Celoa struggled to breathe, unable to avoid the suffocating sensation pressing against his neck.
He frowned somewhat sluggishly, feeling the pain a beat late. He raised his hand to gently pull at the other’s grip, his gaze quiet, filled with a naive and clumsy trust.
He called out softly, “Dro.”
Droville’s eyes flickered. He remained silent, his hand beginning to tremble slightly.
Neither spoke; they stayed in that position, staring at each other in a freezing atmosphere.
Celoa suddenly felt a pang of sadness—not because his life was in danger, nor because of the sudden surge of hatred emanating from Droville, but because as he stared at Droville’s face, he could clearly feel that even though the man didn’t show it, he was deeply hurt by the concealment.
He hadn’t wanted it to be like this.
But Droville was sad nonetheless.
Droville’s eyes held a cold-bloodedness Celoa had never seen before. All the previous warmth had vanished. Just moments ago, they were chatting and hugging, and Celoa could voice any whim while Droville would satisfy it without hesitation. But now, it was different.
Standing before him now was no longer the “Dro” he knew, but the new King of the Demon Realm—Droville.
Droville narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing Celoa with an evaluating gaze. It wasn’t until a red mark was squeezed into Celoa’s neck that he slowly released his grip. He stood calmly to the side, letting Celoa stumble back two steps and plop down onto the ground.
“Were you sent by the Heavenly Realm?”
He asked stiffly, his eyes not even sparing a glance at Celoa. He stared at a nearby tree as if there were something fascinating there that he couldn’t look away from.
Celoa shook his head while clutching his neck. His gaze reflexively fell upon Droville’s back. He opened his mouth to ask something but restrained himself, making only a pitiful request: “I want to stay by your side.”
Droville’s heart felt as if it were being squeezed—sour, bloated, and aching. He looked down at his hand, moved his fingers, and was suddenly struck by a sense of melancholy. He had just used this hand to choke Celoa.
If his reason hadn’t returned just in time, he might have actually done it. Every time he heard the word “Angel,” he simply couldn’t remain calm. That secret buried deep in his heart was like an unfillable abyss; the slightest rustle of wind would blow into it, making it impossible for him to let go or forget.
He had specifically made sure back then…
Before he could think further, the images he had seen back then flashed before his eyes again.
A pale back, clean, without a single mark.
“Celoa,” he suddenly felt a chill run through him, his voice taking on a questioning tone that couldn’t hide his underlying worry: “Where are your wings? Why is there still Primal Power in your body?”
Celoa let out a soft “Ah.” He looked a bit embarrassed, his face turning red almost instantly as he sheepishly avoided explaining.
He always felt that having no wings was a shameful thing. It was a situation that had never occurred among Angels, the favored children of God. If he had no wings, didn’t that mean he was inherently defective and not graced by God?
Droville narrowed his eyes, his voice dropping an octave, sounding fierce: “What is the reason? Speak.”
Celoa flinched in fright. He closed his eyes and blurted everything out in a rush, fearing he’d be pressured again if he delayed: “I was born without wings! I don’t know why!”
Droville straightened up, his expression unreadable. He pondered Celoa’s words for a moment, looking thoughtful. “So you were abandoned? Your parents were far too heartless.”
The mention of this made Celoa sad. He lowered his eyelashes, his fingers picking at the tree bark. After a long psychological struggle, he finally answered: “I… I don’t have a mother. I only have a father, but I didn’t see him often. He was always busy, and no one was allowed to disturb him. However, he was quite good to me.”
“So, you were just cast out of the Heavenly Realm like that. And your so-called father—whether he condoned it or was ignorant of it—didn’t stop it at all.” Droville was inexplicably amused to the point of anger. He looked at Celoa, frustrated by the boy’s lack of resentment. He wanted to scold him but felt there was no need given their current positions. In the end, he just kept the frustration bottled up.
His anger and loathing lasted only a moment before slowly dissipating.
He was actually… feeling sympathy for an Angel.
Droville felt he was going mad.
Celoa peeked at him cautiously, proactively offering a metaphorical olive branch.
“Dro, I’m hungry. Are you hungry? Shall we go find something to eat together?”
Droville turned his head away and huffed twice. “Not hungry. Not eating. Go find something yourself.”
Celoa made a soft sound but wasn’t deterred by the cold shoulder. Instead, he asked more eagerly, “Then are you thirsty? I can bring you water. I heard the sound of water; there’s a stream not far away. There should be many little fish in it.”
Droville paused. He remembered the joke of the grilled fish from a few days ago—Celoa had eaten the fish he grilled. The resistance in his voice faded slightly, though he still didn’t cave: “I’m not thirsty either. You can just bring water for yourself.”
Celoa was momentarily conflicted, unsure what to ask next. He observed Droville carefully for a moment, and his eyes suddenly lit up. He felt that this time he definitely wouldn’t be rejected. His voice regained its confidence.
He suggested sincerely, “Dro, I think you need some large leaves to cover yourself, or you’ll catch a cold.”
Droville hadn’t cared at first, but at Celoa’s mention, he immediately felt the chilly breeze. He casually gathered the shredded remains of his robe and draped them over himself, barely covering his upper body.
But once he did, he had a bad feeling. Celoa would definitely use this as an excuse to get closer. After all, this kid was an expert at “climbing up the pole” given any opportunity.
True to his thoughts, as soon as Celoa saw him being “obedient,” he immediately scurried forward two steps and latched onto Droville’s leg like a sticky candy strip, acting spoiled.
“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to keep it a secret. Dro, please forgive me. I’ll let you pinch my face ten thousand times.”
Having said that, he tilted his little face up toward Droville, his cheeks puffed out and round, looking like they’d deflate at a single poke.
Droville couldn’t help but curl the corners of his mouth, but the next moment he feigned sternness. He pinched Celoa’s cheek with some force and warned coldly, “If you hide things from me again, I won’t let you off so easily.”
Celoa’s eyes became teary from the pinch. It took a while before he managed to pull his face back. He rubbed his aching cheeks, finally realizing what Droville meant.
He gave a cheer and clung to Droville again, expressing his feelings bluntly: “Dro forgave me! I’m so happy!”
Droville wanted to ruffle his hair and pinch his face again.
In the next second, Celoa let go, jumped back two steps, and opened his arms wide toward Droville in expectation.
“Dro, hug.”
Droville naturally crouched down. His heart softened again. He scooped Celoa into his arms, pulling him into a circle, and responded in a low voice.
“Mmh. Dro hugs.”
The two of them, like children who had just reconciled after a fight, hugged each other clingily and didn’t let go for a long time.
Droville gently stroked Celoa’s messy hair, wishing he could freeze time in this moment. But clearly, that was impossible. As the Demon King, even if he didn’t seek out trouble, trouble would find its way to him.
Sometimes it was the overconfident, ambitious dissenters. Other times, it was tactless, thoughtless subordinates who insisted on meddling in everything.
A massive and beautiful demon bird flapped its wings and flew toward them. Upon landing, its talons shattered the protective barrier Droville had left nearby. The airflow from its closing wings was so strong that Celoa couldn’t even open his eyes for a moment.
Celoa raised a hand to block his eyes, squinting to see the strange demon bird. He felt a faint sense of familiarity, but there was no information in his memory. He asked curiously, “Dro, who is this… pfft, pfft, pfft.”
Before he could finish, a mouthful of sand blew in. Instead of getting an answer, Celoa ate quite a bit of sand, coughing and spitting it out while trying to speak.
Droville pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe the boy’s mouth, his tone helpless: “I told you not to be so curious. You don’t even look at the situation before talking. Now you’ve learned your lesson with a mouthful of sand.”
He didn’t tell Celoa who the newcomer was directly, teasing him with a grin: “Guess who it is? You know them.”
The demon bird elegantly folded its wings, its size shrinking rapidly. It approached Celoa and affectionately nuzzled its cheek against his, the soft down feathers creating a ticklish sensation.
Celoa covered his face and couldn’t help but squint and laugh.
“Is it Selene?” His tone was full of expectation. He really hadn’t seen Selene for a long time. Since their parting in the office, he had only been able to speak with her through Droville’s magical water mirror.
The demon bird let out a clear, melodious cry, seemingly happy that Celoa recognized her.
She didn’t transform into human form immediately. Instead, after adjusting her size, she half-squatted and turned her side to the two of them, letting out a few urgent cries.
Droville patted her wing, thanked her softly, and with a flip, brought Celoa up onto the bird’s back.
“Celoa, let’s go home.”
Selene vibrated her wings, let out a high-pitched cry to the surroundings, and then took off at high speed toward the heights.
In the shadows of the forest, several new black-robed figures slowly emerged. They bowed their heads dully, moving sluggishly. Wherever they walked, a faint dust would rise and swirl around them; upon closer inspection, one could see that it was the ashes of the previous group of black-robed men.
Once the ashes were mostly collected, these figures stood in place and breathed deeply. The dust slowly entered their bodies through their noses and mouths, merging with them.
The lead black-robed man opened his closed eyes, which were filled with blood-red light. He spoke word by word, his voice slow and mechanical as if he were reading a record from the ashes.
“Droville. Weakness is his blood from before the displacement. A few drops can make him lose control of his form and power.”
By the end, his tone became hesitant, as if even the owner of these ashes wasn’t certain of the information.
He said, “Droville has a child with him. He cares for this child deeply. The child can be eliminated first.”
However, even the nearly mindless black-robed man fell silent at this. Would that cold-blooded, ruthless new Demon King who slaughtered all dissenters really be moved by a child who appeared out of nowhere?
He marked two words over this piece of information:
Doubtful
Selene didn’t rest along the way, using her top speed to bring them back to the Demon Palace.
Celoa, for once, didn’t get “bird-sick.” He spent the whole journey shouting in excitement. Everything looked novel to him. Occasionally, he wanted to touch the passing clouds, but Droville would pull him back before he could.
He asked, puzzled, “Dro, why won’t you let me touch them?”
He pinched his fingers together longingly, looking at the surroundings with regret: “Don’t you think these clouds are beautiful? And they’re so unique. This is much more fun than the Heavenly Realm.”
Celoa didn’t notice that when he mentioned the Heavenly Realm, Selene’s wings faltered for a second, nearly causing them to dip. Droville noticed, but he clearly didn’t intend to explain anything right then. He gave Selene’s feathers a light tug and let her continue flying.
He looked around at the clouds, a hint of a smile in his eyes. He waved his hand—not to catch a cloud, but to shoo the nearby ones away. He didn’t explain until the path ahead was clear of obstacles.
“Because these aren’t ordinary clouds. Some flying-type demon tribes live inside them. If you touch them randomly, you might accidentally destroy someone’s home. If they are busy doing something, it would be quite offensive.”
Celoa finally understood. He bowed toward the clouds they had already passed and apologized sincerely: “I’m sorry! I didn’t know. I definitely won’t think about touching your houses next time.”
After apologizing, he followed up curiously.
“Then what happens if other demons are fighting or accidentally bump into them while flying? Do they just have to accept their bad luck?” Celoa scrunched his little face in judgment: “If that’s the case, making a house in the sky is really dangerous. It’s better to find a stable place on the ground.”
Droville gave him a half-smile and answered plainly, “The situation you mentioned definitely exists. But demons don’t care much about that. Usually, they use another method to solve the problem.”
“What is it!” Celoa was hungry for knowledge. He flopped onto Droville’s lap, chin resting there, biting his lip as he tugged the man’s sleeve. He whispered, “Tell me secretly.”
Droville answered airily.
“They hit back. Everyone is very vengeful. If you knock my house down, I’ll knock your house down. That’s why people in the Demon Realm have to rebuild their houses quite often.”
“If you don’t like the Demon Palace later, go out and pick a fight, then tell them where you live. Let them help you demolish the house for free. I’ll then apply to build you a new palace that you like.”
Selene, who was flying in silence, couldn’t help but let out a few angry, condemning cries. She was clearly offended.
Celoa leaned against Droville, feeling a dark aura emanating from Selene for some reason. He was confused and rubbed the soft feathers beneath him, whispering into Droville’s ear.
“Dro, are you doing something bad behind her back?”
Droville sighed meaningfully and shrugged. “It was supposed to be a bad thing done behind her back, but now that you’ve mentioned it, it’s a bad thing done in the open.”
Celoa’s brain didn’t quite process that. He stared blankly at Droville, seeing only the sly smile on the man’s lips.
Just then, the Demon Palace appeared ahead. Selene made a sudden dive and a rushed landing. She squatted down abruptly, clearly wanting to shake them off her back. Droville saw it coming; holding Celoa, he jumped down quickly and set the boy aside.
He said softly, “Alright, it’s Selene’s hunting time.”
Selene transformed back into human form in a flash. Her eyes burned with fury. She stomped forward, looking ready to explode.
“Fine! Droville! You’ve finally exposed yourself! I was wondering why someone comes to fight every few months and the Demon Palace always gets destroyed. After all this time, it’s because you’re unhappy with the palace style?! Do you have any idea how much money it costs me to repair the palace once?!”
“That’s all the money I saved by being stingy, and you’ve wasted it all!”
Droville took the opportunity to nudge Celoa toward the palace. His eyes were very gentle as he coaxed: “I need to go confess my misdeeds. Celoa, go back first and wait for me obediently, okay?”
Celoa looked back and forth between the two and nodded. He reached up to pat Droville’s head and whispered, “Dro, you must be very sincere, or I think Selene will really kill you.”
“I’m going now! Bye, Dro!”
Celoa grabbed his hem and ran flusteredly into the palace, nearly losing his shoes along the way—a testament to how intimidating an angry Selene could be.
Droville watched his retreating figure, thinking he looked like a rolling ball—excessively cute. He almost wanted to give him a pat.
Suddenly, someone tapped his shoulder.
Droville turned his head. Selene, who looked ready to explode a moment ago, had returned to a calm state as if the previous matter meant nothing.
Her expression was a bit grim as she scrutinized Droville’s face. “Hey. What was that act for? It couldn’t have been just so we could stare at each other in silence. I know you’re not that bored. And if I’m not mistaken…”
Droville calmly interrupted her next words: “Celoa is an Angel.”
Selene’s face turned pale instantly. For a moment, she didn’t even dare look at Droville’s expression. She let out a faint “Ah,” her face stiff as she asked hesitantly, “Mmh. He’s an Angel. So, what do you mean? Are you throwing him out?”
Droville didn’t speak. After a moment of contemplation, he asked back, “What do you think I should do now?”
Selene didn’t answer directly, but she placed a hand on Droville’s shoulder, patting it a few times in comfort. Her eyes were a bit lost. “I don’t know what to say. Based on what I know of you, the moment you found out he was an Angel, you would have killed him. But… but he’s still alive, and your attitude toward him hasn’t changed at all. I don’t understand what you’re thinking.”
Droville sank into thought because of Selene’s words. His gaze didn’t move from the palace entrance, as if he could still see that clumsy and flustered figure. He laughed softly and murmured, “Yes. I also thought I would kill him. To be more accurate, I was already prepared to kill him. But—”
“But I couldn’t bear to. I even wished I could go back to the day I found him and choose not to save him—to let him die in the jaws of the scavenger beast. If I had never interacted with him, never developed feelings, I wouldn’t be hesitating or struggling.”
Selene spoke up, finally seeing through Droville’s thoughts. “But there’s always a ‘but’ after that, isn’t there? After you fantasized about not saving him, what else did you think? Were you in pain again, thinking about what he would suffer without you? You started placing all possible pain onto that ‘fantasized’ Celoa that wasn’t saved.”
“And then you didn’t regret it anymore.”
Selene pressed him step by step: “If you were given the choice again, would you choose to save him? Tell me the truth.”
Droville closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh. He admitted helplessly, “I would still choose to save him.”
“Because I still wouldn’t be able to bear it.”
He suddenly relaxed. As if comforting himself, he said to Selene, “Actually, his experience is very similar to mine. Both of us were exiled from the Heavenly Realm. The only difference is that he has no wings, while I was stripped of mine after judgment. In the end, we are both people the Heavenly Realm didn’t want.”
“I suppose we share a common fate.”
Droville summarized his feelings for Celoa nonchalantly. He saw Selene nod, seemingly agreeing with his words, but in truth, only he knew what he was really thinking.
He closed his eyes slightly. A thick scent of blood seemed to drift before his nose again—the rotting smell that had once emanated from his own body.
During those most humiliating times, he was like a dead dog, wrists bound to a cross, back flayed open. The blood flowed continuously, never stopping. The dutiful executioners would bring Holy Water every hour to pour onto his wounds that were about to heal; then, the wing wounds cut by demonic tools would split open again because of the residual demonic energy.
Every Angel who smelled it would cover their nose and walk past with a look of disgust, pointing and staring as if he were trash.
But in reality, he hated that smell too. At least back in his glorious youth, no Angel in the entire Heavenly Realm loved cleanliness more than he did.
Because of that habit, the person who was always by his side was also forever clean and pure.
But later, things changed. After he was stripped of his wings and exiled to the Demon Realm, he never saw another Angel again.
His hatred for the Heavenly Realm was from the heart. He hated not just the realm, but every Angel in it. He deeply hated every Angel who stood by and watched or added insult to injury. Therefore, it should have been impossible for him to care for or protect another Angel just because of some ridiculous “shared fate.”
It was simply absurd.
But Celoa was different. He seemed to have a kind of magic. Droville had to admit that for Celoa alone, he had a built-in filter that allowed him to ignore the race and truly care for him.
“So, was your injury this time because of Celoa too?” Selene’s question brought his thoughts back.
Droville looked at Selene, shook his head slightly, and then nodded. He explained, “When I was helping Celoa with his treatment, I discovered that Caesar still had some of my blood from when I was an Angel. I began to suspect that someone might be defying the ban to secretly keep those things to use against me.”
“Then I was ambushed during the break. They probably guessed I had found out and wanted to end it quickly to see if that thing worked on me. Celoa’s injury was just utilized. I can’t blame him. The point is—why did someone happen to be waiting in ambush on my path the moment I discovered the remaining blood?”
Droville’s eyes turned cold. He tapped his finger lightly. “We definitely have a spy planted among us. It’s just that I didn’t find anyone in the group I observed last time, so it hasn’t been uncovered yet.”
Selene rubbed her forehead, complaining, “Those insects never have enough. They crawl out to make trouble at the slightest sign of something happening. I really wish I could just wipe them all out. If you hadn’t killed so many people when you took the throne, and if killing those who surrendered weren’t considered too tyrannical, I would have finished them off long ago.”
“So, what do you plan to do next?”
Selene was eager. She rotated her wrist and licked her lips, her eyes full of anticipation. After being well-behaved for so many years, she couldn’t wait to go out and pick a few fights.
Dealing with paperwork here day after day was driving her mad.
Droville also showed a rare bit of interest. Honestly, since ascending the throne, he hadn’t found anything interesting for many years. He looked at the empty Demon Palace and suddenly laughed, his eyes full of mischief. He said:
“First, we need to find a reason to call them all back. After all, things are only lively when there are many people. It won’t be much of a scene if there are only a few.”
Selene nodded eagerly. She counted heads on her fingers, her excitement growing. She even felt like running out to capture them all herself. She agreed, “That’s definitely no problem. If they don’t come, I’ll personally go and ‘invite’ them all.”
“But what about those who left the Demon Realm long ago? Do you want to notify them?”
Droville shook his head. He looked toward the East of the Demon Realm—the place where the Blood Sun rose and where the Demon and Human Realms converged.
During his many years of rule, many people who couldn’t live normally in the Demon Realm had left with his permission to settle in the Human Realm. This included some important demon figures.
But for a small matter like this, there was no need to cause such a stir and gather everyone to the little Demon Palace.
He looked at the sky and suddenly remembered something. He blew a soft breath, and a slender black cat leaped out of his body, landing gracefully on the ground.
Selene let out an “Ooh,” glanced at him, and teased, “I don’t know if you can’t leave him, or if he can’t leave you. He didn’t even ask, yet you’re so eager to split off an avatar to go coax him to sleep.”
Droville gave a faint huff. “It’s still better than your fawning avatars. They’ve been out for so many years and you still can’t take them back. It’s embarrassing to look at. If I may be blunt, your avatars have sung quite a few lullabies for Celoa. Your conduct is much more diligent than mine.”
Selene wasn’t embarrassed. She rubbed her nose and smiled. “That’s because Celoa is too cute. I can’t help but be good to him. Aren’t you the same?”
The black cat scurried off quickly and vanished.
Only then did Selene seem to remember something, asking a beat late, “Right, Celoa is an Angel, so Caesar’s potion probably won’t have much effect on him, right? I remember you hovered between life and death several times to resist the demonic energy. It wasn’t until the seventh time that you stabilized. Why not try the same steps you took back then? If you could do it, he surely can too.”
“Otherwise, you’ll have to send him to the Human Realm.”
Droville shook his head slightly. “I won’t send Celoa away. Once I decided not to kill him, he was destined to stay by my side. I won’t let go, no matter what.”
Selene nodded and turned to leave, muttering, “You just move your lips, and I have no idea how much work I’ll have to do. Let me see how I can get everyone to gather here. And the potion Celoa needs—there are a lot of rare herbs in that. Now that you’ve said this, I have to repurchase and collect everything. In that case, the accounts have to be redone…”
“Selene.”
Droville spoke suddenly. His expression didn’t look like a joke; it could even be described as solemn.
Selene immediately had a premonition. No matter how absurd his next words were, it was something he was definitely going to do. She held her breath and was then hit by a bombshell.
“I intend to let Celoa stay in the Demon Realm via the second plan—the one I abandoned halfway through.”
Selene’s reaction was not slow this time. She immediately remembered what the rejected “second plan” was. It was simply unbelievable—for anyone involved.
The reason Droville chose the first plan over the second back then was simple.
Because the first plan harmed the physical body. As long as one’s willpower was strong enough to grit their teeth and endure, they were 100% guaranteed to become a member of the demon race.
The person undergoing the transformation would have all their meridians and blood changed, jumping to become a high-noble pure-blood demon. Countless demons participated in such experiments every year; one could say this plan was extremely mature.
But the second one was different. It was almost an impossible task. From the time the Demon Realm began until now, no one had ever succeeded. In fact, no one had even tried.
“Are you sure you haven’t gone mad?” Selene cried out. She pointed inside the palace as if wanting Droville to see Celoa’s physical condition clearly. She questioned, “Even if everything goes smoothly, this timeline will be incredibly long. Are you sure he can survive until the day of success?”
But Droville still nodded calmly, completely unmoved. He pondered, “I know what you’re worried about. Caesar did tell me that if we don’t find another way soon, Celoa can live in the Demon Realm for three months at most. But haven’t I found a way?”
He smiled slightly and added, “This was the inspiration brought to me by those ambushing demons. Back when I was an Angel, I left behind quite a bit of blood. Just one bottle can keep the power in Celoa’s body balanced for a long time. If I kill all those demons, how could the blood I obtain not be enough for Celoa to use?”
“After all, not everyone is in the Demon Realm. He only needs to spend half his time here.”
Selene still found it unbelievable. She was stunned. “You’ve really gone mad—wanting an Angel hatchling to be the successor to the Demon King.”
The well-known “second plan” was actually simple. The demon race gave it another name: The Path of Authority.
In the Demon Realm, there was an unwritten rule: anyone who gained the recognition of the Seven Demon King Authorities (Pride, Wrath, Envy, Sloth, Greed, Gluttony, and Lust) was qualified to become the next Demon King. But because obtaining that recognition was too difficult, the Demon Realm basically adopted a hereditary system, selecting the clan with the purest bloodline as the Royal Family. Every generation of Demon Kings was born from the Royal Family. However, the Demon Realm respects strength above all else, so if a Demon King wasn’t strong enough, the title was just a name.
And Droville was the first Demon King to ascend the throne by gaining the recognition of the authorities, though he had exploited a loophole. He killed the former Lord of Pride, forcibly merged with the Authority of Pride to greatly enhance his physical attributes, and then used the first plan to extract the Royal Bloodline of the Demon Realm to replace his meridians. Then, relying on the dual credentials of bloodline and authority, he fought his way to the Demon Palace and achieved success.
Selene had followed him back then and witnessed his path to kingship. She knew him well. Knowing how much he had suffered and how many injuries he had sustained to merge with an authority, she naturally wouldn’t agree with his current approach.
“Back then, even with an Angel body, you nearly died just merging with one authority position. Now you’re telling me you want Celoa to get seven authorities? Are you really not joking?”
Selene asked seriously, “Do you… still want him to die?”
Droville sighed. His eyes were shining. After deciding to let Celoa try the second plan, he had fallen into deep thought. He could almost see Celoa wearing a crown and royal robes, ascending to the throne of the Demon King step by step.
He said softly, “Nothing is better than this way.”
“You wouldn’t understand the feeling of being abandoned, questioned, and having your life’s value denied. If Celoa were given the choice, I believe he would make the same decision I did.”
“Furthermore, the true Path of Authority is not as difficult as you imagine. The reason I almost died there was that I was too greedy. I didn’t just want its recognition; I craved to master it.”
“So I had to undergo a more cruel test.”
“But to gain its recognition… as you have seen, it is merely a test of character. It’s just that most people in the Demon Realm are unworthy of this test. Everyone’s soul is equally filthy—how could they pass the recognition of the authorities and truly step onto the path of kingship?”
Selene was stunned. She stared at Droville, dazed. “So, your evaluation of Celoa is actually that high? No one else in the Demon Realm can do it, yet how can you judge that he is the one who can pass the test—the purest and most true soul?”
The corners of Droville’s mouth curled up. He winked at Selene and walked into the Demon Palace with a chuckle, lazily tossing back one last sentence.
“Because he is Celoa.”
Droville left Selene outside and hurried in himself. With a complex emotion he couldn’t quite explain, he pushed open Celoa’s door and walked slowly to the bedside, looking down at the boy’s face, flushed pink in sleep.
“Celoa, oh Celoa.” He leaned over and affectionately tapped the tip of Celoa’s nose. He felt a sudden warmth in his heart. He thought: It’s not just because he is Celoa that I believe in him. More importantly, in these days of being together, I have seen a brave and sincere soul within his behavior.
He truly couldn’t express how much comfort that warm and trusting hug had given him when he was about to fall into hopeless pain once again.
Similar experiences, but completely different personalities and styles.
It felt like the same soul.
He gently pinched Celoa’s nose. Celoa, unable to breathe, grumbled and turned over. His hand flailed in the air a few times, seemingly trying to swat away the thing disturbing his dreams. Then, feeling around to the side, he pulled the black cat into a full embrace.
Droville’s eyes were clear and soft. At this moment, he finally seemed to have shed some of the external shackles and burdens, returning to his true self. He asked softly, a bit uncertainly.
“What will your answer be? Will it be the same as I imagine?”
“I’ve made this decision for you so easily. Will you resent me? I didn’t know anything, didn’t understand anything, yet I choked you when you came to hug me. Did you have any resentment in your heart then?”
Droville took a deep breath and spoke the question he wanted to ask most, yet didn’t dare.
“If I said I wanted to formally adopt you as my godson… I wonder if you would agree.”
“My dear Celoa.”