....
The crimson moon hung low that night, painting the Demon Palace in an eerie glow. Liao Tingyan returned from the southern mines, her clothes dusty, her eyes shadowed from exhaustion. She had survived — barely.
Inside the main hall, Sima Jiao sat on his black throne, silent as ever. When she entered, he didn't look up immediately, but the air around him stirred, responding to his shifting power.
"You disobeyed my command to withdraw after the first strike," he said coolly, his voice echoing through the hall. "Were you eager to die?"
Tingyan knelt, lowering her gaze. "I only wanted to be sure the seal was stable."
"That is not your concern."
His words were sharp, but underneath them lingered something unspoken — concern disguised as coldness. He stood and approached her slowly.
"You were injured."
"It's nothing," she replied.
Sima Jiao's fingers lifted her chin slightly. His eyes, red like burning coals, softened for an instant. "Nothing? You bear my mark. Every wound you take burns through me as well."
Tingyan froze, realization dawning in her eyes. "You… feel it too?"
He didn't answer. Instead, he turned away, his cloak sweeping the floor like a shadow. "From now on, you will not act without my word. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Demon Lord."
Later, in the quiet of her room, Tingyan couldn't sleep. The moonlight filtered through the lattice window, falling over the pendant at her neck — the one he had given her. It glimmered faintly, pulsing in rhythm with her heartbeat.
Unknowingly, across the palace, Sima Jiao sat alone at his desk, one hand pressed to his chest. The same pulse echoed there. A faint pain — hers — crossed his expression.
He clenched his fist. "What kind of bond have I created?"
The next morning, the palace was alive with talk. Word had spread that the Demon Lord had punished the commanders who mocked Liao Tingyan's mission. Some said he burned them alive; others whispered he only wanted to protect her.
When Tingyan stepped into the courtyard, all eyes turned toward her. But before any could speak, the sky trembled — a surge of demonic energy burst from the east.
Sima Jiao appeared above the courtyard, his aura unfurling like a storm. "An intruder dares to trespass," he said coldly. "Stay here."
But Tingyan followed him despite the order.
High above the mountains, a mysterious cultivator clad in white faced Sima Jiao. "So the Demon Lord still plays with mortals," the man taunted.
Sima Jiao's eyes darkened. "You speak too freely."
Their powers clashed, thunder splitting the skies. Tingyan watched from below, wind whipping her hair, fear twisting inside her — not for herself, but for him.
When the fight ended, the mountain had shattered, and the white-clad cultivator vanished into mist. Sima Jiao descended slowly, his face pale, a line of blood trailing from his lips.
Without thinking, Tingyan ran to him. "You're hurt—"
He caught her wrist before she could touch him. His voice was soft, almost tired. "Don't. I don't want you to feel it."
Then he turned and walked away, leaving her standing beneath the bleeding sky, the echo of his words sinking deep into her heart.
End of Episode 18 — "The Demon's Heartbeat"