Chapter Two: Demon Lord? Eleven Women? Poisoning?

dark.

An endless expanse of darkness.

And... pain.

The pain was excruciating, tearing at your very bones.

Shang Jiuya's consciousness seemed to have struggled in an endless abyss for millions of years, yet it also seemed to have only been lost for a brief moment. The first thing to return was not her vision, but the pain that almost tore her apart again.

Her throat burned, and every tiny swallow brought a sharp, knife-like pain, the burning sensation spreading down her esophagus to her stomach. She curled up in pain, but didn't even have the strength to groan.

Cold beads of sweat slid down his forehead, soaking his temples and bringing a strange, icy touch.

She struggled to open her eyelids, which felt as heavy as a thousand pounds.

Blurry...shaking...

The scene before me was as if covered by frosted glass, with a few clusters of eerie blue flames leaping on the wall lamp bases not far away, casting bizarre and surreal shadows.

A peculiar fragrance filled the air, resembling sandalwood yet subtly carrying a hint of blood. Shang Jiuya took a deep breath, the smell choking her and causing her to cough. This cough aggravated her internal injuries, making her curl up in pain.

She lay on an incredibly soft fabric, her vision straining to focus.

The dome was so high it was dizzying, carved with countless hideous and twisted demonic runes and unprecedented, terrifying monster patterns, which, illuminated by the eerie blue demonic flames, seemed ready to come alive at any moment. Heavy, dark purple curtains hung down from above, their edges adorned with strangely shaped ornaments.

Where is this place...?

A hospital? Impossible. What hospital would be decorated like this... eerie and sinister? Like the set of some medieval gothic horror movie.

A sharp headache suddenly struck, and chaotic fragments of memory assaulted her fragile nerves without warning.

A majestic demon lord sat atop a high throne, overlooking all living beings. Then, that figure suddenly collapsed and vanished… (Yes, the former demon lord… is dead…)

Several figures, their faces blurred but exuding an aura of either sinister, violent, or alluring, argued fiercely in the dimly lit hall, their gazes almost sparking. (Brothers and sisters...those so-called brothers and sisters...for that position...)

A group of elderly men, dressed in elaborate black robes and exuding a deep aura, huddled together, discussing something in low voices. Their eyes were sharp and cold, sweeping over her with undisguised assessment and contempt. (Elders... the First Elder...)

A noisy yet oppressive ceremony. She was shoved and forced into overly heavy and ornate attire, a crown pressing painfully against her neck, and forced to sit on a huge, cold, hard chair. The gazes from below held mockery, indifference, and greed, but no reverence. (The Demon Lord… a puppet Demon Lord…)

The fear and unease she felt when she—or rather, the original owner of this body—was thrust into a high position...

Finally, a bowl of strangely flavored "calming soup" was served...

Then……

It was endless darkness, and excruciating pain as if my internal organs were being shattered inch by inch.

Shang Jiuya gasped sharply, but the burning pain in her throat made her cough violently. Each cough aggravated the persistent cramping pain in her abdomen, almost causing her to faint again.

She understood everything.

That wasn't a dream. Those chaotic fragments of memory belonged to this body, to that little, inconspicuous witch who was also named Jiu Ya, ranked eleventh, and who was poisoned to death shortly after being propelled to the position of Demon Lord.

And she, Shang Jiuya, an ordinary office worker who had just finished overtime and was curled up on the sofa reading a novel and venting her frustrations, was electrocuted by a spilled glass of water... and somehow transmigrated?! Transmigrated into the body of this puppet demon lord who had just been poisoned!

Overwhelming fear instantly flooded all her senses, even temporarily suppressing the intense pain. She felt ice-cold all over, her hands and feet were numb, and her heart was pounding wildly, as if it would burst out of her chest.

Time travel? The demon realm? A demon lord? Poisoning?

These words, which only existed in novels and movies, now became a bloody reality, shocking her and making her tremble with fear.

She tried to sit up abruptly, but found her limbs as heavy as lead, completely unresponsive. An extreme sense of weakness overwhelmed her; this body had clearly not fully recovered from the poison's effects, or rather, the original owner was already dead, and she had inexplicably "come alive" in this broken shell.

She struggled to move her eyes, trying to observe her surroundings more carefully and assess her situation.

The Demon Lord's palace, the Purple Light Hall, was extremely luxurious, yet it exuded a chilling and deathly atmosphere. The massive beams and pillars were crafted from a dark, eerie wood, adorned with lifelike carvings of demonic creatures, their eyes fierce and menacing. The floor was paved with smooth, mirror-like black stone slabs, reflecting the ghostly blue demonic flames. The dense demonic energy permeating the air made this "otherworldly soul" instinctively uncomfortable and oppressed.

In the distance, near the corner of the palace and the massive gate, several figures seemed to be standing.

They were palace maids and guards.

They were dressed in uniform dark-colored clothing, with their heads bowed and their posture respectful.

However, Shang Jiuya keenly perceived the truth beneath that respectful facade.

Their posture was too relaxed, even somewhat slack. Their occasional glances swept quickly over her, revealing no concern, no worry, only undisguised contempt and schadenfreude.

No one approached her to ask if she needed help, water, or to summon a physician. They stood there silently, blending into the cold decor of the palace.

The bone-chilling cold assaulted Shang Jiuya even more fiercely than the physical pain.

She recalled Rong Jiang's situation when she first entered the underworld in the original novel—all alone and surrounded by danger. But at least Rong Jiang still had room and opportunity to struggle.

And what about her?

She was trapped in this weakened, poisoned body, confined to the magnificent yet more terrifying Demon Lord's palace, surrounded by spies, all "her own people" who could potentially harm her again at any moment. Her brothers, sisters, and elders from those fragmented memories all saw her as a thorn in their side, wishing they could eliminate her at any time.

The original owner has already been poisoned to death by them. If it doesn't work the first time, won't they try a second or third time?

A profound sense of bewilderment and fear washed over her, like a swamp, causing her to sink deeper and deeper. What should she do? What could she possibly do?

Pretend to know nothing? Continue playing the role of a cowardly, incompetent, and manipulated puppet? But the poisoner knows the power of the poison; wouldn't her sudden "awakening" and apparent weakness arouse suspicion?

Expose her? Expose her to whom? Those elders who wish her dead? Those brothers and sisters who were eyeing her covetously? She'd probably die even faster!

Escape? In her current state, where she could be blown away by a gust of wind, could she possibly escape this heavily guarded demon palace? Even if she did escape, the demon realm is vast, and where could a powerless "other soul" unfamiliar with the place go?

She instinctively wanted to curl up, seeking a sliver of security. Her fingers unconsciously tightened around the smooth, cool silk sheets beneath her.

Everywhere you look, there is a cold, luxurious atmosphere.

The burning pain in her throat reminded her of the near-death experience she had just gone through; she was going to die here.

Like an insect quietly crushed to death, without a sound. Not even a tear will be shed for her.

This realization sent chills down her spine, and she began to tremble slightly.

Outside the window was the eternally gloomy and dim sky of the demon realm, with distorted purplish-red demonic clouds rolling in, preventing even a sliver of warm sunlight from penetrating.

Here, there are no familiar computers, mobile phones, or reports; no cramped but belonging rented room; no novel apps that allow her to temporarily escape reality; and no ordinary life that, though arduous, is at least safe.

All that remained was omnipresent danger, chilling malice, and a weakened body that had just been poisoned.

Shang Jiuya closed her eyes, and two lines of despairing tears finally slid uncontrollably down her pale cheeks, quickly disappearing into the gorgeous but cold pillow and quilt.

The scent of death had never seemed so real as it enveloped her.

Time slowly passed amidst alternating fear and weakness. Shang Jiuya didn't know how long she had been curled up on that cold, luxurious bed, her consciousness fluctuating between clarity and blurriness. The excruciating pain in her body gradually transformed into an omnipresent soreness and weakness. The burning sensation in her throat subsided slightly, but swallowing remained difficult.

During this time, a maid came in once and placed some food on the table. Her attitude was neither particularly respectful nor rude; it was more like she was completing a tedious task. After placing the food, they quickly retreated, avoiding eye contact with her.

The food that was delivered looked exquisite, yet it exuded a chill. A bowl of thick, purple porridge, and a few pieces of dark-colored pastries whose ingredients were indistinguishable. Shang Jiuya had no appetite, but her survival instinct forced her to force herself to drink a few mouthfuls of the porridge. The taste was indescribable, with a faint fishy and herbal flavor.

She ate very little, spending most of her time leaning against the huge soft pillows, staring blankly at the grotesque carvings on the dome, trying to piece together more useful information from the chaotic fragments of her memories, but with little success. The original owner, Jiu Ya, seemed to have always been a timid, taciturn, and unappreciated character, her memories filled with nothing but fear and confusion.

Shang Jiuya tried to figure out the birth order and general personality of her older siblings. In the original owner's memories, the former Demon Lord had more than a dozen children. Jiuya was the eleventh, relatively late in the family, and her birth mother died early, making her practically invisible. After the former Demon Lord's death, his children fought fiercely for the Demon Lord's position. In the end, only her fourth brother Ao Li, sixth brother Qi Mu, and ninth sister Guan Shanyue remained, none of them willing to submit to the others. Jiuya and her twelfth sister, Shiyi Niang, were not considered outstanding and were not regarded as competitors at all. In particular, because Jiuya was too inconspicuous, she was completely ignored when her three fierce older siblings eliminated their rivals.

Just then, a steady yet undeniable sound of footsteps came from outside the hall. A captain of guards dressed in dark gold armor appeared at the entrance of the inner hall. He did not step in, but bowed slightly. "Your Majesty, the time has come. It is time to go to the Daqing Hall to participate in the morning meeting."

Shang Jiuya's heart clenched. Daqing Palace was the core of power in the Demon Realm, and the masterminds behind her poisoning were likely inside.

The immense fear almost suffocated her; her instinctive reaction was to refuse, to hide, to say that she was too ill to recover.

But she didn't dare.

Those eyes, though seemingly respectful, held no doubt that if she showed any lack of cooperation, she might be "invited" away in the next second, or something even worse might happen.

"...I...understand." She forced herself to speak.

The head guard seemed completely unconcerned about her condition, and bowed again: "The carriage is ready, Your Majesty, please make your own arrangements." After saying this, he withdrew and stood guard outside the hall.