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CHAPTER 53: The One-Month Covenant (Part I)
His crimson-gold pupils constricted violently, though he masked the reaction with practiced speed.
It was too late; she had already caught him.
A soft laugh escaped her lips. The air between them grew stagnant, their gazes locking in a silent, invisible clash of wills. Finally, those golden eyes were the first to yield. He turned his head away, attempting to evade her unflinching, direct stare.
The Demon God had been born during the primordial chaos of the Far Ancient era, the sole surviving Primeval God in existence. By nature, he was a being of slaughter, a god of war and world-ending destruction. Throughout a thousand cycles of reincarnation, he had been cursed with the fate of the Lone Star of Heavenly Slaughter, destined for eternal solitude.
Though he possessed the memories of countless past lives, he had never truly experienced the emotions contained within them. Yet, in this fleeting moment.
He actually did not dare to look at her.
"I may possess the seven emotions and six sensory desires," the Demon God spoke, his voice resonating with a cold detachment, "but I must eventually sever them all. Heavenly Dao, why are you so persistent?"
She did not release him. Instead, she forced him to face her.
"If you truly remained as unmoved as a mountain," she whispered with a light chuckle, "how would I ever have found an opening?"
She moved closer again, her arms winding around him as she pressed her lips to his. Between kisses, she murmured her questions against his skin.
"Why don't you push me away?"
"And why is your heart beating so fast?"
His hand, resting against the her small back, gave a sharp tremor. He knew he should shove her aside, yet for some reason, he felt as if he were under a spell. He allowed her to move as she pleased, allowed her to pry his lips apart.
Was it indifference? Or was it, as she said, that he simply did not dare to move?
He felt the fingers resting on her spine contract and tremble uncontrollably. He felt his breath and heartbeat descend into a frantic, disordered rhythm. A flood of foreign, unrecognizable emotions surged through his heart.
The Demon God squeezed his eyes shut. It was as if looking at her for one more second would allow these strange, intense feelings to seize his very soul. Her pale fingers dove deep into his long hair, gripping his demonic horns as she pinned him against the unyielding stone wall.
"Open up," she whispered against his ear.
And so, he obeyed. Like one possessed, he parted his lips ever so slightly. She let out a low, vibrant laugh before kissing her way back in with renewed passion. In his hollow eyes, there was only confusion and lack of understanding.
But as she laughed, the sound slowly faded.
The Demon God felt something cold flow between their joined lips. It tasted faintly bitter. She stopped kissing him then, pulling back to stare at him.
He froze, his brow furrowing. He did not understand why, despite being uninjured, his heart felt as though it were being pierced by needles. Instinctively, his hand reached out to touch those cold tears.
She blinked in a daze. Was it her Yanyan?
It seemed to be him, yet it didn't.
He wiped away her tears with clumsy, stiff motions. These hands, which had only ever known slaughter and death, were awkward and far from gentle. She looked at him through a blurred vision of tears and smiles, then suddenly threw her arms around him, hanging her entire weight against his body.
"Yanyan!" she cried.
He stiffened. At that moment, a torrent of emotions came crashing down like a burst dam. The lifeless, gray images of his past memories suddenly bloomed into vivid color.
He remembered the confusion and guardedness the little demon felt when he first saw her. He remembered the irrepressible joy that surged every time he laid eyes on her.
"Who am I?" he asked, his voice slow as if he were speaking to himself.
He tilted his demonic horns in bewilderment.
The Yan Xueyi of this lifetime was the final reincarnation of the Demon God, the one closest to his true primeval self. Originally, he was meant to have no superfluous emotions, no sense of pain, and no ties to parents or kin. Everything had been a mere preparation for his return to his true throne.
Yet, such a being had developed unnecessary feelings.
He had fallen for someone, a righteous cultivator who was kind and steadfast, yet hated evil with a burning passion, like a blade of pure, chilling light. She was like a bright moon hanging in the silent, pitch-black night of his existence.
Because of this intense emotion, "Yan Xueyi" had truly come to life.
Thus, even though the convergence of countless memories had formed the "Demon God," as long as he remembered how much he loved the person before him, how much he craved and adored her, he could remember who he was.
He was Yan Xueyi. He was her Yanyan.
She watched as the perfect, beautiful demonic horns shifted, returning to their broken, familiar state. He lowered his head and, like a large puppy, nuzzled his cheek against hers.
"Suisui," he said, his voice slow and stiff as he struggled to transition back from his divine state. "I remember now. Don't cry."
The gesture was unnatural, as if it were a monumental task for a being who, moments ago, believed himself a god of destruction to act in such a wheedling, spoiled manner.
The warmth finally returned to her chilled fingers. She hugged him so tightly they nearly toppled back against the rock wall. The crimson-gold light in his eyes faded, gradually bleeding back into black. The endless ocean of past-life memories receded, leaving only the memories of this current life.
Suddenly, a thought struck him.
She had just said it: she cared for him, she liked him, she wanted him. She had even said, My Yanyan, give my Yanyan back to me.
If this demon had a tail, it would surely be wagging right now. The Great Demon narrowed his beautiful phoenix eyes, his expression identical to that of the little demon from years ago.
"Suisui, you said you care whether I live or die... was that true?"
Her posture stiffened. She was a woman of reserved emotions; it was only in a moment of desperation that she had spoken such words. To her chagrin, this demon had heard every word and witnessed her entire loss of composure.
She abruptly pushed him away and began walking toward the exit, wiping her eyes as she went, unwilling to let him see her like this. But in the next second, the demon caught her hand.
She tugged, but he didn't budge. When she turned her head away, refusing to acknowledge him, he simply wrapped his arms around her waist.
The demon tilted his head. "Suisui, say it again."
Compared to the "Demon God" from before, Yan Xueyi was now like a piece of sticky candy or a clingy shadow. There wasn't a trace of divine coldness or dignity left in him. He insisted she repeat herself, refusing to let go, draping his massive frame over her.
She gritted her teeth and turned to glare at him.
The Demon: "Say it again. The part about caring for me. I want to hear it."
The Demon: "The 'My Yanyan' part is also acceptable."
The Demon: "I like all of it."
She paused her footsteps, turned back, and yanked him down by his collar.
"Yan Xueyi, why do you talk so much?"
Amidst his look of utter shock, she kissed him directly.
This demon is better off with his mouth shut, she thought with a flash of embarrassed irritation.
The demon was stunned. She was a person who never wore her heart on her sleeve, never initiated affection, and rarely expressed her feelings. He had often worried that she might one day walk the Path of No Emotion. It left him constantly feeling insecure, always suspecting that she didn't truly love him.
His possessiveness was fierce, his jealousy heavy, and his emotions burned like a roaring fire. He felt the need to guard her constantly, wanting her eyes and heart to be filled only with him at all times.
But just now, he had heard words she might not have uttered in a lifetime. Even if they were directed at the "Demon God," he was utterly overwhelmed by the favor.
If she said "My Yanyan" just once, he’d be tempted to brand himself as hers for the whole world to see. Yet, he still felt as though her loving him this much must be a dream. He wanted to hear it again.
But now, she was kissing him. The cold ice had melted into a fire so intense it hardly seemed like her. He stood there dazed for a long moment, caught off guard like a clumsy youth. Even when she bit him, he wondered if he was dreaming.
How could she be this passionate?
By the time she moved to end the kiss, he finally snapped back to his senses. As she tried to pull away, his large hand moved to cradle the back of her head.
With a fervor that defied imagination, the "mad dog" returned the kiss with a frenzied hunger, as if he wanted to consume her whole. For every three parts of passion she gave, he returned twelve.
They tumbled back against the stone wall. He pinned her there, kissing her wildly. When they finally broke apart, their breathing was ragged. His phoenix eyes were filled with raw possessiveness and aggression as their gazes interlocked, their breaths mingling in a silent contest.
The lava and karmic fire of the Asura Path had raised the temperature to extreme levels, yet the scorching air seemed cool compared to his burning breath. He leaned in once more.
He seemed intent on melting her with his feverish kisses. Then came the sound of fabric tearing. She pushed against his horns. "Yanyan, let go."
He looked up, his teeth still snagged on a corner of her clothing, his horns tilted. The movement should have been cute, but given his current actions, it was purely roguish. He flashed a wicked grin.
"I won't!"
Not only did he refuse to let go, he pushed for more. She hadn't realized that by offering a tiny spark of passion, she had flipped a switch in this mad dog.
She turned her head, trying to raise her hand to cover her torn tunic, only to let out a muffled, trembling moan in the next second. She finally realized that his current mental state was highly concerning. On a normal day, when she was cold and distant, he was already "mad" enough; now that she had shown him warmth, he had spiraled to a point she couldn't handle.
Drawing on her core strength, she flipped him over, pinning the tall demon to the ground. She managed to temporarily restrain the frenzied beast.
Her breath was uneven as she held him down, her black hair spilling over her shoulders. "Yanyan, stop fooling around."
He narrowed his beautiful eyes dangerously, his voice incredibly hoarse. "Who's playing with you?"
The mad dog flipped her back under him instantly. At this moment, where was the Demon God who was supposed to be beyond desire?
Under the crimson sky of the Asura Path, they looked like two mortal enemies locked in a life-and-death struggle, and like the most intimate of lovers. Suddenly, the explosive crackle of nearby lava snapped her back to her senses. This was the Asura Path, not a place for dalliance.
"Yanyan!"
She tried to turn, but he held her fast. "Yanyan, not here," she stammered. "There are people nearby."
They finally stopped, though neither could steady their breath.
"They can't stay in the Asura Path for long," she added.
She was referring to the living cultivators at the other end. The Asura Path was not a land for the living; staying too long would erode their life force.
She gave him a push, and the demon slumped back against the rock wall, his breathing heavy. He leaned back but kept his gaze fixed on her, his breath still scaldingly hot. Finally, he looked away with a resentful huff.
Seeing him like this actually made her want to laugh. However, she was currently in worse shape than he was. She pulled his outer robe over herself to hide her ruined clothing. As she moved, she couldn't help but let out a small hiss of pain.
That tiny sound made him snap his head back to look at her. Gritting his teeth, he reached out and yanked her into his arms, holding her tightly.
They leaned against each other in silence for a while. The demon's turbulent, burning aura slowly settled, and clarity returned to his eyes, though the crimson flush at their corners refused to fade. He discovered, to his frustration, that as long as he was holding her, he couldn't truly calm down.
He moved to release her, only to feel a weight on his shoulder. She had slumped against him. Her eyes were closed, her breathing steady and rhythmic.
For a moment, he panicked, thinking he had kissed her into a faint. He was about to shake her awake when he realized she wasn't unconscious, she was simply asleep.
She had exhausted herself at the Bodhi Tree, sliced through the Water-Cloud Realm, and chased the Demon God across half the Asura Path. After the extreme highs and lows of the day, the moment she felt he had returned, her mental tension snapped. Exhaustion hit her like a tidal wave, and she fell asleep the second she closed her eyes.
The demon gazed at her sleeping face, feeling a strange, swollen ache in a corner of his heart.
She slept for a very long time.
Having reached the Great Perfection of the Nascent Soul stage, she originally needed time to expand her meridians, but she'd had no time for meditation during the chaos. Furthermore, a wisp of Bodhi Qi now resided within her. This green energy was slowly repairing and transforming her body.
The lingering damage from the Love Gu and the accumulation of old injuries over the years were being nurtured and healed by the Bodhi Qi, gradually returning her body to a state of perfection.
She remained in a deep slumber, oblivious to the world outside, specifically, the changes in the demon.
Had Yan Xueyi truly remained unaffected after regaining the memories of his past lives? No. He could feel himself slowly drifting closer to the "Demon God." This change was noticed not only by his subordinates but by Chao Zhaoyue as well.
In the past, although the Demon Lord was a lawless tyrant who intimidated others with his death stare, his eyes had held emotions. Annoyance, disdain, contempt, those were still emotions. Now, however, those things have vanished. His gaze was calm and bottomless; there was no difference in how he looked at a person or a dead object.
When they returned to the Demon Palace, no demon dared to look him in the eye. Even Guang Ping and Ran Yang, who usually joked with him, didn't dare breathe loudly. Little Eyes didn't even dare to approach his master. Chao Zhaoyue almost suspected that the entity that emerged from the Water-Cloud Realm wasn't "Yan Xueyi" at all.
His gaze was terrifyingly serene, like a god glancing down from the heavens, making everyone feel small and paralyzed. Though he appeared more peaceful than his previous volatile self, this tranquility was too unlike a "person" or even a "demon."
This change persisted until the demon took his place by the bedside of the still-unconscious Chao Jinsui.
The moment he touched her, warmth returned to his eyes. He descended from the heavens back into the mortal realm. He would glance at her constantly, give a death stare to anyone who dared approach her, and ask thirty times a day, "Why isn't she awake yet?" His demonic energy would flare violently simply because she had been asleep for a few days too many.
His aura grew more terrifying by the day, making him nearly unapproachable. He resumed his habit of kicking demons across the room and would randomly grab Little Eyes to tie his snake body into a knot. He was utterly temperamental.
And yet, everyone breathed a sigh of relief. A volatile Demon Lord was much more approachable than a silent god. Still, if he continued, Little Eyes was going to be turned into a pretzel. It wasn't until Granny Shui explained that the Bodhi Qi was merely reconstructing her body that the demon finally began to settle down.
As Yan Xueyi slowly processed his changes, he returned to some semblance of normalcy. But he often thought: She's been sleeping too long.
He would think of her while handling palace affairs; he would miss her while walking through the bustling markets of the Demon Capital. His longing grew like a wild vine. After just ten days without hearing her voice, he found it unbearable.
The Great Demon couldn't fathom how he had survived all those years before she entered his life. He looked back on his countless reincarnations and found no "enlightenment" or "transcendence." Instead, he began to doubt his very existence.
Without her, what kind of life was I living? How did I survive tens of thousands of years without going insane?
Before, Yan Xueyi knew he was the reincarnation of the Demon God as a matter of fact, like knowing a chicken comes from an egg, but he had never dwelled on it. Now that his memories were restored, he gradually accepted his identity. Yet, looking at her, he often fell into deep confusion.
She was the future Heavenly Dao. He was the future Demon God. They were two extremes; they should be mortal enemies. At the very least, they should find each other loathsome. As the Demon God, he should have strangled her while she was still young and weak.
But as he watched her, he thought she was incredibly cute. Every part of her was exactly to his liking.
Oh, and she was very soft.
Not only was she beautiful, but he also loved her personality. Many of the things she did were foolishly noble, making her the biggest "sucker" in the world. If anyone else were the Heavenly Dao and did the same things, he would have found them insufferable and killed them instantly. But when those same qualities were found in her, he thought they were brilliant and shining.
Every day, he picked the finest Demon Vines from the palace garden to place by her bed. Though he didn't understand what was so great about flowers, he knew she liked them. At night, he slept by her side, burying his face in her shoulder and breathing in her scent to soothe his frantic longing. Even though she couldn't hear him, he would tell her how much he missed her.
Also, while she was asleep and he was left with nothing to do but wait, he did many things to her.
He braided her hair every day and changed her clothes. He wanted to do more "excessive" things, but he worried she'd be angry when she woke up, so he only dared to give her small kisses. For a dignified Demon God to act this way before the Heavenly Dao was truly scandalous. But he delighted in it.
Hearing that she liked bedtime stories as a child, he "borrowed" two storybooks from Chao Zhaoyue and read to her. Overhearing a matchmaker say female cultivators liked Jade-Face Powder, he excitedly bought several boxes and applied layer after layer to her face. While passing by, he heard Ling Yun mention drawing eyebrows for a lover, so he bought a charcoal stick. He started by drawing her eyebrows, then moved on to drawing little turtles on her face.
By the time he had exhausted every idea he could think of, she still hadn't awakened. Having stood guard every day, he began to worry she might never wake up, and his anxiety returned.
It wasn't until Guang Ping reminded him of the date that he remembered: the one-month deadline had arrived. It was time to mend her soul.
He liked her sea of consciousness; it was the place closest to her soul. Besides, a bored demon like him could wander around in there, sleep in her bed, read her books, and even poke her Nascent Soul.
The Great Demon made an immediate decision. He was going into her sea of consciousness.
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