Chapter 99
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Chapter 99: Title
"Lilith."
An enchanting figure with flowing black hair emerged, her crimson-black gown cascading like liquid night. The demoness arched her full lips at the summons, gently lifting her skirt hem as she stepped forward with a coy laugh.
"Does Your Majesty desire my service?" Lady Lilith’s eyes glimmered with innate allure, every gesture radiating effortless seduction.
The infamous evil witch Lilith needed no introduction in the human realm – Adam’s first consort who abandoned Eden for hellfire. Once notorious for luring mortals and snuffing infant breaths, this demoness of vice had traded her dark passions over centuries of isolation between realms. Now she occupied herself penning tales, her literary pursuits initially causing Hell’s denizens to question her sanity during prolonged confinement.
"Your powers will diminish by half beyond the hell gate."
"To serve Your Majesty is my greatest honor." Lilith traced her lower lip with a fingertip, surveying the assembly of Fallen Angels and lesser demons through lowered lashes.
"What task requires my humble skills? Should it involve confronting Michael, I fear my usefulness wanes."
"Unnecessary. You shall hunt the abyssal forces concealed in the human realm," the Demon King declared, conjuring an obsidian crystal ball. "Contain their essence here."
"Your will crystallizes my purpose." Cradling the sphere, Lilith’s gaze lingered on the deity-like countenance enthroned before her. A fleeting smile danced in her downcast eyes as dark patterns bloomed across her collarbone – the Demon King’s sigil branding her pale flesh with wicked elegance.
"Dismissed."
The courtiers retreated instantly. None witnessed their sovereign slump against the throne’s armrest, eyelids fluttering shut in sudden slumber. Simultaneously, invisible barriers pulsed through palace corridors, warning staff away from restricted zones.
Unobserved by all, new vitality sparked in Lilith’s expression as the Demon King’s breathing deepened.
"Journeying to the human realm! How enviable." Belial materialized beside her, clucking his tongue. "I’d hoped His Majesty might choose my expertise in mortal affairs."
"Your previous literary gift proved… illuminating." Lilith produced a garish paperback – its cover depicting star-crossed Eastern lovers. "Perhaps earthly delights hold other treasures for you?"
The male demon’s eyes lit up. "A skilled chef! Human cuisine surpasses Hell’s charred offerings. Bring me one who masters those… what’s called ‘stir-frying’?"
"You request a culinary hostage?" Beneath the witch’s glamour, Ye Linlang’s soul suppressed an eye-roll.
"For your talents, trivial." Belial grinned. "Ten chefs couldn’t resist your charms."
"I’ll… bear it in mind." Ye Linlang cursed her role-mandated compliance as they approached the roaring hell gate.
The obsidian key glinted in Lilith’s palm. At its touch, the eternal portal groaned shut before reopening on concrete canyons and neon constellations.
She stepped through into weightless night, suspended above a city glittering like upturned stars. Closing her eyes, the witch plummeted earthward – scarlet skirts billowing until she halted mere heartbeats above the sleeping metropolis.
Clad in a flowing black-and-red gown with ebony curls tumbling down her shoulders, the woman possessed an ethereal beauty that transcended mortal realms. She hovered midair momentarily before descending with measured steps that belied their spatial distortion – each graceful movement spanning dozens of meters until her silken slippers met pavement.
The city’s neon glow illuminated numerous passersby who froze like moths drawn to celestial flame. Though her porcelain features and rosebud lips captivated the crowd, self-preservation instincts kept admirers at bay. In this era where flight denoted formidable power, even ordinary people understood the peril of approaching such an entity.
Ye Linlang’s lips curved in practiced allure, honed through countless roles since conspiring with the world consciousness. While versed in deception, this marked her debut as a siren – a role she found unexpectedly effective on both genders. Beauty, she observed, transcended mere sexual appeal to become art appreciated universally.
"Perhaps," her melodic voice shattered the trance, "someone might offer lodging to a weary traveler?"
The spell broke into clamorous enthusiasm. No enchantments proved necessary; mortal eagerness required only a raised eyebrow. As the newly arrived Lady Lilith surveyed her options, the game’s parameters shifted imperceptibly.
*
Perched on the Special Bureau’s rooftop, Leng Xingwen contemplated Zhongxia’s skies – that deceptively serene azure canopy above the ancient land once called Nine Provinces.
"Your leisure astonishes amidst gathering storms," came the familiar voice behind him.
Xiao Tianji materialized like mist coalescing, his silver-embroidered robes whispering ancient secrets. The celestial scholar’s beauty held an edge like jade-carved blades, his carefree demeanor belying cosmic burdens.
"Must I recite dire portents?" Leng Xingwen countered without turning. "When heaven’s scales tip, mortal efforts become raindrops against typhoons."
"Ever the fatalist." The stargazer’s smile held autumn’s melancholy. "The abyssal tides merely sleep, not retreat. Delay invites cataclysm."
"Your customary cheer aside…" The aristocrat’s fan snapped shut. "What specter chases the great diviner to my humble perch?"
Xiao Tianji’s form began dissolving even as he spoke. "A shadow grows behind the Abyss – formless, nameless, but reeking of celestial blood. Prepare your pieces, old friend. The board darkens."
The vanished prophet’s warning lingered like sword-dust. Leng Xingwen’s wry smile faltered as he mentally cataloged contingency plans. When Tiangong Palace’s master fled his own visions, Armageddon’s clock quickened its pace.
*
At the World Tree’s zenith, Ye Linlang shed identities like serpentine skins – now European enchantress, now Zhongxia’s mystic seer. Her silver thread of destiny wove through continents: from Leng Xingwen’s rooftop to Duat’s obsidian gates, from Egypt’s shifting sands to the underworld’s bureaucratic labyrinths.
"Curatorship proves tiresome," she mused, monitoring spectral construction projects. Yan Luo’s latest reports flickered across her consciousness – satisfactory, if unimaginative. The stage neared completion, but casting remained… problematic.
A sigh escaped coral lips. Mortals required such meticulous handling, unlike the compliant dead. Soon, very soon, the cosmic drama would demand living actors who didn’t yet comprehend their roles. She adjusted her veils, already stepping toward the next crisis. Rest, it seemed, remained a luxury for simpler souls.
