Demon Lord Gets Married

C18 – External Strength but a Dry One

Loong’an Temple, situated not far from the county city, nestled halfway up a mountain, occupied a sizable expanse, typically teeming with the scent of incense. The ascent up the mountain was via a meticulously carved flight of stairs, a labor evidently undertaken with care and precision.

At the mountain’s base, a tent illuminated the surroundings with its bright lights. A contingent of soldiers stood sentinel, guarding the area, while faint murmurs emanated from within.

Surveying the encampment’s magnitude, Yin Xu deduced that the First Prince and his retinue were stationed there. Unhurried in his approach, Yin Xu sought out a nearby secluded cavern, where he engaged in meditation, regulating his breathing and absorbing the Profound Spirit Qi.

As the Demonic Qi within his dantian grew denser, the shroud of black mist enveloping Yin Xu intensified, cloaking him in an obsidian cocoon-like aura.

Shortly before ten o’clock, a sudden explosion resounded, causing the cave walls to tremble violently as a sizable rock fragment dislodged.

Retracting his palm, Yin Xu beheld a sphere condensed from Demonic Qi hovering at its center. At this juncture, his Demonic Qi possessed tangible offensive capabilities.

Previously, he effortlessly absorbed the man’s energy. Yet, having initiated a counterattack, prevailing against the man proved insurmountable.

“The Mysterious Yin Body is truly remarkable. In just five days, he managed to penetrate the first layer of countless devil hearts. Were the denizens of the Devil realm privy to this, envy would consume them.”

Rising to his feet and stretching, despite a night devoid of sleep, Yin Xu remained remarkably invigorated. This juncture, when humans typically succumbed to fatigue, proved ideal for nefarious deeds.

Stepping out of the cave, Yin Xu was met with a light snowfall, the chill wind piercing to the bone.

Ill-equipped to endure extreme temperatures, Yin Xu hastily draped himself in his cape, muttering about the bone-chilling cold, hastening through the enveloping darkness.

Concealing his form, Yin Xu infiltrated the heavily guarded encampment at the mountain’s base, intent on securing shelter and gathering intelligence.

Passing by a tent, he overheard whispered conversation. Enhanced by his Devilish Exercise training, his senses sharpened, allowing him to recognize Huo Yiloong’s voice, prompting him to linger and eavesdrop with intrigue.

The middle-of-the-night restlessness hinted at a concealed truth, shrouded in secrecy.

“Young Master, I feel that something is wrong.”

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“I went up the mountain myself to inspect, but there were no signs of good fortune within the Loong’an Temple. Rather, the atmosphere there felt peculiar,” reported the subordinate.

“Curious. What sort of peculiarity did you notice?” inquired Huo Yiloong.

“One would expect the monks to be joyous if an auspicious sign truly appeared. Yet, I observed they seemed quite uneasy,” explained the subordinate.

Huo Yiloong pondered, rubbing his chin, “It’s understandable for them to be apprehensive with the First Prince’s visit. However, something seems amiss. Previously, that old abbot refused him, citing insincerity and vowed to fast and recite scriptures for seven days. Could there be some deception at play?”

“Given the monks’ formidable inner strength, I maintained a respectful distance. Yet, I sensed they were unusually active during the night, engrossed in some task,” the subordinate added.

“In two days’ time, the truth will reveal itself,” Huo Yiloong mused skeptically, his doubts deepening regarding the purported auspicious event.

Yin Xu shared the intrigue, contemplating the potential outcomes of a genuine or fabricated omen, sensing a conspiracy afoot.

He didn’t linger on the conversation, instead advancing towards the hall’s center, his intended destination.

Yin Xu had meticulously prepared for this outing, changing disguises every two hours, ensuring ample supply for three days.

The First Prince’s tent stood out conspicuously, the largest and grandest among them all, seemingly to assert his presence.

Observing the lit tent, Yin Xu muttered, “Why is he still awake at this hour?”

As they approached, a voice emanated from inside, “Your Highness, the night grows late and chill. It’s time to rest; let’s continue copying scriptures tomorrow.”

“Very well. Prepare some hot soup; I wish to bathe,” the First Prince commanded calmly, setting aside his brush and folding the copied scripture without betraying emotion.

“Seven days of fasting and forty-nine scriptures,” Huo Yiloong recalled Fang Dang’s stipulation, realizing departure was contingent upon compliance.

Mindful of the commoners’ presence, the First Prince sought to avoid any perception of disrespect toward the temple.

The commoners regarded the First Prince’s visit as an act of filial piety, ignorant of the true purpose behind it.

This was precisely the image the First Prince wished to cultivate, even if the auspicious sign proved nonexistent.

Despite suspecting the temple’s subterfuge, Huo Yiloong allowed himself to be misled by the monks, hoping to discern their true intentions.

“Summon Min Yue to attend,” the First Prince instructed, preparing to bathe.

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Moments later, a seductive youth entered, assisting the First Prince with his attire, his touch tender and intimate.

Yin Xu settled in a corner near the stove, observing the scene with open curiosity.

“It’s a man…” he murmured to himself as he perused a book, admiring the figure, but noting flaws in technique.

As the First Prince emerged from the bath unclothed, Yin Xu’s gaze lingered on him, silently assessing.