When Destiny Brings the Demon

King Sima Jiao of the State of Hu had suffered from insomnia and frequent dreams since childhood. His dreams were often chaotic, mostly without concrete imagery—just vast stretches of crimson skies, blood and flames, occasionally dark palaces and chains pressing down from above, all of which felt overwhelmingly oppressive.

Just like the tutors who had once lectured him, their lengthy sermons and disdainful, rejecting gazes were equally unpleasant.

Yet, occasionally, he would dream of someone—a woman.

Sometimes, she sat by a mountain stream, bare feet dipping into the water, reaching up to pluck a fresh green leaf from above and idly stirring it in the clear stream. Sunlight fell on her ankles, her long lashes and cheeks, and the fingers that flicked water droplets. In the dream, he felt an unusual calm, even a tender emotion, as he watched it all. It was as though he could feel the coolness of the stream through the dream.

Other times, she lay nestled in soft, luxurious bedding, cocooned like a candied date wrapped in syrup, exuding a faint sweetness. Occasionally, she would turn over, stretching a hand out to rest on the edge of the bed. And in the dream, he would lift her hand, gently pressing each of her fingers.

Then there were the times when she wept in his dreams, as though he had broken her heart, leaving her no joy even in sleep, forcing her to shed tears until his own anguish had nowhere to go.

As he grew older, the face of the woman in his dreams shifted from blurry to clear, becoming ever more vivid. Yet the question of who she truly was haunted him for years.

"Who are you?"

"Liao Tingyan. I am Liao Tingyan." By the time they met, she was already Liao Tingyan.

Sima Jiao stood before Liao Tingyan, his fingers cool as they traced her chin and cheeks, his gaze filled with curiosity.

Liao Tingyan had cried her fill and finally recovered from the overwhelming reunion. She sat there, looking up at Sima Jiao as though gazing at a flower that had bloomed again after many years. The turbulent emotions had receded, but like waves still lapping at the shore, small ripples of feeling remained.

If not for the many onlookers nearby, she might not have resisted the urge to touch his face as well.

Hmm... that's right. She studied him carefully. This version of His Majesty was still young—just sixteen—and quite different from the man she had known. He seemed much more tender. The Sima Jiao she remembered had been a grown man, after all, with the demeanor and bearing of someone who had lived centuries. But this Sima Jiao... was truly fresh-faced.

His eyes were the same, yet without the weight of centuries of memories, they appeared much clearer, even slightly rounder. The contours of his face were softer too, less sharp than the man he would become. His nose and lips were just... adorable.

No, this feeling was like suddenly being transported back to her teenage years, seeing the youthful face of a first love. It was unbearably cute! Even if he had once been a self-centered old bastard, it couldn’t diminish his current charm.

That little face was just so tender.

Liao Tingyan couldn’t resist—she reached out and pinched His Majesty’s cheek.

Sima Jiao: "......?"The beauty who had been weeping pitifully before him was essentially someone he had seized for himself. Of course, he could touch her face if he wanted—but what was this? She was now naturally reaching out to touch his face in return. Just who was the infamous tyrant with a terrifying reputation here—him or her?

Sima Jiao gave her a strange look. "You're touching my face?"

Liao Tingyan: "..." To be honest, Your Majesty, I’ve even touched your butt before. A face is nothing in comparison.

Sima Jiao found that he wasn’t even angry at being slighted. Instead, he asked curiously, "You don’t seem afraid of me?"

Liao Tingyan: Huh? Am I supposed to act scared of you now?

But she had just arrived in this place and hadn’t even fully grasped the backstory of her "previous relationship" with him. She had no idea what atrocities this tyrant had committed to earn such fear. So where was she supposed to start with the act? Honestly, her acting skills hadn’t improved at all over the years—could she even fool this Sima Jiao?

Sima Jiao: "Have you not heard that I slaughter people like livestock?"

Liao Tingyan: "Wow?"

Sima Jiao was dissatisfied with her clueless expression. He figured this young woman must have been raised too sheltered, too ignorant of the world’s cruelties to have never even heard of his reputation. She probably couldn’t even imagine what his killings looked like.

So he swaggered over and sat beside her, leaning casually against the table. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the attendants standing nearby, then let his gaze roam freely over Liao Tingyan. In a tone dripping with menace, he said, "Once, I skinned a man who cursed at me alive and hung him at the palace gates. He was left there until wind and rain weathered him into bare bones."

Liao Tingyan: Hmm, that does sound terrifying—if she didn’t have the memory of the Sima Jiao who used to annihilate entire clans on a whim, slaughter the entire inner circle of Gengchen Immortal Mansion in one move, and burn down half the Demon Realm’s generals to use as fertilizer for flowers.

Sima Jiao could tell the beauty before him wasn’t the least bit frightened. He chuckled lowly, tilting her chin up with a finger. "Aren’t you afraid that if you anger me, I’ll do the same to you? I’m not the type to spare beauty out of pity."

Of course, this man and the concept of "sparing beauty" had never coexisted. She remembered—when she first entered Gengchen Immortal Mansion and was selected for his Three Sage Mountain tower, she had watched him kill countless great beauties. When he wanted someone dead, gender never mattered.

Right, she had recalled fragments of those memories—after Sima Jiao burned himself like a candle in front of her. Maybe the shock had jolted her memory.

Now, sixteen-year-old Sima Jiao leaned in close, trying to intimidate her with tales of his "glorious exploits." But Liao Tingyan wasn’t scared—she almost wanted to laugh.

Fine, she should at least give His Majesty some face. After all, he was such a terrifying ruler.

"O-oh no… I’m so scared," she said, her voice trembling—though it was more from suppressed laughter than fear.

Sima Jiao: "..." Something about this woman felt off.

Sima Jiao: "You don’t seem to realize your fate yet. I am King Sima Jiao, and you—you will accompany me to the royal capital of Yancheng." From now on, she would leave her homeland behind, locked away in the palace’s gilded cage.

Liao Tingyan nodded primly. "Alright, I accept."Sima Jiao: "...I'm not asking you, I'm telling you. From now on, you are my woman." His meaningful gaze swept over her body, waiting to see her flustered reaction.

Flustered reaction? Impossible. Liao Tingyan hesitated as she looked at the young emperor's tender face, thinking to herself, youth is wonderful—even when spouting such nonsense, seeing his fresh face makes it hard to stay angry.

But becoming his woman? That doesn't seem right. Considering something like that now is way too early.

Though this isn't modern times, Sima Jiao's current body is only sixteen. He might not even have fully grown in yet, and he probably doesn't remember his past life, so mentally he's still a rebellious teenager. She really couldn't bring herself to do it.

No, my conscience won't allow me to sleep with an underage boy. At least wait two more years.

"Your Majesty, can we discuss this two years later? Or maybe one year?" Liao Tingyan tactfully shifted the subject of her next sentence from 'you' to 'I.'

"I'm still young and a little scared."

Sima Jiao: "..." What kind of nonsense is this woman spouting?

His fair face darkened. "Do you think you have a choice? If I want you, you'll belong to me immediately."

Liao Tingyan: Please, don't push me to commit a crime. My willpower is weak, and my sense of morality is dwindling. One careless moment and I might actually act on it.

Perhaps because she was now far stronger than Sima Jiao, hearing a sixteen-year-old boy provoke her like this just made her want to laugh. Liao Tingyan considered herself an adult now—a powerful demon who could pin Sima Jiao to the bed with a single finger—so she was feeling particularly indulgent.

Hah, say whatever you want. I won't get angry with a little brat like you.

But when she was "abducted" onto a spacious carriage and taken back to the capital, Yan City, Sima Jiao watched as she casually lay down beside him, preparing to rest comfortably. Suddenly, he remarked coldly, "Are you stupid? Why aren't you reacting at all? If you enter my harem like this, those women will tear you apart."

Mature Adult · Never Angry · Liao Tingyan: Those women in the harem? What women? Sima Jiao, you're dead. Your decades-long life is about to be cut short right now!

Seeing Liao Tingyan finally change her expression, Sima Jiao felt immensely satisfied. He thought smugly, scared now, aren't you? With a hint of pride, he added, "If you can win my favor, I'll naturally ensure your safety."

He mentally reviewed the current state of his harem, trying to recall what the most prominent beauties looked like. He had been away for a while and couldn't quite remember.

As an emperor, he naturally had a harem. The beauties within were either selected according to tradition or gifted by others. The nobles of Hu Kingdom loved exchanging beauties—it was the local custom—and Sima Jiao, as the ruler, particularly enjoyed gifting concubines to others.

Whenever he disliked a minister, he would send them a beauty. The ones he sent out were always the top contenders from his harem's internal struggles—none of them were easy to handle.

He kept these gifted beauties like a collection of fighting crickets, pitting them against each other. Those with the skill and cunning to rise to the top became useful tools in his eyes.This infuriating emperor had a habit of sending out beauties under the guise of "harmony between ruler and subject." While Marquis Wen gifted his generals with palace beauties out of genuine brotherly camaraderie—where yours was mine and mine was yours—this emperor did it purely to spite his courtiers. Each beauty he sent would turn a minister's household upside down, causing such chaos that chickens flew and dogs jumped. He had no idea how many harmonious official families he'd already destroyed.

Now, the courtiers dreaded nothing more than the emperor's sudden whims to hold banquets during festivals. At every feast, he would inevitably gift a few beauties—what seemed like a generous gesture was practically delivering the god of misfortune itself.

Liao Tingyan was unaware of these details. She gritted her teeth, watching Sima Jiao lounging there like a lord, before suddenly raising her hand and waving it. Sima Jiao blinked, then slowly closed his eyes. His eyelids drooped shut, though his eyeballs still darted beneath them, as if struggling to wake.

Liao Tingyan wrapped an arm around his neck and whispered soothingly, "You're tired. Sleep." Only then did Sima Jiao stop resisting and gradually drift off.

Once she had lulled him to sleep, she pinched his wrist to check his pulse, then curled her lip in disdain.

Ugh, this virgin.

Still, his body was in terrible shape.

After a thorough examination, she realized his Divine Soul had been damaged years ago and hadn’t fully merged with his current body. He probably suffered frequent headaches. The dark circles under his eyes were obvious now that he lay still with them closed—his sleep must be poor too.

Was insomnia hereditary in his family? Even with a new body, he still couldn’t rest well.

His constitution was also too weak, affected both by his Divine Soul and congenital illness. He likely didn’t care much about it himself. If he were an ordinary person without Spirit Medicine, he’d be lucky to live past thirty.

She had been a little angry with him earlier, but now, seeing the sorry state of his body, her heart ached for him again. Good thing she was a cultivator.

"How do you manage to make yourself suffer no matter where you go?" Liao Tingyan murmured, pressing a light kiss to the emperor’s cheek.

She pulled out a jade flask—Ginseng Dew gifted by her senior brother from Guyu Dock. It didn’t contain much spiritual energy, something cultivators would drink just for the taste, but for mortals, it was a top-tier tonic. She had far better remedies, but this was the most suitable for now.

She took a sip, then leaned down to press her lips to Sima Jiao’s, feeding him a small amount. He couldn’t handle much of it yet, but she could give him a little each day from now on.

Sima Jiao frowned, his fingers twitching restlessly. Liao Tingyan cradled his neck and brushed her fingers over his forehead, calming him before resting her head against his chest.

His senses were sharp—even in an ordinary mortal body, his Divine Soul was still that of Sima Jiao.

His chest felt thinner now, fitting for a teenager. It wasn’t as cold as before, carrying the warmth unique to youth, though his hands remained slightly cool. His heartbeat slowed, signaling deep sleep.

Liao Tingyan stared absently at his chin for a moment, then nuzzled against his chest and dozed off as well.