20 – The Demon Lord Cried. You Don’t Believe It? Let’s Pinky Swear.
You don’t believe me? Then let’s pinky promise.
A wave of gratitude surged forth, overwhelming as a mountain collapse.
The force was immense, yet it did not budge Baili Zheque in the slightest. “Is my consort throwing herself into my arms?”
Liu Wuzhi nodded enthusiastically.
Such directness left the Demon Lord speechless for a moment. He lifted her before him with one hand. “Why did that Immortal Sect disciple protect you?”
Liu Wuzhi sniffled. “Big… Senior Brother Liu Shao said I was the sacrifice for the second layer.”
Her teary-eyed, pitiful appearance stirred not an ounce of pity in the Demon Lord’s gaze. “How were you to be sacrificed?”
The illusion of the rain-soaked secluded forest gradually shifted into an ancient stone chamber. Above, the coiled dragon statue slowly rotated, obscuring the dual realm seal.
The faint light in the youth’s eyes was swallowed by a chilling, murderous intent. Liu Wuzhi stared blankly.
Huh, is this how a savior should act?
She didn’t know the follow-up to the tales of heroes rescuing beauties, but she instinctively took half a step back. “Don’t get worked up. What if you sacrifice the wrong person?”
The Demon Lord remained indifferent.
As one advanced and the other retreated, Liu Wuzhi failed to notice what was behind her until her lower back collided with something hard—a massive jade coffin, she realized upon glancing sideways. When she turned back, a shadow suddenly loomed over her.
Bamboo-like knuckles wrapped around her slender neck, the grip not forceful but more akin to the teasing of prey. Yet the murderous intent was even sharper than before.
Sacrificing Wuzhi would only play into the villain’s hands, wouldn’t it?
“Sovereign Lord, if you save me only to kill me later, you might as well have let me be bitten to death by the snail skull.” Her reminder bordered on coquettishness.
Suddenly, the jade coffin behind her let out a sharp crack. Before Liu Wuzhi could react, Baili Zheque pressed her onto the coffin lid, her face to the sky. One leaned back, the other bent over, as deep purple hair streaked with silver slid from the youth’s shoulders to frame the girl’s cheeks. The hand gripping her neck was icy and devoid of warmth, yet the crimson pupils seemed almost ablaze.
Having experience calming wolf cubs and the two-headed demon lizard, Liu Wuzhi knew that those brimming with aggression might carry pain deeper than her own.
The feeling of pain was terrible.
Unconsciously, she reached out to touch that blood-red right eye, but her wrist was immediately seized by the Demon Lord’s other hand. The man laughed coldly, his breath fanning her face. “You all dare to touch this lord’s reverse scale.”
Liu Wuzhi recalled that Mu Yingyou had also paid particular attention to his right eye, attacking it more than once.
This weakness was the Demon Lord’s secret.
A revealed secret would leave him insecure, trusting no one.
“I won’t tell anyone,” Liu Wuzhi said, raising her other free hand and curling her pinky in the air. “If you don’t believe me, let’s pinky promise.”
There was no malice, nor any attempt to curry favor.
Baili Zheque lowered his gaze, his eyes darkening with an impenetrable gloom. Liu Wuzhi’s arm grew sore from holding it up, yet he made no move to hook his pinky with hers.
The Demon Lord’s trust truly was a rare treasure, hard to come by.
After a moment of silence, Baili Zheque frowned and spoke. “Is the true dragon blood insufficient?”
“What blood…” Before Liu Wuzhi could finish, the pressure on her neck loosened, and a Wind Blade flashed, slicing not her skin but the Demon Lord’s own.
A drop of blood fell onto the side of her neck, tracing the contour of her collarbone before disappearing into her ash-brown hair. The act of self-harm was abrupt and cruel. Liu Wuzhi asked with concern, “Doesn’t it hurt… Mmm…”
Her lips were sealed as a gushing fountain of blood instantly flooded her mouth.
At this moment, Liu Wuzhi lay on the coffin lid of the former Demon Lord, wearing the outer robe of the current Demon Lord while being fed blood by him, her mind utterly dazed.
What in the world was happening?!
The moment she struggled, both her hands were seized by Baili Zheque and pinned above her head.
The cold jade pressed against her back, and as the Demon blood seeped between her lips, a scorching heat spread from the tip of her tongue down her throat, permeating every limb and bone. Inside and out, her senses were enveloped by the Demon Lord’s aura, like wild weeds running rampant, dominating her perception.
“Swallow it.” His voice was cool and detached, brooking no defiance.
Liu Wuzhi did not know that the tattoo on her lower back marked the second layer of the array’s core, which should have directly sacrificed her. Yet, for some reason, a key catalyst was missing, forcing the Demon Lord to feed her his blood on the spot.
If it had been the original Wuzhi, even without Dual Cultivation with the Demon Lord, this amount of blood would have been enough to awaken the ruins’ legacy. But for the once-in-a-millennium human-shaped Lingzhi, the Demon Lord’s blood, incompatible with her species, was far from sufficient to taint her Divine Soul. Instead, the Demon blood stirred a conflict between her dual souls, weakening the resonance between the sacrificial offering and the seal. With the mechanical click of gears turning, the tomb sealed shut completely.
“…”
The Demon Lord let out a low, derisive laugh.
Since the ruins could not be opened, this woman was now useless.
Bored and weary, it might as well be time to kill her.
Baili Zheque raised his still-bleeding hand, his fingernails subtly elongating as he prepared to pierce the skin of the person beneath him. But just then, the young girl beneath him suddenly spoke: “Actually, I don’t need to be watered—uh, I mean, I don’t need to drink.”
Having consumed the Demon Lord’s blood, the internal injuries caused by the sound waves had mostly healed. Combined with the circulation of her own soul power, her body no longer ached.
Liu Wuzhi was completely unaware that, within this space, the Demon Lord was already attempting to kill her for the third time. She even kindly reminded him: “You’re injured too. Take care of yourself first; don’t just worry about me.”
At this moment, the area from below her nose to above her collarbone was stained a vivid, shocking red, both terrifying and absurd.
The killing intent was interrupted. Sensing the restraint loosen, Liu Wuzhi wasted no time tearing off a piece of cloth to bandage the Demon Lord’s wound, securing it with a hair tie—her fingers deftly weaving the ribbon into a familiar-looking butterfly knot.
“Bear with the pain. There’s no time to prepare medicine, so let’s stop the bleeding first.” Sitting on the coffin lid, she thoughtfully blew on the wound for him.
The Demon Lord stood over eight feet tall, imposing even without anger. His robes were stained with blood, yet he couldn’t be bothered to care, let alone adorn himself with any superfluous accessories. He glanced down at the butterfly knot on his wrist, the pressure around him intensifying, but a streak of crimson suddenly traced the corner of his right eye.
In extreme pain, a tear of blood fell.
“?!”
Back in the dungeon while interrogating prisoners, Little Lingzhi had already learned that tears meant sorrow.
If even the Demon Lord was crying from pain, it must have been excruciating.
Baili Zheque was accustomed to stopping killing with killing and pain with pain. Just as he was about to break his own finger, another slender, pale hand covered the injured area. Lifting his eyes, he saw the young girl gazing at him with deep sympathy, her eyes as if looking at an injured stray animal.
Demon Lord: ?
“I miss home a lot,” Little Immortal Grass tried to empathize with the great Demon Lord. “You must miss your father too, right?”
What was this? Did she actually think he was so fragile that he needed comforting?
The Demon Lord stopped his self-harm, laughing in anger. “Miss him? I think of him every single day.”
Tears and laughter, unpredictable moods—Liu Wuzhi couldn’t detect the sarcasm in his words. “Don’t be sad. The dead can still be very useful.”
The tears of blood continued to fall. One drop landed squarely on their overlapping hands—thick, murky, cold, and faintly chilling.
Liu Wuzhi had never seen such an illness before and couldn’t help but lean in closer, only to be avoided once again by the patient.
The Demon Lord wept incessantly, surely missing his deceased father dearly.
She released her grip, drawing upon all her knowledge as a human-shaped lingzhi, and clumsily comforted him: “Dead people are actually quite useful, you know. Their corpses not only attract scavenging insects to lay eggs in their orifices but also help bacteria multiply. If you leave him out in the wild, beetles, mites, and parasitic wasps will all join in, and crows and wild dogs love tearing at the remains too.”
“Eventually, he’ll merge into the soil and become fertilizer, absorbed by me… uh, by plants, becoming part of nature’s cycle.”
Liu Wuzhi believed she had offered a very comprehensive consolation. Knowing that the dead had so many uses, the Demon Lord who had lost his father should feel a little better, right?
Just as she finished her lesson on the material cycle, a hearty laugh came from beside her: “What a splendid way to make use of waste.”
It wasn’t a threatening, fake laugh, but a genuine, heartfelt one. The laughter was like a thawing spring stream, causing the silver chain beside his glasses to tremble lightly, and the usually sharp line of his lips curved into a melting arc of ice and snow.
In the depths of a dark cave, it felt like encountering a spring morning.
This was the first time Liu Wuzhi had seen the Demon Lord laugh so freely and joyfully, and for a moment, she couldn’t look away.
In the past, she had comforted her fellow sect members in the same way. Her remarks on corpse reuse had been heavily criticized in the Immortal Sect, but she never expected the Demon Lord to accept them so readily.
It was a pity that immortals and demons stood opposed. If she were a lingzhi from the demon realm, perhaps she could truly become good friends with Baili Zheque.
Suppressing her regret, Liu Wuzhi tapped on the coffin board beneath her: “Is the former Demon Lord really inside here?”
The Demon Lord stopped his bloody tears and, for the first time, responded to her: “It’s just a decoy tomb.”
Baili Ming was inherently suspicious and had set up countless decoy tombs and living shrines while still alive. Even if this one was destroyed, new ones would soon appear. Even his own son, Baili Xuanye, had searched for them dozens of times.
The plan to open the legacy was temporarily abandoned. With the entrance sealed and the ruins closed, they could only search for another exit.
The tomb passage was narrow and long, with the stone walls carved with the lengthy history of the demon realm’s royal family. Baili Ming was the most powerful among all the Demon Lords throughout the ages. Liu Wuzhi only half-understood what she saw, but Baili Zheque’s eyes filled with disdain.
Further ahead, the view suddenly opened up again. After adjusting to the bright light, Liu Wuzhi opened her eyes and realized she had somehow arrived at the edge of the dual realm seal. The immortal and demon energies swirled, transforming into different hues, like a suspended rainbow.
As if her wish had come true, a faint, translucent gap seemed to have opened in the barrier.
The little lingzhi, eager to return home, grew restless, wishing she could instantly turn into a tiny insect and slip through. But just then, an arm draped in wide sleeves wrapped around her waist.
“It’s just an Illusion born from obsession,” Baili Zheque lowered his gaze and mocked, “Can’t you resist? Did you see your beloved?”
Liu Wuzhi tilted her head back, resting it against his shoulder: “An obsession’s beloved?”
From his vantage point, the girl’s eyes sparkled with a lively glow, and the half-butterfly bow on her head happened to align perfectly with the other one on the Demon Lord’s wrist, creating a strangely harmonious scene for a moment.
Before the Demon Lord could darken his expression, Liu Wuzhi spoke first: “But all I want is the little bell.”
Now that they were right before the seal, if the Soul-Ferrying Bell were intact, she could slip through smoothly.
Perhaps influenced by the matching butterfly bows, the Demon Lord added one more sentence: “Spiritual objects come in pairs. Since the one in the Immortal Realm is damaged, there must be another in the demon realm.”
“Where is it?”
“Most likely destroyed as well.”
“It doesn’t matter if it’s broken. Just give me Uncle Su Ye’s bell back first.”
The Demon Lord ignored her.
That childish, irritating urge to throw a tantrum welled up inside her like a bristling small animal.
Baili Zheque held Liu Wuzhi with one arm while effortlessly dispelling the shifting Illusions around them with the other, inwardly sneering.
As he had expected, Baili Xuanye had gone to great lengths to plant this pawn into the Demon Palace. Even if the attempt to open the ruins failed, he would never give up. The Soul-Ferrying Bell was an artifact for forming bonds between men and women. To think he would try to use it as an alternative means to obtain the legacy—truly, his thieving heart refused to die.
The one with the thieving heart was still trying to lure him: “How about I trade this with you?”
Liu Wuzhi pulled out the bamboo slip she had obtained from the human trafficker from her sleeve: “Look, what does this say? I feel it’s very important.”
The black market involved many complications. Just as Baili Zheque was about to take it, the other end of the bamboo slip was instead gripped tightly.
Her soft fingertips touched that hand capable of dismantling bones and tearing out hearts, yet she did not shrink back in the slightest.
Liu Wuzhi refused to let go, reminding him: “The little bell.”
She wanted an equivalent exchange, but the Demon Lord only acted as he pleased. Baili Zheque slightly curled his fingers and snatched the bamboo slip away.
“You…”
“BOOM!!”
The trembling roar of the collapsing tunnel drowned out Liu Wuzhi’s protest. The young girl, startled, shrank closer to the Demon Lord instead. Seeing that he didn’t push her away, she quietly grabbed a corner of his robe.
The rumbling of falling rubble echoed from all directions. Baili Zheque gave a slight flick of his arm, and a resonant chord shot from beneath his sleeve, embedding into both sides of the closing passageway, forming a stable bridge of light.
Halfway across, however, they could advance no further.
“Kings cannot meet kings.” Baili Zheque frowned and tossed Liu Wuzhi forward. “You go.”
Liu Wuzhi clung to that corner of his robe, refusing to let go, but still argued with him verbally: “I want the little bell.”
Stubborn as sticky candy, a flicker of darkness passed through Baili Zheque’s eyes: “Since you want the Soul-Ferrying Bell, how about I retrieve the one from the demon realm later?”
“But didn’t you just say it couldn’t be found?”
“Destroy the Seven Territories and Eight Wildlands, and it will be found.”
He spoke of annihilating heaven and earth as casually as breathing.
Compared to the grand future of the demon realm, Liu Wuzhi cared more about her own small goal. She nodded and emphasized: “Then it’s settled. A gentleman’s word is as good as gold.”
With that, she stepped forward as instructed.
The moment she passed through, the murals on the walls seemed to come alive. The barrier hindering their advance transformed into countless unfamiliar scenes flooding her mind. The yellowed images gradually grew vivid, and fragments of the former Demon Lord Baili Ming’s memories surged forth.
Liu Wuzhi winced in pain, groaning as she closed her eyes.
After the abnormal fluctuations were cut off, the collapse of the ruins also ceased. In the silence, only the drawn-out echo of the Demon Lord’s approaching footsteps remained.
Baili Zheque cracked his knuckles, stretching his joints.
A gentleman keeps his promises, but he had never been a gentleman.
The past was even more unbearable to look back on than old acquaintances. Someone who knew the weakness of his right eye and had seen Baili Ming’s memories would be better off dead—more obedient that way.
The blame lay only in the fact that she had actually trusted a Demon.
The bow-shaped bandage had long been tossed aside. Shadows fell, and a well-proportioned hand enveloped Liu Wuzhi’s neck.
Death approached, yet the girl in peril remained motionless. Her clear, cold eyes stared directly at the young man before her, as if she hadn’t yet awakened from the Illusion.
When Baili Zheque had slain Baili Ming, he hadn’t closed his eyes at all. He wanted to watch those eyes filled with hatred, confirm that the other was truly dead, and then sever his head.
Yet at this moment, he found himself somewhat unwilling to meet her gaze.
These eyes were too clear, too pure, shimmering with a subtle, unspoken allure. Recalling the soft touch of the girl’s fingertips earlier, the Demon Lord inexplicably paused.
Then he wouldn’t slit her throat—he’d simply strangle her, sparing her some suffering.
Their shadows merged, daylight dimmed, and the boundary between life and death gradually blurred.
…Drip.
A transparent tear traced the girl’s slender cheek, gathered at the tip of her chin, and fell precisely upon the cut on the Demon Lord’s wrist.
Like a feather, yet heavy as a thousand weights.
Sorrow seeped faintly into the blood, causing the wound to sting faintly.
Tears were the most useless things in the world.
Yet here she was, gazing at him with such pitiful weakness.
As their eyes met, an indescribable sense of oppression and restlessness surged through him, igniting a blaze of fury in his heart. Baili Zheque tightened his grip, fiercely clamping down on the girl’s neck.
A dense shadow swirled in his silver-red eyes, like shattered stars and a boiling moon:
“You… why… are… you… crying.”
Author’s Note:
Husband and wife shedding tears together (just kidding)
Demon Lord: Every time my heart stirs, I want to kill my wife [melted]