The Crystal Chandelier at the banquet refracted a mesmerizing halo, reflecting the undercurrents surging among the various forces of the Demon Realm.
When Ling Xiya returned to Isa Yate’s side, the coarse sensation of the demon lord’s touch still lingered on her fingertips.
And that voice from Qiqi—
“Isa Yate-sama’s person.”
—burned like a searing brand, leaving tiny cracks in the calm surface of her eyes.
“My Xiya is getting more popular by the day.”
Isa Yate pressed her hand to her own cool lips, crimson eyes swirling with possessiveness.
“But those fools seem to forget the price one must pay to covet the property of the Demon King.”
Her slender fingers brushed the back of Ling Xiya’s neck.
There, a faint blue magic mark was heating up—a Subordination Mark burned just last month.
“Your wisdom is unmatched, my lord.”
Ling Xiya lowered her gaze in reply, but her eyes involuntarily drifted to Qiqi not far away.
The silver-haired, red-eyed dragon girl was pretending to polish a wine glass, while a half-meter-long dragon tail slid silently from her tailbone, its scales glinting with dangerous metallic light under the candlelight.
Liliya, meanwhile, was surrounded by a group of Demon Nobles, seemingly entangled in the Enchantment Art, yet the corner of her eye never left Ling Xiya’s direction.
The curve at her lips held a strange synchronicity.
Over the next three hours, this meticulously planned “display of goodwill” gradually escalated.
When Ling Xiya was tuning the Ancient Zither for the Demon King, Qiqi “accidentally” knocked over a wine jug—
Yet scorching dragon’s breath precisely evaporated the spilled wine three inches before it reached the instrument.
As Ling Xiya passed through the garden, Liliya “just happened” to entangle a would-be-assassin Shadow Demon with her vine, her bewitching voice dripping with venom:
“Ah, how could such a beautiful night be disturbed by bugs targeting Isa Yate-sama’s chief musician?”
Isa Yate took it all in, lazily swirling her wine glass atop the Throne.
She watched as her two Pets unexpectedly displayed a protective possessiveness toward the new toy.
This subtle balance amused her—perhaps letting the three restrain one another was the most perfect form of control.
When the midnight bell tolled, She waved off the listless guests, leaving only Ling Xiya to tidy the instruments.
Qiqi and Liliya were permitted to stay in the side hall on standby.
“Xiya, bring my Stardust Harp to the study.”
The Demon King’s voice was lazy with wine.
“Tonight, you may wait in the Rest Lounge outside the study.”
This was an unprecedented privilege.
Carrying the half-human-tall harp through the corridor, Ling Xiya heard the soft sound of fabric brushing behind her.
Qiqi’s dragon claws struck sparks against the marble floor.
Liliya’s skirt bloomed with dark purple magic patterns.
At the corridor’s end, two overwhelming forces formed a Barrier, shutting out moonlight and wind alike.
“Isa Yate’s lapdog, do you really think we’re protecting you?”
Qiqi’s dragon tail slammed the floor, molten magma seeping through the cracks.
“Luo Ling, wake up! Have you forgotten who pulled you from the abyss?”
Liliya’s Succubus Kiss surged with soul-tearing power, yet it was repelled by a pale golden barrier before it could touch Ling Xiya’s brow.
“Darling, stop resisting.”
Light butterflies, born of shattered memories, gathered at her fingertips.
“Think of your big sister. Think of your holy sword in the Human World. None of that belongs to this cold Split Personality.”
Ling Xiya’s body began trembling uncontrollably, the harp crashing to the floor.
She could feel a door in her mind being forced open.
Memories belonging to “Luo Ling” flooded forth like a broken dam—swearing allegiance in the empire at eighteen…
“I am Ling Xiya, Isa Yate-sama’s chief musician.”
She pulled a silver hairpin from her hair and stabbed it into her palm, the agony clearing her mind for a brief moment.
“You Rebellion, do you really think you can shake my loyalty like this?”
“Loyalty?”
Qiqi unleashed a deafening dragon roar, the shockwave slamming into Ling Xiya.
“Look at the Slave Mark on your neck! Since when did Luo Ling become a Pet to be manipulated?”
Her dragon claws tore Ling Xiya’s sleeve, exposing a scar on her forearm—left when Luo Ling was nearly cut down.
“This is you! The Luo Ling who dared to fight alongside us!”
Liliya’s enchantment shifted to the spirit, countless memory fragments detonating before Ling Xiya’s eyes:
The first time he wielded the holy sword to avenge Eve’s death, struggling through another trial in cultivation.
Liliya sustaining his life with her succubus essence when he was gravely wounded, her own vitality nearly drained.
“Enough!”
Ling Xiya clutched her head and collapsed, blood dripping from her palm as the magic mark flickered unsteadily.
Isa Yate’s Demon King’s Restraint rampaged within her, while Luo Ling’s will surged forth like a seed breaking through earth, straining her soul to its limits.
She could feel her body changing—an Adam’s apple pressing against her throat, her voice caught between male and female.
“He can’t hold on much longer.”
Liliya suddenly bit her tongue, blood forming a Blood Rose that she slammed into Ling Xiya’s back.
“Qiqi, use your Dragon Origin!”
“Are you crazy? That’ll attract Isa Yate!”
Despite her shout, the dragon girl forced out a sphere of Dragon Origin from her chest.
Golden light and the Blood Rose entwined in the air, forming a chain that pierced deep into Ling Xiya’s soul.
“Ah——!”
A piercing scream echoed through the corridor, white light exploding from Ling Xiya’s body.
When it faded, kneeling on the ground was a girl in women’s clothing, disheveled black hair falling over her brow.
But those eyes—filled with stars and the vast sea—belonged to Luo Ling.
He stared blankly at his slender wrist, then touched the magic mark on his neck, and finally looked up at the two gaping girls.
“Qiqi, your dragon horns seem longer than before.”
The girl’s voice was rough from waking, yet deeper than Ling Xiya’s.
“Liliya, don’t look at me like that…I feel like I’ve been dreaming for a very long time.”
The sound of shattering porcelain came from the end of the corridor.
Isa Yate stood in the shadows, red wine pooling around the shattered goblet in her hand.
She looked at the figure—so familiar, yet so foreign—and at last realized the magnitude of her mistake.
While she reveled in the thrill of creating a new persona,
The true beast had already opened its eyes in the cage.
Luo Ling’s fingers traced the empty air where his holy sword should be.
When his gaze landed on the Stardust Harp on the floor, confusion flickered across his face—
The memories lingering in this body told him exactly how to use this instrument to unleash Soul Magic capable of tearing space itself.