Chapter 2.
Remember this: A kingdom is not built of stone or land, nor of crowns or armies alone. At its heart, it is a living construct of belief, order, story, protection, and will. These elements exist in parallel, intertwined like threads in a tapestry: belief sustains loyalty, story gives meaning, order channels power, protection secures trust, and will drive continuation. Yet they also unfold in a line through time — first people must believe, then a story is told, order is established, protection enforced, and will be sustained. A kingdom survives not because of territory, but because this delicate web of mind, narrative, and action persists. Remove belief or will, and even the grandest empire collapses; the throne remains, but the kingdom itself ceases to exist.
The boy stopped crying, he stood firmly and looked straight at yin wuming, as if he was trying to see what truly lied inside yin wuming to say such words? "And if I say no?" He asked curiously.
Yin Wuming's cold eyes pierced the boy's gaze. " I was being polite and a gentleman by proposing to you such conditions. Tell me, can you protect your mother and friend from the second lady of the Xuan clan? I can do that, silly boy. And I don't need to make any negotiations with you. I can easily overwhelm your body and soul consciousness." Saying this, Wuming looked up in the sky and moved his forefinger towards it, making a small pattern in the air.
The consciousness started rumbling, the darkness started seeping in, the boy shivered, scared and said "Alright no need to scare me, big brother" his voice softened and playful.
Yin wuming thought, how the hell is he enjoying this ? Oh if he can wish to die at such young age can't he laugh in such a situation?
But the word brother. Made him a bit angry and he frowned.
"Don't call me that. I am not your elder brother." His voice was cold and detached.
"Oh why not? I like you."
Yin Wuming shot back,"I am not gay."
Xuan Wuming laughed."Take over my body, fight me. But promise me one thing you will destroy everything single person in this clan who wishes to harm you, my mother and wei zhi. She's sharp and she will be useful to you." The boy was trying to negotiate with the Demonic emperor.
"What makes you think I will really fulfil your wish? I can even lie to you right now. And it will be my decision whether I keep wei zhi or not."
"Well I am just trying to give you some advice. My mother says she's useful, so she must be."
Yin Wuming looked at him, he was young but sharp. Even in the dying moment he was negotiating with me.
What an abnormal child.
Well, so am I.
They fought.
Not with fists.
With will.
With dominance.
With survival.
Thirteen seconds.
That was all it took.
The boy's soul was already fraying. Already poisoned. Already broken by neglect and schemes he never understood.
He could have let the child linger in agony.
Instead—
He crushed him gently.
A clean severance.
An easy death.
Mercy, if one wished to call it that.
The boy fell to the ground, ripples forming on the ground as if his consciousness was still alive, he had a strong will. " It was nice meeting someone kind, at my last moment." He said his voice was weak . He laid on the ground looking at yin wuming,"Goodbye, big brother"
Yin Wuming looked at him, his eyes almost softening, only for a slight second, the little guy was genuine.
Anything that's genuine can change a person but not fully. After all its humans. We are talking about.
When the light vanished, nothing remained.
Not memory. Not fear. Not a name.
That was how long the resistance endured.
And he took the body.
Now — Darkness.
Then wood.
A ceiling carved with simple patterns.
The smell of crushed herbs and bitter medicine.
His lungs felt small. Fragile. Insufficient.
He inhaled.
Pain.
This body was weak.
Seven years old at most.
Thin bones. Shallow breath. Residual fever.
Footsteps stumbled near him.
Fabric rustled.
Then a woman's voice broke apart.
"My child… Wuming… please… please wake up…"
His eyelids lifted slowly.
She was kneeling beside him.
White silk flowed around her like moonlight spilling across the floor. The dress clung elegantly to her slender form — a fitted bodice, delicate gold trim running down its length in intricate patterns of intertwined florals and ancient sigils. Sleeves extended almost to the floor, whispering across the wooden planks as she moved. At her waist, a golden belt clasped with an ornate buckle, a fine jade chain dangling and swaying softly with each trembling breath she took.
Her hair was arranged with royal precision.
Yet strands had come loose, sticking to her tear-dampened cheeks.
Her fingers trembled as they touched his face.
And then—
She leaned down and kissed his forehead.
"I am so sorry, my child," she whispered, voice breaking. "I am so sorry for leaving you here. I should not have done this."
Warmth spread across his skin.
He waited for discomfort.
For rejection.
For that familiar cold recoil he had always felt when touched.
But this time—
There was something else.
Not attachment.
Not a weakness.
Not longing.
Ease.
A quiet, grounded calm.
Was this the tranquility that follows an answer?
He had chased Earth for a millennium.
Now he knew it was unreachable.
Heaven had written the rules.
And Heaven did not allow return.
The fight was over.
Perhaps that was why this warmth did not disturb him.
He opened his mouth to speak.
Nothing came out.
Only air.
His throat burned like torn paper.
His hand lifted instinctively to his neck.
Immediately, her hand covered his.
Soft.
Steady.
"Your vocal cords were damaged, sweetheart," she said gently. " You screamed, so hard, and so much. They will heal within two weeks. The medicine is already prepared. You must not strain yourself."
Her thumb brushed his knuckles unconsciously.
"You have been unconscious for six whole days."
Six days.
This body had nearly died.
She had stayed.
That fact registered quietly in his mind.
A knock interrupted the moment.
A young maid entered, bowing deeply.
"My Lady… the Master wishes to see you."
His mother did not turn.
"I am with my child," she said calmly. "Tell him I will come when I have time. I do not have time for him at the moment."
The maid hesitated.
"But, Lady… he is the Clan Master. Your husband—"
The air shifted.
The temperature dropped.
She stood.
And in that motion, grief vanished.
Authority remained.
She turned fully toward the maid.
"I am Yin Fu," she said, her voice neither loud nor angry — only absolute. "I am not only the Lady of this clan. I am the Royal Princess of the Western Empire. The fact that I chose the love of my life does not mean I forfeited my authority."
The maid lowered her head instantly.
"And send Wei Zhi."
The maid stiffened.
"She was dismissed long ago… by the First Lady."
"Second Lady," Yin Fu corrected softly.
"Rehire her. This time, she answers me. Only I — and Xuan Wuming — possess the authority to dismiss her. No one else. Bring me her full background and county records."
So the woman had just known what happened?
"Yes, my Lady."
The maid retreated.
Silence returned.
Yin Fu exhaled, and when she turned back toward the bed, her expression softened once more.
"Oh, darling… I am sorry you had to hear me like that." She brushed his hair gently from his forehead. "I promise I will make everything right."
He watched her.
Not as a child.
Not as a son.
But as a man who had ruled empires.
Princess. Political friction. A Second Lady with enough influence to dismiss servants. A Clan Master who was summoned but was refused.
This household was fractured.
Power did not sit evenly here.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
And yet—
That strange calm remained within him.
Not a weakness.
Not attachment.
But the quiet acceptance of a path that could not be reversed.
Earth was gone.
Heaven had decided.
Then this world would suffice.
His golden eyes rested on Yin Fu's face.
And for the first time since awakening—
He did not feel the urge to escape.
Only to observe.
And eventually—
To dominate.
When he opened his eyes again—
He was alone.
The soul had been erased.
Not sealed. Not merged.
Erased.
Complete dominance.
The cycle had ended.
No more transmigrations.
No more resets.
This life would be final.
The mother came forward.
She hugged him.
Warm.
The woman was trembling.
Her tears soaked into his shoulder.
He felt—
Discomfort.
His muscles stiffened.
Warmth was inefficient.
Attachment created weakness.
He let his body tremble slightly.
Pretended confusion.
Survival instinct.
Her fingers brushed against his back.
For a fraction of a second—
Her breathing stopped.
Then resumed.
Interesting.
She felt something.
But she said nothing. Did she know ? That it wasn't her son. Well it can't be possible until she touches his soul. And why would she, in this condition. The child had suffered many injuries, xuan wuming could feel.
He stared past her shoulder.
At the wall.
At nothing.
At the beginning of something new.
Outside, the Xuan Clan estate stood silent beneath a pale sky.
Power struggles simmered. Heirs contested. Second wives calculated. The clan head watched.
And in a small room—
A thousand-year demon king lay in a dying child's body.
Smiling faintly. Knowing that it was his third life, and in his dying moment he had learned about the transmigrations and its condition. Heaven gave him the last chance, will he abide by the rules of it ? Well, his faint small smile turned into a sinister grin which told another story.
He had won.
The cycle was complete.
Now…
He would decide what to do with eternity.
Chapter 2 end.