There’s a saying: To keep one’s friends close but one’s enemies even closer.
As such, Hongyan sees no greater reason not to keep the little demoness from the Hua clan around. He also sees no real reason not to introduce the girl to his half-human nephew in a move that one of his advisors had called ‘absolutely asinine’.
They have yet to kill one another yet though, and perhaps in time, they would even become great friends – or at least the kind of allies who wouldn’t take the first available opportunity to stab the other in the back.
“You ought to be careful, my king,” Xunyun had once told him. “They might just team up and make an attempt at taking the throne.”
And then much like now, Hongyan finds such a thought more laughable than concerning. Because while neither of them seems to like him very much, their current relationship is not at such a level where they’d willingly cooperate, even when they had mutual goals.
After all, if either helped the other take out the Demon King, then wouldn’t that also mean helping out a rival and increasing said rival’s odds of becoming the next supreme sovereign of the Demon Realm?
And indeed, recent events do little to contradict this impression.
Just earlier this morning Jun had launched his latest attempt with no backups or reservations. Really though, it was rude, but at least these attempts had kept Hongyan on his toes and relatively entertained. He rather wishes the other would give it a break though, because even wielding that cursed, cursed red sabre, the kit is still no real match for him.
And as far as Hongyan’s plans go, those in regards to his late sister’s half-human spawn had always been rather vague. He’d never really expected to end up solely responsible for the brat either.
But alas, Limao had somehow gotten it into her head that she could use that red sabre of hers – forged using the remains of the brat’s late father – in an apparent bid to take not just the throne but also Hongyan’s head.
Had it been just the former, then some degree of leniency could’ve still been allowed. When it came to the latter though, not so much. Because Hongyan had wanted to keep his head right where it was, firmly attached to the rest of him, and that much is still true.
Besides, what had annoyed him the most was the fact that she hadn’t even bothered to ask him to abdicate first. Because Hongyan would’ve totally agreed and left the fate of the Demon Realm in her greedy little hands – to either find a good spot to watch everything unfold or vanish off into exile on an indefinite vacation.
Paperwork sucks after all, and even if Hongyan has managed to delegate a fair amount of it to others, this in itself doesn’t mean that he trusts every single one of his advisors to put down his seal of approval on the right papers. Because, while they – harem-affiliated or not – generally wouldn’t attempt to sabotage Hongyan’s reforms, many of them still retain some semblance of loyalty to clans that might just have their own self-interests at heart.
But, the matter with Limao had indeed been unfortunate. Had Hongyan had the ability to traverse time just as easily as he could space, then he would’ve definitely gone back and changed a few things.
Had Hongyan been able to go back to that particular night, then he would’ve tried a lot harder to talk some sense into her.
Failing that, he would’ve led her on a wild goose chase all over the Demon Realm until she’d grown tired enough to be captured safely.
And, had Hongyan been able to go back even farther, then he might’ve even stopped Limao from killing her recent lover – not because Hongyan liked the cultivator in question, but rather because then, the father would’ve been available, should Hongyan still be forced to kill his own flesh and blood at some point. He would’ve much rather avoided it though; killing one’s kin rarely brought about much satisfaction.
When it came to killing the brat’s father on the other hand, Hongyan would’ve been quite onboard with the idea. Maybe he and Limao could’ve bonded over the activity, and then Hongyan could’ve promised to abdicate once her little half-human spawn was finally old enough to take over, or maybe even before that. Hongyan could’ve installed Limao as his regent, albeit hopefully after teaching her a few things about policies or just governing in general.
But alas, what had been done had been done, and Hongyan could only live with the end results.
Limao was gone, and the absence of any other parental candidates had forced Hongyan to raise the brat as his own. Because yes, that is indeed what he’s been doing. For some reason, he keeps having to clarify this to his advisors.
Even Xunyun had asked, and when told, she’d quite bluntly told him never to have children of his own – a piece of advice that Hongyan had every intention of following, honestly.
However, whether he likes it or not, Limao’s kit is still his responsibility, and thus, it’s Hongyan’s job to ensure that the brat would obtain the knowledge and skill necessary to make it well into adulthood.
This latest assassination attempt had annoyed him though. Because the brat had attempted to stab him with that damned sabre, and getting stabbed by a blade forged from Jiao Zilei was akin to getting stabbed by Jiao Zilei himself, which was frankly insulting. And, given that the man’s offspring had also been the one doing the stabbing, Hongyan had promptly decided that a more serious lesson was in order.
But alas, Xunyun clearly disagrees with his methods.
“Okay,” she says, staring at him with obvious disapproval. “Let me get this straight: You fought with your late sister’s half-human offspring and then you dropped him... off of a cliff... and into a river... while he was wounded, and presumably also suffering from blood loss?”
And indeed, that’s the gist of it, and upon Hongyan confirming it, his most trusted advisor pinches the bridge of her nose, swearing oaths to long-forgotten gods under her breath.
“Pardon me, my king,” she says next. “But are you actually trying to take care of your nephew or are you trying to ‘take care of’ him? Because to outsiders, it’s becoming just a tad ambiguous, you understand?”
And indeed, Hongyan understands – sort of. He still defends himself though, only to have Xunyun put a hand to her face, this time shielding her eyes from the very sight of him.
Thus, having been properly chastised by his most trusted advisor, Hongyan finds himself staring at the latest budget report. He also finds himself struggling to focus on it, his mind circling back to Xunyun’s words.
Could he possibly have gone too far this time around?
Little Jun would be back eventually; Hongyan firmly believes that.
As such, he lets the matter be, reasonably confident that his nephew would be back soon – to make another attempt at his life if for nothing else.
Instead, Hongyan turns his attention towards other things.
However, as days and week pass with no sign of his nephew, he becomes increasingly concerned. Because indeed, he rather doubts he’d actually managed to accidentally kill Limao’s offspring, but⸺
No, there’s no way. Limao hadn’t been that easy to kill, and if that damned Jiao Zilei had been that easy to hill, then he wouldn’t have lived long enough to have a kid in the first place. Really though, the forces of their combined genetics ought to have created something reasonably sturdy – physically sturdy, yes, but also emotionally unsound as was the case with most hybrids.
Some – now former – advisors of Hongyan had even suggested that he dealt with his half-human nephew before the latter became an even greater nuisance – which might’ve been sound advice.
However, as things were, Hongyan had always been a bit sentimental, and he remains sentimental still.
Jun might be a pain to deal with at times, but really, it had been the same with Limao, and Hongyan still misses her dearly. Hongyan's nephew might be a brat, but he’s also part of her legacy – and also unfortunately part of that Zilei bastard's legacy, but that’s beside the point.
That’s beside the point – sure it’s the latter’s spawn, but for obvious reasons, there’s been no parenting involved from that end.
With a sigh, Hongyan sends out a missive to a few of his trusted eyes and ears off in the Human Realm.
Then, picking up the budget report once more, he waits.
Unsurprisingly, Jun is soon found to be both alive and kicking and up to some quite strange things over there. Hongyan isn’t particularly concerned about that though, at least not for now.
Still, he sends a covert message over to the Green Jade Peaks, just in case Jun ends up making a mess in the Windward Sect’s territory at some point. And if he did, then he would be at the mercy of Bai Mingyue, and at least this way, Mingyue would know about him beforehand and hopefully not cause any permanent damage later on.
Shortly thereafter, Hongyan visits the city wherein Jun has apparently made himself at home, and on one hand, Wú Jiǔ City seems like an odd choice considering its proximity to the White Flower Pond. On the other hand though, it seems quite ideal, because as Hongyan comes to discover, the local inhabitants seem to have no problem with demons as long as there’s sufficient benefits involved.
Hongyan is undeniably puzzled though, because Jun is not there alone. Instead, Hongyan’s nephew seems to have started cohabiting with another – some ‘little hermit’, according to the rumours.
Learning about the other’s alleged skill as a medicinal cultivator, Hongyan cannot help but be intrigued.
Hearing about his nephew’s recent escapades however, he also cannot help but be concerned.
“Nephew, we need to talk.”
There’s something off with Limao’s son. This in itself doesn’t mean that there’s anything wrong with Limao’s son however – rather, it might actually be the opposite.
“More tea?”
Little Yue idly holds out his cup for Hongyan to fill as though it’s completely natural that Hongyan, the Demon King, should be the one to serve him – insolent, yes, but oddly endearing all at once.
Had Jun not already staked a claim, then Hongyan might well have taken the other in as his ward – human or not. Because looking at him, Hongyan cannot help but think that there’s something decidedly familiar about him.
And indeed, this might’ve also had something to do with how Hongyan finds himself getting thoroughly beaten at his favourite boardgame. Because for someone so young and an alleged rogue cultivator at that, the other sure plays like a seasoned master – and a seasoned master that Hongyan knows very well.
He knows better than to ask though. Instead, he puzzles over how Mingyue had managed to conceal the existence of such a disciple. Because Little Yue can hardly be anything else, as such skills are something gradually honed over time, and one generally has to spend a fair amount of time together to pick up another’s mannerisms. And this is undeniably Mingyue’s something, but that isn’t all. This is something more, and the longer Hongyan looks at him, the more certain he becomes.
Because the familiarity doesn’t just stem from the other’s similarities to Mingyue. No, this is something else – something deeper and undeniably familiar.
The realisation makes Hongyan want to keep him. The realisation makes Hongyan want to protect him. He’s projecting, of course, and he quickly realises as much.
As such, when the time comes, he lets them go.
He also recognises that now is not the time to take on another ward. Something is brewing, and Hongyan finds himself growing uneasy.
A while back, Hua Hongzhu had submitted a request to return to her clan, and while Hongyan had felt immensely tempted to deny that request, he’d ultimately approved it, and now, that decision sits heavy in his stomach.
Something is about to go very wrong; he can feel it.
