The afternoon sun was a warm, golden caress on Ah Yin's skin. She stood in the center of the vast, private courtyard of their estate, a place that was no longer just a garden, but a cathedral. Her cathedral. The air was still, heavy with the sweet, metallic scent of her Blood Silver Grass, and the only sound was the gentle, almost imperceptible hum of millions of consciousnesses, all connected, all singing a silent, beautiful hymn of loyalty to their Empress.
She was not a maid today. She was not a hidden guardian. She was Ah Yin, the Blood Silver Empress, and this was her court. She closed her eyes, her own consciousness expanding, flowing out from her body, merging with the vast, silent network of her domain.
She could feel them all. The blades of grass in the city, silent witnesses to the comings and goings of a million lives. The vast, crimson carpets that were slowly, inexorably, spreading through the great forests of the empire.
They were her eyes, her ears, her very soul, scattered across the continent. It was a feeling of profound, absolute, and almost divine power. A serene, beautiful peace.
And then, the scream came.
It was not a sound. It was a feeling. A violent, psychic shockwave that ripped through the tranquil harmony of her domain. It was the feeling of a million voices, a million of her children, all being extinguished in a single, instantaneous, and agonizing moment.
Ah Yin's body went rigid. Her serene, beautiful expression shattered, replaced by a mask of pure, unadulterated shock. A small, choked gasp escaped her lips.
A vast, concentrated patch of her domain, a square mile of her most loyal, most powerful subjects in the mixed region of the Star Dou Great Forest, had just… ceased to exist. Annihilated.
Her first thought was of humans. A powerful, high-level hunting party. A team of Titled Douluos, perhaps, burning her children from the face of the earth with their arrogant, destructive power. Her shock immediately crystallized into a cold, hard, and deeply, profoundly, and murderously intense fury.
She did not hesitate. Her own consciousness, a blazing, crimson comet of pure, maternal rage, shot through her mental connection to the one person in the world who could understand, who could share her fury.
In a large, opulent chamber on the other side of the estate, a very different kind of performance was taking place.
The air was thick with the scent of jasmine and the soft, ethereal music of a recorded zither. Zhang Tian sat on a large, plush sofa, a look of pure, sated contentment on his handsome face. Before him, his two beautiful fiancées were putting on a private show.
They were dancing for him. Ning Rongrong, in a flowing, diaphanous gown of the sheerest, sky-blue silk, was a whirlwind of playful, seductive grace. Zhu Zhuqing, in a creation of black lace and silk that was more suggestion than garment, was a creature of pure, raw, and almost painfully intense carnal power.
It was a beautiful, private, and wonderfully, joyously, and almost religiously profound hedonistic spectacle.
And then, the scream entered his mind.
'My love,' Ah Yin's mental voice was a sharp, frantic sound that cut through the pleasant, lust-filled haze of his mind. 'There is a disturbance. A large number of our clan members have been killed in Star Dou.'
He sat up, his relaxed, indulgent expression instantly replaced by a mask of cold, hard focus. Ning Rongrong and Zhu Zhuqing, their dance faltering, looked at him, their faces a mask of worried concern.
"What is it, husband?" Ning Rongrong asked, her voice a soft, anxious sound.
He held up a hand, a silent, calming gesture. "Give me a moment," he said, his voice a low, steady sound. He closed his eyes, his own consciousness connecting with the silent, invisible network of their shared domain.
'Is it humans?' he projected back to Ah Yin, his own mental voice a sharp, analytical current.
'It could be,' she replied, her own voice a mixture of rage and a new, dawning uncertainty. 'But… the death was too rapid. Too… total. It was not the work of a simple fire, or of a physical assault. It was as if their very life force was… drained. I must see for myself.'
'Be careful,' he warned her. 'The core of that forest is a place of ancient, powerful beings. Do not provoke them.'
'I will be a ghost,' she promised.
Ah Yin found a quiet, secluded spot in the garden, a small, hidden grotto surrounded by a curtain of weeping willows. She sat cross-legged on the soft, cool grass, her hands resting on her knees. She took a deep, steadying breath, and her consciousness, a significant, powerful portion of her very soul, detached from her physical body.
The world dissolved into a blur of green and red. She was a thought, a flicker of pure, spiritual energy, hurtling through the vast, silent, and interconnected river of plant-life consciousness that was her domain. The journey, which would have taken a physical body days, took her a matter of seconds.
She arrived.
And her spiritual form recoiled in a wave of pure, unadulterated horror.
The scene before her was one of utter, absolute devastation. A perfect, square mile of what had once been a vibrant, thriving carpet of her Blood Silver Grass was now a wasteland of grey, lifeless dust. The very ground was barren, dead, its life force, its spirit energy, its very essence, completely, utterly drained.
And in the center of this dead zone, a monument to its own, monstrous power, stood the culprit.
It was a tree. A colossal, ancient, and impossibly twisted thing, its bark the color of gnarled, dark stone. It was not a creature of beauty. It was a thing of nightmares. Its branches were like the writhing, skeletal arms of a thousand dead gods, and its trunk… its trunk was covered in eyes.
Countless, variously-sized eyes, all blinking slowly, independently of one another. Some were as large as a dinner plate, their irises a swirling vortex of ancient, malevolent intelligence. Others were as small as a pinprick, a thousand tiny, glittering points of cold, analytical observation.
The moment her consciousness arrived, the moment she laid her spiritual eyes upon this… this thing, she was hit by a wave of pure, overwhelming, and almost physically tangible mental pressure. It was not an attack. It was simply… its presence. The ambient, casual aura of a being so ancient, so powerful, that it made the very air around it feel heavy, thick, and suffocating.
She had felt the auras of Titled Douluos. She had stood in the presence of Super Douluos. She herself was a being of immense, almost unimaginable power. But this… this was different. This was on another level entirely. Her own, powerful mental force, a thing that could crush the minds of lesser beings, felt like a single, fragile firefly fluttering before a raging, all-consuming sun.
She was a ghost in her own, dead land. Her consciousness was hidden in a single, surviving blade of grass at the very edge of the dead zone, a silent, terrified observer.
And then, one of the Myriad Demon King's largest eyes, an orb of swirling, ancient power, swiveled. And it locked directly onto her.
It saw her.
A flicker of something, a hint of a deep, ancient, and almost comically profound amusement, entered its gaze.
A voice, a sound that was not a sound, but a direct, telepathic transmission that was as ancient and as powerful as the world itself, echoed directly in her mind.
"So," the voice purred, a slow, lazy, and utterly terrifying sound, "someone worthwhile from this weak grass clan finally deigns to show herself."
The moment the voice hit her, the moment that ancient, powerful thought touched her own consciousness, she felt it. An invisible, intangible, and utterly inescapable net of pure, concentrated mental force snapped shut around her. Her connection to her body, to the distant, safe sanctuary of her garden, was not just blocked. It was severed.
She was trapped. A ghost in a cage, at the mercy of a monster.
The Myriad Demon King's mental voice was not cruel. It was worse. It was filled with an immense, casual authority, the tone of a god questioning a particularly interesting insect.
"What are you?" it asked, its countless eyes all focusing on her trapped, flickering consciousness. "And what have you done to the Blue Silver Grass of this forest? This corruption… this red plague… it is an imbalance I have not seen in my long, long life."
The voice continued, a low, rumbling monologue of pure, analytical curiosity. "I have watched this forest for a hundred thousand years. I have seen empires rise and fall. I have seen spirit beasts evolve and go extinct. But I have never seen a change so rapid, so… total. This new, red grass… it is a cancer. It grows too quickly. It devours the resources of the other plants, the other beasts. It is disrupting the very balance of this world. And you… you feel like you are its source."
Ah Yin, though terrified, was still an Empress. Her pride, the fierce, unyielding pride of a hundred-thousand-year-old spirit beast who had once ruled a clan of billions, would not let her cower.
She refused to answer. She fortified her consciousness, her love for her Emperor, for her new clan, a silent, desperate shield against the overwhelming pressure. 'I will not speak to this monster,' she vowed, her own mental voice a defiant, silent scream. 'I must find a way to escape. I must warn my love.'
The Myriad Demon King seemed to sense her defiance. And it was… amused.
The pressure intensified. Its countless eyes all focused on her, and the sensation was a new, and infinitely more profound, kind of torture. It was like being interrogated by a thousand different minds at once. A thousand different questions, a thousand different probes, all dissecting her consciousness, her memories, her very soul, layer by agonizing layer.
The pressure became a physical, tearing pain within her spiritual form. Her consciousness, which had been a bright, crimson flame, began to flicker and fray at the edges. She knew she could not resist this level of force for long.
"Your silence is pointless," the King's voice echoed in her mind, a soft, almost gentle sound that was somehow more terrifying than any shout. "Speak. Or I will peel the information from you, thought by painful thought."
The tearing sensation intensified. She was being ripped apart. To relieve the pressure, to buy herself a single, precious moment to think, she was forced to reveal a part of her identity.
"I… I was… the Blue Silver Empress," she projected, her mental voice a strained, ragged sound.
The Myriad Demon King was genuinely startled. The pressure lessened for a fraction of a second. "Was?" its voice was a low, intrigued sound. "The Empress of this pathetic clan of Blue Silver Grass? And now you lead this… red plague corruption over your own, pathetic people?" Its curiosity was piqued. "Explain this mutation. What fortuitous encounter could grant such a profound, and so… insidious, a transformation?"
This was it. The question she had been dreading. The one secret she would die to protect. The thought of revealing Zhang Tian, of putting him in the crosshairs of this ancient, terrifying horror, was a thought she could not bear. Her love for him, the deep, profound, and utterly all-consuming love of an Empress for her Emperor, became a shield. A fortress of pure, unshakeable will.
"NO!" she screamed, a mental roar of pure, defiant fury. She actively fought back, her own consciousness, her own will, a small, desperate, but incredibly, beautifully, and wonderfully, joyously, and almost religiously profound supernova of pure, protective love.
Her consciousness was a small boat in a hurricane, being torn apart by the raging, chaotic storm of the King's mental power. But she held the core secret, the name, the image of Zhang Tian, locked away in the deepest, most secret corner of her soul, protecting it with every last, flickering fiber of her being.
The Myriad Demon King was shocked. Genuinely, truly, shocked. It had interrogated Titled Douluos. It had broken the minds of hundred-thousand-year-old spirit beasts. But this… this was different.
"A plant spirit," its mental voice held a new, grudging respect, "with a will of iron that can even resist my mental pressure? Interesting. The source of your new power must be quite something to inspire such loyalty."
Its patience, however, was a finite thing. "Enough," its voice was a low, final sound. "Your loyalty is admirable, but foolish. I will now take what you will not give."
It gathered its mental force, a single, colossal, and utterly overwhelming wave of pure, psychic power, for a final, crushing assault. An attack that would not just break her will, but shatter it into a million irreparable pieces.
And it was at that exact moment, as the wave of psychic annihilation was about to crash down upon her, that it paused.
It felt a new presence. A new, strange, and almost comically, laughably pathetic flicker of consciousness that had just connected to a different patch of Blood Silver Grass at the very edge of the dead zone.
Back at the estate, Zhang Tian's eyes, which had been closed in a state of quiet, watchful concern, suddenly snapped open. He had felt it. The silent, agonized scream of his Empress.
He did not hesitate. He did not think. He acted.
He sent a wisp of his own consciousness, a small, insignificant, and almost suicidally brave flicker of his own soul, hurtling through their shared domain.
His mental voice, a thing of pure, cold, and utterly, completely, and beautifully arrogant power, echoed in the silent, dead clearing.
"Leave her alone. The one you're looking for is me."
Ah Yin was horrified. 'My love, no!' her mental voice was a frantic, desperate scream. 'Leave! You must leave now! You can't fight this thing! It will destroy you!'
The Myriad Demon King's attention, which had been a crushing, all-consuming weight on Ah Yin, shifted entirely to this new, insignificant gnat. It analyzed his consciousness, a process that took it less than a fraction of a second.
"A human?" its mental voice was filled with a dismissive, almost bored, amusement. "A Spirit King? So pathetically weak. You are the 'fortuitous encounter' that created this mutation?"
Zhang Tian ignored the insult. His mental voice was as flat and as even as a frozen lake. "Myriad Demon King. Over five hundred thousand years old, if my information is correct."
The Myriad Demon King was stunned into silence. Its amusement vanished, replaced by a cold, hard, and deeply, profoundly, and utterly unsettling shock. No one outside of the Fierce Beasts' most secret, most inner circle should know its name, let alone its true age.
"How… how do you know who I am?" its voice was a low, dangerous sound.
Zhang Tian's reply was a masterpiece of cold, dismissive arrogance. "I know many things. I am not here to answer your questions."
He had just, with a single, simple sentence, flipped the entire power dynamic of the encounter. He, the pathetically weak human, was now in control of the conversation.
The Myriad Demon King was infuriated. "Insolent human whelp!" its mental voice was a roar of pure, unadulterated rage. "You are in my domain! Your consciousness is trapped just as hers is! I will tear the secrets from your mind!"
It prepared to attack his spiritual form, to crush this arrogant, insignificant gnat.
And it was then that Zhang Tian delivered his devastating, world-shattering counter-threat. His voice was calm, almost bored, the tone of a man discussing the weather.
"You can try," he said. "This wisp of my consciousness will self-destruct. But as it does, my real body will realize what you have done to my consciousness, and to my lover's. And my real body will then, immediately, go to the Asura God's inheritance site. And it will inform the Asura God of the detailed location, and the current, weakened condition, of your leader… the Silver Dragon King, who is currently healing in the Lake of Life. Are you willing to risk a God King knowing your lord's location and condition?"
The Myriad Demon King froze.
It was not just shock. It was abject, absolute, and soul-shattering terror.
The human knew everything. The location of their Lord. Her state of being. And the one entity in the entire, vast, and uncaring universe who would be the most interested, the most eager, to find and destroy her.
~~
A/N: Check out my other novels like "Douluo Dalu: Time Travel", "Harem Master: Seduction System" and the "Villain: Manipulating the Heroines into hating the Protagonist" and I hope you like this story and those stories as well.
Check out more chapters on my P.atreon. The P.atreon will have 20+ Chapters ahead for this story. I hope you like it.
The link of p.atreon is: bit.ly/evildragon