However, at this moment, a cold and majestic voice, as if from Nine Nether Ice, carrying a supreme pressure that ruled over the world, came from a short distance behind them.
“Stand down.”
The voice was not loud, one could even say it was calm, but every word seemed to contain certain Universal Laws, carrying an unquestionable tone of command.
The demon guards, who were originally arrogant and overbearing, the moment they heard this voice, it was as if an invisible force had seized their throats.
Their bodies stiffened, and the murderous intent on their faces froze instantly, replaced by extreme fear and awe.
They immediately became as quiet as cicadas in winter, as if all their strength had been drained.
They respectfully lowered their heads, not even daring to steal a glance at the owner of the voice.
Then, with an agility and caution completely disproportionate to their massive frames, they bowed and slowly backed out.
Before leaving, one guard did not forget to carefully pull the kicked-in stone door shut again, trying to re-isolate the mess and madness within that small space, as if this could erase everything that had just happened.
Inside the room, dead silence returned once more.
Only Ling Xiya remained, slumped on the ground like a broken doll after her frantic venting, her breath faint and dying.
The air in the room seemed to freeze, leaving only Ling Xiya’s suppressed and broken sobs.
Just then, a figure like a ghost merging into the ink stood quietly in the deep shadows of the doorway at some unknown time—it was the Demon Queen Isaiah.
She still wore that look of supreme elegance amidst laziness.
A pure black long dress flowed like the dark night, silently trailing on the ground, with faint, imperceptible dark-gold glimmers visible at the hem.
The tight tailoring perfectly outlined her curves, which were graceful yet hidden with explosive power; every inch of her skin seemed to contain ancient and powerful magic.
The corner of her mouth held a faint, playful smile.
Her eyes, carved like fine rose quartz, were currently watching Ling Xiya quietly as she curled in the corner.
The latter was like a small beast drenched by a rainstorm and covered in wounds, her body shivering violently out of fear and despair, unconsciously murmuring broken phrases in a voice so weak it was almost swallowed by the air.
“Have you thrown enough of a fit, my… Maid Miss?”
Isaiah’s voice was not high, carrying a unique magnetism, yet it was like a cold venomous snake, instantly boring into Ling Xiya’s eardrums.
She slowly paced into the room, every step carrying an unquestionable sense of pressure.
Her exquisite high heels stepped on the porcelain shards Ling Xiya had smashed earlier, making crisp “crack, crack” sounds.
In this dead and chaotic environment, they were exceptionally piercing, sounding like a death overture for Ling Xiya’s despair.
Ling Xiya’s body froze suddenly upon hearing this familiar yet terrifying voice, and all her trembling stopped in an instant.
Like an over-frightened rabbit, she painfully and slowly raised her head.
Those eyes, once clear and bright, were now empty and dead, as if covered by a thick layer of dust.
However, when her gaze met the figure slowly approaching from the doorway, a violent ripple finally surged in that dead void—it was a mixture of extreme fear, deep-seated hatred, and a trace of unwilling despair, like a flame about to go out, making its final struggle in a wild wind.
She stared fixedly at Isaiah, her empty eyes seemingly about to spit fire, every muscle tensed from the extreme emotion.
Her lips trembled uncontrollably, and a “he-he” sound came from her throat, but it felt as if she were being tightly choked by an invisible hand; no matter how hard she tried, she could not make any complete sound.
All words, all curses, and all pain were stuck in her throat, turning into scalding tears that poured out uncontrollably again, washing two messy tear tracks through the dust on her face.
Isaiah stopped a few steps in front of her, looking her up and down for a moment with a deeper sense of playfulness in her eyes.
Then, she slightly crouched down.
This movement brought their distance closer instantly, and the powerful, suffocating pressure of her magic pressed even more heavily on Ling Xiya’s heart.
She reached out her fair, slender fingers, carved like fine mutton-fat jade.
With a cold touch, she gently tilted Ling Xiya’s tear-stained and dusty chin.
The force was not great, but it held an irresistible strength, forcing Ling Xiya to raise her head and expose her most wretched and vulnerable side, staring directly into Isaiah’s bottomless pink eyes.
In the depths of those beautiful eyes, Ling Xiya saw only undisguised mockery, the arrogance of controlling everything, and a trace of indifference as if appreciating a work of art.
This look stung Ling Xiya’s heart more than any malicious words, making her feel like a doll stripped of its clothes, left to be toyed with in the other’s palm.
Humiliation, anger, fear, hatred… all sorts of emotions churned in her chest, almost tearing her apart, but she could only endure it helplessly, her strength to resist seemingly drained away.
The air in the room seemed to freeze completely at this moment, leaving only the silent confrontation between the two and Ling Xiya’s suppressed, painful whimpers at the back of her throat.
“Look at you now,” Isaiah’s voice was soft as a lover’s whisper, yet carried a bone-chilling coldness.
“Heh… how pathetic, and so ugly.”
Isaiah’s voice was like a blade dipped in ice, every word accurately piercing Ling Xiya’s crumbling heart.
“Is this the so-called courage you once boasted about? In the face of true absolute power, your ridiculous faith, your pointless persistence, and your companions who have long since turned to dust… they are all but fleeting clouds, fragile and unable to withstand a single blow, turning into powder with a gentle touch.”
“No… don’t…” Ling Xiya’s consciousness struggled in cold despair.
She shook her head in pain, her messy hair sticking to her sweaty forehead, fruitlessly trying to break free from that cold finger wrapped around her like a venomous snake, emitting the breath of death.
That finger felt as if it was not touching her skin, but was directly seizing her soul, suffocating her.
“Oh? Still putting up a struggle?”
A cruel and mocking smile curled on the corner of Isaiah’s mouth, a smile like the ice flowers of a winter pond, beautiful yet deadly.
However, a flash of impatience quickly flickered in her eyes, as if she were looking at a toy that had long since lost its value but refused to break.
“It seems those ‘lessons’ that made you wish for death were still too merciful, allowing you to retain these foolish, useless emotions and memories.”
Her voice suddenly turned sharp, like ice cones shattering.
“For your new identity, these things are the greatest source of pain and the biggest obstacle to your complete submission to me!”
She paused slightly, her crimson eyes scanning like a predator watching its prey, greedily observing Ling Xiya’s body as it trembled slightly from extreme fear and suppressed anger.
That trembling was subtle yet intense, as if she would fall apart at any moment.
Isaiah’s voice rang out again, but became unusually low and soft, carrying a strange, bewitching magic, like the decadent music from the abyss of hell, wrapping around Ling Xiya’s ears and penetrating her confused thoughts:
“You are very tired, Ling Xiya… I can feel it. Day after day, you are tortured by those bloody and painful memories; they are like maggots on a bone, gnawing at your sanity. You are surrounded by layers of guilt as heavy as a mountain, making it hard for you to breathe. You are completely swallowed by boundless despair, unable to see a single ray of light…”
Isaiah’s voice was as gentle as a lover’s whisper, yet every word accurately struck Ling Xiya’s most vulnerable nerves.
“Days as dark as this must be… very hard to bear, right?”
“Boom—”
This sentence was like a thunderclap, exploding in the depths of Ling Xiya’s already tattered soul! Her body shook violently, as if all her strength had been sucked away, instantly stiffening in place.
Those eyes that once shone with light were now bloodshot and terrified, her pupils contracting violently.
Yes… she was indeed so tired…
So tired that it felt as if all the bones in her body had been crushed and reorganized, so tired that even breathing felt like a luxury burden.
The desperate gazes of her companions before they died, the once-warm smiles now turned into cold corpses, the beliefs she once swore to protect now turned into a colossal joke… scene after scene, like the sharpest blades, repeatedly sliced her consciousness.
She was so tired she just wanted to sleep forever, to fall into a deep sleep, never to open her eyes again, never to face this reality cruel enough to make one gag, never again to carry the sins and pain heavy enough to crush her soul.
“Do you want to be free?”
Isaiah keenly captured the fleeting hesitation in Ling Xiya’s eyes, the smile at the corner of her mouth growing deeper and more triumphant.
Her voice was like a demon’s whisper, full of fatal temptation, like the alluring fragrance emitted by poppy flowers, enticing her toward the abyss of destruction:
“Do you want to… forget?
Forget those painful past events that make you toss and turn and unable to sleep?
Forget the people you personally ‘sent to their ends,’ and forget the looks in their eyes before they died? Forget the identity you were once proud of but which now causes you nothing but humiliation? Forget all the torture you’ve endured, all the betrayals, all the… unspeakable humiliations?”
Every “forget” was like a stone thrown into a pool of dead water, stirring up layers of ripples in Ling Xiya’s heart.
Those images she desperately wanted to remember but longed to escape rushed in like a tide and then quickly receded, leaving only a more hollow fatigue and daze.
Ling Xiya’s gaze began to become scattered, and confusion shrouded her once-clear eyes like a thick fog.
Her body no longer shook violently; instead, it took on a limpness of near-total surrender.
Subconsciously, like a puppet that had lost its soul, she slowly raised her head, her empty gaze passing over Isaiah’s beautiful and evil face, seemingly searching blankly for an answer—an answer that could completely free her from this boundless sea of bitterness.
In that gaze, fear still existed, but there was a hint of… longing that she hadn’t even noticed herself.
Longing for release, longing to end this unending pain.
Isaiah watched the wavering in her eyes with satisfaction.
She slowly leaned close to Ling Xiya’s ear, her warm breath carrying a faint demonic fragrance brushing against her earlobe: “Look into my eyes, Ling Xiya.”
Ling Xiya involuntarily raised her head and met Isaiah’s deep pink eyes.
There seemed to be a vortex inside, emitting a powerful spiritual force that made her unable to resist, unable to look away.
“Relax…” Isaiah’s voice became exceptionally soft, carrying a hypnotic rhythm.
“Your eye lids are starting to get heavy… yes, very heavy… you want to close your eyes and have a good sleep…”
Ling Xiya’s gaze began to scatter, her eyelids involuntarily drooping.
Her body relaxed, no longer trembling, and her breathing gradually became steady and deep.
“Very good…”
Isaiah’s voice continued to guide her.
“You are sinking into a warm and comfortable darkness… there is no pain there, no sadness, no memory… only peace… The people who died, the cruel images, the past that made you suffer… they are no longer important… throw them all away… yes, throw them away…”
“Who are you?” Isaiah asked softly.
Ling Xiya’s lips moved, her voice weak and blurred: “…Ling… Xiya…”
“You will forget everything that caused you pain; you will only remember obedience and loyalty. You will be happy because serving your master is the only meaning of your existence, and your greatest happiness.”
Isaiah’s fingers gently stroked her hair, her movements carrying a twisted tenderness.
“Now, sleep.”
Isaiah stood up, looking down at Ling Xiya, who was curled up on the floor like an infant, fallen into a deep sleep.