Feng Ling pushed herself upright. Lian Huo quickly set the food before her, but after only a few bites, she set the bowl aside.
"You two eat. I've lost my appetite."
The maids exchanged a look but stayed silent.
Feng Ling rose from the bed and walked to the window. She opened it slightly, glancing at the dark sky. Her lips moved as she whispered an incantation, weaving delicate hand seals. A soft glow appeared, and from her palm, a blue butterfly fluttered to life.
"Hurry… find him. Deliver my message," Feng Ling whispered, releasing the butterfly into the night.
Every witch had a spirit butterfly—an ancient magic passed down to communicate over distances. This was her last hope
"Lan Xue, Lian Huo, after you eat, check where the bathhouse and my clothes are kept."
Lan Xue replied at once, "That demon girl, Chi Ruo, already showed me."
"Good. I'll wash up."
Soon, Lian Huo left to return the dishes while Lan Xue helped her bathe. Clean and dressed in a light nightgown, Feng Ling sank onto the bed. The maids arranged their bedding on the floor, worry in their eyes.
They feared she wouldn't be able to sleep, yet as soon as Feng Ling closed her eyes, exhaustion dragged her into slumber.
The silence shattered with a sharp knock.
Lan Xue, still half-asleep, dragged herself to the door—only for a group of palace servants to sweep inside like a tide. Some rushed to Feng Ling's bedside, shaking her awake, while others carried a large bronze tub and set it behind a folding screen.
Lan Xue's eyes hardened. "What do you think you're doing?!"
Even Lian Huo, startled from sleep, shot upright in shock.
A demon girl stepped forward, her voice cold and impatient. "The Blood Moon will rise soon. Demons wed beneath its glow—did you witches not know that? We don't have time to waste. Stand aside, servant."
Lian Huo and Lan Xue were stunned when they heard the wedding would take place tonight. Hadn't that demon girl Chi Ruo told them it would be in the morning? Bitter curses filled their hearts. So, there was never a chance to escape after all.
With a shove, she pushed Lian Huo and Lan Xue aside.
Feng Ling, still groggy, was dragged upright from her bed. The moment her hazy vision cleared and she saw the crowd of strangers in her room, sleep fled from her eyes.
"What are you doing?!" she demanded, her voice sharper now.
"The Lord sent us to prepare you, Princess. The guests are waiting." The demon girl gave a shallow bow that carried no warmth. "Forgive us if our methods offend you."
Before Feng Ling could protest, they pulled her towards the screen. Lian Huo and Lan Xue tried to step in, but the demons glared them down.
"My maidservants can help me dress!" Feng Ling snapped, her golden eyes flashing. "You have no right—"
"But they don't know how we demons prepare a bride," the demon girl interrupted coldly. "This is the custom of the Demon Realm."
Without waiting for further argument, they undressed her and eased her into a steaming bath. The water smelled faintly of strange herbs, and three demon maids quickly began washing her with efficient, unceremonious hands.
When the bath was over, they dressed her in a deep crimson wedding gown. The silk clung to her slender frame like flowing fire, embroidered with black lotuses and traced with gold threads that shimmered beneath the candlelight.
A crown followed—obsidian, slender, adorned with blood-red rubies. Its phoenix-wing design arched gracefully, framing two small curved black horns. They weren't hers, yet as the crown settled on her head, it sealed her fate as the Demon Empress.
They led her to the dressing mirror. Skilled hands painted her face—rouge on her lips like fresh blood, gold lining her eyes until her gaze burned like a phoenix's flame. Between her brows bloomed a crimson huadian, a cursed flower's beauty—symbol of both power and doom.
One of the demon maids stepped back, nodding. "It is done. The Wedding Matron will be here soon."
As if summoned by those words, the door opened. A tall woman in flowing black robes entered, her presence cold and commanding. The maids instantly bowed.
"Leave. Fetch Chi Ruo, and have the sedan bearers prepare," the Wedding Matron ordered, her voice calm but impossible to defy.
"Yes, Matron." They slipped away in silence.
The matron approached Feng Ling, who sat straight-backed on the bed, gaze cool as glass.
"Greetings, Princess," the woman said, bowing with perfect decorum.
"Rise," Feng Ling answered, voice steady, eyes unreadable.
A faint flicker crossed the matron's expression—surprise at the steel in her tone—but it was gone as quickly as it appeared.
"I was told you came to explain the wedding procedures," Feng Ling continued, masking the storm inside her heart.
"That is why I'm here, Princess," the matron replied smoothly. "You must understand exactly how the ceremony will proceed."
For the next twenty minutes, the matron outlined the ceremony with cold precision. Feng Ling listened in silence, her heart sinking with each detail.
When the matron finished, she bowed. "It's time."
She turned to Lan Xue and Lian Huo. "Assist your mistress. The procession begins now."
The moment she left, Lan Xue stormed forward, face flushed with anger. "Princess, that demon girl lied! The wedding isn't tomorrow morning—it's tonight!"
Lian Huo's voice trembled with fury. "They planned this from the start. There's no escape."
Feng Ling's chest tightened. She had clung to the hope of finding a way out, but reality had caught her. A bitter smile curved her lips.
"Night or tomorrow—it makes no difference. The result is the same."
Her detached tone cut deeper than any cry. The maids said nothing as they lowered her bridal veil, hiding her face from the world.
Lan Xue and Lian Huo supported her outside.
Chi Ruo was waiting, lips curled in a mocking sneer. Without a word, she shoved them aside and seized Feng Ling's arm, leading her to a sedan chair borne by eight demon bearers.
The procession began.
The chair swayed through the palace grounds. Feng Ling sat in suffocating silence, her heartbeat caught between dread and resignation.
It stopped at last.
Chi Ruo pulled back the curtain, her tone cold. "We've arrived."
There was no wedding hall—only a glowing portal, swirling with dark energy. Even through her veil, Feng Ling could see its ominous light.
Without explanation, Chi Ruo tightened her grip and stepped forward, dragging Feng Ling through. Her maids followed, tense and breathless.
Darkness closed in.
When Feng Ling opened her eyes again, a low murmur surrounded her.
They stood in a vast ceremonial hall, obsidian pillars stretching toward unseen heights. The air pulsed with demonic auras. Guests filled the shadows, their crimson eyes gleaming with twisted curiosity as she was led toward the altar.
Arriving in front of the alter Chi Ruo released her and stepped aside.
Feng Ling's gaze locked on a tall figure in deep crimson robes—standing with his back to her, radiating an overwhelming presence.
There was no need for introductions.
It was him the Supreme Demon Emperor—Mo Tian.
He turned slightly, catching her faint outline through the veil. His lips curved in a smirk. So, this was the little witch destined to unseal his powers? Petite, barely reaching his shoulders, yet the key to his ascension.
The demon priestess's voice rang out, clear and commanding. "Bow to the heavens and earth."
They bowed.
"Bow to the demon ancestors."
They bowed again.
"Now, bow to each other's souls."
Feng Ling turned to face Mo Tian. Even through the veil, his gaze pressed against her like a weight.
A servant stepped forward with a ceremonial blade. The priestess accepted it and placed it between them.
Mo Tian took the blade and guided it into her hands. Through the veil, her vision was dim, but the chill of the metal was undeniable.
Her chest tightened. With silent defiance, she drew the blade across her palm in one swift motion. Blood welled from the cut, bright against the dark hall.
Mo Tian also slit his palm with practiced ease.
They stepped forward, pressing their bleeding hands together. The heat of his touch felt more like a shackle than warmth.
Feng Ling forced herself to speak, her voice cold and detached. "With my blood, I bind my soul to yours. In life and death, I walk with you."
Mo Tian's response was calm and chilling. "From this day to eternity, your fate is mine—your pain, my own."
Their mingled blood rose into the air, weaving into a glowing sigil. Crimson flames spiraled downward, branding a faint mark into their skin.
"The oath is complete," the demon priestess announced. "From this night forth, you are bound—by blood, by fate, by flame."
The hall erupted in cheers.
Without warning, Mo Tian stepped forward and swept Feng Ling into his arms. Her body stiffened. She wanted to scream, to push him away, but she forced herself to remain composed. A swirling portal opened, and with a single step, they vanished from the ceremonial hall.
They emerged in a dim bridal chamber. Mo Tian set her on the bed and removed her veil.
His face was dangerously handsome, the kind that could steal a woman's breath—yet her heart thrummed with a single warning. Too dangerous. Stay away.