She pointed at the ground as if she were training a vassal.
“Sit.”
An invisible force smoothed out the edges of the shadow.
“Stand.”
The dark shadow instantly elongated, turning into a straight fire poker.
“Shake.”
Liya stretched out a slender, pink finger.
Zyra: “…”
The ball of black shadow trembled violently before condensing into a distorted, humiliated human face.
She gritted her teeth and said, “That is enough! You can kill me, but you cannot humiliate me! I am a Shadow Great Demon who has mastered the Path of Eternal Life! Are you training me like a dog?!”
Liya did not speak.
She simply arched an eyebrow and let out a soft hum.
“Hmm?”
Then, her innocent pink eyes looked past Zyra toward Joen, who was polishing his armor nearby.
Her gaze seemed to say: ‘Little punk, you’re pretty arrogant. Do you dare say that to Joen’s face?’
Zyra followed her gaze and met Joen’s eyes.
They were clear and tranquil, yet they looked as if they could unleash another “Sacred Punch” at any moment.
“Woof! Woof woof!”
A black shadow claw shot out with lightning speed, accurately and flatteringly grasping Liya’s small finger.
It even shook it twice from side to side.
What dignity?
What Great Demon?
As long as she could stay alive, she would accept being a dog, let alone being treated like a vassal!
No one should underestimate this demon’s rock-solid will to survive!
“Good girl.”
Liya nodded with satisfaction and tested a few more commands.
Though the shadow was both wicked and cowardly, her professional skills were indeed top-tier.
“From now on, don’t be a Great Demon. You will be my capable outside help—’Shadow Assassin Flying General · Lü Buding!'”
Zyra nodded with tears in her eyes.
How had she, a magnificent Chosen Great Demon, fallen to such a state?
Alas, fate was truly fickle.
***
After dealing with her newly acquired “valiant servant,” Liya followed Joen to meet the group of nobles who had narrowly escaped with their lives.
Surrounded by numerous Naga and backed by a peerless warrior who could shatter space with his fists, no one dared to look down on this returned “Demon Lord” anymore.
Liya understood the way of kings: a balance of severity and leniency, with benevolence hidden within authority.
She did not scare the nobles further.
Instead, she smiled and personally handed each of them a glass of wine, congratulating them on “escaping death.”
Once the atmosphere relaxed, she suddenly shifted the topic.
“My brave general, Jonas, paid a heavy price to save all of you. Ever since he threw that punch, his health has declined. Even now, his wrist is burning with pain.”
‘My wrist is burning because I just tore off the Eternal Life Mark…’
Joen thought.
The crowd knew she was talking nonsense, and Liya knew they knew she was talking nonsense.
However, the fun of the noble game was that everyone could engage in a sincere display of gratitude over an obvious, ridiculous lie.
It was like calling a shard of glass a diamond.
Soon, a clever man among the nobles began to beat his chest, playing along with Liya’s performance.
“Demon Lord, although our races and positions differ, we humans have a saying: a drop of kindness should be repaid with a fountain. If we do not repay you for saving us, would we not be worse than beasts? Regarding the ransom…”
“Regarding the ransom…”
Liya’s lips curled into a slight smile.
“…No, I mean the gratitude money!”
“Excellent!”
Liya gave a thumbs-up.
“I expect nothing less from you humans.”
She patted the noble on the shoulder.
“In that case, you shall be the one to tally it up. Calculate the price of a ‘life’ based on each person’s family assets and nobility rank, then determine the amount of gratitude money.”
“Once the tally is done, let them each send a relative or a loyal servant back with you. When the ransom, the alchemy formulas, and the research notes from the contract are all gathered, bring them to me here.”
Leaning in slightly, Liya whispered in a voice only he could hear, “Don’t worry, you’ll get your share. Anything you collect beyond the ransom is yours to keep, provided you have the skill.”
The noble’s expression turned to one of pleasant surprise, which he quickly masked with a serious nod.
Liya’s smile deepened as she encouraged him with her eyes.
Using enemies to control enemies was not a particularly brilliant tactic, but in a rush, nothing worked better.
Liya did not have the time to haggle with the nobles one by one for the highest ransom, so she simply outsourced it to the right person.
Of course, one had to pay for services rendered; generosity was also a virtue of a ruler.
Facing the nobles, Liya swirled her wine and announced enthusiastically:
“My friends, you have all had quite a scare tonight.”
“As tonight’s security service provider, I have decided to gift you all a ‘Demon Realm Ultimate Premium Vacation.’ The duration is indefinite.”
“Don’t worry! As long as the ‘gratitude money’ arrives on time, I will guarantee your safety!”
Some nobles grumbled, some didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, and some remained silent.
Eventually, they were all “invited” into the Gate of the Abyss by the Naga.
Everyone understood the unspoken truth; they knew this “vacation” was just a pretty euphemism for house arrest.
“This Demon Lord… how is she even more of a vassal than a human?”
Someone whispered.
No one agreed, but no one refuted it.
The nobles all had their own thoughts.
***
On the other side, by the time Liya finished dealing with the prisoners, the sky had unknowingly begun to brighten.
The morning sun was about to leap from behind the mountains.
Liya reverted to her form as a petite girl with pink hair and climbed back onto Joen’s shoulder.
The two of them walked along the muddy road, their feet sinking into the sludge as they returned to Pu Town.
Inside and outside Pu Town, everyone was busy.
The disaster relief work was nearing its end.
Most of those who could be saved had been rescued; for those who couldn’t, as many remains as possible had been recovered.
In the town’s open square, rows of bodies lay covered with white cloths or straw mats.
Survivors lifted the cloths one by one.
These were people whose friends or relatives were missing, making one last effort to find them.
Both lucky and unlucky, these efforts usually yielded results, leading to a “reunion” with old acquaintances.
Some people wailed as they held cold corpses, while others sat blankly beside the bodies, clutching a piece of torn cloth as if their souls had washed away with the heavy rain.
The residents of Hope Town and Io’s group were silently helping move the bodies and dig graves for burial.
Even Io, who had once stood tall against the flood and defied the Divine Envoy, no longer had a trace of ferocity on her face.
There was only deep exhaustion and numbness.
Joen stood on a hill, silently gazing at the scenes by the river.
When he saw the survivors weeping in each other’s arms, the corners of his mouth would lift slightly, and a glimmer of relief would shine in his eyes.
But when his gaze swept over the rows of corpses, that relief quickly faded, replaced by regret, loss, and self-reproach.
He slowly closed his eyes, wanting to pray for the deceased according to the funeral customs of his childhood village.
But as he finished the first half of the prayer in his mind, he paused.
Who was he praying to?
The Goddess of Light?
Or the God of Justice?
He was no longer the carefree youth from the village, nor was he the free-spirited hunter running through the fields.
To him, God was no longer a mythological story passed down by villagers, but a cold, pale reality he had personally encountered.
He already knew the indifference of the gods, their power, and how they stood high above in the heavens.
But did those gods, who were like a fog covering the entire sky, truly care about the deaths of these tiny commoners?
The answer was obvious—”The Lord” did not care.
Searching his heart, Joen could not find a single being to pray to who could erase the tears and tragedies of this world, or ensure that happy families remained happy forever.
His tightly closed eyes did not open for a long time.
The setting sun would not return.
On this day next year, the sun would rise as usual, and the river would continue to flow.
Only the scars in people’s hearts would record what had happened here.
In this world, was anything truly eternal?
Damn character growth