The mist from the snow beneath the thatched eaves rose, carrying a cool and refreshing scent.
Yin Jiuruo loved this bone-chilling sensation. Especially after being confined in this pitch-dark thatched hut for who knows how long.
At the far end of the hut, a group of similarly ragged and terrified people huddled together on filthy reed mats, swaying like pigs penned for slaughter.
The sound of footsteps mixed with the scraping of sharp weapons against the ground grew closer, and the people inside instinctively shrank further into the corner.
Only Yin Jiuruo stubbornly leaned out, eager to taste the icy sweetness of the snowmelt.
Two armored demon soldiers, while deferentially ushering in their alluring yet deadly demon lord, groveled and said:
“Your Majesty, this batch of mortals is of the poorest quality either missing limbs or hideously ugly. They are utterly unworthy of being Your Majesty’s dual cultivation partners.” As they spoke, one of the soldiers glared viciously at Yin Jiuruo, catching only a glimpse of her disheveled hair and the spiderweb-like crimson scars marring her face.
“Is that so?” The demon lord chuckled seductively, her bewitching crimson eyes sweeping over each person in the room, making them tremble in fear terrified of being dragged out to be drained of blood or devoured whole.
This demon had kept them captive for months, indulging in every cruelty from blood-drinking to flesh-eating. That no cultivators had come to vanquish her spoke volumes of her formidable power.
“Then clean them all up and reward them to you…” The demon lord’s rosy tongue flicked over her lips, her voice dripping with allure as she addressed the soldiers, “Steamed or braised.”
Instantly, the hut filled with desperate pleas and wails, which only seemed to amuse the demon lord further. Her laughter, though enchanting, was laced with bloodlust.
Yin Jiuruo turned her head just in time to meet the demon lord’s gaze, cruelty and delight shimmering behind the veil.
She watched as the demon lord pointed at her and commanded, “Bring her to my chambers.”
Forced into a room heavy with the scent of musk and perfume, Yin Jiuruo found the demon lord reclining on a divan, clad in a sheer red gauze robe.
Her jade-like legs peeked through the fabric, and her soft, starry eyes held none of the terror expected of a flesh-eating monster.
“Your blood smells sweet,” Yin Jiuruo heard the demon lord whisper in her ear.
As the veil slipped away, it revealed a face both cold and tender strikingly beautiful, with skin like polished jade. Yet, like a serpent or a seductress, she coiled closer.
This is it. I’m really going to be eaten by a demon, Yin Jiuruo thought bitterly.
After her soul transmigrated to this world, she had suffered frequent memory loss, retaining only her name and nothing else.
Worse still, this body held too many secrets. Even in death, she wanted to understand them.
“Am I going to die?” Yin Jiuruo murmured softly, closing her eyes.
To her surprise, the demon lord exhaled a fragrant breath and laughed, her voice dripping with honeyed charm, “How could I bear to let you die?”
Startled, Yin Jiuruo opened her eyes just as the demon lord pressed closer her snow-white, delicate body barely concealed by the gauze, her intoxicating scent beckoning like a forbidden fruit.
Furnace Cauldron.
The term flashed through Yin Jiuruo’s mind. To lose her purity before death.
Truly, worse than amnesia was being powerless in a world of cultivation unable to resist, unable to fight back.