and blood, not a statue. Do you truly not want to, dare not to, or have never known to think for yourself!?

“Cough…!”

Hun Yao gradually couldn’t stand, he coughed up a mouthful of blood, and knelt on the ground.

Langmuir had long lost his strength, he could only stand because the Demon King was supporting him, and at this moment, he was forced to collapse on the ground.

Both the human and the demon were covered in blood. At the end of the cliff where the snowstorm and black flames swirled, they were like a pair of scarred beasts, leaning on each other.

“My King…”

Langmuir desperately reached out, inserting his icy fingers into Hun Yao’s burning ones.

He pulled the Demon King’s palm over, pressing it tightly against his forehead, sobbing, “Enough, enough…”

“Langmuir, believe in me…”

Hun Yao breathed heavily, gripping the human’s hand tightly, “Believe in me, as long as you believe in me, do as I say, I can take you back! We can both live!”

But…

You’ve clearly already…

“…I believe you.”

Langmuir quickly and softly uttered a sentence.

“Really?” Hun Yao laughed, “You said it.”

As he spoke, the Demon King slowly withdrew his hand from the Holy Monarch’s, still smiling, his voice hoarse, “Now, you have to help me do something.”

“Now, Langmuir, draw my knife, cut off my left horn.”

As the last word of the sentence fell, Langmuir’s hand, which had reached for the Demon King’s waist, was frozen in mid-air.

The Holy Monarch raised his pale face, his eyes as dark as the night in the abyss, “What?”

Hun Yao repeated, “Cut off my left horn.”

……

The Demon King should have thought of it earlier, he thought to himself with a sense of relief.

That day, the night he had planned to propose. In the divination of the high priest Tada, he chose the method of “seeking blessings and avoiding calamities”.

The hint from the bone chips would lead him to an opportunity, or help him avoid a disaster.

But there was a paradox hidden here.

Since the bone chip divination was about a scene that was destined to happen in the future, if this scene was the disaster itself, wouldn’t it be unavoidable?

So there was only one possible correct answer: what the bone chips showed him was not a disaster, but a chance!

What he should do was not to avoid the “disaster of the broken horn”, but to follow the hint of the bone chips, let everything happen just right, that was the way to “seek blessings and avoid calamities”.

And now, the cliff, the snowstorm, the raging flames of demonic breath, and Langmuir covered in scales… all the scenes gradually overlapped with that vague illusion.

So that’s how it was.

Enduring the burning pain, Hun Yao said word by word, “Listen to me, the horns of the demons are the key to controlling the flow of demonic breath, as long as the horn is broken…”

Langmuir was so angry that his vision went black, and he was panting so hard that he was about to faint, “Nonsense! You…you still want to deceive me!”

“Don’t you know how serious your old wounds are!? If you hurt another horn, your demonic breath will be forever silent, you will be completely ruined!!”

But the Demon King paused strangely, then laughed.

He said softly, “If the demonic breath really goes silent, then there won’t be any backlash, right?”

So that’s how it was.

The gears of fate silently turned, all causes and effects were perfectly aligned.

Yes, what he sought in the divination was a future with Langmuir, nothing more. If this was the price to get out of this deadlock…

Hun Yao completely disregarded everything. The demonic breath inside his body, hot as fire, was once again forcibly stimulated by him, rushing towards the barrier like a black comet.

At the same time, he heard the sound of tearing–that was the sound of his own scales and bones being torn apart by this terrifying power.

His hearing suddenly became distant.

His vision also seemed to be separated by a layer of white fog.

It was hazy and unclear.

Gradually, Hun Yao’s soul seemed to split into two halves, one half fell into the purgatory of flames, suffering the punishment of burning; the other half, however, left his body, floating on this snowy land, gazing at everything.

He saw the spatial constraints of the barrier break open.

He saw his own body being devoured by the demonic breath, almost instantly losing consciousness, about to die in a few seconds.

He saw Langmuir draw the curved knife from his waist with the fastest reaction speed.

This person, whose life was already like a dying candle, who just now couldn’t even stand on his own, somehow mustered the strength to grip his heavy curved knife!

Clang!!

The sound coincided with the bone chip illusion in his memory.

Langmuir was already so weak that he could hardly lift his arm, his demonic breath was exhausted, and his mana could only be mobilized a little, the chopping was almost entirely dependent on the weight of the curved knife itself.

The first chop did not cleanly cut off the Demon King’s horn.

When he drew the knife, the sound of the blade scraping was so grating that it was cruel to listen to.

Tears rolled down Langmuir’s face, and without hesitation, he swung the second chop.

When the third chop fell, the Holy Monarch, who seemed like he would never hate anyone in his lifetime, actually said softly with tears, “…Hun Yao, I hate you.”

That’s right, after coming to the abyss and learning so much, how could he not learn to hate in the end…

Hun Yao thought he had said this, but in fact, he hadn’t been able to say a word.

He listened to the sound of the knife chopping in a daze. The demonic breath inside his body cooled rapidly, numbed rapidly, and finally he couldn’t feel anything, just like a paralyzed patient can’t feel his own hands and feet.

The Demon King was not sad, but rather felt a slight joy.

In the first place, Langmuir had never thought of hurting him.

He just wanted to live with Langmuir too much.

Even if it meant giving up half of the remaining dignity of the demons, giving up the strong demonic breath that he was proud of.

Giving up the status of the Demon King, giving up the honor of the strong, giving up the pleasure of every battle and conquest in the future, even giving up life.

It didn’t matter.

He was willing to give up all these, to love him.

Even if he couldn’t possess him.

Crack–

The horn broke and fell on the snowy cliff.

The first second he regained the sensation of his body, Hun Yao suddenly raised his arm, exerting all his strength, and pushed Langmuir to the other side of the barrier.

Go home, Holy Monarch.