25 – Killing Zhùféi, that’s tantamount to the Demon Queen’s authority!
That’s equivalent to the authority of the Demon Empress!…
For plants, aside from sunlight, rainwater is the best nourishment.
Even wearing Wuzhi’s skin, the instinct engraved deep within the immortal herb’s spirit could not be suppressed. Liu Wuzhi couldn’t help but take a deep breath, the rain mist mixed with the damp scent of soil flooding her lungs—this was the rain of the demon realm! Cool, moist, and incredibly comfortable!
Just as she was tilting her head to welcome nature’s gift, a familiar oppressive presence abruptly drew near.
Liu Wuzhi turned back in a daze.
In the shadows of the corridor, Baili Zheque held an umbrella transformed from the Nether Butterfly Dusky Crow, like a dark stone stele silently standing amidst mountains of corpses and seas of blood. Water dripping from the umbrella’s edge mixed with the un-dried bloodstains on his body, pooling into a dark red stream at his feet. His gaze held no warmth, flickering with a dangerous silver-red hue.
Growing flowers and plants was too joyful; Liu Wuzhi had completely forgotten about the study manual. Now, the man’s icy stare made her feel the flustered guilt of being subjected to a surprise homework check.
She hadn’t yet learned how to attend the bedchamber, so why had the Demon Lord come looking for her?
In the instant their eyes met, her cheerful mood vanished into thin air. Baili Zheque’s expression darkened further: “It seems this lord has disturbed my beloved consort’s good mood.”
The communication mirror given by her senior brother had been destroyed, the Soul-Ferrying Bell remained a useless lump of bronze, she couldn’t understand the Seven Souls Soul-Guiding Tome, and there was still a villain in her consciousness sea who might make a comeback at any time. Now, the Demon Lord was Liu Wuzhi’s only hope of returning home.
She hurriedly bounced up: “No disturbance, no disturbance.”
“You could join me too.” Wet strands of hair clung to her cheeks, her appearance disheveled, her tone excited. “Rainwater has lots of nutrients, uh, demon energy, and it’s good for plants… for the skin.”
Inviting him to get drenched in the rain—only she could think of such a thing.
Baili Zheque narrowed his left eye, the one not covered by his lens, his gaze sweeping over the drenched figure before him, a mocking curve lifting the corner of his lips: “Do you think this is enough to tempt this lord?”
Tempt? She was just trying to suggest activities other than attending the bedchamber.
Liu Wuzhi blinked in confusion, raindrops sliding down her lashes: “But I really think it feels great. Don’t you want to try it too?” As she spoke, she boldly reached out to grab the Demon Lord’s wrist, intending to pull him out from under the umbrella.
Baili Zheque sidestepped to avoid her, the movement tugging at the wound on his back, a sticky red line winding down along the curve of his spine.
As the distance closed, the heavy scent of blood and the visual impact of the wound finally awakened the immortal herb’s dulled reaction to pain.
“I’m sorry,” Liu Wuzhi no longer dared to pull or touch recklessly. “I didn’t know you were injured.”
She lowered her head to rummage through her pocket, secretly relieved: It was a misunderstanding. The Demon Lord hadn’t come for the bedchamber—he had come for treatment.
Injured this badly, he surely had no energy for the bedchamber. A Demon Lord who couldn’t attend the bedchamber immediately dropped more than half a level in danger rating.
She pulled out a small ceramic bottle and offered it: “I have newly refined medicine here. It stops bleeding and eases pain. Have one quickly.”
Baili Zheque did not take it. He didn’t even glance at the bottle, only stared at her intently and heavily.
A spy who had been exposed, who should have been flattering and begging for mercy like a startled bird, full of flaws—why was the only emotion radiating from her now a relaxed relief tinged with gladness?
Did she think his injuries made it easier for her to carry out her plans?
Liu Wuzhi felt a bit unnerved under his stare.
Injured to this extent, would the Demon Lord still insist on attending the bedchamber? Brother Yuan Lan always says the Sovereign Lord is testing her—could it be that her previous two performances have made the Demon Lord suspect something?
Then she absolutely must not attend the bedchamber.
The hand she extended did not withdraw; instead, it stubbornly pushed forward a little more. Liu Wuzhi earnestly advised the injured patient, “If you’re hurt, you shouldn’t wander or move around recklessly. You should rest for a while.”
The other party remained still as an abyss. His gaze was steady, a hint of mockery in his knowing expression as he retorted, “How should I rest?”
From his tone, it was clear he had no intention of resting.
Seeing the Demon Lord had no desire to take the medicine, Liu Wuzhi had no choice but to withdraw the small bottle. Thinking of the complex and intense illustrations in that manual, she felt both guilty and anxious. “Attending the bedchamber really won’t do—the movements are too vigorous. If you insist on pushing through, what if your wounds reopen?”
“…?”
What won’t do? What movements? What pushing through?
The Demon Breath within Baili Zheque’s body churned chaotically for a moment before finally stabilizing again.
This was merely a tactic of feigning retreat to advance. Just like the lush greenery filling the courtyard, it was nothing but bait aimed at him.
He had not the slightest interest in such a self-important woman.
The sound of the rain weakened, pattering softly, no longer a torrential downpour but more like lingering silk threads.
“If you won’t take the medicine, would you like to rest here for a while?” Liu Wuzhi pointed to the partially closed door behind her. “It’s less damp inside.”
Letting the injured Demon Lord rest quietly was surely better than having him brood darkly over how to deal with her.
Hearing this, the mockery in Baili Zheque’s eyes nearly overflowed: seduction through wet clothes, provocation to anger, and when that failed, a direct invitation to stay the night? How laughably persistent.
The Demon umbrella in his hand suddenly dissipated, transforming into two dim streams of light that vanished into his wide sleeves. The man strode steadily onto the veranda, passed by the young woman, and pushed open the partially closed door without hesitation.
The scene inside the room entered his vision, which was somewhat blurred by the torment of intense pain. The once sinister and terrifying prison cell, filled with all manner of gruesome torture devices, had now been completely transformed: the cast-iron shackles had been polished to a shine, filled with black soil, from the cracks of which a few seedlings had already sprouted. The spiked interior of the coffin bed had been removed, turning it into a tiered display stand of varying heights. On the shelves, earthenware pots and clay basins of various shapes held transplanted plants from the demon realm.
On the wooden floor, several Demon Beast cubs tumbled and playfully nipped at each other, emitting soft, milky “whimpers,” their muddy little paws leaving a trail of plum blossom-shaped wet prints.
Hearing the noise, the Bone-Eroding Wolf cub blinked its round eyes a few times, then shook its body, sending a spray of water droplets splattering onto the hem of the Demon Lord’s robe.
Quiet and warm, it felt like two completely separate worlds compared to the Demon Palace strewn with white bones.
This unfamiliar tranquility was like a fine needle, abruptly piercing into Baili Zheque’s nerves, which were filled with slaughter and pain, giving rise to a surge of revulsion.
This weak, nauseating vitality was corroding all the order he controlled.
Even more glaring was the fact that there was another person in the room.
The Calamity-Darkness Guardian, Yuan Lan—a high-ranking official of the Demon Palace who should have been refining corpse puppets by the blood pool, drenched in bloody ferocity—was now half-crouching before a flowerpot repurposed from a guillotine base, holding a seed between his fingers and listening intently to the guidance of the planting expert.
“Brother Yuan Lan, you can’t bury the seed that deep!” Liu Wuzhi naturally leaned closer, completely ignoring the terrifying aura emanating from the Demon Lord at the doorway.
She tugged at Yuan Lan’s hand, gently adjusting the angle. “Look, just a shallow layer of soil like this is enough. If it’s buried too deep, sprouting becomes too difficult—the tender shoots won’t have the strength to push through.”
Her fingertips were cool, carrying the dampness of the rain, and they lightly rested on the back of Yuan Lan’s hand, guiding him with patience and care. Yuan Lan, immersed in the task, adjusted according to her guidance, murmuring softly in response, “Oh, is that so? No wonder the ones I buried last time took so long to show any signs…”
A bone-chilling killing intent invaded the small hut.
Yuan Lan’s back stiffened, his hairs standing on end in an instant. He jerked his hand away from Liu Wuzhi’s as if electrocuted, looking up to see the Demon Lord himself—drenched in blood, his expression exceedingly grim.
The Calamity-Darkness Guardian’s knees went weak, and he thudded to the moss-covered ground. “Sovereign Lord, this subordinate… this subordinate did not abandon his post without permission! I heard that the Wuzhi Beauty possesses planting techniques capable of growing Spiritual Plants in demon soil. I came specifically to verify their effectiveness, in preparation for your healing needs.”
Baili Zheque leaned against the doorframe, his gaze passing over the prostrate Yuan Lan and landing precisely on Liu Wuzhi. His dark eyes were unfathomable, a thin, cold smile curling at their depths. “Verify?”
This was the second person to tell him such a thing.
The demon realm had neither greenery nor vitality, always relying on plunder from the Immortal Sects. With the flames of war never ceasing across the Seven Territories and Eight Wildlands, how could vegetation possibly grow?
If what the two Guardians said was true, it might be best to refine this woman into a corpse puppet—preserving her planting skills while avoiding any unforeseen complications.
Killing had always been the simplest and most effective method.
The pervasive murderous aura was interrupted by a soft voice. “Sovereign Lord, could you please not take Yuan Lan away?”
Having finally found a companion, Liu Wuzhi didn’t want to lose him and argued her case. “There are too many seeds and Demon Beast Cubs brought back from the Defiled Realm. I need help.”
Hearing the word “help,” Baili Zheque narrowed his eyes again. “Trying to deceive this lord into tending flowers and plants with you?”
Liu Wuzhi: ?
She wasn’t.
Baili Zheque seemed to have already assumed something. “With Baili Xuanye hiding away to heal, you couldn’t wait to recruit this lord’s right-hand men. Do you intend to use this room full of flowers and plants to erode this lord’s will to fight?”
Liu Wuzhi was bewildered by this speculation.
Erode his will to fight? The flowers and plants didn’t need that kind of fertilizer—the difference in species truly was an insurmountable chasm.
Demon energy surged, and the wound on the Demon Lord’s shoulder began to ooze blood again, yet he remained indifferent. This person who felt no pain was simply incomprehensible.
Little Lingzhi frowned, her tone filled with the frustration of being wronged. “You’re quite badly injured. I just wanted you to come in and take shelter from the rain, and rest for a while.”
She would never exploit someone who was wounded.
The mocking curve at the corner of Baili Zheque’s lips deepened.
Rest? In this nest of traitors and spies? Her acting skills had grown increasingly polished, to the point where she could feign concern with such “sincerity.”
When the Demon Lord didn’t respond, Liu Wuzhi glanced at Yuan Lan, who was trembling like a leaf on the ground, and added, “If you don’t like planting things, that’s fine. I can ask Brother Yuan Lan and Sister Lü Xiao for help instead.”
Each utterance of “Brother Yuan Lan” and “Sister Lü Xiao” came naturally, even carrying a hint of dependent affection, as if sparks had fallen into a barrel of oil. An inexplicable irritation instantly overwhelmed the searing pain in his right eye.
“Overstepping this lord’s authority to command the Guardians. Who gave you the audacity?”
As he released his oppressive aura, the leaves of the potted plants in the room immediately curled inward, and the Demon Beast Cubs huddled together in the corners.
Liu Wuzhi staggered a step from the overwhelming pressure but continued to argue her case: “B-but I want to plant a little more.”
Her voice was soft, yet it pierced the oppressive air clearly: “Without help, it really won’t work.”
Weak and pitiful, yet stubbornly determined to farm.
“How much do you want to plant?” A murderous intent brewed in Baili Zheque’s eyes, his destructive impulse growing stronger.
Destroy this false tranquility, destroy the irritating light in her eyes, and destroy those “helpers” she relied on.
The danger level soared, but Liu Wuzhi remained completely unaware. Thinking of the large stash of seeds she had obtained from the Defiled Realm and Empty Desolation, and considering the vast, untapped potential of the demon realm’s land, she made a conservative estimate: “Not too much… um, about…”
Yuan Lan frantically signaled with his eyes beside her, his eyeballs nearly popping out, but the girl didn’t even glance at him.
“…filling all the Seven Territories and Eight Wildlands, is that okay?”
The room fell dead silent.
Yuan Lan gasped sharply, nearly choking himself.
Fill… the Seven Territories and Eight Wildlands?!
This was no longer ambition—it was pure delusion! The demon realm was engulfed in endless warfare, plagued by baleful energy, and universally acknowledged as a wasteland where no vegetation could thrive. How could a mere undercover beauty dare to utter such absurd and audacious words? Was she naively foolish, or was she harboring sinister intentions?
“Hah.” A cold laugh escaped the Demon Lord’s throat, as if he had just heard a joke from someone who knew no bounds.
He no longer looked at Liu Wuzhi, turning his gaze instead to the flowerpot—modified from a torture device—on the windowsill, where a tiny green sprout had just emerged.
“All things in this world,” his voice was cold and disdainful, like frost gathering on a sword’s edge, “if I wish to seize them, I shall. Why would I need your futile attempts to curry favor?”
He extended two fingers, elegantly and precisely pinching the tender stem of the small plant.
“Don’t—” Liu Wuzhi’s cry of alarm caught in her throat.
Pluck.
With a faint, crisp sound, that sprout representing Liu Wuzhi’s hard work, along with the thin layer of soil it had taken root in, was effortlessly uprooted. Its delicate roots were exposed to the air, rapidly wilting and turning black.
The color drained from Liu Wuzhi’s face.
In the Azure Mist Sect, if anyone destroyed seedlings in the herbal garden without cause, even a disciple personally taught by an elder would be punished with tending the garden for an entire year and personally cultivating all the destroyed seedlings back to life.
A Demon Lord who couldn’t attend the bedchamber had actually uprooted the plant she had grown!
Resentment and empathy surged in her heart: “H-how could you do this? It hasn’t even grown up yet!”
Liu Wuzhi grabbed the Demon Lord’s blood-stained sleeve: “Plant it back, right now! Plant it back, or it’ll be too late!”
Her tone was commanding, her eyes accusatory. As if what had just been snuffed out wasn’t an insignificant weed, but a cherished companion.
Baili Zheque lowered his gaze, looking into those wide, clear eyes—devoid of any fear, only burning with fierce anger.
Utterly genuine, strikingly vivid, and profoundly offensive.
Plant it back? Have the Supreme Lord of Ten Thousand Demons replant a sprout he had casually crushed… back into the soil?
Naive.
The malicious curve at the corner of his lips slowly deepened, as if he had finally glimpsed a crack beneath her hypocritical mask. His fingers holding the withered sprout twitched slightly.
Snap.
Another faint, crisp sound of tearing.
The sprout broke into two pieces, falling from his fingers, severed and lifeless, quickly soiled by the damp ground.
The Demon Lord lowered his gaze, quietly awaiting the expected tears, cries, or hysterical retaliation.
Yet, all that greeted him was silence.
Liu Wuzhi crouched down and picked up the broken sprout covered in mud. Her hair fell, covering the side of her face, her twin tails drooping onto the ground, her slender shoulders slightly tensed.
After a long while, she said, “…Things snatched away die quickly.”
There was no hatred, no complaint or resentment, only a regret akin to pity. It was as natural and ordinary as stating that rain falls and soil gets wet, carrying a clarity that seemed to have seen through the ways of the world.
Like a raging flame suddenly meeting ice, the seething malice was extinguished in an instant by this light remark, leaving only a faint hiss of steam and an unprecedented sense of… boredom.
The faint resilience of the grass stem at the moment it snapped still lingered on his fingertips, and an unnamed restlessness grew quietly within him, more vivid than the pain in his right eye. It felt as if fine, dense roots were sprouting and spreading through the cracks in his heart, bringing waves of prickling irritation.
Baili Zheque frowned silently, roughly attributing this strange sensation to his wound and the gloomy rain. As he flicked his sleeve and turned away, the hem of his robe stirred a damp chill.
Vaguely, he felt he had forgotten something.
It wasn’t until that night, when he used his sharp nails to carve a lantern from bone, that he finally realized—
He had actually forgotten to kill her.
In the following days, the Demon Lord did not set foot in the small courtyard again. Yuan Lan had somehow broken an arm and could no longer assist with tending the plants, leaving Liu Wuzhi without help once more.
Busy—truly busy.
One afternoon, after filing the claws of the magical beast cubs, she was about to seize the time to study a few more pages of the Attend the Bedchamber manual when spatial energy abruptly descended. Liu Wuzhi only had time to let out a short gasp before she was completely engulfed by the purple light erupting from the Ember Ruins Guardian token. She clutched her robe tightly, fearing the “secret manual” in her embrace would be swept away.
When the wind ceased and her spirit settled, she finally steadied herself. Little Lingzhi looked up in confusion.
The high dome of the Demon Palace’s main hall loomed above, the floor stained with large patches of sticky, foul residue. The atmosphere was as oppressive as a frozen lake, so silent you could hear a pin drop.
The hall was filled with people.
The remaining hundred or so beauties of the rear palace looked pale and terrified, each standing behind an expressionless corpse puppet maid whose cold hands tightly gripped their shoulders.
On the throne, Baili Zheque wore his hair half-tied, dressed in an exceptionally splendid black and purple robe embroidered with silver patterns. He rested his head on one hand, his demon horns tilting slightly with his casual, reclining posture as he looked down from above. Nearby, Yuan Lan and Lü Xiao stood solemnly, accompanied by a burly giant clad in armor.
Liu Wuzhi felt for the manual in her embrace and carefully tucked it away.
It was rare to encounter so many people—a perfect opportunity to ask if anyone was willing to help her plant grass.
“Distracted even when death is at hand?” A low voice broke the dead silence, carrying a sinister chill.
Only then did Liu Wuzhi notice the gruesome mess of flesh and blood right before her eyes.
In the center of the hall, a man dressed as an assassin lay twitching in a pool of blood, his throat slit, blood frothing from his mouth as he teetered on the brink of death. In his final moments, his eyes suddenly turned toward Liu Wuzhi, flaring with a last glimmer of light. With all his remaining strength, he rasped, “Lady Wuzhi… you… must… complete… His Highness’s…” Before he could finish, his breath gave out, and he died with his eyes wide open, staring at her.
Liu Wuzhi: …Do I know you?
The Demon Lord made no move, waiting until the assassin breathed his last before turning a half-smile toward Liu Wuzhi. “Partners?”
His tone was flat, yet it carried the weight of a thousand pounds.
Framed and targeted as Wuzhi, Liu Wuzhi found it nothing but troublesome. She shook her head quickly. “I’m in need of helpers, but he’s already dead. He can’t be my helper anymore.”
The dead can only serve as fertilizer; only the living can help her tend the garden.
She was completely unaware that in recent days, clues pointing to conspiracies targeting the harem beauties—especially “Wuzhi”—had been emerging one after another. The Demon Lord’s injuries, the rebellion within the Demon Palace, the disappearance of the Desolate Ruins, and even the suspicions surrounding the identity of the seduction cultivator… All these signs had been skillfully manipulated to point to her as the prime suspect lurking in the shadows, repeatedly plotting assassinations against the Demon Lord. Now, with the dying confession of the assassin, it almost confirmed everyone’s suspicions.
A demon race official stepped forward, sternly accusing, “Sovereign Lord, the evidence is irrefutable. Within the harem, she must have other accomplices! These beauties must be interrogated thoroughly and investigated to the end!”
Accomplices… in the harem?
Right! How had she not thought of everyone in the harem?
This was a rare opportunity. With so many people present, and the Demon Lord here as well, it was the perfect time to ask for help.
Liu Wuzhi completely failed to realize that the “accomplices” the accuser referred to and the “helpers” she wanted were two entirely different things. Pointing in the direction of the trembling harem beauties, she tentatively asked, “Sovereign Lord, are they all my helpers? Can I borrow them all for now?”
The accuser immediately objected, “The harem beauties all come from noble families across the Seven Territories and Eight Wildlands. How can they be arranged and disposed of by you?”
Liu Wuzhi replied, “But didn’t you say they are all my helpers?”
The so-called “accomplices” would be the next ones to have their throats slit and die a gruesome death. Seeing Liu Wuzhi brazenly claim them all, the beauties were on the verge of tears. “No, we are innocent! We have no connection with Wuzhi whatsoever. We beg the Sovereign Lord for mercy!”
From his seat, the Demon Lord called out, “Ming Hai.”
The armored giant beside Lü Xiao stepped forward with a thunderous stomp, kneeling on one knee—this was the highest-ranking general commanding the fearsome Demonic Soldiers, the Nether Bones Guardian.
The Demon Lord swept his gaze over everyone, including Liu Wuzhi, and ordered, “Kill them. Use them as fertilizer.”
Having recently been purging traitors, Baili Zheque found ordinary methods of killing monotonous and dull. He recalled the “ingenious use” of the dead that Liu Wuzhi had mentioned. Using these women who clung to power as flower fertilizer would be the perfect way to humiliate those self-important noble demon families.
Upon hearing this, the beauties below instantly turned pale, their sobs and whimpers no longer suppressible.
Remembering the corpse puppets that had been torn apart by the younglings and ultimately buried in the soil, Liu Wuzhi grew anxious as well: How could this be?! The helpers she had painstakingly thought of were about to turn into uncommunicative fertilizer in the blink of an eye?
This Demon Lord was such a villain—why was he always killing either grass or people?
“Killing them is too wasteful,” she blurted out, her voice rising slightly with urgency. “As long as they listen to my arrangements and help me tend to the plants, that’s enough.”
From the side, Yuan Lan couldn’t help but rub his arm, which had been broken by the Sovereign Lord, and hissed inwardly: This Wuzhi not only showed no fear in the face of false accusations but, in such a life-or-death situation, kept talking about “fertilizer,” “waste,” and “planting flowers.” She even publicly demanded actual management authority over the harem.
Did she even know her own place? Managing the harem was equivalent to the authority of the Demon Empress!
Slender fingers tapped on the armrest of the throne, and the Nether Bones Guardian immediately returned to his position.
Baili Zheque looked down at the person “greedy for power and usurping authority” and slowly asked, “Do you know that only the dead are truly obedient?”
Liu Wuzhi glanced at the bloodied corpse of the assassin and frowned. “The dead don’t slack off or run around, but they’re just too stupid. They can’t be taught. I still want living helpers.”
Still dare to show disdain.
After the journey to Empty Desolation, rumors of patricide grew rampant. Recently, the Demon Lord had killed too many people, stirring the anger of the ignorant masses. Even the spies hidden in the harem now sought to seize the chance and stir up chaos.
The demon official who had previously made the accusation was utterly enraged: “This woman’s identity is suspicious, her words and actions are insane! First, she colluded with assassins with malicious intent, now she humiliates noblewomen of the demon realm as if they were worthless, and even attempts to meddle with the authority of the inner palace, shaking the foundations of the Previous Dynasty. Her heart deserves punishment—please, Sovereign Lord, investigate clearly!”
Regarding the purge of traitors within the Demon Palace, only the beauty Wuzhi was excluded. The Sovereign Lord must have long been wary of her.
The Demon Lord neither affirmed nor denied this, but silently allowed him to continue his appeal.
“Fear cannot deceive oneself. This subordinate boldly requests by rank—” The demon suddenly raised his head, his gaze blazing, “Please, Sovereign Lord, employ your secret art to verify the deepest fear in the heart of the beauty Wuzhi!”
As long as they could intimidate this arrogant woman, they would not fear her failing to confess her accomplices and schemes.
“Please, Sovereign Lord, verify the beauty’s deepest fear!”
“Please, Sovereign Lord, see clearly!”
A chorus of agreement echoed through the hall, all pointing directly at Liu Wuzhi.
Verify… fear?
Liu Wuzhi was startled: She did not want to recall the nightmare of that night in the Demon Lord’s bedchamber!
Her instantly pale face further confirmed everyone’s judgment: “She is guilty, afraid of being exposed!”
Yuan Lan’s eyes flickered slightly, Lü Xiao frowned tightly, while Ming Hai remained silent as a mountain.
The Demon Lord was skilled at manipulating minds, and controlling fear came naturally to him. Today, it seemed the beauty Wuzhi was doomed.
What everyone did not know was that the thing Liu Wuzhi feared most was precisely what the Demon Lord also did not wish to recall.
A soft, low laugh drifted down from above, like snow falling into a deep pool, or a mountain collapsing and the earth splitting.
The leading official’s voice abruptly ceased. He raised his hands and clutched his own neck tightly. Soon, his face flushed red from lack of oxygen, his eyes bulging, filled with unbelievable fear. Yet his arms, as if cast from refined iron, continued to exert force uncontrollably—”Crack!”
After the sound of his neck bone snapping, the man collapsed to the ground, lifeless.
The pleas for action instantly vanished.
“Since when,” the Demon Lord slowly straightened his posture, his gaze sharp as a blade, sweeping inch by inch over the officials below, “has it been your place to teach this lord how to act?”
The great hall fell into dead silence once more. The demons who had been fervently agitated moments ago now held their breath, cold sweat dripping down their backs. Although the Demon Lord had not explicitly defended her, his displeasure was now glaringly obvious.
With evidence so clear, the Sovereign Lord actually protected her! This woman had truly bewitched the Sovereign Lord completely!
Countless gazes shot toward Liu Wuzhi—some jealous, some resentful, some disbelieving, and some deeply wary.
Whispers, barely suppressed, drifted out: “I heard from the Delusive Epiphyllum Guardian that on the first night the beauty Wuzhi Attended the Bedchamber, the Sovereign Lord tore her skirts to shreds all over the floor. The commotion was enormous…”
Liu Wuzhi, with sharp ears, immediately defended herself upon hearing this: “Those were just strips of cloth I left behind while cleaning the bedchamber.”
The truth sounded so absurd it seemed like a lie.
Not using seduction art in the Demon Lord’s bedchamber, but instead cleaning? Had her brain turned to mush?
Another person whispered: “On the day of the Ember Ruins Guardian selection, she stepped onto the stage at the last moment and, with the aid of the Life Beast, became the new Guardian. She traveled all the way through the Defiled Realm, inseparable from the Sovereign Lord…”
Liu Wuzhi felt even more wronged and hurried to clarify: “I was thrown onto the stage by the Sovereign Lord.”
The other person shot her a disdainful look that said, “Stop pretending to be innocent.”
A third accusation followed closely: “At the Defiled Realm Auction, the Sovereign Lord spent extravagantly for her, bidding on countless rare treasures. They shared a room for several days. Inside the Desolate Ruins, she even stole the Sovereign Lord’s demon blood!”
Liu Wuzhi lacked the talent for debating against a crowd of scholars. After stammering for a while, she could only squeeze out one sentence: “It was all the Sovereign Lord who took the initiative.”
Baili Zheque had always acted as he pleased, never bothering with cleanup or explanations. Now, listening to these distorted and unrecognizable “misunderstandings” being listed one by one, he fell into silence.
After a long while, he slightly curled his fingertips.
An overwhelming force of suction swept over her. Liu Wuzhi’s body lifted into the air, feeling as if frozen by ice, and she was instantly dragged to the foot of the throne platform. The Demon Lord leaned forward slightly, his face—capable of toppling kingdoms—wearing a mocking malice. His eyebrows lifted slightly, but the smile did not reach his eyes.
Several Netherworld Butterflies gathered around Liu Wuzhi, flashing with purple light before transforming into an Amethyst dagger shimmering with a cold, ghostly glow. It was forcibly shoved into her palm.
A murderous aura, like an electric current, spread from the dagger up her arm. Driven by a powerful force, Liu Wuzhi stiffly gripped the dagger, its blade pointed directly at the Demon Lord’s chest in front of her!
It happened too fast.
The words “dodge” were stuck in her throat, impossible to shout out in time. Liu Wuzhi hurriedly closed her eyes.
This is it, this is it! Even an Immortal Venerable couldn’t kill the Demon Lord—how could she, a mere immortal herb, possibly succeed? If this strike landed, wouldn’t she be the one to die?
A dull thud echoed through the throne hall, but the expected excruciating pain or being shattered to pieces did not come.
Trembling, Liu Wuzhi opened her eyes and was stunned.
The tip of the Amethyst dagger had indeed pressed against the luxurious robe. Though the blade appeared razor-sharp, it felt as if it had struck a piece of ten-thousand-year-old black iron. No matter how hard she pushed forward, it would not penetrate an inch further.
During the most grueling three hundred years, Baili Zheque had long tempered his muscles and bones with Heaven-Burying Abyss Water. Ordinary blades could not harm the Demon Lord.
While Liu Wuzhi was still dazed, the others instantly understood: So, the Sovereign Lord was not utterly bewitched by beauty—he simply did not care.
A beauty as fragile as a willow, unable even to pierce the Sovereign Lord’s skin—how could she possibly harm him? The earlier protection might have been because the Demon Lord was in a decent mood, or perhaps the cat-and-mouse game simply wasn’t over yet.
Her delicate, clinging demeanor and the personal test served as proof. The crowd grew even more convinced—the Sovereign Lord indeed had an unusual interest in this woman. Otherwise, why go to such lengths?
Liu Wuzhi stared blankly and curiously at the motionless dagger tip against the Demon Lord’s chest. Inappropriately, a flurry of thoughts popped into her mind: Even when injured, he’s this hard—firmer than the chest where she hid that Attend the Bedchamber illustrated manual. Could there be a stone underneath? No wonder Sister Lü Xiao said she needed to study the “secret manual.” How could they “accomplish the deed” with something this hard? Relying on hyphae to brush against it definitely wouldn’t work…
The hall remained deathly silent, save for the faint friction of the dagger tip against the robe.
Her clear eyes, focused intently, appeared exceptionally bright, fixed with an investigative determination on the point where the dagger met his chest. To the man, this gaze was no different from the one she had during the night of Attend the Bedchamber—practically akin to longing.
Baili Zheque frowned. “Withdraw your seduction art.”
Liu Wuzhi snapped back to her senses, feeling her body could move slightly again. She looked up at the Demon Lord’s handsome face so close to hers and sincerely reminded him, “But you just sealed my acupoints and restricted my demon energy. I couldn’t use seduction art even if I wanted to.”
Baili Zheque: “…”
Then why did he always feel that kind of gaze was seducing him?
Author’s Note: “Your life is saved by yourself” = feeding blood to the wife
Zhizhi borrowing help = she wants to become the Demon Empress
Zhizhi staring blankly = she used seduction art
There are still red envelopes in the comment section today [covering face and peeking]