One month.
It had taken one month of sheer, unadulterated, bureaucratic warfare that made her past life of accounting look like a relaxing spa day. But Empress Xue Lian, former paper pusher and unofficial project manager for a team of interior designers, had done it.
The initial, life or death consolidation of power was complete. The traitors were ash. The court was, for now, cowed. And in the precious, fragile stability that followed, a new kind of madness had taken root. Her madness.
It started with a creeping, undeniable realization as she walked the halls of her new home. This place is ugly as fuck.
The Netherworld Palace was a masterpiece of intimidating architecture: soaring vaults, jagged spires, and walls of polished obsidian that reflected the hellish glow of the magma rivers below. It was also dark, dreary, impractical, and about as welcoming as a tax audit. Tapestries depicted gory battles in murky browns and blood red. The furniture looked like it was designed solely to be uncomfortable and to poke anyone who sat down incorrectly. The lighting was terrible.
I can't seduce a celestial goddess in a dungeon that looks like it was decorated by a teenage edgelord, she'd thought, a sense of professional horror washing over her. This won't do. This won't do at all.
Thankfully, she had the ultimate tools: absolute authority and a bottomless treasury. And though her past job had just been handling the paperwork for the actual interior designers, she'd absorbed enough through osmosis to be dangerous. More importantly, she had vision.
So, Project: Extreme Demon Realm Makeover began.
Her first decree had nothing to do with taxes or border security. It was a mandate on ** workplace safety and reasonable hours**.
The court had stared at her, baffled, as she explained the concept of an eight hour work day, mandatory breaks, and a half shift schedule for the palace staff and city guards.
"The productivity loss will be catastrophic!" Archduke Jin had spluttered.
"Nonsense," Xue Lian had countered, her voice cool. "A well rested guard is an alert guard. A cook who isn't exhausted won't accidentally poison me. This isn't a suggestion." She'd leaned forward, her fox like eyes glinting. "It's an order. Also, I want to see proposals for a hazard pay structure for those working near the magma flows by next week."
The whispers of "the Empress has gone mad" began, but they were tinged with a newfound confusion. This was a strangely benevolent madness.
Next came the interior design. She summoned demon artisans, not to commission statues of terrifying beasts, but to design ergonomic seating and mood lighting. She had vast, stained glass windows installed in the great hall, not depicting carnage, but abstract patterns that fractured the hellish light into beautiful, colorful prisms that danced across the floors. She replaced the gory tapestries with woven silks in deep blues, purples, and silvers, depicting the constellations of the Netherworld sky and the elegant history of the Fox Beast Clan.
Her own chambers and Lan Yue's "gilded cage" were the prototypes. She introduced the concept of plush rugs, partition screens for privacy, and functional workspaces. The demons, once they got over the shock, took to it with a surprising passion. It turned out that when you're not constantly worried about being impaled on your own furniture, you can appreciate aesthetics.
The culinary revolution was perhaps the most personally satisfying. After a week of eating food that tasted like charcoal and regret, she'd marched into the kitchens.
"Right," she'd said, rolling up her sleeves (a gesture that made the head chef flinch as if expecting to be beheaded). "We're implementing something called 'seasoning'. And this…" she said, sketching a basic wok like pan into existence with a flick of demonic energy, "...is going to change your life."
She introduced stir frying. She explained the concept of marinades. She described the glorious, holy trinity of garlic, ginger, and scallions. The demon cooks, a brutal looking lot who usually just roasted entire unrecognizable beasts over open flames, watched her with a mixture of terror and awe. Within two weeks, the palace cuisine had gone from "barely edible" to "strangely and addictively delicious." The rumor mill now whispered that the Empress was a culinary genius on top of everything else.
But her most ambitious project required a raid. Not on a rival sect, but on a mortal world farming village.
"I need cows. And chickens. Lots of them," she'd told her most confused battalion of demon soldiers. "And seeds. For… green things. Vegetables. You know, plants?"
"Your Majesty wishes to… garden?" the captain had asked, utterly lost.
"I wish to farm," she corrected. "I'm tired of eating glowing mushrooms and mystery meat. We're implementing sustainable agriculture. Now go. And try not to terrify the mortals too much. Just… leave a pile of gold for what you take. It's called capitalism."
A month later, the results were… startling. The outskirts of the capital now boasted the Netherworld's first functioning farms, protected by shimmering domes of energy to filter the harsh environment. The palace menu now featured demon realm raised beef and eggs. Morale, especially among the lower demons and servants, was higher than it had been in centuries. They had full stomachs, safer jobs, and a slightly less gloomy place to live.
Xue Lian stood on her newly designed balcony, overlooking a capital that was still hellish, but now with slightly better city planning. She felt a flicker of pride. It wasn't home, but it was starting to look less like a villain's lair and more like a place someone might actually want to live.
Okay, past me, she thought, sipping a cup of tea that actually tasted like tea. You handled the HR and facilities management. Good job. Now it's time for the main event.
She turned her back on the view and walked to her desk. The "SUBJECT: OPERATION: GET GIRL, GET HEIR, GET EVEN" notes were waiting.
The infrastructure was in place. The people were (relatively) content. Her power base was (temporarily) secure. There would be other issues Archduke Jin's simmering rebellion, the impending wrath of the righteous sects but that was a problem for Future Her.
Present Her had a goddess to kidnap.
She unrolled a fresh sheet of velvety demon paper, her stylus poised.
"Right," Empress Xue Lian murmured, a sharp, excited smile gracing her lips. "Let's plan a kidnapping."