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Join the Server“Where are you running off to now?”
Hearing the accusatory tone, Su Zhuozhi seemed to reach a breaking point. Fear hit its limit and rebounded, a surge of fire rising from his heart, mixed with anger and terror. He widened his eyes, voice trembling as he stubbornly retorted, “Who’s running? Not me!”
Meaning, he was a young master—why would he need to flee? If he wanted to go somewhere, he’d go. No one had the right to control him.
Xie Jue paused, interpreting it differently. The fury in his eyes was doused like a bucket of cold water, soothed by this answer. Strangely, he felt a flicker of satisfaction.
He seemed to think of something, took Su Zhuozhi’s hand, lowered his head, and gently kissed the pale pink fingertips. An inexplicable smile crept across his face, leaving Su Zhuozhi both bewildered and frightened, too flustered to notice the ambiguous implication in the kiss.
Su Zhuozhi had no idea what he was smiling about. He tried to lean back, desperate to create distance from this madman, but his back was already pressed against the throne’s backrest—nowhere to retreat.
“Since you weren’t planning to run, how about the young master stays here and becomes the Demon Lord?”
A smile lingered on Xie Jue’s lips. His expression was anything but joking.
Su Zhuozhi heard every word, but they made no sense.
“…???”
Help! He really had lost his mind!
Facing a violent Demon Lord was terrifying enough, but now a lunatic Demon Lord who had lost all reason? That was even worse!
Because Su Zhuozhi didn’t respond, Xie Jue pinched his fingertip. “You agree?”
Su Zhuozhi dared to glare at Xie Jue, but he didn’t dare provoke a madman. After a moment’s hesitation, he decided it might be better to go along with his words. So he nodded hesitantly. “…Okay?”
The smile in Xie Jue’s eyes deepened. He announced with delight, “From this moment on, I abdicate. You are the new Demon Lord.”
The moment the words fell, a dark shadow flashed before Su Zhuozhi’s eyes. A hand gripped his waist, his body suddenly lifted into the air, then settled. Xie Jue sat on the throne, and Su Zhuozhi sat on Xie Jue’s lap.
Xie Jue whispered, “The young master is delicate. This seat isn’t soft enough. Tomorrow, I’ll add several layers of cushions to make it more comfortable. For now, you’ll have to endure sitting on my lap.”
His breath brushed against Su Zhuozhi’s ear, tickling and making him tremble. The words only added to his confusion. He couldn’t help but say, “Didn’t you say I’m the new Demon Lord? Why are you still calling me ‘young master’?”
Xie Jue paused, then immediately corrected himself, “Yes, Your Excellency.”
What was happening now? Was this for real?
Su Zhuozhi took a breath and tested, “Will you obey my orders?”
“Of course,” Xie Jue replied without hesitation.
Su Zhuozhi thought for a moment. Trying it out wouldn’t hurt. He adjusted his position, shifting in Xie Jue’s arms, lifted his chin, exuding arrogance, looking down from above. He pointed at the demon cultivator who had captured him and commanded skillfully, “He bullied me. Beat him up.”
The demon cultivator’s eyes widened in shock.
He had witnessed everything that happened, but the turn of events grew more absurd by the second. He couldn’t believe it, almost thinking he was dreaming.
Wasn’t this the one who had humiliated the Demon Lord? Shouldn’t the Demon Lord have come down to kill him with his own hands to vent his hatred? But instead, when the Demon Lord reached for his ankle, he didn’t crush it mercilessly—he lifted the man up and placed him on the throne? That seat was reserved only for the Demon Lord himself.
Making a righteous cultivator the Demon Lord? Ridiculous! This had to be a new way for the Demon Lord to torture people—first give them hope, then crush it. Mental torment was far more devastating than physical harm.
The demon cultivator deliberately ignored the intimacy of the Demon Lord holding the man in his arms. He made up excuses in his mind to rationalize. How could he dare think that this person was special to the Demon Lord? Then what had he done earlier? Had he been courting death?
When he heard the human’s arrogant words, his heart skipped a beat. Shocked, his features twisted, and he blurted out, “The Demon Lord wouldn’t listen to a lowly—”
“Fine.”
Xie Jue’s cold voice rang out at the same time. It was light, yet it silenced the demon cultivator instantly.
Because a sharp blade of black mist shot toward him, slashing across his throat. One strike, instant death.
Blood spurted like a fountain, splattering the floor.
Su Zhuozhi had never seen such a bloody, horrifying scene. His small face turned pale. He jerked his head away, nearly vomiting.
“Scared? If I’d known, I’d have used a more elegant method.”
Xie Jue’s voice carried a hint of regret. He pulled Su Zhuozhi into his embrace, placed a hand on his back, and stroked downward, soothing him gently, like pacifying a child.
But Su Zhuozhi couldn’t stop trembling. Anyone would struggle to stay calm after witnessing a murder, let alone sitting in the murderer’s lap. The more Xie Jue’s hand moved, the more he shook.
“He committed many evil deeds. The flower-selling child you saw—he was the one who killed him. Someone like that deserves to be feared.”
Xie Jue spoke slowly, trying to comfort Su Zhuozhi’s emotions. The words did make him feel a bit better, but they couldn’t ease his fear of Xie Jue.
From the moment he was forced to the Demon Palace and laid eyes on Xie Jue, he seemed like someone who could hold a normal conversation, even smiling at him. But on closer inspection, there was a hardness, as if he was barely holding back something.
A long silence made the atmosphere in the hall stagnate.
No matter how much Xie Jue didn’t want to admit it, the truth was clear—what frightened Su Zhuozhi the most wasn’t the blood, but the one who had killed.
Xie Jue’s eyes darkened like an abyss. Irritation and violence surged wildly in his chest.
He had never cared how others saw him. Whether it was the fear of the demon cultivators below or the deep hatred of the righteous path, it meant nothing to him. But he couldn’t bear Su Zhuozhi’s disgust and aversion, not even a hint.
So he began to regret it—regretting that he hadn’t held back and had killed the demon cultivator. He had managed to restrain himself before, but he slipped up at this critical moment.
Xie Jue had discovered Su Zhuozhi’s trail long before he reached the capital. His demonic aura was too familiar with Su Zhuozhi’s scent, having sensed it countless times, etched into his bones. Even the faintest whiff would be acutely captured, leading him stubbornly to follow.
The moment he found him, Xie Jue went mad wanting to drag him back, imprison him in the hall, so that from now on, Su Zhuozhi’s eyes would only see him, and he could go nowhere.
But a shred of remaining sanity barely held him back, forcing him to merely watch from the shadows. He knew that if he really did that, Su Zhuozhi would surely hate him, would never smile at him again. Even if he held him in his grasp, he could only watch helplessly as the vibrant, gorgeous flower withered and died.
That was something he didn’t want to see.
He liked Su Zhuozhi. He wanted to see him every day, wanted him to fall in love with him—not destroy him.
So he lurked in the darkness, greedily tracing Su Zhuozhi’s silhouette with his eyes, while venting his anger by killing rebel after rebel. If not for them, he wouldn’t have had to rush back to the demon realm and get caught by the young master.
He watched unblinkingly, pathetically hoping Su Zhuozhi would turn back and come to him. But Su Zhuozhi didn’t hesitate, heading straight toward the Ten Thousand Swords Sect. Xie Jue’s eyes turned bloodshot. His self-restraint grew weaker, like a crumbling cage, with a fierce beast inside about to break loose.
Just then, a reckless demon cultivator appeared and dared to lay a hand on Su Zhuozhi. Xie Jue burned with rage. When he saw the demon cultivator talking to Su Zhuozhi, he was overwhelmed with jealousy. He couldn’t even step into the light to openly approach Su Zhuozhi—what right did this ant have?
Xie Jue went mad with jealousy, envying every passerby who could see Su Zhuozhi, talk to him, even brush past him. They were so close to Su Zhuozhi, could smell his scent. And he could only hide in a corner, not even daring to show his face.
The moment he struck, Xie Jue suddenly thought: this demon cultivator might be useful.
If the demon cultivator captured Su Zhuozhi and brought him to the demon palace, then the one Su Zhuozhi would hate wouldn’t be him.
He could then swoop in to save Su Zhuozhi, comfort him, protect him, make him rely on him again.
And so, everything that followed happened.
Xie Jue even thought of using power and status to keep Su Zhuozhi, offering him the position of Demon Lord, waiting at his beck and call.
When Su Zhuozhi issued his first command, Xie Jue couldn’t hide his excitement, like a fierce hound that had been abandoned by its master but chased after and reclaimed, desperately trying to close the distance and prove his worth.
He killed the man in an instant.
Anyone who dared to lay a hand on Su Zhuozhi was never going to be spared.
He just thought that if Su Zhuozhi saw the one who had tried to harm him die before his eyes, he might feel some satisfaction and delight.
But there wasn’t a trace of joy on Su Zhuozhi’s face. Instead, he felt sick enough to retch.
Xie Jue grew agitated. Why wasn’t he happy?
Was it the stench of blood that disgusted him?
Xie Jue couldn’t help but look at the corpse with disdain. It died in such a messy way, causing him trouble. He ordered the floor cleaned immediately, leaving not a single trace of blood.
“Young master, it’s all right,” Xie Jue said softly, his tone gentle, as if afraid of scaring off a fragile butterfly.
Su Zhuozhi buried his face deep in Xie Jue’s chest, his nose filled with the familiar scent of Xie Jue, blocking the nauseating smell of blood. He was terrified of Xie Jue, yet somehow found a sliver of comfort in his scent—a deep contradiction.
But Su Zhuozhi’s mind was in turmoil, too flustered to think about it. He heard Xie Jue coaxing softly, “Young master, look up at me. If you stay like this, you won’t be able to breathe.”
His attitude was exactly the same as before Su Zhuozhi discovered his identity as the Demon Lord—docile and obedient, the perfect loyal bodyguard. But Su Zhuozhi now knew he was no benevolent being; that face was just a disguise.
Su Zhuozhi clutched Xie Jue’s robes tightly, as if he hadn’t heard him, stubbornly keeping his head down, temporarily acting like a little ostrich escaping reality.
After a moment.
A low sigh came from above.
Su Zhuozhi’s heart trembled. He didn’t understand what it meant, but a vague sense of foreboding crept in.
Immediately after, he felt his fluffy, soft fox tail grabbed by a large hand, stroking upward until reaching the base, then suddenly pressed and rubbed hard. A tingling shiver shot straight from the base of his tail to his spine, making his scalp tingle. His whole body shook, his waist going weak. If Xie Jue hadn’t been holding him, he might have collapsed.
Su Zhuozhi let out a whimper, raised a hand weakly to the solid arm behind his waist, pushing against it. “Let me go…”
The commanding words came out soft and sweet, more like a pleading whimper.
A dark glint flashed in Xie Jue’s eyes. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. Not only did he not let go, but he couldn’t resist rubbing twice more.
This forced Su Zhuozhi to stop hiding. He had no choice but to lift his head and look at Xie Jue, his eyes wet with tears, tinged with faint red. He glared at him with dissatisfaction and repeated, “Let go.”
Xie Jue slowly rubbed his thumb over the skin, his touch very light, as if afraid of hurting Su Zhuozhi. He asked softly, “Does it hurt?”
He shouldn’t have let that demon cultivator die so easily.
Xie Jue’s eyes narrowed dangerously, spilling killing intent.
Su Zhuozhi felt the atmosphere was too strange. The tickling sensation on his skin made him curl his fingers. He instinctively tried to squirm away and pull back.
But Xie Jue wouldn’t allow retreat. He held him firmly, his gaze heavy, staring intently. The almost tangible stare glued itself to Su Zhuozhi’s wrist, making it impossible to move, stirring unease.
And his unease was justified.
Because the next moment, Xie Jue grasped his wrist, brought it to his lips, lowered his head, and kissed the red marks.
A warm, wet touch swept across.
Xie Jue was licking him!
Realizing this, Su Zhuozhi’s eyes flew wide open in shock. His cheeks uncontrollably flushed a light pink. His fingertips trembled, and his whole body couldn’t help but curl up, like a boiled shrimp.
It was like an animal licking a wound to help it heal. But they were human—this made no sense. Was Xie Jue insane? Why was he doing this?
The skin on the inside of the wrist was delicate and sensitive. The unfamiliar touch was both subtle and complex. Su Zhuozhi pressed his lips tightly together and struggled again, asking hoarsely, “What are you doing?”
But Xie Jue seemed lost in some abnormal state, unable to hear anything. In his eyes, Su Zhuozhi’s wrist was like a ball of soft snow—one touch and it would break. So he wasn’t holding tightly, and after a few struggles, Su Zhuozhi managed to break free.
Xie Jue’s hand was empty. His eyes narrowed slightly, like a hungry beast interrupted from feeding.
Losing his target, he looked at another.
His eyelashes lowered, his scorching gaze falling on the red marks on Su Zhuozhi’s ankle.
Su Zhuozhi noticed, and in panic, quickly tucked his leg back under his robes.
“No!”
His voice was frantic and panicked, carrying a noticeable tremble.
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