As Edlyn stood stunned, the cocoons reserved for the Supreme Demon Rulers began to tremble.
In her slack-jawed silence, every cocoon split open.
A vast surge of power rippled across the Fiend Tree, wave after wave.
But Edlyn’s face held no joy, only ash-grey calm.
She stared at a crowd of fiends, bare as birth.
Yes, their power and demonic qi had grown purer by countless folds.
But...
She looked at herself, then Angelo, then the fiends behind, all bewildered.
Edlyn let out a sky-splitting wail.
“Why? Why are all of them female?!”
That’s right.
The revived Supreme Demon Rulers, once sexless high demons, stood under the Abyss’s guard.
Those who survived the Hero’s cruelty had all shifted from no sex to female.
Everywhere, pale flesh, and sights beyond words, like a field at noon.
Newborn beauties still gleamed with hatching fluid, a shimmer that felt sinful.
Across the Demon Race, every clan wore the same baffled look.
If any male walked in now, he might die on the spot.
Angelo looked at her Demonic Lord, then herself.
She frowned, flicked her hand, and shaped armor from demonic qi.
It matched Edlyn’s cut, down to the little skirt the Little Lord wore.
Angelo rubbed her chin, thinking.
She beckoned again.
Waves surged from the Abyssal River and washed the freshly revived fiends clean.
She snapped her fingers.
Using her own armored skirt as a pattern, she dressed every Supreme Demon Ruler.
Edlyn watched in silence, saying nothing.
She raised her eyes to the Abyss’s pitch-black sky.
She stood there a long time without a word.
The fiends knew her, of course.
Once dressed, they formed up like before, unit by unit, rank by rank.
They looked iron-hard and grand, horns blaring like storm, drums like thunder.
Their momentum swallowed mountains; their edge felt unstoppable.
Banners whipped like sails in a gale; hooves hammered like war.
Strength like lifting peaks; grandeur towering; breath enough to gulp down bulls.
Even so, they were uneasy, every one of them.
Because Demonic Lord Edlyn—Edlyn for short—looked like her sanity swan-dived.
Head tilted, eyes blank, she stared at the sky.
Angelo hesitated in front of her.
She thought she knew why.
A demon army once irresistible had turned into an all-daughters corps.
Still irresistible, yes, yet something vital felt gone.
Edlyn stared a while, then sighed and lowered her head.
Maybe it tied to the Abyssal origin she released.
It had stayed inside her far too long.
To let Edlyn command this terrifying army as before, the origin might carry her trait.
So it turned out like this?
The more she thought, the less it made sense.
“My Demonic Lord, three thousand Supreme Demon Rulers, tally complete.”
“Just two percent of our peak.”
Angelo sighed over the report in her hand.
“Our sharpest blade has become a sliver.”
Edlyn rubbed her head.
Her bright eyes swept the fiends below, tugging at ill-fitting clothes.
She sighed again.
“Angelo, fix their outfits first.”
“We’re about to fight a brutal battle.”
“Go out shy like this and they’ll die.”
Angelo clenched a fist and thumped her chest.
Two pale hills trembled under the blow.
She bent low in the Demon Race’s formal salute.
“As you command, my Lord!”
Edlyn rolled her eyes.
She had one more complaint.
Among this whole crowd, her figure was the worst.
“Why?! She wanted to flip a table.”
Angelo turned back.
“My Lord, you—?”
“Nothing. Get lost!”
“Oh. Right...”
“Wait!”
Edlyn stopped her, a thought striking.
“Yes, my Lord?”
“These are styles of human women’s clothing, with underwear and everything.”
“Use them; do it right.”
Edlyn dredged up what Liqianyu had poured into her mind.
She shoved it all into Angelo’s head.
Angelo went blank for a heartbeat, then sharpened up.
For that instant, she glanced at Edlyn, surprised.
It was gone in a blink.
So, our Demonic Lord... knows a lot.
Edlyn noticed, of course.
She spun, grabbed a stone seat, and hurled it at Angelo.
“Quit staring!”
“Uh... my Lord... we’re done.”
Angelo wore a black backless dress, black heels, veil, lace gloves.
Temptation draped her like midnight silk.
She straightened herself and bowed to Edlyn.
Edlyn raked her with a look, her lips twitching.
“You. You’re something, my Grand Marshal.”
“I don’t know whether to praise you or scold you.”
“Heels too?”
“My Lord,” Angelo said quickly, “this body is much shorter than before.”
“I’m not used to it.”
“I saw heels in your data, so of course I used them.”
Edlyn remembered the old demon average height—about one ninety.
She sighed again, helpless.
She glanced back.
Most fiends had chosen heels too.
“Is Heaven set on ending the Demon Race?”
Angelo stepped close and whispered at Edlyn’s ear.
“My Lord, I found something perfect for you.”
“So I made it.”
“Would you try it?”
Edlyn glared, pure disgust in her eyes.
“What are you doing? Back off!”
“I’d rather starve, die outside, jump into the Abyssal River and drown—”
“I won’t wear it!”
“Wow... I must admit, my Lord, you’re adorable.”
Angelo’s eyes shone, locked on the Demonic Lord.
Below, three thousand demons stared at their chief, unblinking.
A simple dress-like top.
A chiffon-edged skirt, layered tulle, puff sleeves with courtly vintage.
Her heart-tipped tail twitched under the hem, restless.
Her little bat wings showed, bare to the air.
Edlyn stood in a pink princess dress, ringed by the Demon Race.
Rage burned in her gaze.
Angelo blinked, clapped, and dispelled the spell that sealed her voice.
Edlyn ground her teeth.
She hadn’t imagined Angelo would revive stronger than her.
“What are you doing? Planning a coup?”
Angelo rolled her eyes sideways.
When Edlyn handed her Liqianyu’s memories, that woman had said something.
Someone named Eli was probably the Demonic Lord’s beloved.
Angelo’s mouth quirked in secret.
“My Demonic Lord, I believe Lord Eli will absolutely love your outfit.”
“Eh...”
Edlyn froze, anger forgotten.
Angelo coughed, then added, “My Lord, let me put it this way.”
“It’s irresistible.”
