Feng Ling bowed deeply to her parents.
"Xiao Ling, this is the Regional Demon Lord," her mother, the Witch Queen, said softly. Her voice trembled, though she tried to hide it. "Be well, my child. Forgive me… that I can no longer protect you."
The Demon envoys looked on with bored disdain. One of them, tall and draped in black, stepped forward. His crimson gaze cut through the air like a blade.
"Witch Queen, we have no time for drawn-out farewells," he said coldly. "Our Lord awaits. We march now."
Without another word, he strode to a waiting carriage. His entourage followed him silently, vanishing into their own carriages like shadows.
Feng Ling cast her parents one last lingering glance. This might be the final time she ever saw them. Her fingers tightened around the folds of her robe as she stepped into the carriage, her three maidservants silently following.
Inside, a girl sat waiting. Her aura was cold and sharp, her pitch-black eyes gleaming with open contempt.
"I can't believe we came all this way just to collect a weak little witch," the demon girl sneered. "Because of you, my Lord had to waste his time on this pathetic kingdom."
Feng Ling lowered her gaze, forcing her breath to steady. Control yourself. You're still in the Witchlands… but once you cross that border, nothing will ever be the same.
Feng Ling caught the flush of anger on her maidservants' faces. Using only her eyes, she silently signaled them to remain calm. Now's not the time to pick a fight. We're already on the losing end. She thought.
"Hold on," the demon girl warned abruptly, her tone laced with mockery. "Wouldn't want the princess to fall."
The carriage jerked forward with brutal force. Feng Ling and her maids gripped each other tightly until the rough sway settled into a steady, ominous rhythm.
Two hours later, the wheels groaned to a halt.
The demon girl flung open the door with a smirk. "Princess… we've arrived."
She stepped out without offering a hand.
With her maids' help, Feng Ling descended—and her breath caught.
Towering gates loomed ahead, forged from black stone and twisted metal that shimmered faintly with dark magic. Beyond them, a palace rose like a shadow against the sky, its walls alive with crawling, demonic patterns.
Demonic statues lined the entrance, their hollow eyes fixed on her like they could see straight through her. Seven demon guards stood at the gate, motionless, each gripping a long, gleaming blade.
This place… reeks of death.
The Regional Demon Lord approached. "Princess, Chi Ruo will take you in."
Without another word, he and the other demons vanished.
Chi Ruo—her earlier tormentor—clicked her tongue and strode forward. "Follow me. Quickly. I don't have time to babysit you."
The demon guards bowed as she passed, and Feng Ling hurried after her with her maids.
"Who will bring my luggage?" Feng Ling asked softly.
Chi Ruo's laugh was cold. "Your mother didn't tell you? You won't need it. Everything here will be provided. Consider your old life gone."
Feng Ling froze. Her heart sank. She turned to her maids, who nodded solemnly, confirming Chi Ruo's words.
They had taken everything… She truly wasn't going back, was she?
She tried to take in her surroundings, but all she could feel was unease. The Demon Palace was cold and eerie, its halls echoing with silence. Everything smelled of metal, ash, and old magic.
She wanted to go home. She wanted to see him—just once more. But that chance was gone. She had crossed into the Demon Realm.
There was no way out.
At last, Chi Ruo stopped before an iron-bound door.
"This is your room," she said curtly. "Food will come to you. Rest while you can. Tomorrow… you meet the Supreme Demon Emperor."
Her lips curled. On your wedding night. She smirked, her voice dripping with mockery. "Pray you survive it."
Without waiting for a reply, she turned on her heel and vanished down the corridor.
Feng Ling and her two maidservants stood frozen, the weight of her words sinking in. Tomorrow—the wedding.
Ever since the announcement that she would be marrying a demon, everything had moved at an overwhelming pace. Offering no pause to think, no space to breathe.
Her maidservants pushed open the heavy doors of the guest chamber and quickly stepped inside. The room was sparsely decorated—dark, cold, and silent. Everything, from the drapes to the furniture, was black. Not a single touch of color brightened the space.
Feng Ling followed them in, her expression unreadable. When the door shut behind her, Lan Xue turned anxiously.
"Mistress, should we try to escape?" she whispered. "There must be a way out. These demons surely don't understand witch spells. If we act fast, we might slip away."
Feng Ling moved to the bed and sat down slowly. Her hands rested in her lap, still, but her thoughts churned.
Escape? And leave her parents at the mercy of these creatures? No. If she ran, they would be the first to die. She couldn't risk that—not until she found a way to send word to Brother Chen. He was the only one who might come for her.
"We can't act blindly," she said at last, her tone calm but edged with exhaustion.
"Yes, Princess," Lan Xue replied quickly. "His Highness will surely find a way to rescue you. We only need to endure until then."
Lian Huo, the younger maid, frowned. "We need to learn more about this place. Which part of the Demon Realm are we in? And why would their emperor choose you of all people, Your Highness? None of it makes sense."
Feng Ling's gaze sharpened. "Then start with the servants here. Listen, watch, and report everything to me. And bring food. I haven't eaten since morning."
The two maids bowed in unison. "Yes, Princess."
Steam curled lazily in the air, masking the predator beneath.
A silver-haired man sat motionless in the hot spring, eyes closed as if lost in meditation.
Footsteps echoed softly against the floor.
"Lord," a voice called with deep reverence.
The man's eyes opened—crimson, cold, and piercing. Not the heat of fire, but the edge of a blade. His features were carved to perfection: sword-like brows, thin lips, and an aura that allowed no defiance. One look was enough to crush a man's will.
He rose from the spring in a single, fluid motion. Droplets clung to his dark robe for a breath before vanishing into steam, leaving not a trace of dampness behind.
"The Witch Princess has arrived, my Lord," the demon subordinate reported, head bowed, eyes fixed to the floor.
The silver-haired man said nothing. Yet the air thickened, pressing against the subordinate's chest until his breathing grew shallow.
This was Mo Tian—Supreme Demon Emperor of the demon realm. Ruthless. Bloodthirsty. A name whispered in fear across every land.
A faint smirk curved his lips. "So… the little witch has finally arrived."
"How are the wedding preparations going?" Mo Tian asked, his voice low and dangerous as he pushed open the door and exited the Hot Spring Chamber.
Behind him, the demon named Yin Zhi followed closely, his steps silent and respectful. "Everything will be ready before night falls, my Lord."
Mo Tian's gaze glinted with amusement. "Tell me, Yin Zhi—how do you think she'll react when she sees me tomorrow?"
"I believe… the princess will be honored," Yin Zhi answered carefully.
A cold chuckle broke the stillness. "I doubt it."
His steps halted at the end of a long corridor. His gaze turned sharp. "Make sure security is airtight. I don't want anyone interfering with this wedding."
Yin Zhi hesitated, then asked, "My Lord… do you truly believe the prophecy the Black Witch Clan's priestess spoke of?"
"If she dared deceive me…" Mo Tian's eyes darkened, his presence pressing down like a storm, "…then she'll pay with her life. The little witch must be the one. If she isn't—she's of no use to me."
Yin Zhi bowed low. "Understood."
"I have no time for mistakes. She must be the one—only then will my other powers awaken. If not, the Demon Realm will surely weaken."
"Yes, my Lord."
Meanwhile, in a dimly lit chamber, Lian Huo slipped inside, shutting the door softly behind her.
Feng Ling sat on the edge of the bed, her face pale from the heavy demonic aura pressing in on her.
"Princess, the demons work fast," Lian Huo said quietly. "The wedding preparations are nearly complete. Their customs are… strange. The head maid will come tomorrow morning to explain."
Feng Ling's gaze hardened. "And the palace?"
"They're too cautious. No one will speak freely," Lian Huo admitted.
Moments later, Lan Xue entered carrying a tray of food. Her expression was tight with frustration. "Princess, I tried asking around too. Nothing. They act as if we don't exist."
Feng Ling kept her voice calm. "Security?"
"Heavily guarded," Lan Xue said. "Especially near the main hall. No chance of slipping out unnoticed."
Feng Ling's heart sank. Tomorrow, she would stand before the Supreme Demon Emperor—a man she had never met yet already despised. And once the vows were spoken… there would be no turning back.