Night fell, casting the hotel in the dim glow of amber lanterns.
Su Zhaoyu sat at the hall’s center, draped in a loose, gold-threaded crimson robe. Barefoot, a tiny golden bell adorned her right ankle. She sipped clear tea slowly; petals at the cup’s base shimmered with a faint prismatic glow. Having dropped her transformation magic, two long, pointed ears crowned her head, while nine fluffy tails bloomed behind her like blossoms, swaying gently.
Far below the dais, a burly man—built like a bear—knelt prostrate, trembling uncontrollably, cold sweat streaming down his face.
“Anything else to say?” Su Zhaoyu’s narrow eyes stayed half-lidded, not even glancing his way.
“This subordinate knows his fault… I shouldn’t have conspired with the human Hero Association for greed…” the man stammered, voice shaking.
Lately, minor demons had vanished across demon territories, and several demonic treasures had disappeared without a trace. All signs pointed squarely to the Hero Association of the human Eastern Empire. After the last great war between demons and humans a century ago, humanity was stirring again—and Su Zhaoyu grew wary.
“You admit fault?”
She set her teacup down softly. Her eyes narrowed to slits as she regarded him. Her voice, honeyed and languid, carried a bewitching allure—but to him, it rang like a death knell.
“And what do you propose to do about it?”
“This subordinate will atone! I won’t fail the Palace Master’s expectations—” He kowtowed frantically; blood soon seeped from his split forehead.
“Serve him wine.”
Bare feet brushing the floor, the bell chimed crisply as Su Zhaoyu rose and instructed the fox-eared maid beside her.
The burly man shuddered. “Wine” for traitors meant poison.
The maid poured strong liquor from a white jade pot and approached.
“Who dies quietly here?!”
He shot upright with a sudden heave, pointing at the retreating figure. “Su Zhaoyu! Don’t think I don’t know—you’re hiding an old injury!” A smirk twisted his lips. “You were wounded in the last war. Publicly ‘healed’? I know the truth! You’ve never recovered. Stuck at the Ninth Tier all these years—proof you’re barely clinging to power, severely weakened!”
“The only reason you still hold the title of Demon Emperor is your subordinates. My strength’s only Eighth Tier, but one-on-one? The outcome’s uncertain!”
Su Zhaoyu halted. The bell’s chime cut off. She turned her head slightly; frost bloomed in her eyes. Her tone remained unhurried.
“By all means, try.”
“You said it!”
His body swelled violently—clothes ripped, face contorted, teeth sharpened into fangs. Rock-hard muscles bulged across arms sheathed in black fur. He lunged.
An Eighth-Tier bear demon: ferocious, resilient, elite even among his tier.
Su Zhaoyu lifted a single finger. As he surged toward her, her nail tapped his forehead.
Temperature plummeted. A glacial gust erupted from his body. Frozen mid-lunge, his massive form shattered in multiple places—yet not a drop of blood spilled. Ice. In the next breath, he crashed down, splintering into hundreds of fragments. Frost crept from the remains across the floor, up walls, toward the ceiling.
Such was the chasm between Eighth and Ninth Tier—a single step, yet worlds apart.
Barefoot, Su Zhaoyu stepped onto the icy floor. The bell chimed softly again.
Back in her chamber, seated on the bed’s edge, the fox-eared maid offered the unfinished tea. Petals still glowed faintly at the cup’s base. Unaffected by the frost, the tea remained perfectly warm.
This Sevenfold Snow Lotus had been traded for a sealed painting of a demon beast concealing a dragon god—from a doctor at a small clinic. For days, Su Zhaoyu brewed its petals. Now, the old injury from the last war was fully healed. Her strength even showed subtle signs of rising.
In this world, Ninth Tier marked the pinnacle. Nearly every Ninth-Tier expert ruled a major power—the Hero Association’s head in the Eastern Empire, or Su Zhaoyu herself, the Demon Emperor. Advancing beyond it was near-impossible; decades of cultivation rarely yielded progress. Yet after mere days of this tea, she felt movement.
“So reaching the Tenth Tier truly demands miraculous elixirs,” she murmured, finishing the tea and popping the remaining petals into her mouth, savoring them slowly.
Humanity’s moves demanded vigilance. If war reignited, they were prepared. She needed peak condition. Ascending to the Tenth Tier had been her millennium-long goal—but the path was vast, unclear. Even draining the entire jar of Sevenfold Snow Lotus might only cover one-third of the journey. With conflict looming, urgency tightened her chest.
“Mistress… why not seek *his* help again?” the maid asked softly, washing Su Zhaoyu’s feet.
“Help? I wish. But I don’t know what he wants.”
Su Zhaoyu leaned forward, propping her cheek on one hand, brow faintly furrowed. Their last meeting with Lu Feng felt like casual friendship—a jar of Sevenfold Snow Lotus exchanged for a dragon-sealed painting. Later research led her to suspect the clinic’s owner: a Primordial God, master of all medicine—the God of Medicine himself. Would such a being even value a painting? Maybe he just needed wall decor. She could offer treasures, but would they please him?
Her gaze drifted to the maid’s delicate oval face. Eyes narrowed slightly.
“Mistress?”
“I was wondering,” Su Zhaoyu straightened, stretching arms behind her with a sly smile, “what are we fox demons best at? Temptation, of course.”
As one of the world’s top three strongest beings, she’d never needed that instinct. But now… perhaps it had its use.
“Investigate him discreetly. Check his character. Then… I’ll try to seduce him—ah, *attempt* a romantic relationship.”
Seeing the maid’s stunned expression, Su Zhaoyu raised a slender finger to her lips, winked, and whispered, “Truth be told… I wouldn’t mind playing the gentle woman.”
Only someone of her stature—the demon race’s sovereign—could even consider union with a Primordial God. Why not marry other equal-power leaders? Complicated. She dismissed those weaker. And equals?
All women.
Su Zhaoyu sighed.
What else could she do? She felt utterly helpless.
