The walk back to the guest house was a lesson in excruciating awkwardness.
The sun was high in the sky, and the city of Linyue was slowly coming back to life. People were emerging, looking dazed but hopeful, their spirits no longer being siphoned away. They were free, and they had no idea why. They just knew the heavy, grey blanket over their city had lifted.
And walking through this hopeful crowd were me and a six-foot-tall Demon Lord having a sulk.
Di Jun hadn't said a single word since our little… spat in the forest. He just walked beside me, his arms crossed, his jaw set, radiating an aura of pure, unadulterated grumpiness. It was so thick I was surprised it wasn't poisoning the flowers.
The doubt from the magical bell was still there, a faint, nasty whisper in the back of my mind, but my annoyance at his attitude was a much louder, more powerful emotion.
When we got back to the guest house, I went straight to the kitchen and started slamming things around. I needed to make tea. A very strong, very bitter tea.
He followed me, of course, and leaned against the doorframe, watching me with those weird, beautiful eyes.
"Are you quite finished?" he asked, his voice dripping with condescension.
"No," I said, grinding tea leaves with a little more force than necessary. "I am just getting started. You know, for a guy who was about to get his entire soul cured, you're being incredibly difficult."
"I am not being difficult," he said. "I am being… contemplative."
"You're being a baby," I corrected, not even looking at him.
He was silent for a moment. "I am a king. Kings are not babies."
"Could've fooled me," I muttered.
I felt a surge of cold anger from him through the bond. "You have a very sharp tongue, mortal. It is a wonder it has not been cut out."
"Yeah, well, I'd like to see you try," I shot back, finally turning to face him, my hands on my hips. "But you won't. Because you need me. And you hate it. You hate that you're stuck with a 'mortal' who isn't afraid to call you out on your nonsense."
He stared at me, his expression unreadable. But I felt it through the bond—a flicker of something that wasn't just anger. It was… respect? Annoyed, grudging respect. He wasn't used to people talking back to him. He wasn't used to people seeing through his "I am a dark and terrifying lord" act.
"You think you see me so clearly?" he asked, his voice a low, dangerous whisper.
"I see enough," I said. "I see a man who's been hurt so badly he's built a wall around himself so high he can't even see over it. I see a man who's so used to giving orders he's forgotten how to ask for help. And I see a man who just saved a city but is too proud to feel good about it."
He actually flinched. Just a little, but I saw it.
"You are insufferable," he said, but there was no heat in it.
"And you are a project," I retorted, pouring the hot water into the teapot. "A big, ancient, emotionally-stunted project. And since I'm stuck with you, we're going to make some changes."
He raised an eyebrow. "Changes?"
"Changes," I confirmed, pouring two cups of tea. "First lesson: How to be a person. It's a simple curriculum. We'll start with 'please' and 'thank you'."
I pushed a cup towards him. He just looked at it like it was a bowl of poison.
"I do not say 'please'," he said. "I command."
"Well, in the mortal world, we say 'please'," I said. "It's this magical thing that makes people want to do things for you, instead of just doing them because they're terrified of you. You should try it sometime."
He picked up the cup, his movements stiff. He sniffed it. "This smells like weeds and dirt."
"It's called 'medicine'," I said sweetly. "It'll help with the cosmic-level constipation you've got going on."
He stared at me, and for a second, I thought he was going to throw the tea in my face. But then, the corner of his mouth twitched. Just a tiny twitch. It was the closest thing to a smile I'd ever seen from him.
He took a sip of the tea. His face scrunched up in disgust. "It is as vile as I imagined."
"You're welcome," I said, taking a sip of my own. It was pretty bad, I had to admit.
We stood there in silence for a while, drinking the terrible tea. It was… weirdly peaceful.
"So," I said, breaking the silence. "The Heart of the Void. Where do we start looking?"
He put his cup down, his expression turning serious again. "It is in a place called the 'Mirror Maze of Lost Souls.' It is a pocket dimension that exists between the Underworld and the Mortal Realm. It is a test, not a place. It tests your spirit, your past, your regrets."
"Sounds cheerful," I said.
"It is a place where many have gone mad," he continued. "The Maze shows you your deepest fears and failures, over and over, until you lose yourself. To find the Heart, we must face our own pasts and come out the other side."
Great. A magical therapy session. Just what I needed.
"And when do we go?" I asked.
"Soon," he said. "But not yet. You are not ready. Your control over your Yang energy is… erratic. You are a burning flame, all passion and no focus. In the Maze, that will get you killed."
He walked over to me and stopped, standing entirely too close. "You need to learn control. You need to learn to be more than just a healer. You need to learn to be a weapon."
My heart started pounding again. "A weapon? I'm a healer. I save people, I don't… fight."
"All power can be used to heal or to harm," he said, his voice low and intense. "Your energy is the only thing that can balance my Yin. But if you cannot control it, you are as much a threat to me as the curse itself."
He reached out and placed his hand on my chest, right over my heart. A cold, gentle energy flowed from him into me, a stark contrast to my own inner warmth.
"Lesson two," he whispered, his silver and gold eyes locking onto mine. "Close your eyes. Feel your energy. Don't just let it burn. Learn to shape it. Learn to hold it."
I closed my eyes, my breath catching in my throat. I could feel my own Yang energy, a bright, warm sun in my core. And I could feel his cold, dark Yin energy, a calm, deep ocean.
"Now," he commanded. "Push the sun into the ocean."
I tried. I focused, pushing my warmth towards his cold. The moment they touched, there was a spark, a jolt of pure, chaotic energy that made us both gasp.
It was like… kissing all over again, but on a spiritual level. A clash of fire and ice, of light and dark, of two souls that were bound together whether they liked it or not.
His hand was still on my chest. My eyes were still closed. The space between us was charged with an energy so intense it was terrifying.
"Again," he whispered, his voice husky.
And I did. I pushed my warmth towards his cold. And this time, it didn't spark. It merged. It was a slow, gentle, terrifyingly intimate process. My sun was setting in his ocean.
And in that moment, I knew. This was so much more dangerous than any fight. This was the real lesson. And I was terrified of what I would learn.