Han Ling took another step forward.
The demon's laughter ceased when he noticed that, despite the grim look in Han Ling's eyes, there was no hesitation in his steps. He slowly rose from the chair, walking until he stood face to face with Han Ling.
"You think killing me changes anything, Han Ling?" the demon said with disdain. "I'm not a curse you can purge. I am the truth. I am you."
"You're right," Han Ling replied, his voice cold as a blizzard. "You are a part of me."
Then something unexpected happened—Han Ling punched the demon in the face.
"All I have to do is beat the crap out of you and prove I'm better." Han Ling's voice carried a quiet confidence. "I've done plenty of bad things in my life, it's not like I'm going to redeem myself or change."
The demon was momentarily stunned, but then smiled.
"You're finally getting it!" the demon responded, throwing a punch at Han Ling, who easily dodged by leaning to the side.
Han Ling smiled, but his grin froze—he quickly dropped his arms to block a punch from the demon aimed at his left flank. Even though he blocked the blow, the impact still forced Han Ling to step back a few paces.
"We are the choices we make. Redemption? Regret? Those don't exist for demons like us!" the demon's thunderous voice echoed through the dark space. The shadows writhed at the sound of his voice, as if it pained them.
Han Ling's fist flew with deadly precision, smashing into the demon's chin. The demon staggered back, clutching his lip, his smile widening as if he were truly enjoying himself.
"And that cheap romanticism is just for weaklings who need to sleep at night." The demon advanced, his red eyes burning like embers. "But us… we don't sleep. We kill, we bleed, and we move on. Because that's what survivors do."
He threw a punch at Han Ling's chest, which was flawlessly blocked. But it was a feint. The demon took advantage of Han Ling's brief vulnerability, landing a punch to his face.
Han Ling stepped back twice, wiping a thin stream of blood from the corner of his mouth. "You talk like it's something to be proud of. But all it does is make you pathetic."
"Pathetic?" the demon growled, vanishing into a blur of shadow before reappearing behind Han Ling, striking downward, his hand falling like a blade. "You're talking about yourself!"
Han Ling twisted his body in an instant, blocking the demon's hand with a dry crack. The pressure exploded outward like a shockwave, splitting the ground beneath them.
"Yes," Han Ling answered, his voice low and dark. "I am pathetic. Weak. Broken. But she loved me anyway."
The demon growled, pressing his hand harder against Han Ling's. "She loved you because she was a foolish obsessive!"
Han Ling smiled—a cold, empty smile.
"You might be right. But I love her. I was a fool to run from that—but I'm not anymore!"
The demon's fist came again, this time like lightning, aiming for Han Ling's chin. But Han Ling had already vanished into the shadows—his stealth ability wrapped around him like an invisible cloak.
"You were always good at running," the demon growled, spinning around. "But you know what you could never hide? The killer instinct."
A blur appeared behind the demon. Han Ling emerged like a ghost, his leg arcing precisely to strike the side of the demon's neck, sending him crashing back into the chair he had risen from. The wood shattered like paper.
Han Ling didn't stop. He lunged forward with his knee toward the demon's chest, which was intercepted by crossed forearms. The impact cracked the ground.
"You talk like I'm just like you," Han Ling murmured, shoving the demon back with a direct punch to the sternum. "But the truth is, you're nothing more than an echo. A distorted reflection. Trash I left behind."
The demon slid along the fractured floor, but laughed as he stood. His face was bleeding, yet his red eyes burned with pleasure.
"Then let's see if this 'reflection' still knows how to fight!"
They clashed again. Fists, elbows, and knees traded blows with the precision of two beasts that knew each other intimately. It was a deadly dance—ugly, brutal, and honest.
Each impact cracked through the dark space, the surrounding shadows dissolving like mist, as if the truth was being revealed through violence.
Han Ling dodged a low kick and countered with a spinning punch that exploded against the demon's jaw, sending blood and teeth flying. But the demon, grinning madly, grabbed Han Ling's arm and pulled him in, crashing their foreheads together in a brutal headbutt.
The world around them shook.
The two stood there, panting, bleeding, eyes locked on one another.
"If you beat me... what are you going to tell her?" the demon asked, spitting blood. "That now you can love her without guilt? That you're pure? You'll never be pure, Han Ling."
Han Ling was silent. Then, he gave a slight smile—not mocking, but certain.
"She doesn't want purity. She wants the truth."
And with that, Han Ling drove his hand into his own chest. The demon's eyes widened.
"What the fuck are you doing!?"
"Showing I don't need to destroy you. I just need to accept you."
The demon's expression froze in surprise—Han Ling had done nothing he expected. How could he not be surprised?
"You…" The words came with difficulty as the demon's body cracked like porcelain.
The shadow began to fade little by little, the demon's skin opening with fractures, revealing a pulsing mass underneath made of twisted memories: the dead father on the floor, Xinrou crying, muffled screams, the abandonment.
"How did you… No! Am I going to die?..." This time, the demon's words were filled with genuine fear and desperation.
The demon's body trembled with one last snap of cracking shadows. Fragments of memories—blood-stained blades, stifled sobs, broken promises—poured from the cracks like black ink down a shattered wall.
Han Ling stood still, his fist still buried in his own chest, watching the creature disintegrate into crumbs of empty memories.
"You…" the demon whispered, his voice thin, almost gone. "You… can't destroy me."
But the cracks spread, and with them came a scream of pain and panic, echoing through the dark chamber.
Then, the figure collapsed to the floor, dissolving until all that remained was a pool of liquid shadow stretching toward Han Ling's boots, as if even in the end, it couldn't accept its demise.
Soon after, Han Ling collapsed to the ground, his self-inflicted wounds resulting in his death.
The heart demon hadn't died—it had merely been treated temporarily. As long as Han Ling bore his guilt, the demon would continue to exist. For now, all Han Ling could do was endure that guilt, that burden.
After some undetermined time in darkness, a light reached Han Ling, making him open his eyes.
The first thing Han Ling saw confused him.
Han Xinrou was straddling him, her face very close to his, holding his shoulders with curled fingers, as if just the feeling of being on top of him gave her immense pleasure.
Her eyes, once cloudy from unconsciousness, suddenly cleared. The weight on his body, the warmth and familiar scent—all hit him at once.
But it wasn't Han Xinrou.
The crimson eyes staring at him with lust and innocence didn't belong to his possessive empress, but to his arrogant slave—Yu Yui.
"Ah... finally awake, Master," she said with a teasing smile, her sweet tone thick with repressed desire. "I was starting to think I'd have to finish alone..."
Her body trembled softly over his, long red hair cascading down her shoulders like a burning curtain. The way she moved made it clear she wasn't just sitting there. She'd been taking advantage of him for quite some time.
A warm smile appeared on Han Ling's lips, but his words were cold and sharp:
"My little slave, who gave you permission to be grinding on me like that?"
Yu Yui shivered, her eyes widening for a moment... but then she bit her lower lip, as if his words were more aphrodisiac than any touch.
"Nnh… I know I was bad…" she whispered, leaning in more, her breasts pressing against his bare chest, nipples hard and begging for attention. "But Master is always so cold… so distant… And I… I just wanted to feel… just a little… just the warmth of your skin…"
She shifted slightly, and Han Ling clearly felt how wet she was. Her body trembled—not from fear anymore, but from perverse excitement.
"Just a little?" he said, amber eyes half-lidded. "Then why are you already soaked, like a desperate little slut?"
Yu Yui gasped, blushing fiercely, but made no denial. Her breathing was uneven, her expression a mix of guilt and delight.
"Girl... I've known you for a week," Han Ling's eyes held a hint of amusement. "Aren't you being a bit too bold?"
Yu Yui didn't answer right away. Her warm breath brushed Han Ling's face, and the flush coloring her cheeks contrasted with the boldness in her smile.
"Maybe I am, Master…" she murmured, eyes flickering between challenge and submission. "But wasn't that what attracted you to me in the first place?"
Han Ling slowly raised one hand, resting it on the girl's bare waist. His fingers pressed lightly into her soft skin, sinking in gently, as if testing her temperature and softness.
"What attracts me is when you know your place," he replied, voice low, firm, and cutting. "And it seems you've forgotten."
Yu Yui bit her lip harder this time, a slight tremor running through her body. The pressure of his touch on her waist, combined with the coldness in his voice, triggered in her a reaction bordering on addiction.
"So... remind me," she whispered, almost pleading. "Punish me if you want... but don't push me away, Master."
Han Ling stared at her for a few silent seconds. Behind the gleam of pleasure in her eyes was something else: that hidden need, the sick craving for attention… for validation… for love.
Slowly, he slid his fingers along her waist, up to the nape of her neck, tugging lightly at her red hair to force her to look at him more closely.
"You are my slave," he said, amber eyes burning like embers. "And there isn't a single moment when you should forget that. Not when I'm awake... and certainly not when I'm unconscious."
Yu Yui gasped softly, her eyes moist with a mix of emotion and ecstasy. She nodded submissively.
"Yes, Master…"
"Good... Seems you understand." Han Ling stood up, holding her by the waist so she wouldn't fall.
Yu Yui's legs wrapped around his waist, trapping him against her body. Her arms tightened around his neck as her breathing grew ragged.
Their bodies were pressed together, the sensation of his heat mixing with hers making her head spin.
But what truly overwhelmed her was the feeling of something big and hard nestled between her buttocks.
Her pussy, long dripping fluids, started to contract, as if begging to be filled by Han Ling right now.
She lifted her eyes, looking at him hopefully.
"Master... please..." Her voice came out as a breathy whisper.
"Now it's time for your punishment." Han Ling had a gentle smile as he said these words, but what he intended to do was not gentle at all.
***
End of Chapter.