The Western Regions, the Demon Court.
Rosy mists scattered their colors, while the sun and moon shimmered with light.
As far as the eye could see, strange flowers and exotic plants flourished among tall bamboo and towering pines.
Golden nails studded the jade doors, and colorful phoenixes danced above vermilion gates.
Covered walkways and winding corridors were exquisite at every turn; tier upon tier of three-eaved pavilions rose in clusters, with dragons and phoenixes soaring across their roofs.
A figure in the most wretched state stumbled and tumbled into the hall.
His clothes were in tatters, and his whole body was drenched in blood.
Even his once-mighty dragon horns had lost all their luster, looking like two withered branches.
"Your Majesty..."
Jiaomo lay prostrate on the ground, his whole body trembling uncontrollably.
Where was the slightest trace of the Mountain-Viewing Great Demon's former magnificence?
The Demon Emperor's brows lifted slightly as he slowly straightened up.
He casually set the Cold Jade Udumbara from his hand on the jade table beside him, then feigned surprise. "What happened to you?"
"Didn't you go to Liangzhou with the Little Saint King? How did you end up like this?"
Jiaomo raised his head, tears streaming down his aged face.
"Your Majesty... it's over..."
"It's all over..."
The Demon Emperor's eyelid twitched.
Yet he had already formed a vague suspicion.
He could barely keep the smile from tugging at his lips.
But his expression darkened, and he barked, "What kind of behavior is this, blubbering and weeping?!"
"Explain yourself clearly!"
"And where is the Little Saint King?"
Jiaomo swallowed, his voice trembling. "He's... he's gone."
"Gone?"
The Demon Emperor asked, though he already knew the answer, "What do you mean, gone?"
"The Little Saint King... disappeared. This old minister was fighting that old Daoist, and