Jia Wei Xin surfaced slowly from unconsciousness, a heavy fuzziness clinging to her mind. Luxury hit her first. Silken sheets, impossibly soft, caressed her skin. A gentle, sweet fragrance, unlike any in the sect, permeated the air. Her eyes fluttered open to a kaleidoscope of deep purples and rich blues. The room was extravagant: intricate carvings, shimmering tapestries, crystal chandeliers casting an ethereal glow. It was grand, opulent, and utterly unlike Liu Mo Fei's austere elegance.
She sat up abruptly—and groaned. Her limbs ached, qi sluggish. The bed canopy above her rippled, mocking her confusion.
---
Then she heard the voice.
"You're awake."
Zhang Tian sat on a velvet chaise. His robe had changed—now a deeper, darker red with silver embroidery that glinted like stars. He looked tired, but his smile was gentle. Hopeful.
"You're in my home," he said softly. "Welcome to the Demon Court."
She stared at him, stunned. "You… you really did it. You actually kidnapped me."
"I prefer 'relocated temporarily without full disclosure,'" he said, only half-joking.
Jia Wei Xin swung her legs off the bed. "Are you insane? I trusted you. You drugged me like—like some rogue in a trashy martial arts drama!"
Jia Wei Xin swung her legs off the bed. "Are you insane? I trusted you. You drugged me like—like some rogue in a trashy martial arts drama!"
Zhang Tian flinched, visibly recoiling from her anger. "I… I'm sorry about that part," he mumbled, rubbing his neck, sheepish. "The Demon HQ's location is highly secretive. Couldn't exactly invite you with a formal scroll. And… I was afraid." He dropped his gaze, bravado gone. "Afraid you'd… throw a tantrum and object. Afraid you'd tell me something I didn't want to hear about why you didn't want to leave."
His unexpected honesty, particularly the admission of fear, momentarily deflated some of Jia Wei Xin's rage. But it wasn't enough. "Afraid?! So your solution was to drug me?! That's not how you treat a friend, Zhang Tian!"
He looked up, eyes wide and earnest, devoid of malice. "Liu Mo Fei knows now. He's been investigating 'Chang Dian' for two days, digging into my origins, tracking my patterns. He's smart, too smart. He would've found me. I had to leave, and… I had to bring you."
His jaw worked like he wanted to say more.
"You don't know what I saw," he added after a pause. "When Pat Ci dragged your name into the mud. When you stood alone in front of that court. I wanted to burn the whole sect down then."He looked away, eyes sharp with something like pain. "But I didn't. I waited. I trusted you'd make it through. But this time… I didn't want to wait."
He stepped closer, voice urgent, genuine concern etched on his features. "Jia Wei Xin, look at your life in that sect. All you face is danger! First Hua Lian, Wang An, then Pat Ci, who knows what next? You're a magnet for trouble, and that sect, with all its 'rules' and 'righteousness,' can't truly protect you from what's coming. I had no choice but to bring you somewhere truly safe. Somewhere I can protect you."
Her anger, still simmering, began to reduce its heat. As infuriating as his methods were, she knew Zhang Tian. Beneath the flamboyant, often arrogant exterior, there was a startling purity to him. He was a force of nature, yes, but he said what he meant, and he did what he said.
No hidden agenda, no manipulative layers beneath his words. That's why she found herself so comfortable, so… herself, around him. This was the first time he'd truly hidden his intentions, and it stung.
"You can't just 'protect me' forever, Zhang Tian!"
She stepped back, her fists clenched.
"I get it. You mean well. But meaning well doesn't give you the right to take my choice. I left a world where men made decisions for me. I'm not doing that again—not even for you."
He took another step, closing the distance between them until he stood within an inch of her, his tall frame looming over her. His eyes, usually dancing with mischief, were serious, intense. "I can," he whispered, his voice deep and resonant, "if you let me. If you just… stay with me. Here."
Jia Wei Xin's breath hitched. The raw emotion in his gaze was almost overwhelming. It was the purest declaration she'd ever heard, devoid of romantic pretense, just a fundamental, almost childish, need to possess and safeguard. It was utterly Zhang Tian. He would fight gods and ghosts for her, but he didn't know what it meant to stand beside someone instead of keeping them.
She swallowed, trying to regain her composure. "How will you let me go back then?" she finally managed, forcing a steady tone.
A glimmer of his old mischief returned, a flash in his dark eyes. "Why go back when you can stay here for a few days? Treat it as a vacation. Consider it a… a complimentary stay at the Demon King's luxury retreat." He offered a charming, utterly disarming smile.
"Besides," he added with a wolfish smile, "you and I both know… Liu Mo Fei will come charging in soon, all white robes and righteousness."He leaned closer, voice dropping.
"But what if… when he arrives… you don't want to leave?"
A chill went down her spine, but not entirely from fear. Both of them knew it. Liu Mo Fei, the meticulous, brilliant sect head, would stop at nothing to find her. The stage was set.
---
Meanwhile, far beyond the hidden mountain ranges where the Demon HQ nestled, Liu Mo Fei was a whirlwind of controlled fury. The moment he discovered Jia Wei Xin's permit—a crudely forged document that almost made him chuckle in a different situation—and pieced together "Chang Dian's" true identity, a cold dread settled in his gut. Zhang Tian. The Demon King. Of all the infuriating, audacious stunts!
His investigations over the past two days, digging into the strange energy signature and sporadic movements of the mysterious 'Chang Dian,' had given him glimpses into Zhang Tian's formidable power and elusive nature, but never his full identity. Now, he understood. And his protective instincts roared to life.
Finding the Demon Sect was not merely difficult; it was considered impossible by most. Its location was shrouded in powerful illusions and ancient defensive formations.
But Liu Mo Fei was not 'most.' He was a genius, a strategist, and driven by a desperate, consuming worry that eclipsed all logical obstacles. He activated ancient tracking arrays, consulted obscure historical texts, and pushed his cultivation to its very limits, following the faintest threads of demonic energy signature left by Zhang Tian. He knew he was getting closer. He had to.