Regrettably, for the “Resurrection at Dawn” that was destined to be sung as a miracle in the future, Langmuir himself could not retain any memory of it.
The soldiers and civilians present at the scene, most of them also experienced symptoms of memory blurring, leaving only a vague impression. And the few who claimed to have clear memories, their oral accounts differed in details.
The “death and resurrection” of the last Holy Monarch of the kingdom thus turned into an eternal historical mystery.
Countless scholars analyzed the scene at the time, trying to explain what happened from a perspective detached from theology.
Some said that the Holy Monarch’s body was filled with immense Mana and demonic breath at the time, and perhaps some mutation had occurred within it.
Some said that perhaps some reclusive great mage was moved by the Holy Monarch and cast a forbidden spell among the crowd.
The explanation that was widely accepted, and also the one that countless teachers explained to students in magic classes afterwards, was—
After a person’s heartbeat and breathing stop, consciousness does not yet perish. And the healing spell of His Majesty the Holy Monarch was unparalleled in the world, probably it was the Holy Monarch’s own will to survive that drew the magic gathered by the people, bringing about this miracle of resurrection.
Not until later, someone found that half-broken statue of the Goddess in the wilderness.
Believers treasured it like a treasure, insisting that this was evidence of the Goddess’ descent, wasn’t that crack the physical manifestation of the Goddess’ tears?
And the faithless magic scholars also treasured it like a treasure, believing that it was caused by the intense magic shock when the healing spell was activated, even the statue of the Goddess was destroyed, doesn’t that prove that the miracle has nothing to do with God?
In this way, the debate continued endlessly. Whether that miracle was man-made or bestowed by God, there was no final conclusion in the end.
The only thing that could be confirmed was that statements like “His Majesty the Holy Monarch has become a god” and “He recovered as before in the flowers and sweet springs, stood up and smiled at the soldiers and the people” were definitely nonsense.
Langmuir’s body was already riddled with holes, and his spirit was also exhausted to the extreme. Even if that fatal arrow wound was healed, it was just a breath of life.
After the brilliant golden light dissipated, Langmuir fell into a deep coma again, allowing his younger brother Aiden to hold him and cry and laugh.
The Holy Monarch was carefully escorted back to the royal city, but the doctors who were called into the palace began to worry.
In the past, the temple indeed had holy water that could purify the influence of demonic breath, but that was only for those who had just mutated into demons under the influence of demonic breath. Langmuir’s time of demonization was too long, the degree too deep, and now he was extremely weak, no one dared to use it rashly on him.
That night, the doctor looked grave and honestly told Aiden, “…We can only first seal His Majesty the Holy Monarch’s mana to prevent the demonic breath and mana from clashing. As for the rest, we have to wait until he wakes up.”
Aiden stayed up all night until his eyes were dark, his fingers tightly clutching the wall, “Can my brother still return to his normal human form?”
“To be honest, it’s very difficult, Your Majesty.”
Aiden couldn’t help but punch the wall, his teeth clenched in pain.
The doctor said again, “Also, Your Majesty, there’s one more thing…”
“We saw on the Holy Monarch’s neck, there are…there are traces of having worn a hard object for a long time. It should be a chain or a leather ring, it is said that the demons would put these things on their slaves…”
“Slave!?” Aiden gasped, suddenly turning around.
Behind him in the room, the gauzy bed curtain hung down, and he could only vaguely see a quiet sleeping shadow.
“What…what kind of seven years has he gone through!?”
The doctor looked troubled.
No one had ever entered the abyss, nor had anyone come into contact with the demons. Aiden’s question was destined to go unanswered.
They could only imagine the worst. Langmuir was only in his twenties when he entered the abyss, as a noble and dignified monarch, he was tormented by the demons as a slave for seven years, when he came back his golden hair turned white, his body grew demonic scales…what had he gone through, and what state was he in now?
Aiden, with red eyes, gritted his teeth and said darkly, “He went to save the demons, but was harmed by the demons like this, I…”
This young monarch smiled bitterly, covering his face with his hand, “I really understand why my brother once said, the chain of hatred is the hardest to break. I really wish I could immediately send troops to tear those demons apart.”
The doctor sighed deeply.
“Alas…no one has had a good conversation with the Holy Monarch yet. We don’t know if his mind is still clear, even whether his personality and memory are still intact is unknown…”
“When the Holy Monarch wakes up, no matter what he says, please go along with it, Your Majesty, don’t casually bring up the abyss and the demons, so as not to stimulate him…”
The doctor rambled on. The more Aiden listened, the more anxious he became, his face turned pale, and he quickly said, “I know, I know.”
Langmuir slept in the palace for four days before waking up.
After he opened his eyes, he was dazed for almost a quarter of an hour.
Everything about returning to the human world was like a dream.
He seemed to hear countless souls laughing and calling him, and also seemed to hear countless people crying and calling him. In his confused consciousness, he saw the brilliant sunlight, and then fell asleep in the sunlight.
When he opened his eyes again, it was here.
The room was filled with furnishings that he hadn’t seen for seven years, this was his bedroom when he was the Holy Monarch. Even the delicate embossed carvings on the ceiling, the scratches on the gold and copper chandelier, and the ties on the white gauze bed curtain were no different from his memory.
The room was filled with the scent of medicine, quiet. Outside the door, there were faint footsteps, Langmuir knew, those were the palace maids, as long as he called out, someone would come in.
So, did he really…come back?
Langmuir thought of the arrow that pierced his heart on the watchtower, and felt even more unreal.
He subconsciously wanted to raise his hand to touch his heart, but as soon as he moved his arm, his face turned pale and he let out a soft groan.
It hurt, it hurt everywhere, his whole body felt like it was broken.
Suddenly, a fluffy head popped up from the side of the bed, “Brother!?”
Aiden, who was napping there, woke up in shock, quickly protecting Langmuir’s trembling arm and tucking it back into the blanket, “Slow down, slow down, don’t move around…”
“Brother, you’re awake, that’s great…The doctor said you should have woken up a couple of days ago, but you just kept sleeping, I was scared to death.”
Aiden’s voice was very nasally, obviously he had been crying these past few days.
He choked at the bedside, “How do you feel, are you thirsty, are you hungry? Does it hurt a lot? If it’s really uncomfortable, you can drink some anesthetic…”
Langmuir made an effort to squeeze Aiden’s palm, “Aiden…”
“It’s me, it’s me. Brother, you’re in the palace, you’re home, this is your room from back then, do you remember?”
Langmuir then said, “Gasuo’s barrier…miasma…”
Aiden’s throat moved, he said softly, “Don’t worry, everything is fine except for you.”
Langmuir heard a hint of heartache and reproach in his brother’s tone.
He smiled weakly, enduring the pain to reach out and touch his brother’s hair, “I’m sorry, Aiden, I always make you worry…But, it’s so good to see you again.”
Just that one sentence, and Aiden almost cried out loud.
He had already prepared for the worst, but after all the pain, his brother seemed to have changed everything, and yet nothing had changed. Those gentle eyes were not only not dimmed, but seemed even brighter and more moving.
Aiden didn’t want to show his sadness in front of Langmuir, so he quickly forced a smile, made an excuse to pour him some water, turned around to rub his face, and then opened the curtain.
Outside the window was a clear blue sky, the slender branches of winter stretched out, like a painting.
Langmuir nestled in the bed, quietly observing his long-lost brother in the daylight.
Seven years had passed, and Aiden had obviously matured a lot, his flaxen hair combed into the curly style of the palace nobility, and his eyes had the steadiness of a king, but now he was clearly haggard, without much momentum.
Aiden came back very quickly, he first put the bowl and spoon on the small table by the bed, then called two maids into the room.
The maids were dressed in tea-brown cloth skirts, tied with white lace headbands, first bowed to Aiden and called him “Your Majesty”, then bowed to Langmuir and called him “Your Majesty the Holy Monarch”.
They gently lifted Langmuir’s upper body and let him lean on the soft pillow.
The Holy Monarch smiled, thanked them weakly, and then asked them, aren’t they afraid of demons? The maids were scared and shook their heads and waved their hands, stammering and unable to speak.
They were all new in the past few years, and had never seen such a gentle and kind royal family, both of their pretty faces blushed.
“Brother, you talk less…Here, try this, it’s flower tea, also added honey, red dates and some herbs. The doctor said it can be drunk as water.”
Aiden nervously fed a small spoonful of warm medicinal tea and handed it over.
Langmuir took a sip and was stunned. This was a taste he used to like very much. He had dreamed of it in the first few years of arriving in the abyss.
A huge sense of unreality hit him again.
Having been in the abyss for so long, he had gotten used to hot wine, sheep’s milk, and the bitter-sweet juice of wild fruits. At this moment, the rich and elegant aroma of tea suddenly filled his mouth, making Langmuir unable to recover for a long time.
A thought suddenly popped up.
He thought: The abyss doesn’t have this taste, the Demon King must not have tasted it. I wonder if he would like it.
Then, Langmuir’s right hand suddenly started to tremble minutely.
He subconsciously wanted to press it down with his left hand, but his left hand also started to shake uncontrollably.
“Brother, what’s wrong with you!?”
Aiden was startled and quickly put down the bowl, “Don’t you like it? We won’t drink it, not this one, I’ll pour you some water…”
The winter sun outside the window shone on Langmuir’s thin and pale face.
The Holy Monarch’s expression was still calm, he just stared at his trembling hands and said, “…No, I’m fine.”
He knew why he was trembling. It was these hands…that had pulled out the curved blade in the snowstorm and broken off the Demon King’s only remaining horn.
Having lost both horns and the demonic breath, in the abyss where power equals dignity, what would Hun Yao become in the future?
Langmuir’s heart ached with sadness, he had to close his eyes and say softly, “I’m sorry, I’m just a bit tired.”
Aiden and the maids were all scared and didn’t dare to breathe, they quickly helped him lie down and sent someone to call the doctor.
But Langmuir had already turned over and buried his face in the pillow.
…Of course he knew that the root of Gasuo’s disaster had been eradicated.
He had finally completed this long and hard journey. Leaving the abyss, returning to his hometown, he was no longer a monarch burdened with sin, nor a slave to the Demon King.
But fourteen years ago, the “curse” that Hun Yao had placed on him in the abyss, not only had it not been lifted, but it seemed to have mutated.
Every time he saw sunlight or flowers, his heart would still well up with a long pain.
He would remember the frost and snow of the harsh winter, the fire veins under the ground, the wildebeest and the scaly claw holding the reins, the bonfire and the black scales illuminated by the firelight.
And the bell made of bone fragments, the distant sacrificial song, even the sound of the war drums and the bloody wind that he hated.
No. Langmuir silently clenched his fist.
It seemed that it was not just sunlight and flowers, he would think of that land called Gasuo when he saw all the beautiful things.
There was a Demon King there who had lost his horns because of him.
He had once told Hun Yao that he did not love him. He really didn’t think he would fall in love with the Demon King, even if there were some special feelings, they were just some guilt, some gratitude, and some admiration and touch.
But now, after the near-death separation, Langmuir suddenly found that he was starting to miss his Demon King.
Was this also part of the guilt? He didn’t know. But he wanted Hun Yao to taste the flower tea he loved to drink, also added with honey, red dates, and some herbs.
So when the doctor hurriedly arrived, the Holy Monarch lying on the bed struggled to lift his face, and couldn’t help but ask the first sentence.
“Sir, can my body recover to health? It’s okay if it’s not healthy, I want to ask…can I return to the abyss?”
