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The instant the Demon King Iris’s voice sounded, Furenna’s blood seemed to freeze in her veins.
Her heart skipped a beat, her breath hitched, and even her thoughts went blank for a fleeting moment.
Iris! Why is she here?! Has she been discovered?
Did the collar betray her? Or was this Veil of Shadows simply ineffective before the Demon King?
Extreme fear, like ice-cold water poured over her head, stiffened and chilled her limbs, almost making her tremble uncontrollably.
She could even feel the intangible connection from the collar around her neck give a slight “ripple,”
as if the perception from the other end had sharpened slightly due to the proximity.
Though still placid, its presence had abruptly intensified.
It’s over.
That was the first thought that flashed through her mind.
All her meticulously careful plans, the heart-in-her-throat stealth, would turn to nothing in the next second.
What awaited her would be punishment crueler than any before, and perhaps… also for Xiao Ling.
However, the expected sharp reprimand, magical restraints, or direct attack did not come.
After asking “What are you doing here?”, the voice outside seemed to pause,
carrying a tone of pure inquiry, not a challenge directed at her, the “invisible” one.
Then, another female voice, also familiar to Furenna and now sounding like heavenly music, spoke up with just the right amount of surprise and deference:
“Your Majesty? What a chance encounter. I was merely inspecting the daily operations of the Hall of Congealed Blood,
ensuring the extraction work hasn’t slacked off.”
It was the voice of the Vampire Clan Elder, Aviya! She is here!
Furenna almost let out a sob from her throat!
And stifled it desperately.
She wasn’t discovered! Iris was talking to Aviya!
But the crisis was far from over. The two were right outside, and she remained in a perilous position.
“Oh? An inspection?”
Iris’s voice returned to its usual flatness, emotionless.
“Such trivial matters require your personal attention?”
“It is, after all, an industry under the Vampire Clan’s responsibility, concerning the raw material supply for many subsequent plans. One must be diligent,
lest the underlings grow lazy, make mistakes, and delay Your Majesty’s important matters.”
Aviya’s reply was flawless, her tone natural. Then, she deftly turned the question:
“But Your Majesty… what brings you here today?
At this hour, you’re usually handling affairs in the main hall.”
The question was tossed back lightly.
Inside the storeroom, Furenna leaned against the cold, rusted door panel, holding her breath, desperately reined in all aura, not even daring to blink,
concentrating all her senses on the conversation outside.
The ripples on her cloak seemed to sense her extreme tension, flowing abnormally slowly.
“The matters requiring decision today were few.”
Iris’s voice seemed to draw closer. Furenna could even faintly hear the soft swish of her cloak brushing against the dusty floor, making her hair stand on end.
“I recalled some issues regarding the new puppet core’s transmission efficiency that needed discussion with Lili Ai. This is a shortcut.”
A shortcut? Aviya, the Vampire Heavenly King, sneered inwardly.
This fortress was a maze of passages; there were many routes to the Puppeteer’s workshop.
Why did Iris particularly appear in this remote place?
“So that’s why.”
Aviya’s voice took on an “I see now” tone.
“Your Majesty is so diligent, unwilling to waste even this bit of time.
However… I don’t recall seeing you use this ‘shortcut’ before. Quite a coincidence today.”
The words were spoken lightly, yet carried a hint of veiled probing.
Was she suspecting the Demon King’s presence here wasn’t coincidental?
A moment of silence fell outside.
Furenna could imagine Aviya’s elegant, perfect smile and Iris’s deep, inscrutable crimson eyes.
“The fortress is large, with many paths. Occasionally changing routes, seeing different scenery, is not unacceptable.”
Iris’s reply was equally ambiguous, evading the “coincidence” challenge, steering the topic towards casual small talk.
“Speaking of which, since you’re here, I might as well get your opinion. Regarding the subsequent… course arrangement for that Heroine miss,
Lili Ai proposed some suggestions based on doll engineering, but I find them too mechanical, lacking that ‘vitality.'”
The topic suddenly turned to her!
Furenna’s heart tightened again.
“Heroine Furenna?” Aviya’s voice aptly infused a note of evaluation.
“Truly a thorny ‘specimen,’ with unexpectedly tenacious willpower.
Ordinary pain and humiliation would likely only wear down her exterior, hard to reach the true core.
As for coercion, that’s even less likely to sway her.
It requires a more profound method.”
“Such as?”
“Such as… certain specially formulated magic elixirs or spices.”
Aviya’s tone carried the Vampire Clan’s unique mastery over life and senses.
“Not lethal poisons, but formulas that can subtly influence emotions,
weaken willpower, even… guide dependency.
Slowly permeating through daily diet or incense, combined with appropriate environments and psychological suggestions,
might make her, in her own ignorance, more accepting, more guided, rather than stubbornly resisting.
This, compared to direct violence, perhaps carries more ‘aesthetic appeal’ and is more effective at breaking that pride-based resistance.”
Furenna listened with growing dread in her heart.
This was more insidious and vicious than whips or collars—aiming to corrode her mind from within!
However, Iris’s reply surprised her.
“Magic elixirs and spices…”
The Demon King seemed to ponder briefly, then very lightly shook her head. Furenna could almost hear the soft sound of her hair brushing against her collar.
“Not under consideration for now. Lili Ai also mentioned similar biochemical targeted plans.
But such things leave traces easily and may produce uncontrollable resistance or backlash.
More importantly…”
Iris paused. Her voice seemed to carry an elusive, almost pleased chill:
“What I need is for her to make choices, consciously, not with her mind confused by drugs.
And ultimately, I want her to, in that conscious despair, understand and accept her new place.
Submission through drugs is too cheap, too uninteresting.
What I want is… the real deformation of her soul’s own weight under pressure.”
The words were spoken calmly, yet sent a bone-chilling cold through Furenna behind the door.
The Demon King didn’t want a mindless puppet, but a soul consciously falling!
This was far more terrifying than any drug-induced control.
“Your Majesty is thoughtful. My suggestion was superficial.”
Aviya gracefully conceded, acknowledging the “inadequacy” without a trace of awkwardness in her tone.
“In that case, the Puppeteer’s scheme…”
“Her scheme has its own merits.
How to execute it specifically, I have my considerations.
Enough. The trivial matter is settled. I should go to Lili Ai now, lest she wait too long.”
“I bid Your Majesty farewell.”
Aviya’s voice held the standard distance of etiquette.
Footsteps sounded.
Not receding, but…
Coming toward the rusted small door of the storeroom where Furenna hid!
Closer and closer!
Furenna’s blood rushed to her head again, then rapidly receded, leaving a numb coldness.
Iris is going to pass through here! She’s right behind the door! Mere inches away!
She could clearly hear the steady, unhurried footsteps, each step seeming to tread on her heart.
She could smell an extremely faint scent, mixed of cool fragrance and intangible dominance, seeping through the door crack.
The sense of connection from the collar became incredibly clear at this extreme distance.
She could even feel the other end’s absolute, dominating calm will, like the Sword of Damocles hanging above her head.
The footsteps paused right outside the door.
In that instant, Furenna thought she was truly discovered.
She clenched her eyes shut, every muscle in her body taut to the breaking point,
as if expecting the thin, rusted iron door to be blasted open,
or an invisible force to drag her out.
Yet, the pause lasted only half a second.
Then, the footsteps resumed, passing by the very door panel she hid behind.
Furenna even felt as if the hem of the other’s cloak might brush against the rusted door panel,
the slight disturbance of air through the crack stirring the outermost ripples of her cloak.
That cold aura and powerful presence swept past the side of the Heroine’s body like a tangible force,
making the skin exposed to the air break out in fine tremors.
Then, the footsteps grew fainter,
heading steadily away in the opposite direction from the “Hall of Congealed Blood” and the conduit entrance,
disappearing amidst the complex humming of pipes and distant, indistinct noises.
Only when the footsteps were completely inaudible did Furenna dare to exhale extremely, extremely slowly a breath that felt scorching.
She realized her tightly clenched fists had nails digging deep into her palms, drawing blood, yet she felt no pain.
Her shirt was completely soaked through with cold sweat, clinging icy to her skin.