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Join the ServerA burly, imposing figure strode forward with majestic authority. As the wind swept back the hair from his forehead, it revealed a hideous, ferocious scar, making his face seem even more fierce and murderous.
The attendants lowered their heads in terror, not daring to provoke the Left Protector, who was already terrifying enough.
But in that downward gaze, they happened to catch a glimpse of his dark robes. On closer inspection, those weren’t black at all—they were caked with viscous, dark red bloodstains. The stench of gore was overwhelming, nauseating.
They couldn’t help wondering how many demon cultivators he must have killed to be drenched in so much blood, as if he had been steeped in a pool of gore.
They bowed their heads even lower, silent as cicadas in winter.
In the magnificent Demon Palace, the Left Protector entered the main hall. He knelt on one knee and saluted respectfully. “Greetings, Your Excellency. I have completed the mission and come to report.”
He reported one by one which demon factions had joined the rebellion, how many people they had killed, and who had managed to escape.
After finishing, he waited for a long time without hearing a single word from the Demon Lord. Growing anxious, he couldn’t help stealing a cautious upward glance.
On the throne, the Demon Lord sat in black robes, his brow cold and stern, his features handsome. His expression was indifferent as his lashes drooped. In his hand, he held a mask, toying with it absentmindedly, his fingers rubbing against it in a distracted manner.
The Left Protector took a closer look. It was a white fox mask, crudely made, the kind easily bought on the street. What was so special about it?
He couldn’t understand, nor did he know where the Demon Lord had been for the past two years.
He was powerful, but not particularly clever. The Right Protector, who was quick-witted and good at guessing the Demon Lord’s thoughts, wasn’t around either. So he had no choice but to continue kneeling, boring himself by counting the jade tiles on the floor.
Finally, a deep voice came from above.
“Have you found the formation arrays?”
The Left Protector jolted, caught off guard. After a moment to recall what the Demon Lord had asked, he replied with reverence, “We have found two so far. We interrogated the conspirators, but they knew little. We haven’t located the remaining arrays, nor do we know the exact number.”
The Left Protector thought that while the palace attendants feared him, they had no reason to. Compared to the Demon Lord, he could even be considered gentle and approachable. True, he was covered in blood, but that was because the Demon Lord killed without leaving a trace. In terms of numbers, he couldn’t compare to the Demon Lord.
With a single swing of his sword, a flash of black light would take a hundred lives.
Still, he understood the Demon Lord’s ruthlessness. Those demon cultivators had gone mad, trying to break the seal of the ancient demon lord from five hundred years ago and serve that one instead. Had they forgotten how venomous that demon was? Cooperating with a tiger only led to disaster.
He could figure out such a simple truth, even with his slow mind. Why couldn’t they?
“Keep looking.”
“Yes, Your Excellency.”
The Left Protector answered loudly, rose, and withdrew from the hall.
Before leaving, he couldn’t resist another glance. The Demon Lord was still holding the mask, but his demeanor wasn’t that of someone cherishing a beloved item.
The Left Protector was thoroughly confused. He wondered if he should buy a similar mask to curry favor with the Demon Lord. He’d ask the Right Protector about it later.
Meanwhile, in the largest inn of Qingyu City.
Su Zhuozhi sat on the arhat bed in the best room, holding a mirror of arcane light, replying to messages from his senior brother, Qin Zhao.
When he had first fled from Xie Jue, he had told Qin Zhao about the Demon Lord’s identity, warning him to be careful.
Qin Zhao was shocked and urgently reported to the sect leader. The Demon Lord being a disciple of a righteous sect—how absurd was that?
The peak masters all checked their territories for traces of demon cultivators. Fortunately, nothing was amiss.
So what was the Demon Lord’s motive?
The sect was completely normal, which only made them more uneasy. It suggested some hidden conspiracy they knew nothing about.
In such a grim situation, they forgot to notice that Su Zhuozhi hadn’t returned to the sect for a long time.
Several days later, Qin Zhao asked if something had happened.
Su Zhuozhi replied, “It’s nothing. I’m hiding from him, so it’s inconvenient to return.”
He worried that Xie Jue would send people to stake out the Ten Thousand Swords Sect. If he went back, he’d be walking into a trap and might endanger the sect.
Qin Zhao said seriously, “You are a disciple of Ten Thousand Swords Sect. It’s our duty to protect you. Don’t think of yourself as a burden. Are you still thinking that he joined the sect because of you, and you feel guilty for unwittingly helping him? Don’t have such thoughts. The only one at fault is the Demon Lord. You are an innocent victim.”
Seeing this message, Su Zhuozhi’s fear eased, and he smiled. He wouldn’t blame himself for others’ mistakes. But…
“Is it really okay for me to return? I don’t know what the Demon Lord wants or what he’s trying to get from me.”
Qin Zhao replied faster than ever—perhaps there were others behind the mirror: “Don’t overthink it. If the Demon Lord wants to capture you, it means you are useful to him. We must not let him succeed.”
Su Zhuozhi thought that made sense. At the Ten Thousand Swords Sect, there were many elders to protect him. It was safer than being alone.
Decided, he resolved to first return to the capital. No, he wasn’t reassured.
So he used a concealment artifact, hid in the shadows, and only let out a sigh of relief after confirming his parents and brother were safe. Then he turned and left.
To cover his tracks, he took a different route, mingling with a group of cultivators. He stuck a mask on his face—one of his purchased artifacts. It could transform into a thin, realistic mask based on the face he painted. Unless someone pressed close and scrutinized, it was hard to detect. However, it had to be removed after five hours and soaked in water to reattach, or the edges would peel off.
As he drew closer to the Ten Thousand Swords Sect, Su Zhuozhi’s anxiety gradually settled. He planned to stay at an inn for the night and then travel another day to reach the sect.
He found a large inn and checked in. After a dusty journey, he only wanted to rest and eat a good meal.
After bathing, he emerged wrapped in a mist of water vapor, squinting in comfort.
When the knock came, Su Zhuozhi was sprawled on the bed, utterly relaxed, not wanting to get up. In the past, he would have had a servant to handle such small tasks. But now, he was alone.
All because of Xie Jue!
Su Zhuozhi rolled on the bed in frustration, kicking his legs in a huff.
After a while, he had no choice but to get up and open the door. He stood behind it, reaching out only one hand to take the meal from the waiter.
He had taken off his mask, revealing his real face. Wearing a mask for too long made his skin feel stuffy and uncomfortable. When he was alone, he naturally couldn’t be bothered.
The waiter, who had worked at the inn for years, had seen all kinds of strange guests. He didn’t think much of it. But when his eyes fell on that hand, he was stunned by its beauty. Remembering the guest’s plain face, he couldn’t help sighing: such flawless, jade-like hands, yet such an ordinary face—what a pity.
Su Zhuozhi didn’t know what the waiter thought. He closed the door, sat at the table, and began to eat.
Then… his brows furrowed. He pouted in displeasure.
It tasted bad.
He pushed away the tray, refusing to take another bite. But his stomach growled with hunger.
After enduring for a while, he finally gave in. He put on a veiled hat and headed straight for the largest restaurant in town. He refused to believe that the restaurant’s dishes would be equally inedible.
In the past, Su Zhuozhi wouldn’t have been so impulsive. But after days of anxious hiding, he could no longer hold back. Besides, the Ten Thousand Swords Sect was near; his caution had unconsciously slackened.
He ordered a private room and a table full of delicacies. After the first bite, he looked somewhat satisfied. Then he began to eat slowly, savoring the meal.
Finally, he didn’t have to act like a fugitive.
Wuwuwu.
Once again, Su Zhuozhi cursed Xie Jue in his heart. Fortunately, he managed to finish the meal without incident.
He didn’t linger outside. Donning his veiled hat and paying the bill, he headed back to the inn.
On the way, he encountered a little girl selling flowers. She was thin and small, with a ingratiating smile. She thrust a flower toward passersby, sweetly saying, “Miss, want to buy a flower? It’s fresh and pretty, perfect for you.”
People walked by without even a glance.
After repeated failures, the girl lowered her head, on the verge of tears. But she sniffled, and when she looked up again, her smile was bright. “Brother, want to buy a flower?”
Su Zhuozhi’s heart softened. He stopped and bought all the flowers in her basket.
But as the girl handed him the basket, their fingers touched, and his vision suddenly went black. Before losing consciousness, he vaguely heard a hoarse, ugly voice: “So easy to fool. If I hand him over to the Demon Lord to show my loyalty, I’ll surely…”
Su Zhuozhi realized he had been tricked. The little girl was a demon cultivator in disguise!
But no matter how angry he was, he could do nothing. His consciousness rapidly plummeted into darkness.
This was a high-level demon cultivator. His combat strength was lower than others of the same realm, but he excelled at evil arts, especially in escape and concealment—like a shadowy phantom.
Originally, he had supported the faction that wanted to break the ancient demon’s seal. But seeing the Demon Lord’s decisive slaughter—if he resisted, there was no chance of survival—he, like a reed swaying in the wind, switched allegiance and sought to serve the Demon Lord.
He had no outstanding strengths, making it hard to gain the Demon Lord’s favor. So he took a crooked path. Coincidentally, he overheard a conversation between the Left and Right Protectors.
“When I reported, His Excellency kept holding a white fox mask. Should I buy one too? If His Excellency sees me wearing it, might he be pleased?”
“…That’s a great idea. I really look forward to seeing you get gutted by the demon sword.”
“Huh? Why?”
“Haven’t you seen how viciously His Excellency has been killing these days? A single strike could finish it, yet he hacks them into pieces, blood flooding the floor.”
“You’re wrong. His Excellency does this because of someone. Do you know where he went for the past two years?”
“No.”
“He went to the mortal world and became a bodyguard.”
“Are you kidding me?”
The demon cultivator, hidden in the shadows, grew more shocked as he listened. Someone dared to humiliate the Demon Lord like that? If it were him, he would have turned that person into a human-skin lantern.
However, that person had escaped. If he captured that person and presented him to the Demon Lord for revenge, His Excellency might be pleased and reward him with a hall master position. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?
Once the thought took hold, the incident with the flower girl was born.
When Su Zhuozhi opened his eyes again, his hands and feet were bound with ropes. He was curled up on the cold floor, dizzy, with a ringing in his ears. He could only hear a fawning voice nearby.
…What?
Su Zhuozhi’s mind was slow, but the words “His Excellency” triggered a switch, jolting him awake. He remembered what had happened before he passed out. On the street, the flower girl… So he had been captured and brought to the Demon Palace?
Realizing this, his breath caught. He didn’t even dare look up. He secretly channeled a thread of spiritual power to cut the ropes. The moment they broke, he scrambled to his feet on weak limbs and tried to flee toward the hall’s entrance.
His slender figure stumbled, like a delicate mermaid newly ashore, unused to her legs—fragile and pitiful.
The demon cultivator hadn’t expected such audacity. Under the Demon Lord’s very nose, he dared to think of escape. He was about to strike, but then saw the one on the throne move. He hastily knelt back down, not daring to overstep.
The Demon Lord descended step by step, his black robes brushing the jade steps. In moments, he was close behind Su Zhuozhi, like a shadow.
Su Zhuozhi heard the footsteps behind him, like a death knell, bloodcurdling. His legs turned to jelly, as if walking on cotton. In panic, he lost his footing and stumbled forward.
But the expected pain never came. He fell onto a pitch-black demonic aura, like the icy tail of a giant serpent, catching him securely.
The next instant, a powerful hand grabbed his ankle and pulled him back. In the blink of an eye, he was forcibly drawn into a familiar embrace.
The Demon Lord lifted him by the waist, held him firmly in his arms, carried him to the center of the hall, and pressed him onto the throne.
Su Zhuozhi’s face was pale, his lips pressed tight. Trapped in the narrow space between the throne and Xie Jue’s chest, he could barely breathe.
He had thought that one day he might be caught by Xie Jue, but he never expected it to happen so soon.
Su Zhuozhi swallowed, instinctively turning his head to scan for an escape route.
But the next moment, his chin was seized and forced back, meeting Xie Jue’s dangerous gaze. His scalp tingled, and he trembled.
Xie Jue’s eyes were dark and obsessive. He demanded coldly, “Where else do you want to run?”
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