Chapter Three: The Needles on the Daqing Hall
Shang Jiuya took a deep breath and moved with difficulty to the edge of the bed. Her legs went weak when they touched the ground, and she almost fell over. Two maids silently stepped forward and helped her put on an elaborate and heavy dark purple embroidered gold demon lord robe. The heavy crown pressed down on her head, and its icy temperature made her shiver.
She was half-supported, half-carried out of the Purple Light Palace. Outside, a black chariot pulled by four demonic beasts with eyes blazing with ghostly fire awaited. She was helped onto the chariot; its interior was spacious, yet equally cold and hard.
The demonic beast strode forward, and the chariot moved smoothly yet swiftly. Passing through towering palace gates, the demonic guards and officials encountered along the way bowed their heads and gave way, but the atmosphere was not one of awe, but rather a kind of formulaic avoidance.
Shang Jiuya gripped the handrail inside the carriage tightly, peering into the demonic palace through the thin gauze curtain hanging in front. Everything was dark-toned, the architecture grand and oppressive. The demonic energy in the air grew increasingly dense, making her chest feel suffocated.
After an unknown amount of time, the carriage slowly came to a stop.
A magnificent palace, beyond description, appeared before my eyes.
Daqing Hall.
It was even more magnificent and solemn than the Purple Light Palace, constructed entirely of an unknown black boulder, upon which countless twisted demonic patterns naturally formed, flowing slowly as if alive. The massive palace doors were wide open, and an oppressive aura emanated from the depths of the hall. Shang Jiuya felt her breathing become even more difficult; the oppressive aura seemed to penetrate her very being, directly shaking her mind.
She was helped down from the carriage, her legs trembling slightly. She straightened her robes and crown, which were almost crushing her, and then forced herself to take a step toward the suffocating Grand Hall of State.
The moment I stepped through the palace gates, the oppressive aura intensified dramatically. The space inside was far larger than I had imagined; the towering dome disappeared into the darkness, its top completely invisible.
The floor was as smooth as a mirror, reflecting the demon lamps burning with eerie blue flames on the walls on both sides. At the end of the passage stood the Demon Lord's throne, carved from pitch-black demon stone, high above.
The throne hung vacantly, yet it exuded a chilling majesty and... allure.
Beneath the throne, on either side of the main hall, stood nine slightly smaller but equally imposing seats.
The nine elders' seats.
At this moment, several figures were already seated on those nine seats.
Shang Jiuya's heart nearly leaped into her throat. She forced herself not to look down and quickly scanned the figures out of the corner of her eye.
Closest to the throne, on the left, sits an elderly man with dark red hair and beard. He seems to be one with the stone seat beneath him; his aura appears calm, yet it inexplicably sends shivers down one's spine. Clearly, this is none other than You Chi, the powerful Grand Elder from the original owner's memories.
Seated beside her was a stern-faced old man, his posture upright, his gaze fixed on her, a scrutinizing look mixed with a barely perceptible frown. Second Elder Lian Bo? He seemed to be neutral?
Opposite her, in the first seat on the right, sat a portly old man casually stroking a thumb ring. His gaze swept over her with undisguised contempt and a hint of greed. The Third Elder, Gong Liang? He controls the finances and supports Ninth Sister Guan Shanyue!
Further down, a middle-aged man in military uniform scanned the entire room with sharp eyes. When he saw Shang Jiuya, his brow twitched almost imperceptibly before he looked away. Fifth Elder, Chang Dong? He seemed to be a powerful figure in the military.
Further away, a stern-faced old man sat upright, seemingly toying with a black legal token in his hand. The Eighth Elder, Jiang Zheng? In charge of the law.
Several elders were not clearly visible, either due to the dim light or the distance. Some were low-key and silent, some were relatively young, and some had an aura that was obscure.
Without exception, when their gazes occasionally swept over her, the "Demon Lord," they were met with an almost indifferent disregard, or a deeply hidden mockery. No one rose to greet her, not even a nod. Their attention was focused more on their own internal conflict.
Shang Jiuya felt like a lamb that had strayed into the Council of Giant Beasts. She clenched her palms tightly, using the pain to force herself to remain calm, and walked step by step along the long central passage toward the high-hanging throne.
She could feel those gazes, whether overt or covert, falling on her as if they were real, assessing her weakness and her fear.
Finally, she reached the foot of the throne. A servant silently stepped forward and led her up the steps.
The throne was wide and hard. She only dared to sit on the very edge, her body stiff, barely daring to lean back. The cold touch penetrated through the heavy robes, making her feel like she was sitting on pins and needles. The crown was heavy, making her neck ache, but she dared not make the slightest movement.
She tried to minimize her presence, lowering her eyelids and staring at her slightly trembling fingers resting on her knees.
Soon, footsteps could be heard outside the hall again.
Several figures walked into the main hall side by side, making no attempt to conceal their powerful aura and... casualness.
A man dressed in a magnificent purple robe with sharp eyes had a faint, cold smile on his lips as he swept his gaze across the elders' seats, pausing slightly on the First Elder You Chi and the Third Elder Gong Liang.
A man of unusually tall and imposing stature, with an eerie and handsome appearance, walked with the stride of a dragon and the aura of blood that seemed to tangible, as if he had just returned from the battlefield. When his gaze swept over Jiuya on the throne, he revealed a hint of mockery without any attempt to hide it.
A woman with a beautiful and captivating appearance but cold eyes, her gaze was alluring yet chilling. Her eyes sparkled, her smile alluring, yet sending shivers down one's spine. Her gaze lightly swept over Jiu Ya, as if looking at an inanimate object, before landing on the Third Elder, Gong Liang, exchanging a brief and subtle glance.
They didn't even glance at Shang Jiuya, and walked straight to the area below the throne, in front of the elders' seats. There, servants had already placed three comfortable and ornate chairs. They sat down casually and exchanged a few words in hushed tones. The content was unclear, but the atmosphere of confrontation was palpable.
Shang Jiuya's thoughts wandered; these three should be her fourth brother Ao Li, her sixth brother Qi Mu, and her ninth sister Guan Shanyue. The former Demon Lord named his children entirely arbitrarily; judging from their names alone, it was impossible to tell they were siblings.
The meeting seemed to have begun.
An elder announced the agenda in a flat, emotionless tone. The topics included friction on a border in the demon realm, the allocation of certain resources, and rewards and punishments for a particular family…
This elder appears to be the fourth elder, Moro, who is in charge of etiquette.
Then, Shang Jiuya listened as if to a foreign language.
She couldn't understand many of the words they used; the place names, family names, and resource names were completely foreign to her. They spoke slowly, but their words were full of wit, innuendo, compromise, and competition. The elders spoke occasionally, their tone calm and experienced; her older siblings interjected from time to time, their attitude forceful and domineering.
You Chi speaks calmly, yet always manages to guide the conversation; Gong Liang is calculating and vying for interests; Qi Mu's tone is volatile, always ready to "send troops to wipe them out"; Guan Shanyue smiles radiantly, yet every word is barbed; Ao Li adds coldly, waiting for his chance to strike...
Shang Jiuya sat on her high throne, yet felt like a transparent person, completely detached from the world. The undercurrents and power struggles below were utterly irrelevant to her. They were vying for control and power within the Demon Realm, while she, the nominal "Demon Lord," was merely a dispensable backdrop in their game, or even an obstacle that desperately needed to be eliminated.
She bit her lower lip tightly to stop her body from trembling. The air here was colder and more suffocating than in the Purple Light Palace.
She couldn't help but recall that weekend afternoon when she was nestled in the soft sofa, reading the novel about Rong Jiang's struggle for survival in the underworld. At that time, she felt heartbroken for Rong Jiang, and cried out for her, feeling that Rong Jiang's situation was extremely difficult.
But now she realizes that Rong Jiang at least still has room to struggle, goals to strive for, and a little bit of freedom.
And what about her?
She was trapped on this supreme throne, surrounded by wolves and tigers eager to devour her. She slightly moved her stiff neck, her gaze sweeping over the terrifying figures below, over the cold seats of the elders, and finally landing on her slightly trembling fingers.
An unprecedented sense of bewilderment and fear swept over her.
Can she really survive here?
For Shang Jiuya, the morning council in the Daqing Hall was nothing short of a long and cruel mental torture. Like a puppet forcibly fixed to the throne, she listened stiffly to the power struggles and coded language below that she couldn't understand at all, every second steeped in invisible fear and pressure. The obscure terminology of the demon realm's politics, regional names, and hints about legion mobilization swept over her eardrums like a book from heaven, leaving only a buzzing echo and a deeper unease. She could only barely catch a trace of the undercurrent of danger from the subtle expressions, the rise and fall of the tone of voices, and the eye contact between the elders and her brothers and sisters.
When the Fourth Elder, Moro, who was in charge of etiquette, announced in a flat tone that "the meeting is over for today," Shang Jiuya almost instantly breathed a sigh of relief. Her tense back slumped slightly, and she was surprised to find that her inner clothes were soaked with cold sweat, clinging tightly to her skin and bringing a cold, sticky feeling.
The elders and her siblings below—Ao Li's eyes swept across the throne with a sinister glint, a faint, almost imperceptible, cold smile playing on his lips; Qi Mu didn't even look up, preoccupied with stroking a grotesque bone ring on his finger; Guan Shanyue gave her a chilling smile—without even a second glance—before turning away. The others, either alone or in small groups, conversed quietly as they slowly walked out of the hall. Their figures disappeared into the dim light outside the massive hall doors, leaving behind an empty, deathly silent hall, and the lingering, heavy pressure and demonic aura, as if she were merely a pitiful prop forgotten on stage after the performance.
A servant appeared silently beside the throne, bowed slightly, and gestured "please," his movements as precise as if measured with a ruler, yet devoid of any warmth.
Jiuya struggled to maintain her composure, using all her strength to keep herself from collapsing. Holding onto the cold, piercing black stone handrail, she descended the towering, dizzying steps. Each step landed on the black stone ground reflecting the dark, demonic fire of the dome, her reflection distorted and blurred, just like her uncertain and perilous fate.
She returned to the chariot pulled by the ferocious monster, escorted by silent guards, and was carried back to the magnificent prison called "Purple Light." Throughout the entire process, she felt as if she were sleepwalking; the bizarre and fantastical scenes of the outside world, filled with demons, were blurry and unreal. Only the heavy, rapid beating of her heart in her chest reminded her of the perilous situation she was in.
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