Chapter 93#

I Will Return to Reality#

Xuzhou, Demon Clan Base.

The bitter winter had passed, and the snow that buried the world began to thaw, leaving withered grass and bones exposed under the daylight. Having just undergone a major battle, the walls of Xuzhou had half-collapsed; standing on the ramparts, one could see the pale faces of corpses in the outskirts. The morning remained cold, breath turning into mist. The demon soldiers stood in silence on the muddy, snowy ground, each wearing an iron muzzle on their faces. It was an order issued by their commander, Bai Ruoye: anyone seen without a muzzle, save for the three mealtimes, would be executed on the spot.

A group of demons in shackles and handcuffs were dragged toward the front of the camp by the executioners. Aside from Bai Ruoye, they were the only ones not wearing muzzles. They had been drunk the day before, broken into a shop in Xuzhou’s Realgar Market, and slaughtered the owner’s family of five. For demons to kill humans was natural, and they had disregarded Bai Ruoye’s muzzle order. Last night, Bai Ruoye’s personal guards shattered their knees and threw them into cages. Only then did they realize that Bai Ruoye’s military order was no joke, but a butcher’s knife hanging over their heads.

“Your Highness, give us another chance!” the wolf demon in the group wailed.

Bai Ruoye drew her blade, placing the sharp edge on his shoulder.

The wolf demon trembled uncontrollably, tears and snot streaming down his face.

Bai Ruoye scanned the army and said, “The muzzle order—I issued it three times. ‘Those who violate the order will be beheaded’—I repeated it five times. Have I been away from the Snow Realm for too long that you have forgotten my name, and thus defy the order, treating your commander as nothing? Open your useless eyes and look clearly at what happens to those who do not obey military orders! From this day on, if any demon bares their fangs at the people within the city, I will personally sever your head, send your entire family back to the Snow Realm to wander, and forbid you from entering the human world for the rest of your lives!”

As she finished speaking, the blade flashed across the wolf demon’s neck. The light was so fierce and ruthless, cutting across the eyes of the entire demon army. The wolf demon’s head rolled into the muddy snow, blood spraying wildly from the clean-cut neck. Once Bai Ruoye finished the execution, the remaining executioners decapitated the demons in front of them.

Bai Ruoye saw the terror on the soldiers’ faces; she withdrew her blade and turned to leave. Ying Zhao followed her with an ashen face, his voice chilling: “Bai Ruoye, I will report your brutality in slaughtering your own soldiers to the King.”

“You should address me as Your Highness,” Bai Ruoye said.

Ying Zhao’s expression froze, and he uttered, “Your Highness.”

“Very good,” Bai Ruoye said. “You are a general raised by my father; you should understand the etiquette well.”

Ying Zhao said coldly, “Naturally.”

“Then,” Bai Ruoye brushed the snow particles from her robes, indifferent, “kneel when you speak to me.”

“What did you say?” Ying Zhao’s eyes widened.

Bai Ruoye lifted her eyes, her gaze turning chillingly cold. “Do I need to repeat myself?”

“You!” Ying Zhao’s face turned deep red.

Bai Ruoye was right. She was the daughter of the King of Luofu, a noble Highness, and a key contributor to the Demon Clan’s descent into the human world. Her status far exceeded his. By protocol, he truly should kneel to her.

But Ying Zhao could not swallow this humiliation no matter what. He stood stiffly; before him, Bai Ruoye stood with her hands behind her back, her bright, beautiful features looking all the colder in the wind. His teeth ground together with a clacking sound, his right leg slowly bending. His entire body, like an old machine covered in rust, knelt down with excruciating, agonizing slowness. Bai Ruoye was not in a hurry; she waited idly, waiting for his knees to hit the ground, his stature collapsing like harvested grain, ending up a head shorter.

“What did you just say?” Bai Ruoye asked.

Ying Zhao gritted his teeth, “I will report your brutality in slaughtering your own soldiers to the King.”

Bai Ruoye laughed, “Go ahead, say whatever you wish.”

Ying Zhao clenched his fists, “Are you not afraid?”

“Afraid?” Bai Ruoye’s smile turned mocking. “Think with that fist-sized head of yours—I am the one who helped our clan descend, and I am the one who conquered Xuzhou. This army was handed to me by my father; establishing my own military orders is my business. Do you truly think my father would strip me of my command and punish me for killing ten arrogant idiots?”

Ying Zhao’s face went pale. Indeed, the King of Luofu would not.

As long as the result was good, what did the means matter?

Bai Ruoye turned to leave, her gaze so indifferent, looking at him as if he were refuse. From beginning to end, she had never considered him of any importance.

Ying Zhao sneered, “Your Highness, do not be too triumphant.”

Bai Ruoye stopped and glanced back at him.

“I wonder if you have noticed,” Ying Zhao said slowly, “you are becoming more and more like a human. Having stayed in the human world for so long, reading their sage books, calling humans your brothers. In your heart, are you more like a human, or more like a demon?”

Bai Ruoye looked at him, the mockery on her lips slowly fading.

“I am a demon.” Bai Ruoye’s tone was cold as frost.

She finished, turned, and left.

Bian Du, Cave of the Immortals.

Sang Chiyu lay on the jade bed—the place where Su Ruhu once lay, now replaced by him. He had drunk the decoction of datura, his mind becoming hazy and his body heavy. Eight elders in white robes surrounded him, and he could feel the cold, sharp blades slicing open his body. Datura, after all, was not an analgesic from another world and could not completely numb his nerves. Sharp pain spread throughout his being; he could not move, and he didn’t even have the strength to scream.

His human bones were removed one by one. The bird-headed elder activated the “shaping” secret technique, and new demon bones grew within his body, welding into his other bones like steel rods. The elders connected artificial cowhide meridians to his body; his blood flowed out through these meridians, and demon blood was pumped in from the other end. He felt as if he could sense the weight of every single organ within him; they were like spare parts that could be removed and replaced. By the end of the pain, he seemed to have lost consciousness, all his senses dulled; he nearly thought he had become a corpse.

“Ask me for help,” Su Guanyu whispered in his ear, tempting him. “End this meaningless suffering.”

Never. His answer remained the same.

The bone-stripping and blood-swapping lasted for three whole days. He had heard that “death by a thousand cuts” required 3,357 cuts on a prisoner’s body, and he had long since lost count of how many cuts he had received. The King of Luofu frequently came to visit, offering condolences with a feigned kindness. He had to pretend to be loyal, even when the pain was unbearable; he could not call for a stop. He grew weak, unable to maintain his human form, and could only curl up in the shape of a cat.

The night in the Cave of the Immortals was deep black; the whole world was hidden within the night curtain. He curled up alone in a corner of the cave, waiting for his wounds to slowly heal. Cats are always good at hiding, especially when weak. The throbbing pain in his body never ceased; he heard the clicking sounds of bones growing.

“Is it worth it?” Su Guanyu sighed. “Hu-er dragged you into this fake world to suffer, yet you are willing to endure such agony for his sake?”

The moon of Tianxin reflected into his icy blue eyes, like an ocean. The moon tonight was very bright, its yellowish luster truly looking like a lantern. Clouds drifted by from time to time, flickering like a lantern swaying in the wind. Sang Chiyu lay on the ground, feeling like a tattered sack.

Sang Chiyu remained silent.

Su Guanyu said slowly, “Don’t forget, this world is a golden cat cage built for you by Hu-er.”

Though Sang Chiyu said nothing, his eyes dimmed.

He thought that he should forget Su Ruhu. If he didn’t think about him, he wouldn’t feel the heartache.

The moonlight faintly illuminated the dark corner where Sang Chiyu stayed, and he saw some tiny lines on the stone wall. He raised a claw and touched the wall. They were drawings, simple stick figures doing unspeakable things. Sang Chiyu tilted his head, his cat pupils becoming needle-thin in the darkness. Only then did he realize that the walls of the Cave of the Immortals were covered in many erotic paintings. However, the limbs of these figures were too simplified to discern what they were doing.

Needless to say, it must have been left by that guy Su Ruhu.

In the history of the Secret Sect, the Cave of the Immortals had held many imprisoned nobles. Among them, only Su Ruhu was bored enough to carve erotic stick figures on the stone walls.

Each drawing had a different posture; there were eighteen drawings on the stone wall, making up eighteen positions. Honestly, Su Ruhu was the most boring person he had ever met. Someone carving eighteen erotic stick figures in the dark of night, someone raising eighty-one spiders, someone building a paradise with no living people. Just thinking about it felt so lonely—creating puppets in the silent moonlit night, giving each a name, inventing their histories, pasts, and stories, and teaching them to speak and think like humans.

…Stop. Sang Chiyu restrained his thoughts; he must not think about that person anymore.

But thoughts are like vines; they grow and spread on their own. Surrounded by the traces of Su Ruhu, everywhere his eyes fell were Su Ruhu’s stick figures; he could not help but think of that guy. Even if he closed his eyes and stopped looking at things related to Su Ruhu, Su Ruhu’s bright smile would automatically emerge in his mind. That bastard—when he dragged Sang Chiyu into the paradise, he had smiled with the same infuriating, hateful charm.

He wondered why he couldn’t stop himself, recalling Su Ruhu’s smile over and over again amidst the agonizing pain. It seemed that just by thinking about it a little more, the pain in his body would lessen by a fraction. Yet he clearly knew that Su Ruhu was a wanted criminal, the target he was meant to eliminate, and a great villain who had swindled him out of thirty-two years of his life.

“It’s very painful, isn’t it?” Su Guanyu looked at him with pity. “Of course, you could also choose to surrender and be willingly domesticated by Hu-er.”

His smile carried a bone-deep mockery.

“I will not be his pet,” Sang Chiyu said, looking at the scribbles on the wall. “I will arrest him, I will bring him to justice, and I will return to reality.”