The Demon Race’s hall had always been dominated by shades of purple, a preference attributed to the Demon King herself.
However, Mo Zhi was not particularly fond of this color; if anything, it made her feel somewhat restless.
Because of this, every time she came to report within the hall, an inexplicable irritation would stir within her.
Of course, much of this discomfort stemmed from the presence of the Demon King herself—who, frankly, was rather unprofessional.
Her hair was purple, but calling it glassy or gemstone-like would be too bright.
This purple resembled the color of veins beneath the skin—captivating yet rich.
Beneath her slightly disheveled bangs, those eyes—utterly enchanting—held pupils like purple grapes.
Below those eyes were her thin lips, not quite red, but subtly glossed with a deep wine-like purple sheen.
A simple curve of her mouth was enough to stir emotions within anyone who saw her.
The first impression she gave was of a stunningly beautiful, mature woman thoroughly steeped in purple.
Mo Zhi’s feelings toward her were not exactly dislike, but she was certainly annoyed by her.
Though the Demon King was revered as a deity by the entire Demon Race, she often amused herself at Mo Zhi’s expense, treating Mo Zhi’s dignity like a toy.
This pained Mo Zhi greatly, but given the Demon King’s status, she dared not voice her grievances.
The thought alone deepened her inner discomfort.
And now, as expected, after this meeting ended, things would be no different…
Morning, 8 AM—
At this moment, a stunning woman was lying sideways on the throne in the hall.
She wore a purple robe, with a black circlet on her head, her brows and eyes lazily looking down at the gathered crowd below.
This was Randis Eberhart, the current Demon King of the Demon Race.
Morning meetings were her usual routine—not to show diligence, but because this was the only way she could see her proud little cat early in the day.
No matter how eloquent or commanding the elders below spoke, Randis remained sprawled on the throne with an air of utter boredom.
She yawned, and instantly the aged elders below fell silent, their eyes filled with fear as they bowed their heads before her.
“Ha~”
“Finished talking? If so, meeting dismissed.”
She waved her hand casually.
“B-but Demon King, there are still many pressing matters to discuss, like the war in the north—”
“Your words are rather excessive.”
Before the elder could finish, her cold voice cut him off.
Hearing the irritation in the Demon King’s tone, the white-haired elder knew better than to continue and risk her anger.
After a bow, he quickly left along with the others.
“Mo Zhi, stay behind.”
Among the dispersing crowd, a pair of black ears suddenly perked up.
‘As expected…’
Clang
The grand doors of the hall shut.
Now, only the Demon King smiled faintly on the throne, and Mo Zhi stood by the door, rolling her eyes.
Like the other elders, Mo Zhi wore a black robe, but unlike the white-haired men, she looked far younger.
Her long twin tails of jet-black hair were smooth and delicate, and her bright emerald eyes shimmered with clarity.
Her tall figure seemed slightly at odds with her cute appearance.
By human standards, she was barely around eighteen.
“Why don’t you face me?”
The Demon King’s voice carried amusement.
She could guess perfectly the expression on the cat’s face—those rolling eyes must be close to flipping skyward.
Mo Zhi sighed deeply, straightened the impatient look on her face, then calmly turned to look at the elegant figure seated on the throne.
“Is there anything else, Demon King?”
“Couldn’t I just call you for no reason?”
Mo Zhi furrowed her brows, her tone sharp with anger.
“Respectful Demon King, I am after all the leader of the Cat Demon Clan. There are many tasks demanding my attention each day. I hope you won’t waste my time.”
With that, she turned to leave.
She pulled hard on the door handle, but the door did not budge.
She sighed again and turned to face the Demon King, who wore a mischievous smile.
“Demon King, if you truly have no other use for your Space Magic, you might as well use it as a place to roll around and sleep, instead of using it to toy with me like this.”
Hearing Mo Zhi’s sarcastic words, the Demon King did not get angry; instead, the smile on her face deepened.
“My beloved Consort, nearly a year has passed and yet you still speak coldly to me—truly, it breaks my heart~”
The Demon King wiped away nonexistent tears, her voice mockingly whiny.
“Ah, are you planning to dismiss me?”
At last, a smile appeared on Mo Zhi’s face—she was actually hoping to be dismissed so she wouldn’t have to be the target of teasing anymore.
“Hmph, if anything, it only makes me like you more.”
Within the Demon Race, there had long been an unspoken rule: if you wished to join the Demon King, you had to offer something in return.
Mo Zhi had been adopted by the Cat Demon Clan.
They found her on the border of the Human Race, a cat-demon like themselves.
Their leader took her in as a foster daughter.
After she mastered humanoid form, her extraordinary talent marked her as the heir apparent.
Before finding Mo Zhi, the Cat Demon Clan had long sought to join the Demon King’s forces.
However, as a clan notorious for causing mischief, they had almost caused a disaster during the reign of the third Demon King.
As a result, the Cat Demon Clan was expelled by the Demon King starting from the third generation.
Only after Mo Zhi appeared did the Cat Demon Clan start annually offering tributes to the Demon King, hoping to be accepted.
When Mo Zhi succeeded the leadership, on her first tribute visit to the Demon King, Randis took notice of her immediately.
“Become my Consort, and I will allow your clan to join.”
That was the first thing the Demon King said upon seeing Mo Zhi.
At the time, proud and dignified as she was, Mo Zhi refused flatly—if she was to join, it would be on her terms, as the greatest.
But soon after returning to her clan, things began to go awry: droughts, locust plagues, failed crops, and inexplicable illnesses spread among the people.
All these disasters began the day she rejected the Demon King.
Mo Zhi knew at once who was behind it.
As the leader, seeing her clan’s miserable state filled her with guilt.
Reluctantly, the following year she brought herself as a “gift” before the Demon King.
The Demon King, as if expecting this, had prepared the entire ceremony.
That afternoon, they wed, and Mo Zhi became her Consort.
From that day on, the clan enjoyed favorable weather, abundant harvests, and harmony, becoming the envy of other clans.
But all of this was built on Mo Zhi’s dignity sacrificed.
She considered becoming the Consort a deep humiliation.
Each day, she was toyed with by the Demon King, the leader of a clan being treated like a plaything—it was a tremendous disgrace.
Fortunately, the Demon King respected a rule set by her predecessor—her sister—that forbade any excessive physical contact, such as kissing or more, for two years after the marriage.
What surprised Mo Zhi most was that the usually reckless Demon King feared this rule deeply and strictly adhered to it, no matter how insignificant the regulation seemed.
Thanks to this, Mo Zhi had not yet been subjected to anything inappropriate.
But luck would soon run out, because in three months, their second wedding anniversary would arrive—the time when the restrictions would be lifted.
Staring at the tempting cat before her, the Demon King licked her lips, her eyes gleaming with an unhidden, ‘hungry’ gaze fixed firmly on Mo Zhi…